Compare and Contrast

He didn't understand.

Jenny stormed into her room, kicking the door closed behind her. She pulled off her boots, throwing them. One thudded into the wall. The other dented her dresser. Whirling on her heel, she kicked out at her sleeping-mat, slamming it against the wall. Damn the man! Damn, Damn,DAMN! He never understood! He was so worried about making sure she was safe that he didn't let her breathe. Yes, he had more experience than she did. All right. Of course he did, he was exactly a hundred and eighty-one times her age. That didn't mean he had to treat her like a child!

He hadn't even let her begin to act. She could have taken the tactical advantage. He hadn't known what she had been about to do. She had known what she was doing; if he'd waited and let her do it he would have seen that. But no. He just grabbed her and shouted at her to get out of the way. He'd called her a silly little fool.

"You silly little fool! Get away from it!"

Her body was burning with nervous energy. Her hands balled themselves into fists, and she punched out at the wall, pain shooting up her arm.

He never let her act. She'd lived her entire life without him around. And then the second he meets her, pow! He's in charge. She'd done pretty well for herself, thank you very much, and had handled four years completely without him!

The tension was still there. Searching for something to do, she picked up her boots and threw them into the closet where they belonged. Turning on her heel, she pulled her mat back into its usual position, kicked it a few times.

The words of their argument repeated in her head. She still couldn't understand what he'd been so angry about. She'd acted to seize the advantage in the situation. She could have done it. Would have done it. But he said she didn't know what she was doing.

"You didn't understand the situation, you didn't know what you were doing, and you didn't know what effect your actions would have! What did you think you were doing?! Did you even think? Did you?"

Of course she'd thought about the effect. Her act would have resolved the situation. She tried to tell him that. But she'd ended up yelling just as loud as him. The words never came out right, and feeling everything she did made it that much harder to put sentences together. Every time she opened her mouth the wrong thing came out. It just made them both angrier. She hated this feeling, dammit! She hated being angry at him. She had so much she wanted to say, to explain, to make him see that she had been right. But everything she said seemed to make it worse. It all sat in her ribcage, building pressure, anger and frustration roiling inside her. Emotions. He had yelled at her for that too.

"You're so busy running on your emotions that you don't care what you might have done out there! Getting yourself killed would have been the least of it! You walked right into that situation, and knowing full well that you didn't have the knowledge to undo what had been done on your own! You may be an adolescent with a reset button built in, but you are NOT immortal! How can I trust you, when I can't even be sure you won't blow yourself to Kingdom Come?"

He couldn't trust her. He didn't trust her; he'd made it obvious enough. And not just here. He made it so clear that he didn't believe she could understand or handle most of what they ran into. Oh, he encouraged her all the time. Told her she was getting better. But when she really had a chance to test her mettle, he stopped her cold. He never let her try.

"You're young and untrained and so far behind that you can't understand half of what happened out there! You haven't even started learning!"

Training. That was what it always came down to. He didn't believe she knew enough. But she was trying. Didn't he see how hard she was trying to learn? She knew she didn't learn fast enough. She knew she wasn't as good as he wanted her to be. She didn't miss the looks he gave her sometimes; the disappointment, the pain, the weariness and frustration. She hated it when he was frustrated with her. He looked at her like she was defective. Like she didn't have the capability to learn. He looked at her like-

Like an echo.

All the bottled pain in her chest shot up into her throat. Echo. There it was again. It was one of the first things he'd ever said to her.

"You're an echo, that's all. A Time Lord is so much more." There had been such pain and anger in his eyes that day. And she'd seen it again tonight. He was so good at papering over it, he'd spent months covering it up. But sometimes, she thought that was how he really saw her. As an echo, something defective and lacking and failing that he was saddled with now. Maybe it was. Maybe she was. Maybe she'd never live up to it all. Maybe she'd never get it right. She tried so hard. But she always seemed to make some gigantic blunder. Why did she have to mess up all the time? She couldn't see like she should or think like she should or fight like she should; she couldn't even talk to her own father properly.

"You're an echo, that's all."

Her eyes stung, and her chest felt as if it had ten atmospheres of pressure inside it. She slammed her fist into the mat again; then let her head fall into her hands.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

She didn't understand.

