dǫçţǫŗ şɭęęƥ (shone) wrote in valloic, @ 2022-02-10 09:59:00 |
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Entry tags: | !: action/thread/log, ₴ inactive: dan torrance, ₴ inactive: melody williams |
There was a niggling sense of anxiety somewhere in the back of her mind when Melody entered the clinic. She ignored it. As clinics went, this was rather an inviting one. And that wasn't her anxiety. It was just a few stitches. It would be fine. To be honest, she should have taken care of it herself. She could have taken care of it herself. But that wasn't who she was, not anymore. She'd just have to accept the blow to her ego. Vallo was such a strange place sometimes - Dan had been here about two years, and yet he still was surprised by what did happen. By what could happen. Case in point? River, his friend, who had slowly opened up a rare orchid blossom - some kind of maze to be traversed - had been in and out a couple times now. He enjoyed the time they did have and always missed her when she was gone (he hoped she was with the Doctor, having all sorts of adventures) - and now she was back but it was also...not her? She’d filled him in on her history, the long and short of it and its respective intricacies and complications - a lot to parse through, and he could only imagine what it was like for her, being part Time Lord. Still, if she made her way to the clinic he’d do what he could to help - he’d do that for anyone, Outlander or otherwise, since that was his job and he took that role seriously. “Melody,” he greeted, offering her a smile as he approached in his scrubs, sporting a nurse’s tool belt slung around his waist, a stethoscope around his neck, and a clipboard. “Come on back, I’ll stitch you up really quick. Name’s Dan, by the way - I’m one of the nurses here.” The only nurse, actually. For now. The staff changed regularly but they were always overworked, so that was a fun constant. She flashed him a warm smile. "I got on the wrong side of...something in the forest. It wounded my pride more than anything, I’m afraid." There was less hesitance from Melody, both in her words and her willingness to follow him, offering her arm for him to inspect. If she could have gotten the damn thing to stop bleeding... She took a breath. In any case, here she was. It was almost funny how embarrassed she really was, to be sitting in a clinic watching someone else stitch her arm up. That would have seemed ordinary before. And not because something had attacked her, for all intents, but probably just because she’d come up against the wrong end of a knife or a broken bit of glass. "I expect I should be better at this." Clearly, she meant getting herself out of trouble. Or possibly into it. Because actually, she was a very good patient. Dan got started right away. He stopped the bleeding, though it looked to have slowed a lot anyway - but more gauze on top of gauze meant that it ceased entirely, and he was able to clean the area after washing his hands. Gloves slipped on, supplies at the ready - by now he was practically certified in stitches and administered them more times than he could count. “It happens - very often, actually,” he assured, with a bit of a breathy chuckle as he worked. The anesthetic (topical, of course) was applied so she wouldn’t feel the bite and sting and tug of skin that a suture needle provided. “The forest is crawling with all sorts of creatures, so there’s always something to be involved with. You’re settling in okay otherwise though?” He knew she’d recently arrived and hoped that she didn’t feel too adrift - he’d have to make a mental note to check in more, especially now that they’d officially ‘met’ and he had more of an excuse to. Plus he was curious about how much of River was there. He’d never poke and pry, at least not without permission - but he was curious. The lingering knot of anxiety that was and yet wasn’t her own slowly unraveled as she watched him work. He was efficient and gentle, and apparently disinclined to judge her current inability to handle a scuffle. But she glanced up at his question, with a small chuckle of her own. "Oh, yes, thank you." Her gaze ventured back downward. Somehow watching him suture was more comforting than simply waiting for him to finish. Maybe because it gave her something to do. "It’s not so different from Vegas, actually." Then again. "Well, it is a bit different. But we were beginning to get some strange inhabitants, odd occurrences. I fell in...I won’t call it love, mutual infatuation? With a man I’d never even met. I think an ordinary life was already behind me." The now familiar tattoo on the inside of her left wrist had, for reasons quite unclear to her, taken to glowing a slow-pulsing orange again. She’d only ever noticed it before when she was emotional or near Jo. But the Doctor certainly wasn’t here and her anxiety wasn’t that bad. What on Earth was wrong with her today? As someone with the Shining, that meant Dan saw things. Sensed things, perhaps, things that the average person wouldn’t be privy to - he just knew things as well; when he was a boy, the Shining was terrifying to understand and to use - it was only with Dick’s