(Continued from
this event.)
By the time he had finished discussing Charley with the Master, all hell had broken loose. He wandered around the (somewhat panicking) crowd for a while, frantically searching for Ianto, to make certain he was okay. He told himself that dealing with Charley could wait; if what he'd been told about her spending stupidly
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Decidedly not good, Fitz thinks.
Almost instinctively, he scans the spaces between the stalls for the familiar shape of the TARDIS. He finds it quickly and frowns at seeing the Doctor down and leaning against the door, head leaning back. Maybe he's just resting - but it's an odd place to rest, isn't? When he's got chairs just inside. Fitz heads toward him at a jog, wondering if something had gone wrong and the Doc had gotten himself hurt.
In a few moments he's next to the Doctor, a somewhat relieved expression on his face. He takes a deep breath and exhales before speaking.
"...alright?"
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He picks himself up off the ground, dusting the dirt off his jacket. "Yes, perfectly. Exciting fair, wasn't it? I am glad that so few were hurt, though I can only imagine how angry the Brigadier must be at the turn of events. Why do you ask, by the way?"
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"Wouldn't know, really. Wasn't around." Fitz doesn't really want to get into the blow-by-blow of his pick-up failure, so he moves on to asking what went wrong. "So, what happened? Slimy green aliens with ray guns?" Fitz sniffs at the air and furrows his brow. "Exploding candy floss?"
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The Doctor pauses, taking time to notice a ladybird crawling up the side of the TARDIS a ways before flying off. "Would you like some tea?" he asks suddenly. "I could go for some about now, how about you?"
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By which he actually means: Are you alright? You seem a bit off.
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As he says this, he opens to door the the TARDIS and walks in, leaving the doors open for Fitz to follow. "I've heard Charley seems to be spending more time than normal with Zagreus," he says, making conversation. "I'll have to have a talk with her next time I see her. It isn't exactly the wisest of decisions she's made, sadly. Oh, ah, for the record, Fitz, you should probably stay away from him as well. Should he ever attempt to have a conversation with you, that is."
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Fitz follows the Doctor inside and starts wandering in the direction of the kitchen. He knows enough about the Doctor to know when he's avoiding something, and the way he's jumping from subject to subject is definitely one of the signs. Fitz slips his hands into his pockets and returns to his original worry, this time voicing it directly.
"You feeling alright then?"
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It doesn't take them very long to reach the kitchen (thank you, TARDIS), and he begins to put the kettle on the stove. "Though I am a bit worried about Ianto," he says, cheerful as ever. "He left his things, and I can't help but imagine he might be better off with them. Though I'm sure his friends will be able to help him out until he's back into the normal routine of things. Hmmn, now where did I put the -- ah, there they are."
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Fitz drops his gaze away from the Doctor's face to somewhere on the floor by his own feet.
"I thought you two were..." He makes a vague hand gesture indicating nothing but his own unease with this line of conversation.
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He sits down in a chair to wait on the tea. "He can finally go home. It wasn't exactly his decision to travel with me in the first place, you know."
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"Yes, Fitz," he answers. "I'm sure."
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He sets his mouth in a frown, wondering what he could say to console the Doctor. Or if he needs consoling at all.
"Ah- well, I'm sure...what do ya want with a guy that leaves without saying anyway?"
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At that moment, the kettle boils and Fitz instinctively pushes himself away from the counter to start fixing them both a cup. When he finishes, he sets the cups on the table and sits in the chair next to Doctor.
"We could...go find him. Ask."
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Even though he had searched earlier, there had been so much going on, and now he had a friend to try to help. Even if Ianto wanted to leave, the Doctor could at least talk him into getting his things. He would need his things, after all.
"Thank you for offering to help, Fitz."
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