Work Text:
It wasn’t the first time something in the TARDIS had broken, but it was the first time since the Doctor’s commandeering her that the materialization function had broken down halfway through the process of exiting the Time Vortex.
And now, caught half in time and half out of it, the TARDIS was panicking.
The Doctor could feel her distress — telepathically, of course, but also through his own rapidly growing collection of bruises.
The gravity kept flipping sideways and upside down, the console kept electrocuting him when he tried to touch it. And the entire ship was shaking terribly, making it practically impossible to avoid falling.
He’d managed somehow to get Susan into a room with seatbelts and airbags, where he’d made her buckle up — hopefully she’d be safe, or at least safer, there. Then, the Doctor had re-entered the fray, toolkit in hand.
He had a good guess as to what was wrong, and what needed to be done about it. For once he even had the parts. Fixing it was proving difficult, however; not because the repair itself was so complicated, but because every time the Doctor tried to get into position and reach for the relevant device, the ship had quaked again, sending his tools flying and throwing the Doctor himself backwards.
Or throwing something at the Doctor. Most recently, a telescope had fallen on his head. Which would have been bad enough anyway, but the telescope was supposed to be in the observatory, nowhere near the control room.
“TARDIS,” said the Doctor aloud, clinging to the console in an attempt to keep his footing. He was getting desperate. “Will you just work with me for a moment? I’m trying to help!”
The ship froze, just for a second. Then she hurled the Doctor into the wall.
Tentatively encouraged, the Doctor rubbed his aching head. “I realize our relationship had a fraught beginning. I did technically abduct you. But we’ve been through enough together by now, surely we have put all that behind us.”
One of the TARDIS’s control panels sparked, aggressively enough that it was probably for the best he wasn’t touching it at the moment.
“And now,” the Doctor continued, “you are hurt, and frightened, and I am doing my best to help you. But in order to do so, I need you to cooperate…”
He did his best to keep his voice and mental projections calm, soothing; like he was trying to talk Susan down from one of those meltdowns she used to have. In this case he suspected the words didn’t matter nearly so much as the telepathic tone, so he simply said whatever came to mind.
“You know, I like to think that we have something of a symbiotic relationship, you and I. I trust you to get myself and Susan somewhere safe; you trust me to make repairs when necessary.”
The quaking seemed to be lessening. He hoped it wasn’t wishful thinking. If the Doctor hadn’t been so focused on trying to calm his ship, he’d probably have been having something of a panic himself. He really did not like the idea of being trapped forever, hanging halfway out of the Time Vortex.
“Now, yes, I will admit that neither one of us has a 100% success rate. Often you bring me somewhere rather dangerous; occasionally I find myself unable to fix some small thing or other. But all in all, I think we do well enough together to get by. Yes, quite; we get by.” The Doctor paused. “And now, you see, you must let me keep my part of the bargain.”
The shaking was definitely gentler. No longer was he being constantly rattled violently against the wall.
“Don’t you trust me?” the Doctor almost whispered. It came out rather more pleading than he’d intended it to sound.
The TARDIS trembled once more. And then she was still; only the usual comfortable vibrations running through her body, and he could feel tentative willingness to let him try.
Cautiously, the Doctor dragged himself to his feet and started gathering his scattered tools — narrowly avoiding tripping over that poor telescope.
Then he went wearily back to the console to tend to his ship.