Foreman knew the TARDIS was almost infinite when it came to traversing her hallways. Nothing ever seemed to end. You could keep walking onwards and onwards and never find an edge to it all. But, of course, Foreman knew he couldn't use such areas. There was nowhere for him to hide.

After all, one could not possibly hide from something such as what he did. It wasn't something that could be hidden from. No matter how much he walked, how much he tried to convince himself to think in another manner, he couldn't stop the thoughts from pestering him.

He had, more or less, attacked the TARDIS. There were other words for what he had done, yes, but attack was the most correct one to use. When it came down to it, he had done a horrible thing and now felt as if he wanted to sever all ties with such memories.

But when he was in the TARDIS, he always had to end up going back to the control room. He always ended up finding himself among Susan and the Doctor as they frowned. Every time they looked at him it was clear that they were far from over it all. And, of course, this was precisely what Susan began speaking about when she saw her father for the first time that day.

"I'm not...I'm not pleased with what happened, Father," Susan began, unsure of her words and how she could manage to get them out without causing too much offense. "I'm not pleased with what I witnessed and how everything occurred. I know it seems silly to say it out loud, but...I'm very displeased. Very upset."

"I'm sorry, Susan," Foreman groaned. He'd attempted to get the memories of what happened out of his head, hoping that maybe if he didn't think about it too carefully than he wouldn't have to worry about it all too much. "I know I can never apologise for what I've done, how much damage I've caused..."

"I'm not searching for your apology, Father," Susan said, swallowing as if her nerves were getting the better of her. "I'm not trying to find out about all of that...I want to tell you my side of the story. There is so much that you're missing out on."

"What do you mean, Susan?" said Foreman. He thought he could predict what Susan was trying to talk about, but it turned out that he'd managed to figure it out incorrectly. His thoughts surrounding his daughter seemed to continuously get twisted around and there was nothing he could do to fix it all.

"I mean that I saw the TARDIS suffering as you tried to get back to your home," Susan said, her eyes widening. "I could see her, and hear her, for that matter. It was...it was horrible. It was like...it was like being in the middle of a war, but there was only one person screaming."

Foreman didn't say anything for a moment, trying to let these words sink in while simultaneously feeling an urge to push such a thing away. He didn't want to be known as the one who had caused the TARDIS to screech in pain simply out of his own vanity. There wasn't much of a way that he could defend himself.

But that was his precise instinct - he needed to defend himself. He needed to say something to explain his actions, needed to do something in order to shift attention away from him. He'd attracted most of the negativity within the TARDIS, or at least that was precisely how it felt to him.

He already knew that he couldn't cover up his actions from the past - that, most certainly, would not do any good. No, he needed to target an area. He needed to shift the focus off of his horrible deeds and on to something that didn't necessarily concern him. With so much lying on his shoulders after the incident, there seemed to be nothing better to do.

"I don't understand why you care more about the TARDIS's projection than you do about me," Foreman sighed.

"I don't understand why you can't see why she matters. It's not that I care about her more, it's that I cannot bear to watch her suffer."

"She isn't suffering!" Foreman exclaimed. "There is no reason why she would be suffering..."

"Father, you can't see her. You can't hear her. She is in pain, Father. I know she is. And you can't say that you know what's happening, because I know for certain that you don't."

Susan did an impressive job of staying solid during her words. Usually such things would end up bringing to her tears, but at least for the moment she had managed to move past it. Nevertheless, she found that her words weren't getting as far. Perhaps her father wouldn't listen unless she was close to weeping, as horrid as that seemed.

She promised to herself, in that moment, that she would continue pushing him until he listened. Susan would resort to force if that was what it took in order to get her father's thoughts in the right direction. She cared for the TARDIS as if she truly was one of Susan's parents, and Foreman would have to understand this.

But the TARDIS's pain, while it made Foreman rather uncomfortable, would not be enough to shift his mindset. Susan realised quickly that there needed to be something more said if her efforts were not going to be entirely vain. If he cared for her most of all, then the potential threat of her own pain would be enough to through this over the edge.

"Father, if you continue with this, I...I cannot support you. And I know that doesn't sound like much, and I suppose it's not, but my support it perhaps the greatest thing I can give to you. I'm your daughter, but it feels as if you barely care about what I have to say."

"Susan, no. You have this all wrong - this is far more complicated than you are making it out to be."

"You think I am too foolish and childish to understand what is happening, yes? It's simpler than you're making it out to be. Every problem has its nuances, its details...but at the root of this one, I see a much further dilemma."

"That doesn't mean that you understand it."

"Father, I don't need to know what's in every last nook and cranny of this problem! I just need to speak to you about it all! This does affect me, as it has been affecting me for the longest time."

"I won't say what you'll want me to say," Foreman said. "And therefore I am not going to speak, not yet. The problem isn't going to disappear upon speaking about it."

Though the Doctor had been doing his best to ignore the conversation that was going on just beside him, he needed to make sure his words were a part of it all before things went too far. He knew that he was acting as the leader of the group and thus he needed to get his thoughts in.

Foreman and Susan were having enough problems already, and the Doctor knew he would end up causing more dilemmas. But, of course, his goal was not to make any more conflict if it could be avoided.

"I suppose that now that you've managed to nearly destroy the TARDIS and suffered the consequences for it you wil not attempt such a thing over again," the Doctor said.

