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]

Morgana holds on for dear life. The water is up to her chin now, and every step she takes is half treading water. She's afraid if she lets go, they will be separated.

Although -- "Doctor, you are injured, if I could make my way to the other side of the door, I could pull you through." She doesn't think his injured shoulder could handle it.

Since they do not know where the water source is, other than outside the door, it's the only thing she can think of.

That does, of course, mean separating, contradicting her previous statement.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"There's no door out there," he says. "There's no windows, no escape. We'd have to stay completely under water the whole swim back to the little girl's room!" he calls. "And even then, there wasn't a door out of that!"

He tries to map exactly where things began. This place is a maze. This place shouldn't be this way. And most importantly---

"There shouldn't be water in here!" he says. "Not this colour, not this type! It doesn't make any---"

He loses his footing and falls under the water for a moment. He kicks up and keeps his head above water.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana was simply hoping getting back out into the hallway would give them a chance to escape the rush of water; the hallway, hopefully being not quite as full, or as deep.

"Would that not be one floor --" she's about to say up, since there was that fall, into the pit where the little girl's skeleton was found, but when he loses his footing, and goes under, he pulls her with him.

In a frantic attempt to stay above water. She lets go of his hand.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He takes in a gasp of air, and spins about. Morgana. She's gone. Under the water somewhere. Taking in a breath, he drops below the water, looking for her. Where is she? It's pitch black under the roaring water, apart from the small blue light. The light. Morgana's sonic.

He kicks off of the wall towards it, reaching out his hand for hers. She's in a ridiculous gown, it can't possibly be easy to swim in.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

It's not ridiculous, but for her, it's appropriate, even though Morgana did agree to travel, unchaperoned with the Doctor (something she chooses not to think about, often). The problem is that with three layers, it's tangled around her feet, so she's been trying to take off the overlay, whilst not losing a grip on her might-be-a-screwdriver.

Just as it's off, she feels the Doctor take her hand.

Once at the surface -- the water well above their heads now, and only a few feet from the ceiling, she gasps and sputters.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The water's gone well above the door, now, and try as he may, the Doctor can't find the ground with his feet. The ceiling is getting ever closer. He looks up at it, and down at the water.

"Drowning!" he says, almost exasperated. "Not how I expected to go! I thought there'd be some epic battle or some sort of a monster! Not just plain old water blocking out all the air!"

But Morgana. He's dooming her to this death. He should never have brought her here. He should never have come into this building. And now, here they are, about to die.

"I'm so sorry."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana's not in the mood for apologies. In fact, she's still trying to figure a way out of things.

There's water rushing through the door from who knows where. It had to fill up hallway in order for it not to be rushing out again. There are doors that appear and disappear and none of this makes any sense. It's completely irrational, and, from everything Morgana understands, impossible.

"Doctor how is any of this --" She is about to say possible, because it isn't, when she disappears back under the water, so quickly it would look like something's pulled her.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Morgana!" he cries. It's the tentacle beast again, it has to be. But how would it survive here? How could it? He takes in a deep breath and dives under. He can't see her. It's too dark, and the blue light is gone. Maybe she was pulled out the door?

He swims back up, takes in another breath, and pushes himself towards the door. He has to find her. Where is she?

He can't make it to the door, the current is too strong. Where did she go? How did she vanish? He surfaces again, and the water is very nearly to the ceiling.

"Morgana!"

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

There are a few seconds where Morgana is standing on the floor, and then convinced she's in water, and then not again, so she needs a few moments to orient herself. None of this is real. As long as she keeps telling herself that, it she stands, firmly on the floor, the furniture all back in place, and even the lamp flickering.

But it's the Doctor that has her attention now, as he's on the floor, behind the chair, an unearthly gurgle and gasp being the only sounds she's hearing. "Doctor?" She puts one one hand on his side, and the other on his cheek -- the same place she put it earlier, when she left the red mark, which is no longer there. She shakes him a little.

"Doctor, you have to listen to me, none of this is real. Please, listen to me." She pleads with him.

She looks to his shoulder, and it is still bleeding. As much as she tries to tell herself, that is still very real.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He's drowning. He can't get in any air. He can't breathe. Water coming from nowhere is filling up the room and his lungs and he's going to drown. Panic is far out the door. He's about to die, he's dying, he's going to die, right here.

