Never Blame on Malice

by Merripestin

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There was a little dried blood in the Doctor's fringe where he'd cut his forehead falling against the console.

Turlough warmed the pot, spooned tea , poured hot water, arranged the biscuits.

The wire had been tangled around the component the Doctor had wanted, and the component had been stuck, needed a tug. That was all. He hadn't even known what the wire was. Still didn't, except that it connected to the inertial dampers.

As he put the tray down a little tea spilled over the biscuits. "Sorry."

The Doctor touched his sleeve. "No harm done."

But Tegan still glared mistrustfully.

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"Never Blame on Malice" 030909 by merripestin at yahoo dot com

Elements belong to the BBC.