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The Doctor ([info]fromgallifrey) wrote in [info]vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-10 18:36:00

Previous Entry  Add to memories!  Tell a Friend!  Next Entry
Entry tags:!complete, day 10, location: in town, location: post office, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Day 10: 10:14 PM
Who: The Doctor and Gambit
What: Exploring?
Where: Around town, the Post Office
When: Evening, Day 10
Rating: PG~
Status: Complete - carried over to new thread for day change

The aftershocks of the day's quake had come and gone, and the Doctor could say with reasonable certainty that the shuddering of the earth within the glass dome had reached it's rightful end. He'd spent the day running and carrying things and jumping and crawling and climbing. Yet, there he was, walking down the road with his hands shoved deep into his suit coat pockets, his trench coat currently in the depths of the museum. He knew he would need to go back for it. There was no way he would leave it in there. For right now, he knew it was safe, draped somewhere in the crumbling structure next to a no-doubt damaged half finished sonic modulator.

The Doctor's mind, however, was quiet. He was letting himself feel the pull of this planet around it's world as it hurled through time and space like an unstoppable mass. The Doctor knew what it took to stop a planet. He knew what it would take to rip this place form it's orbit and fling it into the far reaches of space outside any hope of time holding any meaning. Yet, all he could think of was the quiet of the dirt as his trainers moved along at a steady pace.

Rounding a bend he spied Gambit at a distance, his hair quite red despite the low light, his jacket a tell-tale feature as well. Without a word the Doctor watched, his steps leading him ever nearer. Gambit, it appeared, was staring at the Post Office.

The road started to crunch like gravel under his steps, no doubt alerting Gambit to his presence. It wasn't like the Doctor was trying to be stealthy anyway - he just didn't want to interrupt Gambit's train of thought, is all.

"Waiting for a letter?" He asked quietly, coming to a halt not far from him.


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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 06:03 pm UTC (link)
He was staring at the Post Office, intently, as if he were waiting for some sort of answer. As if the building was going to give him that answer. And he would have stood there for much longer, in silence, if the Doctor hadn't interrupted. It was the sound of his feet on the gravel that did indeed alert him.. but uncharacteristically, the Cajun didn't turn his head to greet the Doctor and give him a wide smile. Instead, he just continued staring at the Post Office, even after the question had been posed. In fact, it would take him almost a full minute to finally speak up and voice his answer.

"Non. C'est dimanche. Le courrier ne vient pas dimanche." No, mail didn't come on Sunday, and for the Cajun, today was Sunday. He could still remember what day of the week it was because he hadn't been here very long at all. Almost two days, actually. Almost. However, his reply was softer than usual, mimicking the Doctor's own quiet tone.

"You know, I almos' lef'. Was plannin' on it. Was stan'in' here, like 'dis, when 'de blon'e girl, she ask me to come help. She was pretty, so I help, fix up her frien', get him to 'de Gym. 'Den I was comin' back, wen' to 'de museum to take a few t'in's I wan'." Steal, he'd meant. "'Dere was a girl 'dere, too. Shannon. We talk for a bit. En'e up leavin' wit'ou' what I wen' for. 'Den 'de quakes star' 'gain. Got caugh' up. Had to help out again." He let out a breath and pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat, then finally turned to face the Doctor. His turtleneck that he'd been wearing was gone, replaced by just a tanktop he'd been wearing beneath. "I ain' no hero, Docteur. 'Dese people, 'dey ain' my people. 'Dey no use to me. I'm a T'ief. I'm a Liar. I'm a trai'or. I do wha' I wan' an' I take wha' I wan', 'den I go. 'Dese people? 'Dey not'in' to me. None of you." He lifted his eyebrows slowly, but then turned to face the Post Office again, not having been able to meet the Doctor's gaze after having said that.

"But when it come down to it, I'm still stan'in' here, non? Ain' gone yet. Pourquoi dans l'Enfer je ne peux pas marcher de cet endroit?" So why the Hell couldn't he walk out of this place? "Why'm I still here? Don' really make sense, non?"

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 06:23 pm UTC (link)
The silence percolated between the two quasi-friends. Even as the Cajun responded to his query the Doctor could feel a ripple in the air. There was something more.

