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."

Comments

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"I thought it was simply the name of the planet, but do you know --" Morgana says, right to the Doctor's face. He really is very close and not moving, and while this could've gotten extremely awkward, his voice sets off another burst of bullets.

This is distracting, and frightening when one ricochets off the floor about a foot from them.

There are many things about technology -- dreadful word -- Morgana finds uncivilized and bulets are being added to the list. At least with a sword, one had to face the person they are attacking. With a bow and arrow, marksmanship is required. This method allowed their attacker to be something else entirely.

"Our tormentor is a coward," and the fact whatever is trying to kill them succeeded in frightening her with the bullets, has made her mad.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, I got that feeling, too," the Doctor mutters. He awkwardly manuevers over her to try to get at his sonic. Cowards with something to lose, especially after what the Doctor just worked out.

"We'll need to dismantle its energy system," he says. "And then it should automatically power down. Well, probably."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Frankly, despite the fact this should be awkward, the life and death nature of the event would overcome any awkwardness.

Morgana turns her head to look around and see if there's a place to hide, but there is nary an alcove, or anything, and the bullet sprays, while errant will eventually hit the mark.

Considering how the Doctor is trying reach his might be a screwdriver, with their current positions, Morgana's been able to fish hers out much faster.

"Would this do?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He can't get a hold of his, and hers is already ready. And, as the bullets start getting closer to them, he decides it'll have to.

"Aim it for the eyestalk," he says. "Next setting up, it'll disrupt the energy outflow!"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana is not used to aim at things upside-down, or lying on the ground (and now is not the time to say her archery skills are, although better than average, certainly not marksman level), and she takes a moment to steady her hand, before turning on her might-be-a-screwdriver and aiming where instructed.

The bullets don't immediately stop, so she adjusts her hand slightly -- the stretch hurting her shoulder slightly. It's another few seconds but the bullets stop flying.

But she makes no attempt to move, and whispers "Do you think I hit the mark, or is it trying to re-aim?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Only one way to find out," he says, and he slowly gets to his feet. He cautiously moves in front of the turret, which stands blank and quiet. That's something, he thinks. If only he knew why, exactly, they'd bother to set up such primitive devices.

"I think it's safe---" he starts, before the eyestalk turns to face him and another spray of bullets shoots out. Whatever Morgana's done has set its aim off, and what should've been a chest full of lead ends up being the wall next to him instead.

He drops down immediately.

"Try again!"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"Doctor!" Morgana yells when he drops. Not seeing anything pooling on the floor, she refocuses on the immediate crisis. Even if the doctor is hurt, she can't help him if she gets injured as well.

No longer pinned to the floor, Morgana scrabbles closer to the device. It's easier to aim at things when one is neither upside down or farther away.

She pulls herself over to a wall, opposite from the Doctor, to brace herself against, and sits up, and aims again.

The bullets cease but she's not fooled. The eyestalk does not move when Morgana stands and creeps closer, but she uses her might-be-a-screwdriver once again for good measure.

Then looks to the Doctor.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

It's at some point between the machine finally properly powering down and sight of Morgana standing near him that the pain starts. While there's too much red stickiness on him to find where he's been hit by blood, he reaches up and touches his shoulder, finding a fresh warm stream and a whole lot of pain right below his collarbone.

He takes in a breath and sits up, applying pressure to the wound.

"Right, we need to get out of here," he says, taking in a pained breath. "I know who's doing this, and they're going to do everything they can to keep us from alerting any sort of authorities."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana drops to her knees and adds her own hand to his, to help with the pressure. "We are not going anywhere," she spares the briefest of glances to the turret -- which seems to have finally been disabled. "Until we know how badly you've been hurt."

The voice leaves little room for debate.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

She's a difficult, confusing woman, but her touch is gentle. In a way, it makes everything that's happened worth this, worth understanding how kind she can truly be.

"I'm fine," he says, firmly. "Just a bullet wound, nothing I can't handle. We'll hit a hospital planet or something once we're out of this place. But I'm not putting you in danger by waiting here."

He hears a click, and he struggles to his feet. "They're going to try to turn them back on, we only have minutes."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

There's a momentary battle between insisting on looking at the wound right now, Morgana knows from past history the importance of getting wounds cleaned as quickly as possible, and the danger of another volley of bullets.

So, she has to make an unfortunate compromise, as she tries to give him some assistance as he gets to his feet, then fetches his coat. "Doctor, as soon as we are clear," another click momentarily gets her attention, "I will look at that injury."

He's the one bleeding and she's the one being deadly serious. She's going to look, whether or not he likes it, save dire circumstances.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Yes, yes, absolutely, once we're out of here," he says. "Come on, we've got to get out!"

He starts down the hallway, only briefly glancing behind himself to make sure she's following. He's already hurt, he's all right if he gets hurt again. But Morgana, he promised himself nothing would happen to her.

There's another corridor with doors, but no stairs this time. He scowls, but begins down it, slowly.

"There's always a way out," he says. "Be it a lift, a set of stairs, a window---"

One of the doors near him makes a loud bang. After leaping in surprise, he realizes it's not a bang. It's a knock.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana is following, looking for a way out as well, but the knock stops her in her tracks.

On the third knock, Morgana's identified the door. She pauses, and is about to call out a command to show one's self but the pause in running means that she's hearing something else, far more frightening, to her.

There's another click from the turret.