help that he began to exercise the muscle; it was a lot like learning to move your ears - you just didn’t use those muscles very often, so you had to learn how. Then it became more like an x-ray - something that let you see a person’s true self. Sometimes it was a lot, if he focused. Other times, such as now, he just got blips. Because he knew what that tattoo was. “Ah, the newness of mutual infatuation,” he smiled warmly. “It still hasn’t worn off for me and my wife yet though, which I’m glad for.” Another stitch applied, carefully, and he glanced back down. “...your tattoo means River?” And it was glowing, that too. “Well, I don’t think we were quite ourselves.” But it had created a lingering friendship. And she supposed, the feelings she had for Jo could rather be described the same way. If the characters on her wrist briefly glowed a little brighter, well, maybe there was something to the idea of soulmates after all. She glanced back toward her wrist, a moment of uncertainty making her fall silent. But finally, “It took me months to figure that out. I didn’t even realize anyone here could see it.” Because hardly anyone in Vegas could, not unless they had a brand of their own. Really, that was a more appropriate word for it. A semi-invisible mark etched into their skin in increments, and as the mark grew, the memories became more vivid. Until finally it was whole, and she no longer felt like one person but two. “You shouldn’t recognize the language either.” Her tone suggested doubt, but not quite distrust. He'd been only kind to her. She sighed. “It’s a rough translation of the name I was born with. Melody Pond. They didn’t have the words in her language. The only water in the forest is the river.” The last is said very, very quietly. Almost fond, but sad too. Demon's Run had been a lifetime ago and it had been months ago, and it had been the turning point for so much in River's life. “I remember River,” Dan responded - it was odd to think that there were two people present, that Melody was as wrapped up in River as she was with her and it was just this intricate tapestry. If he pushed a little, with the Shining, he’d be able to parse it out more - but that seemed damn rude, and he didn’t want to do that. He hadn’t exactly explored the depths of River’s mind either - they’d connected, but over coffee and seemingly normal human ways. Shared experiences of grief and death and loss. But he probably owed an explanation of how he even knew what that tattoo was - or how he saw it. “We had similar abilities too? I call mine the Shining,” he explained, as he glanced back down to carefully stitch - he was almost done, and then he’d properly bandage. “But it helps me just know things sometimes, without having to ask. I get a sense of people.” Ah. Well. That...that was...interesting. “I don’t remember that.” It fell just shy of apologetic. But it did help her understand. A bit. “You’re telepathic?” Of course, if he’d known River, it wouldn’t have taken any special ability to recognize they were the same person. Either that, or she had a very identical twin, right down to the twin hearts beating in her chest. She hadn’t precisely tried to deny River Song. There were things about that life she’d loved, and when she’d had Jo to share it with, it hadn’t seemed so...intrusive? But she’d been trying harder to hold onto herself. It was a visible shift, the moment she decided to keep talking. “I always was better at projecting than reading.” Or rather, River was. Melody Williams hadn’t been even slightly telepathic. Then she laughed. “I’d hate to imagine what it must tell you about me. Even I’m not sure who I am anymore. I’m not entirely her, you know. But I’m not entirely myself either.” “Telepathic, yeah,” Dan nodded. “Among other things. Thoughts and emotions, I can sense it all - I mainly use the clinic,” he gestured around him with his free hand, “...to help people sleep better since that’s also within my skillset. Sometimes I have visions of the future.” Not very often though, and not since he was a kid - he hadn’t experienced many in Vallo, anyway. Most of that seemed to have moved on when Tony did, his ‘invisible friend’ who was really him - the Dan from the future, coming to give him advice when his father was possessed by evil spirits. You know, completely normal things like that. Didn’t that happen to everyone? It didn’t necessarily mean trauma, did it? Speaking of that, however. His situation was a little different than Melody’s, but Tony had been a staple of his life for awhile - Dan was himself, yet not himself. Two Dan’s, one head? Something like that anyway. “And would you believe me when I say I understand? As much as I can - I mean, it does make sense,” he assured as he clipped the last stitch, cleaning up around the wounded area - but those stitches were done with precision. She’d just need a bandage to keep it covered for a day or so. She laughed again. “Sleep. I don’t do much of that anymore.” River hadn’t needed to, much, and her body was more time lord than human these days. And there were the nightmares. Those were River’s, too. Melody studied him curiously, her attention drawn from her arm at