(Untitled)

[wormholed]

John was pretty sure he'd gone to sleep with an uneven cave floor beneath him, that same old jagged rock sticking up through the blankets to make nice with his kidneys. So why he was waking up on a much smoother, if no less chilly surface, that --now that he thought about it-- smelled damn familiar was anyone's guess

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[thebonelady]

Temperance's eyelids twitched.

She was having such a strange dream. At first, it had been a very normal dream. Standing in the lab, updated and furnished with all the equipment she could have ever wanted, some faceless criminal slouching in a jail cell, arms winding around her-- and then fog. A great rolling fog.

"What's...?" She sat up slowly, pushing the hair from her eyes. "Did I fall asleep in the lab again?"

[wormholed]

"You fell asleep with me," John said, still whispering. "Listen, something's frelled up here. Look around you, do you see a spaceship, too?"

[thebonelady]

Temperance looked around, face slightly screwed up in sleepy concentration. "...yes. Well, I've never been on a spaceship. But the architecture isn't like anything I've ever seen before, so," yawn, "we could very possibly be on a spaceship."

[wormholed]

"We're on Moya," John said. He turned to push the hair out of her eyes, cupping her face for a moment. "The ship I lived on. The living ship. Baby, how did we get here?"

[thebonelady]

Slowly, this was setting in.

Temperance glanced around, blue eyes wide. "I... didn't do it. I have no idea. We're not on the island anymore." It was more statement than question. "We're on your spaceship."

It wasn't that she didn't believe him. She did.

This was still a little unsettling, though.