"I suppose that's correct," Foreman sighed. He loathed the way the Doctor chose to describe his actions, but he refused to say anything more about it for the moment. He'd gotten himself into more problems than he could ever care to speak out loud simply by speaking out loud.

Susan opened her mouth as if to speak out, but she knew that her voice had been forced out of the conversation. She'd had enough difficulty speaking to her father, and now she wasn't going to speak at all. None of this was her choice, of course. No, it had all gotten pushed out of her grasp when it came down to it.

"Are you trying to antagonise me yet again?" Foreman asked. "I know that I have caused much damage, but I also know that I have apologised for it. I apologise time and time again, and yet..."

"You have not let me finish yet, Foreman," the Doctor sighed. "I have more things to say and you must listen to them."

Foreman thought about potentially making another response to the Doctor, but he then determined that such a thing would end up causing more problems. He didn't need any more of those, of course.

"I have chosen to forgive you for what you've done," the Doctor exclaimed. "I know that you don't think that my forgiveness means much, but trust me - if you didn't have it, you wouldn't be allowed to remain within the TARDIS if you didn't have it."

"Thank you, then," Foreman said. He felt a desperation trying to tug him out of this situation and try to bring him to a place where he didn't have to think through such topics. He didn't want to listen to the Doctor lecture to him about this and that. He didn't need more words stuffed into his ears - he needed something which actually meant something.

But Foreman decided that he might not end up finding anything of use on this day. He would have to wait longer before he found something that might help him and everyone else in the in the TARDIS. Eventually, yes - he would get the words that meant something. However, those things would just have to wait.

Foreman glanced over to his daughter who had attempted to stay silent once she saw things were going amiss. She simply closed her eyes and shook her head - it was a silent way for her to let him know that he would be better off leaving. There was nothing else for him to say that would change anything.

Thus Foreman began walking away, shoving his hands within his pockets in an act of defeat. His presence was no longer needed, he decided. Without him, the Doctor and Susan could have a decent conversation.

"Foreman, it's not time for you to walk away yet," the Doctor called out.

"I was..."

"It doesn't matter what you were trying to do, you need to remain here for a while longer."

Foreman wished that he could protest, but his protest had already occurred when it came to him attempting to leave the room and the conversation early. He kept his hands nestled within his pockets, making sure that he didn't end up causing any further problems by leaving.

"Now, I have some more things to say. I see that you don't understand how I haven't completed anything yet, but it doesn't matter. We'll manage to have everything come together, I'm sure of that."

"Then what is it that you must say?"

"I have a condition for you to stay in the TARDIS."

"Wait!" Susan called out, looking over toward her father and then her grandfather in turn. "Do you mean to say you might kick my father out of the TARDIS, Grandfather?"

"Please don't kick me out of the TARDIS," Foreman said. "I couldn't bear to be separated from my daughter in such a way."

"I said that I have a condition for you to stay in the TARDIS," the Doctor replied.

"...then go ahead," Foreman said weakly.

"I have only one condition, and it's a condition that I believe you will have already anticipated and most likely will agree is a fair one. I need you to cease all of these distractions which tug you elsewhere - you need to stop and think through what you are doing. We've strayed from Gallifrey for far too long. It's time for such problems to cease. We can manage to get through this, I'm sure."

"It's that simple, is it?" Foreman asked. "I suppose I simply must comply if that's all I have to do."

"I have a feeling you disagree with me on the matters, but I won't press it forward," the Doctor said, although the hint of a scowl playing across his face made it seem as if he thought something entirely different within. "It's not my problem, now is it? I've said what I must say, after all."

"Indeed, you have," Foreman said. "And I suppose I've said what I must say as well."

The two made eye contact, staring at one another for several moments longer. It was if they were doing their best to have another silent conversation now that their original one was completed. But, of course, they could hardly communicate even when the two used words. Such a matter would not be easily completed.

Once Foreman understood that there was nothing more to be said or done, he sucked in a breath and began straightening out his clothes. He met his daughter's gaze one last time, knowing that there was nothing more for him to say. It was due time for him to leave, no matter what happened. Susan and the Doctor would be better off without him, at least for the moment.

Foreman didn't care whether it was time for him to walk away yet or not - it simply didn't matter much to him any longer. The Doctor wasn't in charge of his thoughts or his actions, even though he liked to exercise restrictions and guide him in certain directions. There was nothing to be done about that, nothing that Foreman hadn't already tried.

And, of course, Foreman felt guilty. He didn't want to have such animosity towards his father-in-law. He wanted this to be incredible, just as he'd been promised. He wanted to have helped find Gallifrey and discover the people that he had come from to begin with. At the end of the day, it seemed like there shouldn't have been anything so ill that occurred.

Foreman hated the guilt which flowed throughout him, but he couldn't find a way to get past it. He couldn't erase his past actions due to everything else which he had been through. He would just have to keep moving no matter how uncomfortable it inevitably made him feel.

Yes, he was forgiven - and he was entirely grateful about that. He knew he hadn't made much of a good reaction when it came to finding out that he was forgiven, but often he found difficulty in speaking to the Doctor. Every response always ended up being an ill one, of course.

Perhaps one day Foreman would be able to seek the equilibrium he needed in order to speak his mind and keep the Doctor from becoming furious. He could find some method to keep conflict from happening.

Perhaps, he thought.

One day.