"It's time for us to have a meeting," the Doctor said.

"I don't see why we need to seperate time out to have a meeting," Foreman said. "There are only three of us within the TARDIS, and that means almost every time we speak together it's like a meeting."

"This time is different," replied the Doctor. "This time we need to make sure we are focused and together, or otherwise we might end up losing track of what happens."

"I agree, we need to simply speak with one another in an organised manner," Susan said, giving a small smile towards her father as if it were a consolation prize. "Just because we're speaking to one another within the same room doesn't mean it's organised properly, no?"

"I suppose you're right," Foreman replied. The main reason he was budging was because he wanted to make sure he could please his daughter. At the moment, he didn't care quite as much about what the Doctor thought about what was happening. He would much rather see her smile and wait for the Doctor to care.

"Are we all ready to begin speaking now?" the Doctor asked. "I assume there won't be any more problems now that we have cleared that..."

"Of course not," Foreman quickly added in, knowing that he'd already managed to make a wrong turn when it came to saying such a thing out loud. Regardless of this dilemma, he would do his best to take part in this "meeting." Even if the said "meeting" seemed somewhat unecessary when it came around to it. There was not much else to say.

"So, Grandfather, you must have a reason for calling a meeting."

"Of course, Susan. I always have some portion of a plan in my mind, you see."

"And what would that be?" Susan asked.

"We've been messing around apart for far too long, and we keep messing about," the Doctor said. "You may make the argument that we have infinite time to find Gallifrey, but that doesn't mean that we should procastinate."

"I agree," Susan said, a delicate smile perched across her lips. "There's no reason to wait any longer to get to our home. I miss that planet...we all do, I'm sure."

"I'm sure," Foreman echoed. And, of course, the words coming from his mouth were barely like the words he had within his head. In a way he did miss Gallifrey, but he knew it wasn't a thing like what the Doctor or Susan was going through.

He knew it was their home. They considered it home even though they'd been separated from it for quite a long while. Now they were biting and clawing their way back to it, trying to return through whatever means they could grab hold of. They didn't just want to get back "home" - they needed to.

Where was home, anyways? Foreman hadn't been on Gallifrey for hundreds of years - even if he had grown up there, but it didn't make it home to him any longer. There were so many elements of the place that he'd forgotten. As much as he claimed he could remember it, at the end of the day he felt as if it was almost entirely out of his grasp.

He might as well have read about Gallifrey in a book, because in these moments it certainly felt as if he had never actually managed to get to such a place. It didn't feel as if it had ever been a part of his life, just a distant memory that he barey knew well enough to miss in any way. Regardless, he was expected to keep reaching out and hopefully catch it again.

These were the reasons why he felt as if he didn't quite belong within the TARDIS, as he no longer fully agreed with the ideas that were pushing them onwards throughout it all. No, he didn't find any way to agree with his father in law, nor with his daughter. He felt far guiltier about the latter part, of course.

Foreman loathed to look out and see that his daughter was pushing away from him, laughing and grinning all the way. She'd learned so much about her past, and yet things didn't seem to add up when it came around to it. Foreman didn't wish to delve too deeply into this particular idea, but he refused to simply let it float about.

He wouldn't leave her behind because he couldn't manage to collec his thoughts in a proper manner. If he was pushing her away in any way, then he would have to find some way to stop it. He refused to watch his daughter wall away from him even as they were both in the TARDIS.

These thoughts caused a scowl to appear across his face as he stood, looking over in Susan's general area. She didn't notice him at first - she had no need to, after all, but eventually she ended up turning around and seeing how sour her father looked. This, in turn, ended up making her frown as well. It was infectous as any smile.

He wanted to have her adore him once again, have that same wonder that she'd had when she first found out that she was his daughter. Such feelings seemed to have disappeared entirely and Foreman wished that he could manage to get them back in one way or another. He never wanted to see her frowns especially if he knew that he was the one who was causing them.

But he didn't quite realise that so many of her frowns were because of his own frowns. It was quite a flawed view that caused a terrible cycle.

"Is something wrong, Father?" Susan asked.

"No," Foreman lied. "Absolutely nothing is wrong right now."

"I'm not so certain you're telling the truth."

"Ah, of course. You have a daughter's intuition. That must be what it is."

"I'm not trying to joke around about this, Father," Susan said, shaking her head. "I honestly mean it. I know that you're lying to me about how you feel at the moment, but you shouldn't have to."

"It's just a difficult thing to say," Foreman replied, already letting his barrier begin to break down. It didn't seem quite like the right thing to do, but he refused to lie to his daughter in such a way for much longer. He'd lied and lied and held truths back from her - no longer.

But he didn't want to start speaking out when the Doctor was standing right there, glaring at him as if he needed to hear everything tha was happening between them. Knowing that Foreman couldn't stay there, Susan glanced between the two men and then took her father's arm and started to take him away.

"Susan, Foreman? Where are you two going?"

"We're going to go talk for a little while, Grandfather," Susan replied. "We will be back in just a few moments, I promise. But right now the two of us must speak privately. You must understand, Grandfather."

"I understand well," the Doctor replied. "Go onwards, then."

Foreman sighed with relief, but within seconds he was stuck within another difficult situation.