So, she makes the decision. "Whoever that is will have to deal with us, before you get hurt again."

She's clearly not as concerned about herself as he is.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

She's right. There's no time.

"Three knocks is all you get," he mutters to himself as he reaches out for the door. It opens without hesitation. Within is a library, it looks like. Bookshelves line the walls, with a leather chair on the side and an antique-looking lamp on a table next to it. The light is flickering, leaving the room partially in darkness every few seconds.

The room is also completely void of life.

He steps in and gestures for Morgana to follow him, then shuts the door. There's another click outside, and he hears a spray of bullets hit the far wall.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's concern about knocking is something she's heard of before, but at the moment, she cannot remember if that was in his head or aloud. Although, right now is not the time to check.

The noise of the bullets makes her flinch. The Doctor may find it silly, but Morgana actually ducks a little to the side, uncertain if there's enough force for the projectiles to come straight through.

The light flickers, and the volley finishes. This means there is only one thing for Morgana to say. "Sit down. We need to see how badly you have been injured."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I meant out completely, Morgana, we don't have time."

All the same, he does hurt. He can't deny that. He goes over to the chair and sits down, carefully removing his jacket. The red from the basement stays in the exposed V-shape on his white shirt, as well as a spreading red stain on his shoulder. He looks over his shoulder at the back.

"Blood on the back, too," he says. "Must've gone straight through."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana has dealt with injuries before, but never something quite like this, and needs a closer look.

When the lamp flickers again, she reaches out and smacks it, unwittingly behaving like every human in history when a piece of technology malfunctions.

She spares a glance around the room but does not see anything dangerous. "Why would whatever is trying to kill us want us in here? We were led here, just like every place else."

While she is talking, she unbuttons the first five buttons on his shirt. Her fingers are steady, this is medical, so she isn't awkward. Even propriety has moments where medical care supersedes everything else. She pulls it back, and frowns at the t-shirt. "I am sorry," she says, when she takes a hold of the hole left by the bullet and tears it.

Leaning over, she examines the hole, but does not touch -- it is bleeding far more than she would like. "We have nothing with which to clean it." She's frustrated at the situation, not him. it would be impossible for the wound not to be contaminated with whatever the brackish liquid was below stairs.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor, on the other hand, is awkward. For all the sexiness of this new incarnation, it came with it a bundle of nerves when it came to anything remotely sexual, including clothing removal. He supposes that's why he's always so very keen to wear multiple layers, where other incarnations were content with a shirt and a tie, or a shirt and a set of braces.

But Morgana means nothing sexual about this, so he focuses on that.

"I love that shirt," he says, trying to make light of it. "David Bowie gave me that shirt. Or was it Jimi Hendrix? All a bit of a blur, that era."

There's a creak somewhere in the room, and the Doctor stops talking, stops moving, only listens. It reminds him of a dam about to burst. The straining sound of water.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The names mean nothing to Morgana, but she has learned the Doctor does like to name drop. "He will have to get you another one then, as this one is ruined." Perhaps it's a tailor? Not that Morgana could ever know.

She's talking more to make sure he is all right. As long as the injured are capable of talking, things are never quite as dire. Looking at the wound both in the front, and stepping behind, ripping the shirt further, to see the exit wound, she comments, "Both shirts are ruined." She places a hand near, but not on the wound. She's feeling the skin for warmth -- the start of an infection, as these things can take hold quickly.

His skin still feels cool, as it always does. "The wound is straight through, but I would feel better if we could bandage it before we continued." She looks around the room to see if there is something that could suffice.

She's not even paying attention to the creak.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor isn't listening to what she's saying.

"Shh, shh, shut up," he snaps. He holds up a hand and listens. The creaking has stopped.

Has it?

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"Excuse me?" Here she is trying to figure out how to best treat his wound and the Doctor is telling her to shut up?

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He listens. There's nothing but silence and their breathing, the Doctor's a bit heavier than Morgana's.

"I must've been---"

Without warning, there's a loud crack, and the front door, the one they walked so calmly through moments before, all but explodes off of its hinges as a torrent of clear water pushes through. It doesn't stop, quickly making to fill the room.

"We need to get out of here!"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The water rushes in, and instinctively, Morgana tries to step out of its way, but cannot due to the torrent. Within a matter of a few seconds, it is nearly up to her knees.

"How do we do that?" Their exit is currently gushing water -- not purple water -- at them.

It's not a useful question, so Morgana moves away from the door, looking to see if there is hidden exit somewhere.

And comes up short.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I don't know!" the Doctor replies. He grabs for his coat, but it's quickly pulled away from him by the torrent of water. His sonic is still in that coat!

Another rush of water comes in, and he finds himself losing his footing. The leather chair and the lamp are washed away, and the light from the lamp flickers again, the room quickly going completely dark, and then illuminated by the dying bulb.

"Block the water!" he tries. "Help me move this bookshelf!"

It's all he can think will work.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The water, now well above her knees, Morgana wades over as quickly as the rushing current will allow.

The flaws are readily evident in this plan, when she almost loses her footing -- a rare event indeed.

And the light finally loses it's battle with the water and goes out, plunging the room into darkness.

"Doctor?!" She's lost sight of him entirely, and cannot hear the regular sounds of life over the water but she does feel what she is sure is the bookshelf he indicated. "I have it," she announces, in case he cannot see as well in this darkness, as she can.