He wished he had his coat. That he could shove his hands deep down in his pockets in his own peculiar version of crossing his arms. Instead he was forced to stand there, his hands all out in the cold with his trainers feeling like they were super glued to the pavement.

"Thick as thieves," he said quietly. Little clues were coming together for the Doctor. The quiet grace, the practiced moves, the almost cunning demeanor; not to mention the inquisition conversations sometimes turned into with Gambit.

The Time Lord didn't make any motion to come between Gambit and the Post Office. Instead he stood his ground, itching for that coat of his still. The Doctor didn't do intimacy. Usually people found things out about him in a slow and methodical manner and then when they were gone, they were gone. He didn't learn favorite colors or jam preference. He didn't learn birthdays or pets. No, he traveled with them for a time, and when their time came they left. The Doctor was used to being alone and having things on his terms.

Yet, here was Gambit, calling no one his people. Kicking himself for whatever it was he did outside of this place. Acting like he was a fish out of water when clearly he'd managed to find his stride somewhere in the heart of all this.

He hadn't even let his mind fathom the thought of what Gambit meant about leaving. What he was trying to say about getting out of here. The Gallifreyan was just a touch more intrigued by why the Cajun was saying what he was.

"I can't tell you what you are or what you aren't. Though, you could have very easily left all the people you helped behind." He was still so very quiet, keeping still. He felt like an observer seeing a creature in it's native habitat.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 06:35 pm UTC (link)
"Oui." He agreed, to the Doctor's statement that he could have left them all behind. "Almos' did, a few times. But someone was always draggin' me here or 'dere. 'Dat ain' me. I don' help people. Enfants? Sure. Maybe 'de occasional pretty girl. An' back when I had people? I help 'dem, too. But I see one of 'dem 'gain? 'Dey can rot in Hell." Red eyes remaining locked onto the Post Office, keeping his attention focused there. Idly, his shoulders rolled up, rocking the coat some as he did. "Shoul'a lef' 'dem behin'. Shoul'na let 'dem talk me into helpin'. Faible. Cela me rend faible." Weak. It made him weak. Caring about people made you weak. It made you a better person to be alone. He pushed his hands further into his pockets, fingers curling there as the jacket began to glow softly. The Cajun seemed completely unaware of what he was doing. Dangerous.

"Woul' you leave all 'dese people behin', Docteur, if you coul' trade 'dere lives for yours? I talk to L'initié today. Made frien's." Saying that made his lips curl up a little. "T'inks I'm funny. He say we meet, have coffee. Non sûr s'il l'a voulu dire. Mais je crois qu'il a fait." He wasn't sure if he'd meant it, but he thought he did.

"I'm still here." He sounded somewhat amused by that, the flat tone in his voice slowly melting away as his little smile returned. So much for seriousness. Or perhaps not.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 06:50 pm UTC (link)
He tried to think of something witty to say in response to Gambit. Really he did. He wanted to fling something at him to make that red head spin and the Cajun go 'huh?' Instead, the Doctor was silent - his mind frozen in a sludge of near exhaustion. "Weak?" The Doctor repeated quietly, his questioning tone dimmed only by his distraction. He didn't understand where the Cajun was coming from - though, the Doctor sympathized. There was a time when all he'd wanted to do was travel alone for the rest of time. For he and his stolen Police Box to travel the cosmos in peace. People meant hurt. People meant pain. People meant that he'd always be reminded of just how alone he was.

Perhaps he wasn't as over all that as he thought.

"Are you trying to rid yourself of your jacket?" He asked quietly, watching as it glowed faintly in the dark.

"You think you made friends with our captor? The person whose lone objective seems torture and experimentation?" The Doctor was looking at Gambit like he had five heads.

"I could not leave these people behind, friend or not. I have a duty, a responsibility, a code. I wouldn't leave them. I wouldn't leave you."

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 07:00 pm UTC (link)
When the Doctor asked him about his coat, that did snap him out of it and he looked down at him, then after a few seconds, the coat returned to its brown, unglowing state and he removed his hands from the pockets, to assure it didn't happen again. But that had been the distraction, and the Cajun was smiling over at the dark-eyed man in the suit. "Cap'or? Non. 'Dis person ain' 'de cap'or. Jus' enjoyin' 'de game. Say 'dat he, or she, I suppose, walkin' 'roun', talkin' to people, an' 'dey don' even know it's dem. Knows French. Entertain' 'de t'ough might'a been you." He lifted his eyebrows when he said that, smile getting a bit wider. "Mais non." But no. He was sure it wasn't. "Trie' to make a deal. Didn' work." When he said that, the smile lowered a bit again and he turned to face the Post Office once again.

