The Doctor forced the air from his lungs in a cry of pain that was lost to the depths. He was being dragged violently down by whatever had its crushing grip on his leg. He could see Rose above him, floating on the surface, and wanted desperately to warn her away. Just before the darkness grew heavy enough to obscure her from view, the Doctor could see the looming shape of a crocodile closing in on her...

No! He had to get away, to get free of the something that had him around his ankle. Doubling himself up, which pulled painfully against his injury, the Doctor lashed out in the darkness. His hand connected with the hard ridged scales of a crocodile's head. Working the fingers of both hands between its teeth, he tried to pry its jaws open, but it was no good. For his efforts, the creature shook him hard, and the Doctor thought his leg might shatter under the horrible pressure.

Fighting the terrible pain along with the burning of his empty lungs, the Doctor was dimly aware of the change in environment surrounding him. If the lack of oxygen wasn't just getting to his brain and he was still sensing properly, he could feel a substance thicker than water, could see a violet omnipresent glow that was steadily getting brighter. The taste on his tongue was putrid, as if he were being devoured by rot.

Something about it all began to work itself out in his mind--the properties of the muck, the crocodile's behaviour, and the planet he was on. It suddenly fell into place as he twigged the truth of it.

This was the Drowning Dregs.

The pressure around his leg suddenly lifted, and the Doctor suffered the agony of the murky substance rushing into the wound. Now more than anything, he needed to breathe, but could he be remembering correctly in such a state? Would he actually be able to breathe this?

Deciding there was nothing else for it and hanging onto consciousness by a thread, the Doctor took in a slopping breath of the muck, invading his delicate lungs with icy fire. Alarmed, he instinctively expelled it, only to have nothing else to breathe but more of it. Precious bubbles of the air he had just released squeezed sluggishly upwards through the thick environment, finding themselves where they didn't belong and hurrying back to join the atmosphere above. His mind suddenly surged with vertigo, and he hadn't realised he'd plunged into unconsciousness until he was coming out from it.

The violet glow grew brighter still, more pink, and to his amazement, clearer. His wits returning to him, the Doctor just concentrated on working his lungs around the muck. He was breathing! Somehow, he was managing to extract oxygen from it. The piercing pain in his chest began to lessen, and he tentatively looked around himself. Stretching out a hand and studying it, the Doctor found he could see further. The taste had gone from rancid to almost sweet, and now that he could smell it, strangely pleasing, a natural odor resembling compost.

Where had the crocodile gone? Of course, it probably wasn't far above him, waiting. They were known for dragging their prey down into the Dregs, but no one knew why. Carefully, he pulled himself towards his leg and examined it, finding the muck surrounding it opaque with his blood. Three puncture wounds, could have been worse. The Doctor wished he had something to bandage it with, but all he had on him were his shorts.

The Doctor thought of Rose. If only he could search for her! He knew he couldn't ascend above the Dregs, though, now that he had acclimated to it--not if he wanted to keep this particular regeneration for a while longer.

A crocodile had been moving towards her. Had it pulled her down here as well? If so, he could do something. Kicking out and ignoring the pain it caused, the Doctor began to swim through the transparent sludge. How far down was the seabed? He hadn't a clue which direction he had come from until he spotted a dark trail--his blood. Following it until he could rise no further, he kept moving forward until he saw--was that a tail? It whipped around and disappeared into the murk above him.

Moving closer, the Doctor suddenly recognised Rose's silhouette. She was swimming up through the violet-pink muck. He tried to speak to tell her to stay down, but his vocal cords wouldn't function. He tried to shout, to tell her she would never make it, but not even the slightest sound was produced.

Quickly reaching her, the Doctor grasped her by the arm, stopping her ascent. Rose, probably having no idea what had her, kicked and pulled. Her strength failing as she held onto the precious bit of air from above, the Doctor easily gained control, hugging her closely in comfort while securing her arms out of his way. She stilled, and he looked into her unfocused, terrified eyes.

She couldn't see him.

