The Doctor had never thought he would see The Empty; he had never even entertained the possibility that it was real. He read endless books about it in his youth, for in his early years, it held a morbid fascination for him. Stories swirled about in his head at night, keeping him up for hours as he imagined what it would be like inside the bowels of The Empty. Nothing existed here, yet everything was destined for it in the end. Maybe there was a Heaven, or a Hell, but The Empty was the finality to all things. At least, that's what ancient scholars said.

But as he stared into the potent darkness outside his door, the fascination he felt for it morphed into a complete and unadulterated terror. Time was fluid here, completely subjective, so a million years could pass here, but a millisecond could pass in the solid universe just out of reach. The Empty had no place, it just was.

So who knew how long he and Merlin would be stuck there? No one alive knew how to get them out: after all, nothing in the history of the universe had ever escaped. Merlin was looking at him now with a mixture of fear and shock. At this expression, an instant regret took the Doctor over. How could he have let this happen? Maybe something had gone wrong in his calculations? No, he was sure he had calculated everything to the last minute detail. But then again, as Merlin said, he knew next to nothing about magic.

As if sensing his distress, Gilbert fluttered from his new place in the rafters, and onto the Doctor's shoulder. He gently stroked the butterfly's wings as he thought, Merlin's incantations resounding in his head like a song. He felt the supple scales of the butterfly's wings caress his fingers, and an explanation came to him.

"How did you word your spell?" asked the Doctor suddenly. Merlin shook himself out of his daze.

"Excuse me?" he asked, somewhat bitterly. He was probably still thinking about the Doctor's indirect insult from before. Yet another thing he had to apologize for.

"I mean, what words in the ancient language did you use for your incantation?" Merlin thought for a moment, contemplating the events of before. He looked relieved to be doing something other than wallow.

"Well, the ancient language doesn't translate directly into English, but what I basically said was, bring back what was lost, you know? Bring back from death." Merlin answered. The doctor nodded, a realization forming in his mind.

"But were you specific?" he asked. Merlin's eyes widened.

"Holy--"

"Yeah, that's what I was thinking. See, you were all supercharged with the energy from the TARDIS, so you opened The Empty. All the monsters in there saw the light after so long, and all just sorta rushed at it at once. The full force of the wave of monsters knocked the TARDIS back into the gap you kinda sorta ripped open. And so, here we are."

"So I unleashed basically every monster I ever killed onto the world?" Merlin asked forlornly.

"Well, yes," the Doctor began delicately. "But look on the bright side!"

"'The bright side? How could there possibly be a bright side to any of this?"

"Well, when we were hurled into The Empty, you were out cold, so you didn't close the gap behind you. That means there's a gap," the Doctor said excitedly. "A gap in The Empty. An Empty gap." Merlin's face lifted for a moment, but then hid behind a dark cloud again.

"And how long is it going to take to find it?" he asked, stubbornly trying to punish himself. He took the stance that a rebellious teenager might, slumped down in his chair, with his arms folded resolutely across his chest. "And by the way, how was I knocked out? Nothing got inside my head, right? A monster, I mean."

"Er… no. It was me. I used my sonic screwdriver to mess with your brain waves a little."

"Your sonic what?" The Doctor withdrew his screwdriver from inside his coat. It was a little silver instrument with a green tip that lit up with energy when unleashing sonic waves. In truth, it looked nothing like a stereotypical screwdriver. It didn't even manipulate wood. Merlin stared at it for a moment, then snickered.

"What?" the Doctor asked self-consciously, tucking the screwdriver away inside his coat.

"Of all the sonic devices you could possess, you chose a screwdriver?"

"I didn't choose it."

"What? It chose you?" Merlin laughed.

"No! When I broke the law and stole the TARDIS, it was the only object available to fight off the authorities! Despite popular belief, household appliances can make excellent weapons." The Doctor patted his pocket fondly to illustrate his point. "I managed to completely hijack your brain waves with it, didn't I?"

Merlin was snickering more than ever, now, completely unabashed by the Doctor's offense. The Doctor turned his nose up at him, and set about wiggling toggles on the dashboard.

"Well, instead of laughing at my completely useful choice of defence, I suggest you make yourself useful," he said, booting up the navigation and mapping systems.

"What can I do?" Merlin asked eagerly, jumping to his feet. He didn't stay there long, though, for his knees started to shake, and gave out under him as the blood rushed away from his face.