"You coul'n'? Duty? Responsib'lty?" He smirked then, tilting his head back to look into the dark sky above them, then at the Post Office again. "Woul'n' leave me? Even if I woul' leave you? Because I woul'." He said it, but he had already demonstrated that he wouldn't, no matter how much he liked to profess that he would. "I foun' it to'day. Maybe eigh' hours ago? Hid it so o'ters woul'n' fin' it." Found what?

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 07:15 pm UTC (link)
"I'm of the belief that whomever is behind those journal entries will say anything just to make us believe what they want us to." He hadn't even looked at his journal since this whole day had turned to chaos, it had been tucked away safely in his jacket pocket. The same jacket that was currently waiting for him to come claim it in the museum.

"No, I couldn't." He said that plainly without raising his voice. He didn't need dramatics.

The Doctor looked at the Post Office. Remy found something in there. The Doctor was still back a few steps.

"So, they were keeping something in there, then?" He still didn't move, not one muscle.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 07:20 pm UTC (link)
Remy only nodded when the Doctor made the connection. There was something in there. The Cajun came forward a few steps, until he could bend and jerk the stick out from where he'd wedged it between the door and the jam, to keep it closed, and the broken hinges would force that door to pop open again, revealing the littered room.. mail equipment, old boxes, papers.. and a door. A door that revealed a tunnel behind it.

"A tunnel." He announced as he came a step closer, his booted foot resting on the threshold of the door into the post office, as he looked past the mess and watched that door intently.

"Dunno where it lea's." As he'd said before, he hadn't been able to bring himself to go down there and leave everyone behind. It was clearly disturbing him, the reason he'd stayed behind in this place instead of hightailing it as soon as he'd found what could be an exit.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 07:27 pm UTC (link)
His former comment going unnoticed the Gallifreyan found himself thankful he hadn't been challenged. It was clear, by actions at least, that Remy might be made of similar stock. Or, at least, that's what the Doctor thought.

From the place he stood, the Doctor watched as the door was pulled open and a tunnel in the middle of the Post Office came into view. The Doctor didn't know where it lead. He wasn't convinced he really wanted to know. Everything felt like a foil at this point: intended just to make he and everyone else more upset and angry. The earthquake was just a raise in the stakes when people started getting comfortable and complacent.

"Could be a way out. Could be a trap." It was the Doctor's opportunity to have a flat vocalization. He was brimming on the inside. He had so much he wanted to absolutely scream at Gambit as he thought he saw right through him; but, he kept mute.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 07:35 pm UTC (link)
"Coul' be." He agreed quietly, breathing in deeply through his nose as he did, and rocking up onto his toes. A strange action, one the Cajun hadn't done in the Doctor's presence before. He balanced there a few long seconds, not even swaying before he settled fluidly onto his feet again. "I wan' check it out." The Cajun announced easily.

But after a few heartbeats, he turned his head to look directly at the Doctor, face partially obscured by the door as he had to look around it towards the alien. "You ever been so work' up, so angry, you wanna jus'.. I dunno. Ruin somet'in'? Make somet'in' hur'?" There. That question. That pinpointed it, the strange silence and lack of a smile that the Cajun was sporting. Gambit was angry. Rather angry, from the sounds of it, if that had been why he'd asked the question. He was angry at himself, of all things. He should have left. He should have walked away. He hadn't. What the hell was wrong with him? A hand curled up into a fist, glove taking on a soft glow, but then it subsided and he released the fist.

"You t'ink it's a trap, mon ami?" Finally, back on to topic.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 07:44 pm UTC (link)
Of course Gambit wanted to check it out. Anyone worth their salt would want to check it out. The Doctor wanted to.

"You mean that fire in the bottom of your stomach and the back of your head? The one that makes you want to scream and pound and tear the lot of it to bits?" The Doctor knew rage. Intimately.

