Not even half an hour later she was laughing at him. "You call that swimming?"

"I'm out of practice," the Doctor replied saucily. He swam a few more strokes-experimentally, it looked to her-and then rested his feet on the bottom. "Give me a little more time and I'll do laps around you!"

"That would be interesting," she answered from the other side of the pond, kicking off. She swam with speed and grace, only flashes of her body visible in the dark blue water as she cut through it with clean powerful strokes. When she reached his side she smiled. "Perhaps you need something to help you float."

"I most certainly do not!" he retorted. As if to prove it, he held his breath and dove under the surface, emerging a few feet away on the other side of her, a triumphant expression on his face. His wild tangle of curls was plastered to his head and drops of water ran down his chest to gather at the waistband of his blue swim trunks. Parthenope was dressed in a soft yellow one-piece swimsuit. It hadn't escaped his notice that the colors she wore were a direct expression of her mood. Yellow was a color he'd not seen her wear until now.

She clapped softly. "Wonderful!"

"Well, after you've done the English Channel, everything else pales in comparison," he sighed nostalgically. Then he seemed to perk up. "Do you know what I would like, though, is my beach ball from the TARDIS!"

"Beach ball?"

"Yes, a large plastic ball filled with air, with brightly colored stripes," he explained. "It should be in the room with the Olympic sized swimming pool."

"I can make you one," she pointed out.

"But it wouldn't be my beach ball if you did that, now would it?" he asked plaintively.

She rolled her eyes. "I shall return soon." She rose from the water and languidly walked away.

The Doctor watched her go, then kicked himself onto his back in a dead man's float. The suns were warm and the air was cool and crisp. He closed his eyes and drifted around the pond, letting his thoughts wander in the gray ambivalence that was his relationship with Parthenope.

He lowered his legs and suddenly his toes came into contact with something cool and satiny under the surface. Some type of planet, he surmised. Curious now, he took a breath and went under to have a look, following leaves down a few more feet to reach the rest of it.

The plant vaguely resembled seaweed on a stick with long dark leaves. It was like nothing he'd ever seen and he decided that it must be a recreation of something native to her lost home world. He reached out and rested his fingertips on a leaf. It was smooth and firm. Satisfied for the moment, he removed his hand and started to go up.

Instantly two leaves lashed out, wrapping themselves around his arms. He struggled, pulling back, but he was held fast. Two more leaves shot forth, each one grabbing a leg, and the Doctor's concern rapidly evolved into panic. No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't pull free. He knew his respiratory bypass system would kick in if needed, but that wasn't an indefinite stave off. And what would happen when Parthenope returned? What if, instead of coming straight back, she decided to look around the TARDIS a bit? Or what if there was a mouth attached somewhere to this plant that he couldn't see?

Time, he reflected grimly, was not on his side at the moment. And with his body bound and helpless, there was only one thing he could think of to do. His telepathic skills were not very powerful, but he was certain that fear and panic would enhance them. With one last useless pull to free himself, the Doctor stopped thrashing and instead focused his mind. It was then that he felt himself being pulled closer to the plant: saw the stalk split in two to form something that looked alarmingly like a maw...

'Parthenope!' His mind cried out desperately. 'PARTHENOPE!'

"Doctor! Doctor, can you hear me?"

The Doctor blinked, coughed up a bit of water and gasped for breath.

"Doctor!"

"I'm all right," he managed to wheeze. "Did you get the license plate number of that plant?" He coughed again and squinted his eyes halfway open.

She was staring down at him with an expression of deep concern. "You're out of the water now. You're safe."

"Well I'm definitely out of the water, yes," he agreed, opening his eyes completely. "As for the safe part, the jury's still out."

He was stretched out a few feet away from the pond, Parthenope kneeling beside him. There were dark red marks on his arms and legs. His chest felt slightly bruised and his lips were warm. He touched them reflexively, then realized she must have given him respiration. He dimly remembered the pressure and pain increasing, remembered the darkness closing in around him...

"You seem to be all right now," she said with a sigh of relief.

He nodded, sending drops of water flying in all directions. "Yes. Parthenope, what kind of plant do you have in that pond?"

"A t'ilk plant. It was native to Psia. But I do not understand why it attacked you for no reason."

"Well it's entirely possible that it didn't appreciate me touching it," he said breezily.

She sighed and nodded. "I did not think to warn you of that. I am so accustomed to it only being me here... Doctor, I am so sorry. I could have caused you serious harm."

"Well, no harm done, serious or otherwise," he assured her. "But tell me... is there anything else lurking about that I should be careful of? A lion disguised as a flower, perhaps?" he smiled so she would know he was not being cruel.

She shook her head. "The plant helps keep the water clear and pure: that is why I put one in. I have created nothing else that would be dangerous."

"That's very good to know," he said. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to call it a day for swimming. Perhaps we can indulge in a more sedentary pursuit, say, reading?"

"If you like," she answered. She waved a hand and both of them became dry and attired in clothes: him in his normal outfit, her in a dark red dress.

"Thank you," he told her. "Now, shall we? I'll introduce you to the works of Dickens. That will definitely take up the remains of the day!"