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Physically he was exhausted, yet his mind raced. He should have seen it coming. Sleep in general had been more difficult to come by since he'd lost Grace, and while today had gone a way towards easing the ball of miserable anxiety lurking in his psyche, it was still a lot to process. Give him another ten years and he still probably wouldn't have had enough bloody time to unpack everything that had happened in the last few months and right now it was making him feel agitated and unsettled. He still wasn't sure if he'd made the right choice.
Graham sighed deeply and then yawned. It was definitely going to be one of those nights, he thought as he lumbered through the TARDIS towards where he'd last seen the kitchen. The old machine seemed to get it's kicks from moving stuff around, but hopefully it could sense his discontent tonight and behave itself. The TARDIS was like that - as thoughtful as it was full of mischief. And here Graham was thinking about a piece of machinery like it was a person. Maybe it was in a way.
When he finally did reach the kitchen, he wasn't surprised to see the Doctor already in there. She looked half asleep and her coat was missing like she had settled in here for the long haul.
"Aw come on, Doc. Feet on the table? Really? We eat off that thing."
The Doctor shot him a rueful grin and slid her boots over the edge of the surface. They hit the floor with a dull thud. Graham shook his head and moved straight over to the kettle.
"Want a cuppa?" He didn't bother waiting for her to say yes before pulling out two gold rimmed teacups from the cupboard. It was never a no anyway.
It was almost comforting to go through the familiar motions. It was something his mum had taught him at a very young age and as far as he was concerned, a valuable life lesson. No problem that can't be solved with a good cup of tea, she used to tell him while gently reprimanding him for letting the bag steep for too long. As a young boy he doubted the legitimacy of the claim and he still doubted it now over fifty years later, but he couldn't deny that it soothed him to revert back to one of the few constants throughout his life. He felt the same way about driving, but as big as the TARDIS was Graham thought it unlikely to have a bus stashed somewhere.
He allowed his mind to drift while the water came to the boil and reflexively pulled it from the stove when it began to whistle. It was easier than actually thinking about why he was still awake at this hour of the morning at least.
Finally the drink was prepared to his satisfaction (thought probably not the Doctor's because he point blank refused to give her seven and a half sugars) and he moved away from the kitchen unit and sat down opposite his strangely quiet companion.
"Thanks," she said, accepting the cup as Graham pushed it across the table. She pulled it towards her and traced a finger around the rim. "Are you okay?"
"Not really," said Graham. The Doctor looked up, and though her expression was unreadable, there were dark lines under her eyes that he hadn't noticed earlier. Looked like he wasn't the only one suffering tonight. "Were you waiting for me in here?"
"Yeah," she said, with a shadow of a grin. "Thought you might wanna talk about it."
"Not really," said Graham again. He wrapped his hands around the warm teacup and breathed in the familiar fumes. He didn't need to look at the Doctor to know she was disappointed.
"All right," said the Doctor. "Do you mind if I talk about it?"
Yes, he very much did mind actually. "Don't think a force in this universe can stop you talking when you want to," he said instead.
"Might be right about that," she said, with a grin that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not much that can't be solved with a good talk." It would be nice if that were true. Graham made a non-committal sound in the back of his throat and blew over his teacup. If he closed his eyes and ignored the constant hum of the TARDIS he could almost pretend he was back home in his own kitchen. "You did the right thing, you know?"
"Did I?" he said. His mind had been yo-yoing all night about it. "Feels like I caused a load of trouble and then didn't even go through with what I caused the trouble for. We had enough going on without me going all Kill Bill about it."
"You kept a cool head in the end, Graham," said the Doctor. "Not many people could have done that. You were brave and you helped save a lot of people today."
"Yeah," he said. He swallowed and looked down at his fingers. They shook gently and he tightened his grip around the small teacup to stop them.
"But?"
He didn't answer at first; wasn't really sure how to put what he felt into words. The Doctor was uncharacteristically patient while he gathered his thoughts. Eventually he said, "I feel like I let Ryan down." The corner of the Doctor's mouth turned downwards. "I'm all he's got left really. His dad's off doing god knows what and his mum's gone and now his nan. I know I'm not his first choice, but someone has to be there for him and because of this I almost wasn't." His heart beat hard, but steadily in his chest. Now he'd started he didn't seem to be able to stop. "He needs me and I let him down."
"Graham O'Brien, I don't think you're even capable of letting anyone down." Graham looked up, ready to disagree, but the intent look on the Doctor's face stopped him. Her eyes shone in the strange lighting of the TARDIS kitchen, and even though he couldn't believe it himself, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she did. "You're a good man. You proved that today and every other day I've known you."