Which means somewhere down there, Morgana's probably already dead. He almost feels like he can feel her touch on his face or hear her voice. But she's dead, she has to be.

The thought feels much worse than the thought of his own upcoming death.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The gasping is getting worse and Morgana's desperate to figure out something, anything that will get the Doctor's attention. "Doctor," she shakes him again, a little harder, but is wary of the shoulder injury. "Please, listen. The water, it is not real. You are fine."

He is not listening, and the gasps sound like they are getting weaker now, instead of more desperate. "Doctor, you cannot let them convince you." She moves her one hand from his side and now holds his holds his face. Even dying it is so much cooler than hers, and while she usually likes that, at the moment, it's feeling too deathly.

Impulsively, she leans forward and kisses his forehead, the skin feeling too cold, at the moment, for her liking. "Doctor, please."

Warmth -- it's the one thing the water could never, ever produce, so, in sheer desperation, to convince him she's there, Morgana lays down beside him, curled, as best she can, and careful of the shoulder wound, into him.

His clothing is clean and dry, save for the blood, and she lays her head on his chest, and takes one of his hands, squeezing it.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He's drowning, he's dying, and suddenly he feels warm. It's a warmth on his head, and then over his hearts and on his hand. He thinks it must be the regenerative energy building up inside of him, but that shouldn't have started, not yet. That would be impossible.

He can believe that water comes from nowhere. He can believe in impossible currents. He can believe that tons of water from a different planet can arrive on another world without warning. But he can't believe that his body will start regenerating before he dies.

Therefore, he can't be regenerating. Which means he shouldn't be warm, which means he must be somewhere else.

He takes in a sharp gasp of air as he finds himself suddenly dry on the floor to the library, Morgana lying atop him, her head on his chest and her hand on his.

"Morgana?" he gasps.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's gasp startles her, and, for a second, she's terrified it's a last gasp, though she can hear his hearts still beating. It causes Morgana to grip his hand just a bit tighter, until he says her name.

When he does, she shifts her head to look at him, but she is not entirely sure he's out of danger. "The water, is not real. If you doubt that, even for a second, it will come back," she rushes to explain to him.

She sits up, but still keeps a firm grip on this hand, but whether or not it is to keep the Doctor convinced she's really there, or herself convinced the Doctor isn't dying, is something she won't think about. "Your shoulder. I cannot convince myself it is not real. Perhaps you will have better luck?" Morgana's been hoping that the wound is as fictional as the water, but isn't entirely sure.

Excuse her voice for being a bit shaky. Moments ago, she thought the Doctor was about to die and that thought was far more terrifying than the fictional water.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The water wasn't real. That makes sense, he thinks, now that he's out of the water. It always makes sense after the fact.

He moves his shoulder carefully. "I think it is real," he says. "Much easier to built a turret than to flood a room with water. Or psychic energy, whichever they've used in this case."

He reaches up and puts a hand to her shoulder. She looks uninjured, but he'd be lying if he pretended he wasn't worried.

"We have to get out of here," he says.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Perhaps one advantage of living in a time when four elements were the foundation of the scientific principle, is that Morgana knows about water -- and none of this made sense.

"At least we can be reassured the wound is clean, but it still needs to be bandaged." She doesn't like that he's still bleeding, but at least it's not festering with whatever was in that fictional crimson liquid.

She has to ask. "Whatever they are using to frighten us, Doctor, it nearly killed you. How are we going to distinguish what is real and what is not?"

And, it nearly killed him, something she would rather not repeat.

Morgana is distracted when she realizes the hand on her shoulder is touching bare skin, she looks around for the overlay -- crumpled on the floor. It's about now awkwardness settles in but she can't quite bring herself to release his hand.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's used to seeing his companions in far less clothing, so her lack of overlay doesn't even register to him. Moments earlier, she was tearing his clothes to get a look at his wound. Everything after that is really just more of the same.

"We just assume everything is real and avoid it," he says. "Something like this, well, it's not something we can assume is an illusion until we've properly figured it out, eh?"