It was vital he communicate with Rose. The Doctor was certain a human could breathe this, too. He tried pressing on the sides of her ribs and rubbing her throat with his thumb to tell her to breathe, but wasn't surprised when she didn't understand, not when breathing here was so incredibly unnatural a reaction. He then switched it up and pulled her hands around him so she could feel his respirations, and even exhaled their environment against her cheek, but she still didn't react.

Rose was too terrified. He had to hurry, before she dry-drowned. It was possible she'd figure it out on her own, but he couldn't take the chance of her choosing to not breathe at all, falling into unconsciousness. If he had to, he'd breathe for her, yes, but he hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Then, it came to him.

Taking her head in his hands, the Doctor advanced into her mind. Thankfully, he didn't need her cooperation, as he only had to reach the surface thoughts, which were screaming out to him anyway, desperate to be heard.

'Breathe! Breathe it in, or die!'

Two seconds later, Rose did.

The Doctor shut his eyes a moment in immense relief. Rose arched backwards, a stream of glassy bubbles pushing upwards and around each other in a slow-motion race towards the surface. He was distracted from the bizarre event by Rose suddenly going limp.

'Breathe slowly, or you'll do damage.'

Pulling her to him with one arm, the Doctor held her while she recovered, continuing to comfort her with his thoughts. They weren't so much in the form of words as images of what he wanted to tell her.

'I'm here.'

Rose's strength grew, and soon, she was hugging him fiercely. In a moment of triumph, the Doctor grinned widely as Rose's eyes focused on him through the rosy haze.

'Hello,' he thought to her.

His smile infected her somewhat before it fell away.

'Doctor, what is this? I was so afraid!'

Showing Rose everything he knew of the Drowning Dregs, he could sense her fascination with not only where they were and the fact that they were alive, but their connection.

'I can't believe you're in my head. I've seen you do it a couple of times, but...'

The Doctor felt Rose shrink away slightly with embarrassment as she bit her lip. She liked it? He would have to remember that for a later time. Right now, they had to move.

'Rose, we can't stay here for long. We're not meant to breathe this.'

'How do we get out?'

'I don't know. Follow me, close. Don't exert yourself.'

The Doctor let go of Rose and began to swim level. With one leg still bleeding, he tried not to kick with it, preferring steady, slow strokes with his other limbs. Of all the alien environments they had visited, this was one of the very strangest. All he could see was Rose, the pair of them enveloped in a cloud of pink. It then occurred to him that they should see how far down they could go. Angling downwards, he started their descent, looking behind occasionally to make sure Rose was with him.

Before long, textures formed below him. Long, winding weeds came first, then large rocks and gritty, uneven sand. He hadn't seen a living thing besides him and Rose at all, even here. There were, however, signs of past life, including a humanoid skull. He had thought the purplish glow had been coming from the bottom somewhere, but he now saw it wasn't. The luminescence seemed to come from the very essence of the muck itself.

Uprooting one of the slippery, fleshy grasses--popweed, if he recalled correctly--the Doctor went about tying it around his wounded lower leg. He looked over to see Rose pulling up her own weed and, for the first time, noticed the marks on her thigh, just above her knee. The Doctor reached out in concern, wanting to inspect the seriousness of her injury, but Rose noticed his hand and batted it away. Frowning, he concentrated on his own bandaging job. It took some creative knotting to get it to stay in place. After he had finished, the Doctor kicked with it experimentally and moved to help Rose with hers. When she again tried to wave him off, he insisted, showing her how to knot it.

As he moved to hold her leg in place while he worked, he felt the smooth silkiness of her skin through the muck. The Doctor made the effort to keep his touch from lingering, unwilling to test her patience. The pink glow around them seemed to be almost attracted to Rose, and he couldn't help but gaze at her. While this deadly depth was dark and dangerous, Rose was a beacon of life and hope, his sole companion in a mad existence. She was so very important to him, and he would get her out of here, somehow.

Makeshift bandages secured, the Doctor led Rose further through their pink world.

I won't grief the two people who have reviewed by holding chapters back, but I REALLY am interested in what folks like about my fiction, because I know a lot of people are reading. Feedback is a big part of why I decide to post new stories. Thirty seconds is all I ask--a favourite line, what you think works or doesn't, and your thoughts on my biggest goal, characterisation. Thank you all!