A warmth he knew he didn't deserve blossomed in his chest at the praise. Hanging out with the Doc was funny like that; he had a strange compulsion to please her. It wasn't difficult and not a day went by that she wasn't handing out points or gold stars with reckless abandon, but still it wasn't half a bolster to his confidence. Confidence he hadn't earned.
"I'm getting on, Doc. I've let lots of people down in my life," he admitted, ashamed. "Maybe I didn't today, but I wanted to and that's enough." He smiled, but felt no happiness behind it. A part of him still wanted to. "It's hard to be good all the time, you know?" He paused. "Well, maybe you don't know. Not sure if you're even capable of not being the hero."
The Doctor became suddenly very still and Graham was struck by the fact he'd said the wrong thing. She lowered her head and hair fell over the sides of her face.
"I'm not a hero, Graham."
Modesty didn’t suit her somehow. "You having a laugh, Doc? Since I met you I've seen you save half the world and his dog about twelve times over," he said. "If that ain't heroic then I dunno what is."
She licked her lips and this time it was Graham who sat back and allowed his friend the space she needed to think. She released the delicate teacup cradled in her hands and began to twist her fingers together.
“I can see why you’d think that,” she said eventually. “But trust me, Graham, I’m nobody’s hero and I don’t want you going ‘round trying to compare yourself to me.” She looked up and their eyes met across the table. He was taken aback by the intensity there. “I’ll fall short every single time.”
He shook his head in protest. “Come on now, Doc. I thought this was a one person pity party.”
“It’s not self-pity,” she said quickly. Then she paused, nose scrunched and lip curled upwards in a sort of snarl like it did when she was confused about something. “Or maybe it is a bit. That doesn’t make me wrong though. I’ve done some terrible things, Graham. Things that...well, you wouldn’t like me very much anymore if you knew about them.” He found that hard to believe. She hesitated, like she wasn’t sure where it was she was trying to take the conversation. “I just...don’t want you lot aspiring to be like me. You deserve better. You are better. And I need you to be better.”
He’d been ready to argue the toss with her. Ready to convince her that she was wrong, because without her they’d all be stuck back on Sheffield - miserable and overrun with an erratic cluster of mammoth spiders most likely. Instead, his frown deepened. Something in her voice caught his attention and he wasn't sure why.
“What do you mean you need us to be better?”
“What?” Her brow furrowed and her eyes darted to the side. “I didn’t say that.”
“Yeah you did,” said Graham. He braced his hands against the table, all the while paying careful attention to his companion’s expressions. As a general rule, she wasn’t a hard woman to read. Heart on her sleeve, Yaz had once said fondly. Now, her face was almost completely blank.
“Slip of the tongue.”
A spark of irritation churned in his gut, chasing away the last remnants of tiredness fogging up his mind. “No. It wasn’t.” She remained stoic. “Look, Doc. I’ve had a really bad day and I’m not really in the mood for...whatever it is you’re doing right now.” She at least had the good grace to look contrite. “Tell me what you meant.”
She didn’t want to - that much was clear. Her shoulders slumped and she picked at a loose white thread at the end of her sleeve. Graham blew over the top of his cup. He was prepared to wait, and privately he admitted to himself that it was nice to have something else to focus on that wasn’t his own indecisive mood.
“I-” said the Doctor. Then she stopped and tried again. “There’s a reason I don’t like to travel alone.”
“Well yeah,” said Graham. “You’re lonely. Don’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.” It occurred to him after he’d said it that rocket science was the kind of thing the Doctor was probably read as a bedtime story growing up.
She flinched, but he couldn’t find it in himself to regret it. Not even when she flashed those wounded puppy-dog eyes at him. She didn’t argue the point, he noticed.
“That’s…” She cleared her throat. “I just mean…” Her eyes flickered towards the door behind him. “I just haven’t always had the best judgement. Sometimes I get a bit...carried away. It’s better for...everyone really, if I have good people around me.”
“Carried away,” Graham repeated. There was something deeply unnerving about the way her voice, usually filled with good-natured enthusiasm, became low and monotone.
Her eyes were firmly fixed on that stray piece of thread hanging from her sleeve now. “Like I said - I’ve done some terrible things. Hard not to have done in a life this long...or maybe that’s just an excuse.” She shrugged. “I’ve been where you are today, Graham.” She looked up and her eyes were hard. “I haven’t always made the same choice you did.”
An uncomfortable silence fell over the pair, heavy and oppressive. Graham opened his mouth to speak several times, but always closed it again. He knew what she was implying, but something inside him wanted to deny it even when the grim look on her face told him otherwise. A sickly feeling began to churn in his stomach. So he'd spent the whole day following a piece of advice from someone who couldn't even follow it herself?
In the end, it was the Doctor who broke the silence. He wasn’t surprised; they’d all realised that, to an almost pathological level, she wasn’t comfortable with quiet.