The Doctor paced the perimeter of the console room, kicked the strut of the console chair and set it spinning. His dark eyes blazed, and his thin body was taunt as a live wire. The stupid kid. She could have gotten herself killed. She could have gotten herself and everyone else killed. All because she didn't watch what was going on. She was so busy trying to fix the situation that she didn't take time to see it. He wanted to shout. But there was no outlet for this anger. Jenny had already slammed her way out of the room. Not before she'd damned him, though.

"You don't get it do you? You just…you…oh, damn you!"

He'd rather be eaten by a slar than go after her right about now. His hands flexed nervously. He needed something to do with his hands, somewhere useful to channel all this emotion. It was burning through his system, and his hearts beat a frantic tattoo even now. His hands balled into fists. She could have died. He couldn't let that happen. Couldn't.

"You never let me do anything!"

The fire in her eyes had taken him off guard. She was so angry. Well, at the moment so was he. He was incensed. Hadn't he told her to wait? Told her to hold her position? Maybe she should have phrased it as an order. Then it might have gotten through to that soldier side of her. Soldier. He snorted. Barreling in like a pneumatic ram, no regard for where she was going or what she could have done. Crazy, irresponsible, never thinking ahead. She leaped before she looked, every time. And half of what she leaped into she didn't understand. She didn't know the danger she'd been facing. She assumed everything could be fixed with gunfire and spit and guts. Preferably not her guts. Not splattered somewhere. That was in her timelines too, along with about a million other ways to die.

It had been so close this time. So close. If he'd taken any more time, even a second longer, she would have jumped right into the middle of the situation. Why hadn't she listened? He'd tried to tell her, but his fear had gotten the better of him and he'd ended up yelling instead. Why was he letting this get him so out of control?

"I had the situation under control! I've handled stuff like this before! I have lived on my own, you know!" Yes, she had lived on her own; it was only through luck and superior physiology that she had survived at all. What would happen when her luck ran out, he didn't want to know. She had all his worst traits in her. Curiosity to the power of infinity. Cockiness. And that indelible Time Lord belief that you're right and you know what to do. He kicked the wall. The TARDIS shot him a wave of annoyance.

Teenager! Crazy adolescent! He'd never had so much trouble with anyone he'd taken along for the ride. Well, maybe Ace. But Jenny had her beat in every respect. She acted like such a child.

"I'm not a child!" But she was. There was so much she didn't know, so much danger, and he was forced into teaching her on the fly. She deserved better. But this was the best he could do.

Mostly his friends accidentally got into trouble. Jenny bloody attracted danger like a magnet! And she didn't listen. He'd had a very good reason for giving her the instructions he had. Sometimes it seemed like she never listened to him. Their life was dangerous. It was always going to be dangerous. She needed to understand that. Because he wasn't always going to be able to protect her. Even today, he'd almost been unable to reach her. One day things might go wrong. He swore it never would. But how often had he made that promise, and failed to keep it? His track record rather spoke for itself. The Doctor made another circuit of the console room. He tried. Tried so hard. But he knew he couldn't keep her safe forever. And it terrified him. Every time things started to go south he was afraid for her. If she didn't learn some common sense, some discretion… she had to learn not to go off half cocked. Or she might-

"The Child will die in battle."

The Doctor sighed. It had been coming back into his mind more and more lately. Ever since he'd been separated from her the first time, a month ago. The Beast's prophecy. At the time he hadn't known what it had meant. He hadn't known any children in years. But now…

Stop it. That was an attack ploy, nothing more.

And yet it was in his mind so often. There were deaths that allowed no regeneration. He knew that so very well. She was always in danger because of him. Because of the way he was and the way he lived. She'd even said it.

"Wherever we go, something happens!"

He couldn't lose Jenny.

"Wherever we go, something happens! You can't keep me out of it forever!"

The Doctor stood, his head bowed, the console light picking out his silhouette.

"The Child will die in battle."

He dropped his lean frame on to the console chair. His thin face was pale, gaunt in the half-light.

"The Child will die in battle."

The Doctor sat perfectly still, dark eyes staring into space.

He had to keep her safe. Had to.