The Monk's Altar

Chapter 11

He must have sensed that he wouldn't be able to deter her, as he blew out his cheeks and beckoned her closer with a wave of his hand, his fingers curling in on themselves with the motion.  "Alright," he said a little reluctantly, "You check the en suite, I'll see if there's anything out here."

"Disturbances?" 

"Yes."

She trudged into the en suite, more than a little furious at him.  He kept treating her like a china doll, like Krop Tor was an event they were approaching, not one they, or she rather, were trying to leave behind.  It was that hard for him to believe that she trusted him. 

The en suite was a small bathroom that was comprised mostly of a jacuzi bathtub with a sink and toilet crammed in, almost as an afterthought. S he wondered if he knew this and had given her this as an assignment on purpose.  She stood in the center of the tub for a moment, wondering if someone would teleport in to the room this way.  She felt ridiculous, but tramped around the large tub, every corner, feeling for something odd. 

She knew what she was feeling for, at least.  She'd felt it back at the monastery, the uneasiness.  Here, however, she felt nothing but cool air cycling through the room.  There was nothing here.  She walked by the sink, around the side of the toilet, trying to maximize every bit of space, but nothing in the atmosphere changed. 

About ten minutes later, she exited the room, shaking her head. "Nothing in thee, Doctor," she told him, jerking her thumb over her shoulder at the room she'd just left.  He looked up from his place in the corner by the bed and glanced her way.

"Ah.  Good.  I'm not finding anything out here, either," he got to his feet and tucked his sonic into the inside pocket of his jacket.  Seems this room is safe, but I'm going to lock the doors just in case."

"Right," she nodded.  "And in the meantime?"

He looked uneasy to say the least and that was when she knew that he was dead set on protecting her, no matter how it made her feel.  He was putting her first, as he had always tried to.  He hadn't always succeeded in that, she knew that full well, but he had always tried.  The Doctor shifted from foot to foot, his hands clasped absently behind his back.  

"You don't want to leave the room," she stated it, even though she'd meant to form it as a question.  That was probably because the both of them knew that it wasn't a question.  

"No, I don't," he replied.  "More specifically, I don't want to leave the room without you, and I don't want you to leave the room, so no. I don't."

She nodded in defeat and walked over to the (quite frankly, massive) bed and sat down, feeling it bounce slightly under her weight and the pressure with which she applied it.  "Okay," she said, lifting a shoulder.

He walked around to stand in front of her, staring down at her in surprise, his hands in his pockets.  Due to his height and her sitting, he was positively towering over her, and she swallowed hard.  Eyes that held the depth of the universe were trying to search her, until finally, he cleared his throat. 

"You're not angry with me?" He asked.

"You just want me safe," she replied, then furrowed her brows.  "That is what it is, isn't it?  This isn't some weird thing about me not fitting in around here, is it?"

The Doctor fell to his knees before her, a supplicant gesture that surprised her fully.  He reached out to cup one of her cheeks, his other hand falling onto the bed next to her thigh.  "Why would you think that you don't fit in?"

She shifted uncomfortably, the creaking of the bed sounding nearly obscene to her own ears. "Dunno," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.  "I just don't look like the people here."