for magicalskeptic: A trip to the ocean

[rude_not_ginger]

"You wanted an ocean, have I got an ocean for you."

The Doctor darted around the console and scooped his jacket up from where it hung on one of the TARDIS pillars. He absolutely loved this bit. The first trip to an alien world with someone who didn't even believe in other worlds until now. Very little was more exciting.

"Now! We've got breathable atmosphere, low radiation, and a beautiful summer day. The waters of the Greeio Malgoon are purple in the summer, which is when they're the warmest and the safest. I'd have taken you to them in the winter when they're blue, but the water's acid content gets a bit high and ends up spewing out strange creatures with eyes that shoot lasers. Green lasers, they disintegrate you without much warning. Very technicolor world, the Greeo Malgoon."

He shrugged. "Still! In the summer, peak of tourist season, it's the most brilliant place for a visit."

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[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He lets out a small laugh. He pulls back to look down at her. She just saved his life, and that's not something he plans to forget. He's so relieved he could probably kiss her, but there's a lack of propriety in a hug and then there's a kiss, and a kiss is far beyond even his sense of propriety.

"That it is," he says. "And you were brilliant."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana looks at him for a moment, feeling far more upset and shaky than she was in the middle of the crisis. Without thinking, she reaches out and places a hand on his cheek, gently rubbing with her thumb, and smiles weakly. The Doctor is fine, and she will be in a moment, so she tries to think practically.

"I think we need to find somewhere else to wait out the siren."

That was practical, right? It is certainly more practical than what she does next, which is lean forward and hug him again.

Propriety will be back in just another minute.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Practical doesn't matter, he appreciates the hug and wraps his arms around her tightly. So much for one simple, easy holiday to the ocean. He closes his eyes and gives himself one moment to just indulge in this hug, though. Just a moment to be glad to be alive.

Then, the water bubbles as the creature resurfaces.

"Yeah," he says. "I think an air raid's safer than being in here. Come on!"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Once releases, Morgana nods, instead of saying anything, and follows the Doctor up the stairs, back into the lobby of the large glass building. She might be imagining it, but she thinks she can still hear the water bubbling.

Morgana?

It's the same voice from before, and Morgana, for a moment has the same reaction, turning towards it.

No, it was not real last time and she did not fall for it the first time. Instead, she confirms a theory.

"Doctor, did you hear something just then?"

She's still holding his might-be-a-screwdriver.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah," the Doctor says, thinking he understands her words. "Nothing. The air raid sirens must've shut off. I don't know why, though. Do they want us to go outside? Or do they want us to think we're safe in here?"

He leads the way towards another staircase, this one leading up.

"Come on," he says. "Let's get a better view of this city, shall we?"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Now, she is feeling more like herself, and one of the things she dislikes most about the Doctor, is that he assumes everyone is always on the same page -- his. Of course, that frustration can be found in any one of the men in Morgana's life.

Thus, Morgana's voice, as she follows the Doctor, does not sound like the awe-filled one on the beach, or the shaky ones a few moments ago. This one sounds distinctly wry. That's Morgana, as long as no one's in immediate danger, she can adjust fairly quickly.

"So you did not hear a TARDIS again, like before? Because I heard my name again." If she took a moment (she won't) she would find her not being upset at the thought of hearing voices, almost amusing.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He looks back to her. "That boy again?" he asks. "Where was it coming from?"

Whatever is making the noise must want her for some reason. Whatever reason it is, the Doctor doesn't know. Or maybe it's trying a different wavelength, one the Doctor isn't on.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana tries to discern exactly where the voice might be coming from -- but it was so much simpler out in the street. She hears her name again, louder, more insistent, and it ignoring its summons takes a great deal of her willpower.

The one thing that helps -- the absolute certainty that she's being played.

"Down there." She points down a corridor. Her annoyance at these games whatever it is is playing is evident in her voice. "It wants my attention. I do not think we should give it such."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Your attention but not mine," the Doctor agrees. "It must've seen you separate from me back on the street, figures you'll do it again. It wants us not working together."

He nods up the stairs. "Let's not give it what it wants, eh?"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"That was only for a moment, Doctor," Morgana protests, but, if pressed, she would agree with him. It is not that she does not think his theory is correct, more that she hates the idea that whatever it is thinks she's the easier target.

Moving a slight bit farther away from him, for a second, she shakes her skirt, trying to get off the thick, deep crimson liquid. It is far more awkward to wander around with one's skirts almost sticking to one's ankles.

"If it wants to separate us, no running down stairs," she corrects herself, "or up stairs until we know exactly what is waiting for us."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He loosens his tie. The thick liquid's covered his entire suit and trousers, and seems to have stained his hands a strange crimson color. It's off-putting, and he wonders what it is. Some strange water? Something to mark where they've been?

