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"Tegan thinks you should just put me off on the nearest planet with a breathable atmosphere," Turlough said, pulling the wicker stool closer to the console to watch the Doctor at work. He was still insisting that the console blowing up had done the TARDIS a world of good, but for some reason, that "world of good" was requiring rather a lot of repairs.

"And what do you think?" the Doctor asked, followed immediately by, "Hand me that thermocoupler, will you? It should be next to your right foot."

Turlough handed him the component before he answered. "That's what I'd do."

Now the Doctor looked up from the console. "Is that what you want me to do?"

"No. I want to go home," he said, even though he wasn't sure he really did. "Going home" had just been what he'd wanted for so long that he hadn't considered any other possibilities.

"All right," the Doctor said with an odd edge in his voice. He'd had it back on the ship, as well, when Turlough had asked to be taken home.

Turlough shook his head. The Doctor hadn't even sounded angry with him when he'd learned about Turlough's deal with the Black Guardian, but let him ask one simple thing--

One simple thing he wasn't even certain he wanted and doubted he could have even if he did. His exile to Earth had been meant as a permanent one, and there was no reason to think the situation on Trion had changed.

All things considered, he might as well stay here. At least it wasn't that ghastly school. At least it was something closer to the life he'd been born to. At least he wouldn't have to be alone. Tegan might hate him--and she was too much of a reminder of his exile, anyway--but the Doctor didn't.

Even if the Doctor had every reason to hate and mistrust him. Turlough had been ordered to kill him, after all.

"I wouldn't have done it," he said, firmly, and it was true. It was possibly only true because he'd been afraid of the consequences if he were caught, but it was true.

"I know," the Doctor replied, just as though Turlough's statement hadn't been a non sequitur. The odd thing was, Turlough almost thought that he did know; that he wasn't just giving Turlough the benefit of the doubt. That he believed Turlough was incapable of doing anything quite that monstrously self-serving.

That no matter how cowardly and selfish Turlough had been, time and again since they'd met, the Doctor believed that he could be something better than that.

Turlough thought the Doctor was shockingly naïve. Of course he could be that selfish. It was the nature of sapient beings. Except, possibly, the one who was currently emerging from under the console in a shower of sparks, sucking on a burnt finger.

"That was not supposed to happen," he said, frowning at the console.

And in that insignificant moment, Turlough knew he didn't want to go home at all. He wanted to be here, traveling with the Doctor. He wanted to prove himself--not that he'd ever be a hero, or even that he wanted to be, but more that he was at least better than the Black Guardian had thought. He wanted to show the Doctor that Turlough was--that he could be--

Turlough sighed. He shouldn't even start to pursue that line of thinking. The Doctor was a Time Lord, as far removed from Trions as Turlough's people were from twentieth-century humans. If he did see something good in Turlough, it was because he saw good in nearly everyone. If he seemed to actually like Turlough, despite everything--the Doctor seemed to be almost implausibly friendly.

And if Turlough stayed, the only thing that might change was that he might convince the Doctor that he could be relied on. Everything else was a pipe dream.

One simple thing he thought he wanted.

One thing he was certain he couldn't have.