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Tweak says, "Especially since the Vol..."

Remy LeBeau (ace_of_clubs) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-09-18 09:19:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 23, location: church, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Who: Remy LeBeau & The Doctor (Tenth)
What: Gambit keeps his promise.
Where: At the Church
When: Day 23, 10:02pm
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete

'Church, ten o'clock' the Doctor had said. Thankfully, the mutant was able to read his digital wrist watch with no problem. It had a little feature where you could push the button and it lit up. How cool was that? So after watching the Time Lord walk off into the darkness, he had turned back around to watch the fire burning down the barn. Really, it was fantastic to behold, and though he idly wondered if the smoke would fill up the bubble and kill them all.. he wasn't really that concerned. This enclosure was huge, after all.. and there had to be some sort of exchange going on, right? Else they would have run out of oxygen long ago.

While standing there watching the barn burn, Selene had come along.. the Cajun had been more than happy to indulge her for a while, before finally he'd collected up the buckets of water, his washing board, and various other items, and had taken them across town towards the church. He'd only been there a handful of times, but he had enjoyed it, it was peaceful. So it was at ten o'clock that the Cajun, hauling along three buckets full of water, five water bottles, three empty buckets, a washing board, and a little red wagon (all rusted and ugly, but still working) down the road to the Church. He would, of course, end up having to turn into the woods, but he just took it slow from there, until he was passing by the cemetery, slowing his steps to rake red eyes out across the graves. There were at least two bodies in there, Selene had said she'd buried them there.. idly, he wondered who they were. But he wouldn't dwell on it. The strictly Catholic-Raised Cajun (except for Tante Mattie, who was into voodoo) mentally repeated a prayer, though he'd lost his faith long ago. It was habit.

And just moments later, he was coming to a stop in front of that church and leaving the red wagon behind as he went up the stairs, pushing open those double doors and stepping on through. He hadn't ever been inside the church.. but as he stepped through the doors, he felt a little shiver. That was what faith did to you, kids. It made you feel like God was watching you all the time. And right now, he felt a little paranoid about it -- Sinners didn't want God watching them all the time.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-09-20 01:46 am UTC (link)

Remy only gave him a smile with the apology and shook his head. "Seulement je peux le faire." Only I can do that, came the quiet response. But with that hand coming to rest on his shoulder, he paused in pulling on that first glove. Don't? Don't put them on? You wanted him to sit here all night and stare at those scars? That was just evil, Doctor... but he was tugging that glove off and sticking both into his pockets, his stomach twisting some as he did it. Would he really sit here all night with them off? Likely not. He'd wait until the other man fell asleep to replace them.

However, that chest was meeting with his back a second later, and Remy breathed out through his nose. It felt so good. A hand lifted, feeling for the one on his shoulder, then gripping, lacing fingers, and holding on. "Je n'irai pas faire." He wouldn't, Doctor. He wouldn't, for you. You might actually be able to break him of his habit, while it was just the two of you. He'd never leave them off while in public.. but at least while you two were alone, you might be able to get him to keep them off all the time. Just keep reminding him. You'd actually be helping him, believe it or not. He needed to learn to live without those gloves-- his saftey net.

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fromgallifrey
2009-09-20 01:58 am UTC (link)

No, he wanted to know that if you grabbed him in the night he wouldn't feel that leather. That if he punched and flailed and kicked in his sleep he wouldn't wake and panic at the feel of leather gloves restraining him. More importantly he wanted just what you'd done, mutant; he wanted that hand to lace with his own. He wanted to hold on to you and know that maybe he could close his eyes and not fear what would come out of the darkness behind his lids. What might spring from the back of his mind to plague him.

His arm came down, less now on the Cajun's shoulder and replaced with the crook of his elbow as he clung to the masculine form in front of him. "S'ils me prennent… " If they take me, he started, his voice down to a whisper. "Si je suis entré le matin… "If I'm gone in the morning...

The Time Lord shifted again his hold almost clutching. "Sachez que je suis désolé…" Know that I'm sorry. His lips much closer to the Cajun's ear as he spoke. None save his lover would hear. Because really, if this was going to be his last chance to say it...