"You can tell me anything," Susan exclaimed, reaching out to grab her father's hand. "You can tell me anything now. You've already told me so much, and therefore I don't see why you can't ever tell me more. Father, you can trust me."

"Trusting you is beside the point here, Susan," Foreman sighed. "I trust you entirely, yes - there is absolutely no reason why I wouldn't trust you. But that doesn't matter. Trusting you is entirely different from being able to tell you something."

"I understand that, but I still wish to know precisely what you need to say. I know that these thoughts are stuck within your mind, and I want to get them off. I want to understand your thoughts."

"I am hardly sure that I understand my own thoughts, Susan," said Foreman. "I don't know if I can say what I need to say without messing everything up. I'm afraid things will fall apart."

Susan stared at her father for a moment, trying to gauge whether it was worth it to keep pressing for more information. He wasn't going to do this simply, that much was certain. He liked to spill out information, yes, but only when he felt it was the right time to do such a thing. Otherwise, he would contain every thought and memory he'd ever gathered until he inevitably burst.

"Father," Susan murmured, trying to keep her voice as soft as possible. "Please let me know what is on your mind."

Such desperate but soft songs were enough to cause Foreman dismay - here he was, doing the one thing he'd tried his best never to do again. Here he was, making Susan frown because he wasn't speaking well to her. He wasn't telling her the things she needed to say, the things she wished to hear the most.

But she didn't know what she was going to hear if he opened his mouth and spoke those words that she thought she craved. No, she would hate what he had to say. He was certain of it.

"You don't want to hear what I have to say," Foreman said, trying to divert Susan's attention elsewhere. He felt as if he had already said too much despite how little he had said in all. He needed to say something, but not at this moment.

Foreman didn't understand how any of this was possible whenever he did the math - how could he be an outsider when there were only two other people in the TARDIS? Well, if you counted the TARDIS herself as a person, there would be four. Yet it didn't seem to work out in his head - yes, there were third wheels and fourth wheels, but this was different.

All he could see were the ways that it was different and yet how it still neglected to take a different path. All four were constantly stuck within the same living quarters. They never ended up very far away from one another and often joined together in the TARDIS control room as a sort of hub.

There was no reason for any of them to break away as they'd all joined together for a common effort. As far as Foreman could see, there was no feasible way to break away. No matter what happened, he needed to stay with them for a longer time. No matter what happened, he knew he would have to find a way to stay with Susan.

But all of these thoughts chugging through Foreman's mind ended up distracting him from Susan as her worried continued to grow. She didn't have any way to read his mind, and therefore she could do nothing but stand there and frown. She could only hope that he would end up looking up and understanding that he needed to say something. He needed to speak. When he finally looked up, she stepped towards him and shook her head.

"Father. Father, you have to speak to me. Keeping all of your thoughts bunched in will only cause you more pain. I do not want that for you, not at all."

"I don't want to say something to you that won't affect you in any way except making you upset. Susan, you have to understand that I care about you too much for that."

"I have thicker skin than you might think," Susan said. "Yes, what you say might upset me - but it will upset me more to watch you bottle up your emotions and explode from them."

Foreman glanced down, thinking once more. Perhaps Susan would want to hear what he had to say - it was just that he didn't know quite how to sing it. He sighed, standing there and hoping that he would manage to find something that would work out. These words had been waiting to get out, he just had to articulate them.

"I'm not going to explode from my emotions," Foreman said. "I just want to make sure you are going to listen to me and understand what I have to say."

"I am certain I will understand when it comes down to it," Susan said.

"I don't love it here in the TARDIS. I know that must seem obvious to you - and most likely obvious to the TARDIS as well - but I need to say it out loud."

"Then say it," Susan said. "You stall and stall and stall - it's time for you to proclaim what's on your mind. I truly wish to know."

Foreman deeply inhaled thorugh his nose, such a deep breath that he felt as if he had filled his lungs to the very brim. It was enough to throw him off balance for a moment, enough to make him think further about what he was about to say to his daughter. This had to work out well. It had to.

It was clear Susan had words poised on the tip of her tongue as well - she had her own say in the matter, and she would be saying it at first leap. But she wished to let her father speak first. She wished to hear his words as they would most likely end up altering her own in the end of it all.

But the issue was that Foreman wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say in response. He'd thought about one thing and another, but nothing seemed quite right for him to say out loud. How could he articulate such thoughts if he barely knew what he wanted to say himself?

Foreman forced himself to come up with something - Susan deserved his words, even if those words didn't come out quite the way he wanted them to at the end of everything.

"I don't want to leave - I've already made up a decision to stay here and help find Gallifrey, but sometimes I wonder if that decision was entirely misguided. Part of the reason I joined here to begin with was to find you, Susan. It had less to do with home than it did with you."

"Thank you for being honest, at least..." Susan said, unable to meet eyes with her father. All of these words were just pushing into her head, threating to make it burst but never quite doing anything. If anything happened, she just ended up in pain.

She felt such a desire to fix everything that was happening in and around her. But, of course, there was no true way to fix anything that was happening. It was all entirely out of her control, and that was what made it hurt even more. There was nothing more to be said on the subject than that - she couldn't do what she wanted to do, and that was the problem.