After ‘Continuity: Gallifrey Bickers’
Morgan stepped into the Type 89 TARDIS - still disguised as a photocopier, though it now appeared to be suffering from subsidence - and ran her fingers along the wall in disbelief and wonder. That a time-ship could be so thoroughly battered and abused and still work, even work well, beggared belief - but that was what blockade runners had been built to do. Morgan shivered at the memory of one falling out of the sky over Arcadia. It had been under heavy fire from the moment it entered Gallifreyan orbit to the moment it crossed the sky trenches, had reverted to its default form for lack of energy, and was burning in three places on the outside - but it still managed to reach the ground, bringing its precious cargo through intact.
It was just a shame the same couldn’t be said for the crew. Morgan had been part of the rescue crew, but there had been nothing to rescue - nothing even remotely resembling a person. Regeneration could only do so much.
There was a soft cough from near the console, and Morgan looked over at the Notary. She was still dressed in her Council regalia - now significantly singed. Morgan nodded to her. “Grey.”
“Castellan,” the Notary replied, returning the nod. There was tension in the air. Morgan wasn’t sure why, but something had shifted during their fight against (and alongside) Fearn. Something about her feelings about the Notary had fundamentally changed. She just didn’t know how.
Deep in thought, she made her way up the remaining half of a flight of stairs to stand before the Notary. She looked around, taking in the damage to the TARDIS, and remembering the savage battering her own ship had received. Then she put on her best Han Solo smile. “Y'know,” she said, “some days, I just don't know why I get out of bed.”
The Notary raised an (exquisite, and, Morgan decided, definitely deliberately plucked) eyebrow. “The riskiest, most reckless, most improbably, and generally downright unworkable plan I have ever heard?” she suggested.
Morgan surprised herself with a laugh., but it quickly died away, her expression turning somber. “Thank you, Grey,” she said, holding out a hand.
The Notary hesitated, then took the hand and shook it. Her palm was warm against Morgan’s, and she found herself loath to let go. The Notary seemed to be equally torn, but finally drew her hand back and smiled - a distinctly unnatural expression on her face.
“Jumped-up, trigger-happy renegade,” she said, but there was humour in it, and… affection? Morgan met her gaze, and her breath caught in her throat. Oh, yes, ‘affection’ was definitely there - unless that was an understatement.
Morgan swallowed. She hadn’t been certain why she’d come here - or why the Notary had invited her - but she was starting to realise at least part of it. And somewhat to her surprise, she found she quite liked the sound of it.
“We have to be able to trust the other Councillors,” Morgan said, deliberately quoting herself - but changing the emphasis, no longer condemning but expressing that trust - and returning some of the emotion the Notary had aimed at her.
The Notary’s smile widened. “Then I respectfully suggest that you trust me,” she said, and leant in close. Her breath was hot on Morgan’s ear as she whispered, “I have an idea. One I'm surprised you didn't think of.”
The Notary took a half-step back, her hand resting loosely on Morgan’s shoulder, and Morgan let out an involuntary noise at the expression on her face. Her words might be ambiguous, but there was no uncertainty in those eyes. “Please,” Morgan murmured, soft enough that she wasn’t even sure the Notary heard. “Just do it.”
Surprise flared in the Notary’s eyes - and then she leant in and kissed Morgan gently on the lips. She drew back almost immediately, leaving Morgan suddenly panting.
“The motion is passed via majority vote,” Morgan gasped. She threw her arms around the Notary and pulled her back in - and the Notary didn’t resist.
Some time later, Morgan drew her head back, her hair tangled where the Notary had been clutching at it, and stared at her colleague. While Morgan was gasping, the Notary didn’t even seem ruffled. “Do you just not need to breathe or something?” Morgan demanded. “How can you exist without breathing?”
The Notary did something Morgan had never imagined she could - she chuckled. “On the contrary,” she said, “I might be sort of very slightly... ‘on fire’.”
Morgan’s breath caught in her throat, and she leant forward again. To her surprise, the Notary turned her head, taking the kiss on her cheek. Blinking, Morgan straightened up. “Notary, for the love of… whatever you hold dear,” she pleaded.
The Notary shook her head, and gestured down at herself. “Are your particular preferences really…?” she asked, trailing off into uncertainty.
For an instant, Morgan saw the Notary as she must see herself. She knew she was unpopular - knew she was unlikeable - and so this had to be as much a surprise to her as it was to Morgan.
“Antrilovorasilendar,” she said, and the Notary’s head snapped up - less at the sound of her name than at the sheer seductive tone Morgan imparted to it. Morgan reached out and trailed one finger down the Notary’s cheekbone, then ran her hand down to press against her back and pull her close. “You,” she said softly, “weren't paying attention.”
“You must be mistaken,” the Notary breathed, but she relaxed under Morgan’s touch, leaning in towards her.
Morgan chuckled. “Do I have to duct-tape your mouth shut or something?” she asked teasingly, and then cocked her head. “Now that I think about it…”
This time the Notary was the one to start the kiss - but Morgan continued it. She turned the Notary in place, pushing her back against the TARDIS console, and pressed in close. She could feel the Notary’s hearts beating even faster than normal as they kissed - no, Morgan had to admit, as they made out.
When they finally broke apart, even the Notary was a little out of breath. Morgan, still close against her, ran her hand gently over the other woman’s hair. “On fire?” she murmured.
“Slightly,” the Notary admitted. She caught Morgan’s hand in hers and slipped sideways, then led her around the console to a large grey sofa. Morgan stared at it, then at the destruction all around.
“Where did you even get that?” she demanded, but didn’t resist as the Notary pulled her across to it.
The Notary shrugged. “Stores,” she said in a deliberately casual tone. “I filled out the requisition forms in triplicate some time ago as a matter of course.” Then she sat down in the middle of the couch, and held up her arms.
Morgan hesitated for a second, then moved in and carefully seated herself on the Notary’s lap. The other woman wrapped her arms around her, steadying her - and taking the opportunity to begin gently stroking her back. Morgan cleared her throat. “Spinel Promotor,” she said, in a voice so formal that the Notary’s head snapped back up to meet her gaze, “do you have anything to say about this course of action?”
The Notary hesitated for a long moment, then smiled again. “It is,” she said, intoning her words in her most pompous tone, “a work of genius.”
Morgan grinned. “The motion is carried,” she said firmly, and leant in for another kiss.
Disclaimer: The Protectors of the Plot Continuum is the creation of Jay and Acacia. The Notary is the creation of wobblestheclown, and is used with permission. Morgan is mine. All excerpts from previous stories belong to doctorlit. All canonical elements are the property of their respective creators. This story is defined as ‘canon-friendly agentshipping’ - the events are possible (‘canon-friendly’), but not determined to be either canonical or uncanonical.