Barbara gasped. “But we’ll never see him again!”
Ian frowned in concern, keeping a hand to his son’s shoulder.
“Bosh, of course you will,” the Doctor assured, bouncing confidently. “I’m much better at steering now.”
Barbara peered in at the tangled nearly unrecognizable mess that was the TARDIS. “Can it even be steered? Ian, look at it! There’s no way I’m going to let our son go off in that.”
“Oi!” the Doctor protested, insulted.
“Absolutely not, Doctor,” Ian stated. “John stays here. Who knows where he’d end up otherwise; remember you never did get us home.”
“Picky, picky,” he sighed.
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