least. Maybe she wasn’t quite sure what to make of him. Maybe she was still trying to decide if she trusted him. She wished she could remember if River had. “Does it?” she asked finally. “Because it doesn’t make sense to me.” River or Melody either one. “She would have hated this. I would have hated this.” Growing up the way she had, River was still uneasy about anything that made her feel even slightly like someone’s experiment. “I grew up in England. Lovely parents. A younger brother I would do...anything for. Oh, we had our moments, but as adults, we get along famously. I went into archaeology, he went into business. My little brother. You never would have expected it. It was all perfectly ordinary. It wasn’t like that for her.” She didn’t elaborate. Melody rarely held much back. She’d never had reason. But River still didn’t open up to just anyone. “I remember both. I lived both. Everything I thought or felt, everything she did… Her experiences are mine and mine are hers, but which of us actually belongs here?” “That’s the question, isn’t it,” Dan smiled, kind of a lopsided one. “I’m not sure of the answer, really. I think we just - do the best we can do with what we have.” That was all any of them could do. “She told me a lot about her life - about getting married on top of a pyramid. About how her purpose was defined for her, but she went against that and made one particular important choice for herself.” The Doctor, of course. And loving the Doctor - it was amazing what love could really do, how much you could accomplish when you opened yourself up to it. He finished, finally, stitches done and a bandage on the arm - the skin would be as good as new in a few days. “Just keep that on overnight,” he added, chin canting toward the bandage he’d applied as he peeled his gloves off to dispose of them properly. “And definitely try to avoid any more forest mishaps for now but I get things happen here.” It was what made Vallo uniquely Vallo. "I must have liked you.” Mel wasn’t exactly an open book, but she was far from a closed door. She’d never been shy, and she’d never had any reason to conceal who she was or what she was thinking. Being River had been different. She lied as easily as breathing, sometimes so convincingly she believed it herself. Oh, she might have mentioned the wedding. Most people didn’t believe that anyway. But to tell him how she felt about the life she’d led, what choosing to love the Doctor meant to her? She offered a faint smile as he finished bandaging her arm, nodding. “Thank you. I will try. I think you’ll find I’m a little better at staying out of trouble this time around.” Perhaps the biggest difference between them. Apart from the honesty. “I never asked for her memories. Now, they’re more than just memories. I was there. I was her. I even have her body, for goodness’ sake.” In some ways, River Song had crashed into her life and tried to overwrite Melody Williams. And maybe that’s why she'd been so determined to hold onto who she was. A steady breath later, she added more softly, “The wedding was something, but sometimes I do wonder if he just wanted to shut me up. Nothing like my wedding in this lifetime.” Being overtaken was certainly not a pleasant sensation - it just harkened back to who was who and what that meant. “Duality is difficult,” Dan said thoughtfully. It probably was for a few reasons - because of biases, because of definitions. Because of wanting to slide each and every specific thing into its one specific box, but sometimes that just wasn’t going to happen. “But - I liked her too. And you’re not so bad either,” he teased gently. “I’m glad you’re here. If you need anything and it’s within my power to help, you can always come to me. Or even if you just want to have a cup of tea sometime.” He wasn’t sure if Melody liked tea the same way River did, but they could go for coffee too - anything, really. Dan was always happy to make a friend - or get reacquainted with an old one. It was odd, the genuine affection she felt toward this man, this stranger, for being a friend to her when she was River. Even if it was one of the few things she couldn’t remember about being her. Mel was decent at making friends, and she always had her family. River had...acquaintances. The few people she did hold close always seemed to move through her life like sand rushing out of an hourglass. “I like tea.” And maybe she could use a friend, too. “Thank you again.” She inclined her head toward her freshly bandaged arm. “For this. Rather embarrassing for a trained assassin, if perhaps not a middle-aged archaeologist.” “Well, I won’t tell anyone,” Dan promised with a light chuckle - patient and nurse confidentiality and all, plus, they’d all been there. In the sense that they’d run into some Vallo nonsense and got caught on the wrong end of it - he wasn’t judging. Only when people who were injured refused to actually take the rest their bodies required, but. Melody wasn’t going to give him any more gray hairs today so they were safe. At least until tomorrow, and he could hope that it would be a peaceful day - but then again, he also wouldn’t count too many chickens before they hatched. |