"I trust you had a nice chat with Vastra?" River asked when he walked in the door.
"Yes, yes," he dismissed. He would have asked how she knew and why she was asking, and why she was in the TARDIS for any reason in the first place, but she would have either become angry or laugh at any of those questions.
"What was it about?" she pressed. She was in a long coat and some yoga pants, and he couldn't tell if she was in anything else, and was leaning back on the console. He hoped that she wouldn't try to seduce him. He hadn't been in the mood for a long time.
"Clearing some things up," he said, "Making sure I'm keeping my part of the agreement."
"Agreement? What agreement?" she asked, stepping closer to him, and taking a hold of his hand.
"If you knew about our meeting, how do you not know about the agreement?" he countered. She started leading him away from the console room and into a hallway that he personally didn't recognize (not that he did any exploring when the TARDIS changed her interior design).
"Vastra informed me that you two were going to meet," River clarified. "She also asked me to ask you why you keep calling her Madame."
"That's what she is," he insisted, while they stopped at a door.
"To those who don't know her," River scoffed, "But everyone else calls her Vastra."
He could hear the cold logical part of his brain decipher exactly why he couldn't, for he wasn't described by everyone but more as with everything.
However, the last time he had actually said something along those lines, she'd found out about his self-harm.
"Well, are we going inside?" River asked after a measure of silence.
The door was open, revealing something akin to a living room.
"Why are we here?" he asked.
"I picked a random door," she said.
"Why did you do that?" he asked in disbelief.
"You need to go to more rooms than the console room," she replied with certainty.
"Why?" he complained.
"You sound more like yourself, good job!" she exclaimed, while pulling him into the room.
"Don't expect me to make a habit out of it," he said.
"Perhaps getting out more is what accounts for this-" she began.
"Don't go there," he warned.
"Perhaps it's the fact that you haven't been cutting," she suggested.
He was silent, as she installed him on the couch of the room.
Then, finally, he said, "It's good that I cut."
She sat down next to him.
"How can you believe that when everyone who knows about it disagrees?" she asked, placing her arm around him.
He was silent yet again. How could he explain in a way that would not garner sympathy from her, or cause her to worry more? How could he explain that it kept him anchored? That it was the only alternative he had to killing himself, which he could only attempt and never succeed?
"You don't have to explain," she said, putting her arm around him, "I think I understand."
He looked at her, and even though he could not commend her for closing in the space that was between them, he did not feel inclined to move away from her.
"So, you stay in here, all day and night unless you decide to go outside," she said, kindly not pointing out that he normally only left to do things that she disapproved of. "What do you do?"
He thought for a moment, before breaking eye contact with her and staring into his lap, and muttered, "Nothing."
"That's physically impossible," she argued. "You do something."
"I read," he said. "That's just about it."
She bit her lip, and placed her hands on his shoulders.
"Here are some healthier alternatives that you can do while I'm not here," she suggested, before rattling off a list.
She was about to leave in the morning, when she suddenly turned away from the open doors, and asked, "So what is that agreement that you and Vastra made?"
He was just about to dismiss her, but instead frowned, and said, "Jenny and Strax don't know about my... habits."
"They don't?" River asked, scrunching up her nose. "Why not?"
"Blackmail, of a sort," he tried to explain. "If I hurt myself, the Madame," he said, but then swallowed and corrected himself, "Vastra, will tell them."
River nodded. "I can't tell if that's good or bad," she decided. "More stress on you is bad, but the effects are very good," she approved.
"I suppose," he lied.
"When's your next meeting?" she asked.
"Thursday," he said, "Three days from now."
"Don't disappoint us," she said, when she finally stepped out of the TARDIS. Then she closed the door. He knew that she had zapped away with her vortex manipulator. She never zapped away in front of him for reason he had yet to discover.
So that left him alone.
His mind immediately drifted to going down to the human world, to finally get the sweet release that he had not had in days, but his mind protested.
What if I'm caught? he asked himself, what is the scar is bad enough that the Madame sees it?
His mind then reasoned against that. It would be several days and it could heal quite considerably by then. She would probably not even question it.
Maybe, if he put it on randomly enough, he could claim it was an accident!
Convinced, he started out of the TARDIS who made a mournful noise in response.
He merely ignored her. She had safety-proofed herself, so that no dangerous objects were in his immediate area, (which was annoying when he was trying to cook). He honestly didn't want to leave at all, but he had no choice, really.
So he walked across his cloud and went down the staircase, not really thinking about anything except what a relief he would inflict on himself and how to hide it from River and the Madame (Vastra!).
He really wasn't paying attention to where he was going, just heading toward the alleys, until he heard, "Doctor? Is that you?"
His attention was immediately gained, as he spun around an looked at the person who called him a name he had never deserved.
"Jenny," he nodded.
"What are you doing out here?" she asked out of curiosity.
"I'm just walking," he lied. "You?"
"I'm on my way to the market to buy the groceries," she said, smiling warmly to him.
"That's nice," he said. He should have known that he would have no peace.
"Where are you walking to?" she asked.
"Nowhere," he said.
"Then walk with me, I insist," she said, approaching him and stopping at his side.
Damn, he thought. If he said no, he would have to explain himself. He had promised them on that night a few days back that he would not run away from them (just after he explained that he hadn't been in London since Austria-Hungary was formed).
"Sure," he decided.
So they walked and enjoyed each other's company, even though he spoke as little as possible, and he helped carry the groceries back. The Madame wasn't there, but that was just as well, since she would ask why he decided to come down from his cloud.
So as he walked toward the way of his cloud and went up, feeling, knowing, that if he kept trying to go to the back alleys, he would be caught once again. Was everything against him?
So he went up the ladder, feeling even worse than normal, and tried to stave off that hated feeling of hopelessness.