"Woah there, boyo, I didn't say 'go run a marathon'."

"What makes you think I'll run a marathon?" Merlin asked weakly from his place on the floor, his face turning rather green.

"I was exaggerating," the Doctor answered, walking over and lifting Merlin back onto his cot. "I was simply going to ask you to keep an eye on that map there," he pointed at a screen directly across from Merlin's cot, which displayed the TARDIS's position, and all the surrounding atomic masses, including life forms, planets, stars, spaceships, and so on. Currently, the tiny blue blip was surrounded by complete darkness. "And tell me if anything appears."

Merlin looked mildly patronized at this simple task, but he reviewed his current state and thought better about arguing.

And so they worked. The Doctor steered the TARDIS this way and that, then let it chug along on it's own for a while, he took copious notes, and reviewed all the books he had on The Empty, trying to find a way out. All of this he did while Merlin kept a watchful eye on the screen.

This seemed to go on for days, but, of course, they couldn't tell. Merlin's condition improved remarkably after a few power naps, and soon, he was shuffling about the TARDIS with a bottle of Tylenol on hand, which he had conveniently packed in his suitcase.

Sooner rather than later, the Doctor slammed a book (The Legend of Hell's Hell) down on the table in frustration.

"There's nothing here about navigating this thing!" he exclaimed, jumping up and starting to pace madly. Merlin watched him calmly while sipping at a cup of tea.

"Well, you said yourself, nothing has ever gotten out before, and that the beings that are sent here 'wander aimlessly'. No one navigates this thing," said Merlin, setting down his cup.

"Well, we have to learn how to in order to get back to our universe!" exclaimed the Doctor, running his fingers through his already ruffled hair. He had never felt so hopeless in his entire life, and he had a compilation of hopeless moments at his disposal. He felt as though he were being smothered, the breath in his chest struggling to get free, but unable too. His fight or flight response kicked in, and adrenaline started to run through his body. He had to get out of there, he had to: the lives of billions of people were on his shoulders. There was nowhere to fly, so his only option was to put himself out there and fight. His pacing halted abruptly.

"I'm going to go out there," he said resolutely, and he ran down the stairs to the storage compartment beneath the console.

"Going where?" Merlin called after him.

"Out there. Into The Empty." A shocked silence followed his proclamation as he continued to rummage through the storage compartment.

"Doctor, who knows what's out there. You could die!" Merlin protested. The Doctor reemerged onto the flight deck, a space suit clutched in one hand, a length of rope in the other.

"Well, what else to you expect me to do? We've been lying around for days, looking through books, and nothing has appeared on the screen. There's no other path to take." Merlin's mouth opened and closed, rather like a goldfish, as he struggled to unearth a plausible argument. "I'm going." Merlin closed his mouth, and sighed, resigned.

"Fine."

"Good! I'll just go and put this on…" The Doctor quickly changed into the suit in his bedroom, attempting to prevent the fear from rising in his chest. He knew what he was doing was probably fatal, but he was so stir-crazy, so desperate, that he was completely willing to try. He exited his room to stand before Merlin, helmet in his hand.

"I'm ready," he said.

The first thing Arthur felt was cold. He stayed still, for a time, eyes closed, shivering. Then came the taste of salt in his mouth. He opened his mouth to breathe in cool, breezy air, not enjoying the feeling of his chapped lips stretching. Waves lapped at his feet, soiling the edge of the bright red cloak he wore. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and opened his eyes for the first time. It really was very bright, even though it was cloudy. He squinted his bright blue eyes toward the spire in the distance, memories flooding back to him.

The bloody entirety of the Battle of Camlann, the pain of Mordred's sword in his side, Merlin's magic, Merlin holding him as he lay dying…

Then why wasn't he dead? He glanced behind him to see an apparently abandoned city. Buildings were toppled, some fires burned, and there was complete and utter silence save for the gentle gurgling of the lake.ape.

Then, he heard shouts from the decrepit city behind him.

"Hello? Is anyone there?" the voice called. It was female, and Arthur recognized it immediately as Gwen's.

"Gwen?" he called back, lifting himself to his feet with a groan, weighed down by his chainmail and sopping cape. He discarded the cape as he began to walk towards the city.

"Arthur!" Gwen called back, though Arthur still couldn't see her. He stumbled past the first crumbling buildings, desperately searching for his wife, terrifying thoughts running through his mind. What if she was hurt? What if something had fallen on top of her? What if whatever destroyed this city cornered her. He walked through an archway, entering into a group of buildings the like of which he had never seen before. It appeared to be a living space, almost the size of a village.

