Ian spread out his towel and lay down next to the Doctor, just far enough away to be out of the shade. He glanced across at the old man: despite the warmth he was still wearing his waistcoat and cravat, though he had at least hung his jacket over the stone behind him. The Doctor didn't look up from his reading, and Ian's gaze swung back to Barbara, who was performing a leisurely backstroke close to a patch of reeds.
"Don't stay out in the sun too long, my boy. This star produces a lot more ultraviolet rays than you are used to."
Ian turned; the Doctor still had his nose in his book. "Thank you, Doctor, but the cream from the TARDIS seems to be doing the trick - and it's stayed on amazingly well, I must say."
"Well, as I said, you need to apply the counteragent to remove it. But it pays to be cautious, hm?"
The younger man nodded; it was the easiest response. Then he heard a commotion, and turned back to the lake to see Barbara and Vicki playfighting, before racing off at speed. He felt a pang of envy. The Doctor spoke again.
"They are more comfortable in the water than you, are they not?"
"Yes, they are," replied Ian, ruefully. "I've never been much of one for swimming. 'Not my bag', as some of my students used to say."
"You stayed in as long as you did because of her, didn't you?"
Ian sighed. He didn't really want to be having this conversation right now. "Yes, Doctor. Because of Barbara."
"Have you spoken to her, like I said? Have you discussed things properly?"
"Yes! We've talked about it several times now, in fact. I may be a slow mover when it comes to matters of the heart, but I do get there eventually. And - well, there's a reason I took my time."
The Doctor was silent; perhaps, for once, he was going to be tactful and not pursue the subject. More likely his attention was still mostly on his book. Ian watched the girls talking by the bank, and wondered what they were saying.
"You're getting lazy, Chesterton. Soon Miss Wright will notice that you're not really the athlete you pretend. You're not up to snuff; and what will hold her attention when she realises it, hm? You don't think your personality could interest her for long, do you? You're as stolid, dependable, and exciting as a block of wood."
Ian swung round, jaw clenched, and stared in amazement. The old man was lying there, book still open, as if he'd just been passing the time of day. "Doctor!" he called - but couldn't think of anything else to add.
The Doctor looked up. "What is it, my boy? I was just thinking that sometimes things are not discussed in time, important things; and that can cause regret later. But that's all dealt with now, isn't it? Everything's been said that needs to be?"
"Oh, yes, I think quite enough's been said, thank you so very much." Ian couldn't bring himself to continue and stood up, taking a few steps away from the stone.
Was the Doctor right? Were his hopes for the future based on an illusion, an impossible dream based on nothing more than the fact that he and Barbara had been thrown together when they were kidnapped? No! He was sure that wasn't the case.
"Ian!" He looked down to the lake, where Barbara was standing, chest-deep in water, by the bank. "Give us a hand, would you?" Floating beside her, Vicki gave a cheery wave.
They could get out of there easily, he thought; she just wants to see you in action. Physical action. Is that all I am to her, then? Some sort of friendly body? There's more to it than that, much more. I'm sure of it. Aren't I?
He set off down the slope towards her.
Next Time:
Scene 3.
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