“That’s why, you see,” she said. Her voice was soft and sad and against his will he felt a sudden desire to comfort her, despite that being the last thing he wanted to do that moment. He clenched his jaw. “I’m dangerous, Graham.” She looked so ashamed of herself. “I need people around to ground me. To remind me why I travel. When I’m on my own too long I start to...lose myself, I s’pose. And when I make mistakes the consequences are...” She drifted off, staring off somewhere to the side with a distant look on her face. “Bad.”
“So just to be clear,” said Graham, sharper than he’d mean to, “it’s all right for you to get your revenge, but it’s not okay for me?”
“No!” said the Doctor. She huffed, but Graham got the impression she was more annoyed with herself than with him. “I’m saying it’s not okay for either of us. And trust me when I say it won’t make you feel any better.”
“So we’re you’re babysitters then,” he said, affronted. “To make sure you don’t go off the deep end? And I'm not allowed to avenge my wife just in case if gives you any funny ideas?”
The Doctor visibly flinched. “No.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “No,” she said again in a smaller voice.
“What then? We're your moral compass?” He didn’t realise he’d raised his voice until it heard it echo back through the room.
“You’re my friends.”
He deflated. “Friends don’t do today what you did to me, Doc. You were going to kick me out for doing something you’ve done yourself!”
“I tried to stop you from making a terrible mistake! Having blood on your conscience is no fun at all. You deserve better than that, Graham. You’re a good man. And killing someone...there’s no coming back from it. You’re changed forever, and not in the good way. Grace wouldn’t have wanted that for you. Ryan wouldn’t want that for you. And yeah, I didn’t want that for you either. Not for my sake; for yours.”
“Well maybe that wasn’t your decision to make.”
“I didn’t make the decision for you.”
“No, but you told me I wouldn’t be welcome to travel with you anymore if I didn’t make the decision you wanted. What gives you the right?”
“I was trying to save you! Trust me, Graham. It’s not worth it. Taking a life...it’s the kind of thing that scars you. It stays with you forever.”
“I don’t need you to-”
“Is everything okay?”
He’d deny it later, but Graham startled at the voice behind him. His head whipped around to see Yaz standing in the doorway wrapped in an orange dressing gown and wearing an expression of utmost concern. She took a step further into the room.
“I heard shouting,” she said. Her eyes flicked between him and the Doctor.
“Sorry, Yaz,” said the Doctor. Graham looked back at her and she carefully avoided his gaze. “We were just having a disagreement. Didn’t mean to wake you.”
“That’s okay,” said Yaz, though her suspicion was evident. Messy dark hair fell around her shoulders and she brushed it out of the way. “What’s going on?”
Graham let out a long breath and felt some of the tension that was coiling up his spine loosen. “Nothing's going on. I was just going back to bed."
He pushed his chair back and got up; every ache and pain he'd been trying to ignore all day flared. The screech of the wood against the metal floor echoed horribly through the room.
"Graham-"
"I'll see you both tomorrow," he said. He'd apologise for being short with Yaz tomorrow. She'd done nothing to deserve his ire.
He cast one final glance back at the Doctor and then stormed out the room.
------------------------------------------
He tossed and turned for three hours before he finally admitted defeat for the second time that night and rolled out of bed. Now he'd had some time to calm down, he was starting to regret the things he'd said to the Doctor. To his friend. He wasn't entirely convinced he'd been wrong, but he couldn't get the desolate look on her face when he'd left out of his mind.
Damn his overactive guilt complex.
He pulled on a dressing gown and stepped into a pair of slippers he'd bought from Asda especially for the TARDIS. He wasn't going to be able to rest until he'd spoken to the Doctor, so he might as well get it over with.
The TARDIS whirred around him, louder than usual, as he trekked through the corridors and the lights fluctuated in brightness. His body felt sluggish and achey and he had to squint his eyes against the glow of certain lamps. He diverted his path towards a hall that wasn't blinding. Like a bloody maze, he thought bitterly.
She wasn't in the kitchen. She wasn't in the control room (not even buried beneath the console itself; he checked). She wasn't in the tv room.
Graham wrapped his arms around his chest and shook his head. Where did the Doctor go when she was upset? Did she have a bedroom? He assumed she'd have to, despite her many claims that she didn't need to sleep. Everyone needed somewhere they could go to be alone.
"Don't suppose you can help me, eh?" he said aloud, looking around at the TARDIS walls and feeling utterly ridiculous. "I just wanna talk to her." A nearby vent hissed steam. Or something that looked like steam, but smelled like freshly mowed grass and cinnamon. "I'll take that as a no then." The lights flickered.
