Rory was a parent, even if he wasn't the Doctor's parent, either of them. A parent and a nurse, it was his natural instinct to offer comfort when someone was afraid. The raw terror on his face made it through even without the psychic contact. He could feel the Doctor, almost a buffer between them, and he spared some time to feel relieved. The earlier contact had proved that the younger Time Lord knew nothing about control, and he had a feeling being terrified and glowy and possibly dying would definitely eliminate any caution between looking in his brain and destroying it. "Doctor, what's happening to him?" He tried to keep his voice calm and level, bit hard when the face of a good friend was contorted in agony and he couldn't do a thing to stop it.

He reached up, settling a cautious hand to his shoulder, trying to offer what comfort he could in his current position. He needed to get to his kit, needed to try to help, but his kit was trapped under him and he could feel the cloned Doctor's blood staining his shirt, soaking through. It would be a little hard to escape, trapped as he was under the other man. "Trying, Doctor. Little difficult. After this, we need to talk about discrepancies in your medical file." If Time Lord's exploded when they died, seemed rather important to list getting out of range as something that might be necessary for treatment.

The Doctor looked something between panicked and calm, which told him the other Doctor likely wasn't dying. But that really was the only thing he was was reasonably sure of, that the cloned Time Lord might not be dying. What else he could be doing aside from that Rory had no idea.

The clone hovered, eyes wide with worry, obediently staying back a safe distance from whatever was happening to the clone Doctor. Whatever was happening, he didn't like it. His friend was in pain. The one person he felt properly connected to was in pain.