He struggles to sit up, but keeps his hand in hers. He thought he'd lost her. That thought was far more terrifying than he'd admit.

"The steam outside," he says. "Must also be an illusion. Earth Water won't make an appearance in this world. It shouldn't, at least.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

When the Doctor struggles to sit up, Morgana has to stop herself from helping. She's not certain how much, and where the Doctor's pride would kick in, and offering help, like this, would infinitely annoy every other man she's ever known. He's still keeping her hand and she's letting him, for the moment.

Morgana tilts her head slightly. His explanation made absolutely no sense, in any way to her. "So everything is real, until we know it is an illusion?" She's new to all of this, and such a concept is a little hard to wrap her head around it.

On the other hand, what the Doctor mentions afterward does click. "That was the first place where an attempt was made to keep us out. Before, it was to distract us, separate us, but that was the first to try and keep us away. That, and the other room, the formal hall." The concept of a boardroom didn't exist in her time.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Now I think they're trying to frighten us to death."

He clears his throat and he can almost taste the water.

"Nearly worked, too." He looks over to Morgana, then away, awkward. "Thanks, by the way. That's twice--no, three times---you've saved my life, now, you keep that up and I'll owe you more trips than you can take."

He gives her a smile, then nods. "Out is where we need to go, I think."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"Thus, if it is particularly terrifying, and almost impossible, I shall not believe it. Something involving brute force," the turret could never be called an elegant weapon, "is real. It is like there are two different systems at work here."

The idea of more trips than she could take sounds as impossible as the flooded room, yet far more appealing than Morgana would admit. Instead, she covers it by smiling, a little wryly. "Doctor, you still owe me one trip to the sea. I am sorry, but I do not think I can count this one, anymore."

It is now that she releases his hand, and stands up to fetch her overlay. She secures it quickly, and feels more appropriate once it is on. She nods to the Doctor's jacket, as she always feels she needs to keep track of his things. "You are right, we should go."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor picks up his jacket and tosses it over one arm. He's not going to be able to put it on, not with the state of his shoulder.

"Oh, all right. Another trip to the sea, then." He's not about to complain. If he's perfectly honest with himself (which he won't be), he'd like to keep this 'one trip' going for as long as he can.

"You know what else we need? A trip to a diner, I think. Somewhere that serves real, proper food. I'm starving!" He leads the way to the door and peers around the corner. Nothing again, just the eerie light.

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

This time, Morgana reaches for his hand as if it's far more natural than she like would think about.

"I agree with your plan to find food. Is there even a place to eat on the TARDIS?" Morgana's from a time when blights and droughts brought about shortages all too quickly, she's not one to turn down food.

"Are we heading back to the formal hall, or outside first?"

And, the question that got lost, literally in the bullets and flood moments ago. "You said you had an idea earlier. Do you care to share?"

That wasn't a request.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"More of a revalation," he says. "Figured out who set this up. Because G.M., that stands for Greeio Malgoon, yes, but that's not what people generally call it. The only people who call it that are the locals. The ones who live here all the time."

He nods back down the hall towards the formal---er, the board room.

"And we need to find the outside, I think. If we don't find whoever's still pulling the strings first."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

Morgana squeezes his hand a little, to get his attention. "Are you planning on telling me what it stands for, then?" She asks as they make their way down the hall, but she slows nearing the turret.

"Why is that not firing?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"It stands for the planet's name, but it's a local name like..." he chewed on his lip, trying to figure out how to explain it. "Is there something the people of Camelot call Camelot? Just them, nobody else? Because that's what G.M. is. The little girl and her father, they lived here, they were locals, and they were planning something on the beach."

He approached the turret cautiously, but all the lights inside were dark. He tapped the side of it with his foot. "Must've used its energy up powering that room for us. Better keep moving before it wakes up."

[magicalskeptic.livejournal.com]

"Camelot is just Camelot, to whoever it may be, locals, foreign dignitaries, and across classes." This might explain her ongoing confusion.

"And of course she lived here, we saw her room, but why is that relevant?"

And Morgana is more than happy to avoid the turret, and starts trying to steer the pair of them towards the stairs -- or, what was a set of stairs and is now a very steep ramp.