He picked another direction and kept walking. With every slap of his slippers against the cold floor, he felt more of his annoyance melt away and sadness sink further into his old bones. That wasn't him. Not really. He wasn't an angry man by nature; it sat uneasily in his gut. And wasn't he trying to be the better man?
He reached another door and turned the handle, not really expecting to find anything. The last three doors he'd opened had somehow all led him to the same indoor swimming pool so obviously the TARDIS was playing silly buggers with him. Out of loyalty to the Doctor he could only assume.
The door swung open to reveal an opulent looking library bathed in a gentle golden light. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Well this was new. Why hadn't the Doc mentioned this room to them? The walls as far as he could see (admittedly he couldn't see very far because of the ceiling-tall bookcases that seemed scattered about at random) were entirely covered with books of different shapes and colours and sizes, and he assumed, genres. He wouldn't have bothered bringing his Douglas Adams collection with him if he'd known this lot was here.
He took a step forward and despite the fact that he was actively looking for her, he was almost surprised to see the Doctor herself draped sideways across an armchair with an open book resting on her face. She hadn't noticed him there yet, or at least she didn't seem to have done. Maybe she was sleeping? Graham took a fortifying breath and closed the door quietly behind him.
"Doc?"
The woman jumped and her book slid to the floor with a resounding thump. She blinked rapidly and looked up at him. A welcoming smile crossed her face and then vanished, as though she'd forgotten and then very abruptly remembered their argument.
"Hi," she said. She rolled sideways and stumbled awkwardly to her feet. "You all right, Graham? Looking for a book?"
"Nah," said Graham. He smiled at her in a way he hoped came across as apologetic. "I was looking for you."
"Oh," said the Doctor. She thrust her hands into her pockets. "Do you need something?" She hesitated and the light in her eyes dimmed. "I can take us back to Sheffield if you want?"
"I ain't going back to Sheffield," said Graham. It was impossible to miss the way the Doctor all but sagged in relief. "I'm a bit out of sorts is all. Grief is funny like that. One minute you're laughing your head off about something and the next you're feeling guilty because why should you be allowed happiness when the person you love'll never be happy again, you know?"
He hoped she knew what he was trying to say, because he wasn't even sure himself. She rocked on the balls of her feet and nodded.
"It's okay," she said.
"It's not okay," said Graham, remorseful. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I know you were just tryna help."
The Doctor peered up at him, eyes wide and deceptively (as he now knew) credulous. "I'm sorry too," she said. He wondered if she even knew what she was sorry for. Not that it mattered at the end of the day.
They stood then, looking at each other. Waiting for something maybe, though Graham wasn't sure what. He knew how he wanted their exchange to end, though he wasn't sure how receptive to it she'd be.
Sod it, he thought.
He closed the short distance between them and tried very hard to ignore the alarmed look on her face at the approach.
"I'm gonna hug you now, Doc," he warned. The fear morphed into surprise, but she didn't protest when he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. Her entire body stiffened against his, but he wasn't to be deterred. He held her tighter and lowered his chin to rest on her shoulder. After a few more moments, she relaxed and raised her own arms to encircle his torso. She sighed and with it he felt some of his anxiety melt away.
"I didn't mean those things I said, Doc," he said. She rested her head against his; her skin was surprisingly cool and stray blonde hairs tickled his cheek. "And I didn't mean to shout at you."
"I didn't mean to shout at you either," she said. Her voice was slightly muffled and he closed his eyes.
"I don't care about the things you've done in the past."
"You should."
"Well, maybe I care a little bit," he conceded. After all Ryan was on this flying magic box with him too and you could never be too careful. "But mostly I care about who you are now. Our daft old friend with her custard creams and social awkwardness and need to help every single waif and stray she strolls past." Being as close as they were, he heard her breath hitch and felt her neck twitch as she swallowed. "Thank you helping me to see the right thing today. I don't know what I'd have done without you. And Ryan."
"You'd have got there without me," she protested, as he somehow knew she would.
"Maybe," he said. "You made it easier though, so thanks."
She squeezed him a little tighter and then let go so he let his own arms drop to his side and took a step back.
Her cheeks were pink and a wet sheen coated her eyes, though no tears fell. She sniffed and he felt emotion rise within him in response. A sympathetic crier Grace had always called him, and then she'd poke fun at him for it. God he missed her. Still, though his heart beat painfully in his chest, he felt lighter now than he had all night.
Maybe he could actually get some sleep now.
The Doctor bent down to retrieve her fallen book and then clutched it to her chest.
Graham opened his mouth to say goodnight. Instead what came out was, "Do you wanna watch a movie, Doc? I don't think I'm getting to sleep anytime soon."
Her eyes lit up and she tossed the book behind her.
Maybe he could have a nap on the couch instead.