"cela je t'aime. And I wish I could do that better."

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ace_of_clubs
2009-09-20 02:11 am UTC (link)

As that arm became less of a drape and more of a needy hold, the Cajun turned his face some, but didn't look back over his shoulder. Red eyes had fallen to a half-lidded state and he looked unmistakably adult right then. No smile, no hint of happiness wrinkling the corners of his eyes. But there was no sadness either. This boy, Doctor, was a man. It'd do you well to remember that.

But then those words started coming, and Remy didn't try to interrupt, he just let the other man speak, he knew he had to get it out. And when he apologized, red and black eyes shut completely. He was glad to hear you say that, but he wouldn't reply. He didn't want to encourage your apologies. You surely had as many as he did.

But then those words came, and in the Cajun's first language, none-the-less. His eyes slid open and he stared blankly at the altar for a long few moments, then lifted his eyes up to the large, depressing figure of the Lord Jesus Christ nailed to that cross, staring down at them. He was going to Hell.

"You doin' grea' righ' now, mon Seigneur." My Lord. Had you heard that, Doctor? He'd called you his Lord. His Time Lord. His Doctor. His Lover. His.

That scarred hand tightened on the Doctor's hand, pulling it in a little closer so he could lift it and press his mouth to the back of it. He wanted to demand that you take him with you when you left this place. He wanted to remind you he wouldn't go home. Tell you that you'd be stuck with him in your space ship for years to come. He wanted to remind you that he wanted to be with you outside of this place.

But he didn't.

He just kept that hand pressed to his mouth and smartly restrained himself from saying anything. He'd figured out how to deal with the Time Lord, for the most part.. and that was to not scare him. He could be so much like a frightened deer at times. And mentioning the future when there might be none? That would certainly spook him off, turn him defensive, or angry. And he didn't want that. This was perfect. They were perfect, just as they were.

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fromgallifrey
2009-09-20 02:33 am UTC (link)

In one moment perhaps he'd done it well. Maybe. He didn't want to dwell. He didn't want to let his hearts hang there. No, he was retreating, resigned to the fact they might take him back again tonight. That this all might have just been something manufactured by the Management anyway. He could take that happily with the press of Cajun lips to the back of his hand and the feel of that breath that followed. He couldn't protect you now, Remy; and that was so very much an important part of who he was that it made him feel less himself for it.

The Doctor was as much Remy's as he was anyone else's here. He was Roses, certainly. Jack's, too. He was Shannon's and Sam's and Sarah Jane's. He belonged to them all equally, a bringer of destructino and a plague. He was a friend to them as best he could be and he was a thorn in some of their sides. But, he was their Doctor.

What he wasn't to them was their lover. He'd wanted to be Rose's once. He'd desired to be that for her in the worst way because he knew that was what she needed, wanted even. Though, that never came to pass and it seemed even in this place it couldn't. Star crossed, indeed. For Remy LeBeau, though, this Doctor was. So, yes, call him yours, Remy, because that was exactly the best description.

There weren't anymore words from the Doctor, nothing to refute the Cajun. Instead, Time Lord's eyes slipped shut. You knew you were his, Remy, he didn't need to tell you that. You knew now that despite what he may or may not say or do there was genuine emotion and care residing for you in that skinny frame and busy mind right behind you. If you had any doubt all you had to do was look and see the brunette sleeping soundly pressed against you, still clutching at your hand and demanding that you don't let go.

Broken to bits and you wanted him. Incredible.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-09-20 02:40 am UTC (link)

Of course he wanted him. He had, since it'd been so clearly stated that he couldn't have him. The thief and his impossible heists. Had no one told you, Doctor?

He never lost.

You were his prize, he'd won you. And for some other objects, that would be enough. Just to win. The object wasn't the prize, but the winning itself, instead. Not this time. Somewhere along the way the prize had become more valuable than the game. And that was where Remy had ended up losing himself.. but he'd still won, in the end. And as the Time Lord fell asleep, his lover would stay sentinel through the night, silent and watchful. He wouldn't let the boogie man get you, Time Lord. Not on his watch.

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