ADIUTRIX | DOCTOR WHO

↳ oxygen #4

Should oxygen have run out that very moment, none of the TARDIS travelers would have noticed. Their breaths and hearts stopped in fear as their friend's predicament became a pressing problem.

"Put it back on!" The Doctor shamelessly ordered Bill, who continued to lower her helmet.

"Doctor, that's not me doing that." Her eyes widened, more baffled by than afraid of whatever this suit was doing.

I should have gotten this suit, I should've known that with our luck it'd be the one to become haywire. The other girls pulled at her right arm to no avail.

"Put it back on!" He approached her, trying to take the object that meant safety and put it back in place.

"I'm trying." She forewent being scared in favor of despairing. "I can't move my arms!"

"Stop the cycle!" Ophelia's voice came out firmly, thank God. Ivan just stared at them helplessly.

While Nardole desperately tried to do something with a bunch of wires on the back part of Bill's suit, both girls fought against an urge to hyperventilate. Ophelia wondered if there'd ever be a day when situations like this, life or death matters, would become routine for her. Should that happen, it would mean she stayed exactly where she was and such a thing would be perfect. Then a fleeting thought, an intrusive little thing, came to mind.

Would I ever be the one almost dying? She shut her brain up with a probably, you idiot and focused back as he answered.

"We can't stop it. It's automated." Nice.

"Now we know now why your suit was being repaired. Bill. Bill!" The Doctor waved his hands, catching a pair of terrified eyes. There were less than twenty seconds until it happened. "You're about to be exposed to the vacuum of space."

"Oh, God!" She looked at her best friend, finding comfort in how her expression remained calm, somewhat confident. Not noticing how her eyes had darkened, the only sign of emotion. Thanks to training months six through twenty, no one would know how she felt unless it was deliberate.

"So don't hold your breath." Nardole's quip took them back to that morning's class.

"Or my lungs'll explode." Bill found certain comfort in remembering that information.

"You were listening." The Doctor, joined by his faithful assistant, continued to pull at a seemingly stuck helmet. "Well done."

All other remaining crew members watched in horror as Bill Potts cried, not being able to do anything which did not stop her friends trying.

Three, magnetic boots activated.

"What are we going to do?"

Two, Ophelia made sure her tears were invisible but never stopped trying to separate glove from helmet. To hell with deliberation, right now she felt every bit of human inside crying out at how unfair this was. Her best friend couldn't die, not here, not now. They were supposed to spend a weekend in London next month, or whatever happened inside the TARDIS. No one felt like planning a funeral.

One. The airlock opened.

She looked up to see it was too late.

Unlike what people would like to believe, outer space wasn't welcoming. Instead of a chilly walk outside, temperatures just above absolute zero made whatever unprotected organic matter exposed to it freeze in mere seconds. Bill's breath formed smoke inside the oxygen containment field, icicles forming a delicate design over her jawline. Now openly crying, Lia (a promise was made that she'd let herself be called that if they made it out alive) looked at her Doctor to see a dangerous glint in his eyes.