He began to walk through, arms folded tightly across his chest to dispel the cold, but stopped almost immediately. In front of the strange building, there was a perfectly cut square of not-overgrown grass, which Arthur had never seen, and there was water spraying out of a metal tube in the ground at high velocity. But that's not what scared him. There were bodies on this patch of grass, and recently dead by the looks of them. A father, with his hands clasped around his wife, who was in turn, holding a child of about three years old. At this sight, Arthur's terror grew tenfold.

"GUINEVERE!" he shouted, looking about wildly.

"Arthur!" came the soft reply. "In here, Arthur, I'm in here!" The voice was coming from another building across the road from where Arthur stood. He tore across the road, and through the door as quickly as he could.

"Gwen?" he asked when he got inside. In the house was overturned furniture, rumpled carpets, and the remains of dinner scattered about. He walked over and picked up a chicken wing off the ground. Still warm. All this carnage had happened fairly recently. But all of these thoughts flew from his mind as Gwen called his name again, from upstairs. Arthur hurried unceremoniously up the steps, the sound of his tread reverberating off the walls, creating an echoing clamor. But his footsteps slowed as he reached the top step.

Why didn't she come down to him when he called her name? Gwen would never play this type of game with him, not on a scene like this. He silently drew his sword. Maybe something was holding her hostage? Maybe she was trapped under something? But the voice hadn't sounded afraid, or in pain. It sounded almost playful. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Arthur began making his way down the hall, but stopped when the voice sounded again.

"Arthur? Are you there, my darling?" A giggle sounded through the door directly in front of him, at the end of the hall. It sounded like her, all right. But he knew it couldn't be. He reached the door, and took a deep breath, and slowly opened it, his sword at the ready.

Nothing was in the room. He looked to the right, and to the left, at the low light coming in through the window. Nothing. But he felt as though something were watching him, calculating his every move. Hunting him. The door slammed behind him, the deadbolt locking into place. He whirled around to see a smiley face scratched into the back of the door. He was trapped in there with it. Sweat ran down his back as he turned on the spot.

A giggle, Gwen's giggle, resounded from every corner of the room. He still couldn't see it, no matter where he turned. How was it avoiding his gaze? He turned about once more, and there she was. Gwen. At least, he thought she was until her eyes glowed ruby red. What was this thing? A magical creature? He barely had time to think these thoughts before the thing flew at him with enough force to knock the breath out of his body. The thing was atop him now, unleashing unearthly shrieks. It smiled at him, and its mouth stretched lengthwise, distorting his wife's beautiful face, growing fangs longer than his middle finger. He attempted to maneuver his sword underneath the creature, as he had done to enemies many times before, but the metal just shattered against it. The impact of his blow startled it however, and he managed to throw the thing off of him. He stumbled as far away from it as he could get, his back against the locked door. The thing really was livid now, cheated out of an easy meal, the Guinevere-like thing had grown to ten feet in height, its arms dragging on the ground. The fangs grew longer, and it began to grow antlers, and bloody gashes began to open up in its side, so Arthur could see the internal organs without much difficulty.

He scrabbled for the lock behind him as the thing prepared to leap again. He managed to open the door just as it sprang, and slam it before it could rip him apart with its claws, though its antlers gored the door. He scrambled down the stairs in a panic, trying to get as much distance as possible between himself and the thing. He had reached the bottom of the staircase just as the thing appeared at the top, looking like a partially-devoured deer with blood dripping from its fanged maw. It cleared the stairs in a single bound, and cut him in the side with an antler. It unleashed a sound quite like a hyena at his cry of pain. It's playing with me, Arthur realized.

The thing circled him, grinning grotesquely, then whipped forward and sank its mossy teeth into his leg. Arthur screamed, and the thing let loose its horrifying laugh once more. It then hovered over his helpless form, intending for Arthur to be in as much pain as possible. It's jaws opened wide, and Arthur attempted to believe that the mossy teeth and bloody maw were the last things he would ever see. Then, suddenly, it froze. Arthur stared in confused amazement as its head fell from its shoulders, and its body collapsed upon his. He frantically pushed it off and scrambled desperately away from it, looking to find his savior. When he saw him, he could not believe his eyes.

"Hello, Arthur," said Leon