"No way to find out what's up there if we don't go up," he says. "And we can't go down or out. Not until we know where the rest of the city's got to."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

There's a trail of the liquid on the floor showing exactly where the pair have been. Morgana's hands look like she's been butchering something after a hunt, but the Doctor -- after going under, he is quite red. She notices a mark on his face, a slight bit darker, where she put her hand. For some reason, this is almost amusing and she bites her lower lip to keep from smirking. It is not appropriate to find anything humourous.

Still holding her skirts, she has to agree -- down, out, and around the corridor are not possible. Thus the only preposition they have left is up. Since the Doctor went first last time, it is only fair that Morgana lead the way this time.

It is important to note she does not ask permission to lead -- nor would she think to. She simply starts heading up the stairs.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He puts a hand on her arm.

"You don't know what's up there, Morgana, I should go first."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana's look to the Doctor is diametrically opposite to the one of relief and concern, and lack of propriety he had earlier on the stairs.

This is all about him being a man and insisting she need to be kept safe. It's one thing Morgana has difficulty tolerating, "When you went first, you were nearly killed. Perhaps I will have better luck."

With that, she pulls away from him, and continues up the stairs.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, but if I die, Morgana, I don't actually die. You'll be dead. Forever dead, and you're my responsibility..."

He can, and probably will, go at length about this, but he's still going to follow her. Hopefully to pull her out of the way should something terrible happen.

And something terrible always happens in situations like this.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

She looks at him when he speaks, but the responsibility comment is too much. "You are not my guardian." Ways in which Morgana does not want to think about the Doctor: as a guardian tops the list.

She gets to the top of the stairs, only to be confronted by a very angry king, wielding a very large sword. All he says is one word, witch.

That sound, unlike the earlier, unearthly scream, is Morgana. To anyone else in the room, there would be nothing there.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor doesn't see anything in front of her, but Morgana's scream propels him into action. He grabs her by the shoulders and pulls her back away from whatever's assaulting her.

Unfortunately, he misjudges his footing and feels himself losing his stepping. He glances down and sees that the steps are sliding up and inwards, creating a smooth ramp. Without any footing, he falls backwards, gripping onto Morgana in an effort to make himself a cushion for the fall.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

One second, Morgana is wishing, more than anything, she had a dagger, but the next, she finds herself in a heap, on the floor, on what was a staircase, moments earlier.

They've skidded to a halt about halfway down and it takes a moment for Morgana to realize two things. "That was not real. He is not here."

The second is that she's holding on to the lapels of the Doctor's jacket for dear life, with her head on his chest. She sits up and assesses him. "Are you all right?"

Despite her concern, now would not be a good time to remind her that she walked right into that.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, think I might've banged my knee a bit, but nothing that'll keep me down," he says. He looks up the stairs, then back down them. Whatever was up there was frightening enough to cause Morgana to scream, and that's something he's never really heard from her, not without a nightmare attached to it.

"Regular funhouse we've got here. Monsters and phantoms and retracting stairs, oh my."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"Phantoms, that is all." Morgana looks back up the stairs, and sees nothing. She feels foolish. "And phantoms are really nothing." She's convincing herself.

Now that the stairs have settled into a ramp, Morgana makes her way to her feet. It's steep, but she's never been unsure of foot, so holds her balance, holding out her hand to help the Doctor up.

"Whatever is up there, they do not want us there." That is, of course, assuming that there is a they.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, if ever there was a reason to go forward, I think that's it," the Doctor replies. He hooks one foot into the side of the wall to brace himself and begins tugging himself up the ramp.

"We need to figure out what they're doing. What don't they want us to find."

And, as an afterthought, he turns back to Morgana.

"Are you sure you're okay with going forward? You can wait back at the TARDIS, if you want.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

For that suggestion -- the girl go wait while the man goes to play hero, the Doctor gets a fairly dirty look. It's something akin to anything-you-can-do.

"Doctor, if you can forgive my earlier reaction," underneath the tone of confidence, is a warning not to ask, "I think it would be wiser if we do not separate."

Morgana has a perfectly logical reason for this, "In case assistance is needed."

Not that things ever go horrifically wrong around the Doctor, like almost dying not too long ago.

And because she's been wishing for it, "Next time, I will not take your advice and bring my dagger."

Wait, did she just imply the possibility of a next time?

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor will, of course, give her a big, stupid grin.

"So you'd like there to be a next time, then?" he asks. And since he's not one to deny someone adventure, he doesn't mention the idea of her going back again.

At the top of the slope, he turns and reaches an arm out to help her up.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

If Morgana knew what a Freudian slip is, right now, she would detest Freud. His big, dopey grin is making her feel like she's walked right into something, but she's not entirely sure what that is. Then again, she is still unaccustomed to being that agreeable with the Doctor. Perhaps, she just does not know how.

"You still owe me a trip to the Western Sea." Clearly, that is what she meant but a trip to the Western Sea also means a return home, permanently.

She frowns for a moment before taking his proffered hand.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Well, of course. But which west? That's the question."

He pulls her up easily, and then hops to his feet to look around. It's another long, dark corridor.

"Now, what's so bad up here they want to scare us off, eh?"