"The bringer of darkness. Destroyer of worlds. Oncoming storm," they all had an air of destruction to them, didn't they? Add a dash of rage, and hate and fear and you had the pronunciation correct. Though, the way the Doctor said them in turn they almost sounded sad. "That's what they called me." Who they was happened to be a question for another time.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to find out," he steered back onto the road and walked slowly from his post to where Gambit was being an apt sentry. "No time like the present."

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 07:53 pm UTC (link)
When the Doctor repeated the feeling, Gambit nodded. Yes. That was the feeling. He was glad to know that the Doctor knew it. Glad to know he wasn't the only one that could feel something that thick, that deep. That dangerously.

And when the names were finally fessed up, answering the Cajun's question from hours earlier in the day, he looked over at the suited man once again. "Le Diable Blanc. Yours are plus impressive." Though, he hadn't said it in an excited tone, he'd simply stated it. He pushed a hand back through his hair, ruffling it up some before letting it fall where it may.

He was completely prepared for the Doctor to tell him that it was too dangerous and that he was silly for wanting to go in there, and that they should wait for more people, or that they should get the others. Something. Anything. And when he didn't, Gambit found himself oddly pleased, oddly comforted by the fact that the Doctor thought like he did. So, in an effort to lighten up the mood as they began the trek into the tiny, messy Post Office, Gambit spoke up again, a bit more cheerfully this time. And his tone, strangely enough, was almost proud. "I never wen' t'school. Not a day in my life, up 'til 'few mon'hs ago. Logan, his people, 'dey base' in a school."

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 08:02 pm UTC (link)
Well, now they each knew where one another stood, now didn't they? The Oncoming Storm meets Le Diable Blanc. The person who saw this odd rapport coming deserved a medal. Or at least a cookie.

"You're brilliant," the Doctor started, his mind tickling with the idea of just how brilliant the Cajun could have been given the opportunity to apply himself. "My people, when we're very young, we go to the Academy." Prydonian Academy, where Time Lords and Ladies have their mustard tested. Where they learn about time and space and timey whimey jibber jabble. Though, at the Doctor thought about it, he didn't really see Logan as the sort suited for school.

The Post Office and it's debris were walked through and largely ignored as the Doctor tried to peer through the tunnel before them. They'd need a light source of some sort if they were going to head down there.

"Think you can manage a light for us?" Of course he could, but it was polite to ask.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 08:12 pm UTC (link)
"Non." The Cajun assured him with a sudden grin. "You brillian', Docteur. I'm craf'y, but not brillian'. 'De lil' girl, at 'de school, juste une petite fille, she ask me to help wit' her mat'. Time tables." Red eyes rolled up. "I tell her I was busy. Quelles sont des tables de temps?" It was more a rhetorical question, though. "I don' even know. Maybe if I learn', I have pick up on it, non? Maybe I be brillian'. Ain' got much need f'school, 'dough, when you learnin' o'ter t'in's, oui?"

But when the Doctor mentioned he'd gone to an Academy, it made Gambit's lips curl up. "Mus' been fun. An' you come ou' so smar'." He was pushing his hands into his pockets as the Doctor requested light, instead of picking up a box, and the coat began to glow softly. But then he thought better of it and removed his hands, swiping up a broken piece of plastic, instead. If he had to drop it for any reason, and didn't have time to charge it, he didn't want to be wearing it. Plastic it was. And once they had a light, the Cajun was lowering it some to get a better look in the dark tunnel. "You immor'al, Docteur?" Immortal, of course. If the Doctor couldn't die, he was going first! If not, Gambit would gladly go in first. He honestly thought he had a better chance of fighting something off if he had to.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 08:21 pm UTC (link)
"I know brilliant," the Doctor responded. He also knew he was brilliant, which was why he could be so sure. "No recreational math?" The Doctor looked a little disappointed there. Everyone could use at least one lesson in the fundamentals of fun math. Math being, after all, what makes the world go round.

"Oh, I wouldn't say school makes anyone smart. It just pumps you full of bits and pieces. It's how you use them that makes you smart," he rambled, his furrowed brow accompanied by the tweaking of his upper lip as he tried to make out anything in the darkness of the passage below.

"Immortal? Not in the strictest sense." Even still, the Doctor was already taking steps down the stairs. If there was something down there it was a very stealthy creature indeed. "Last time I was in a place this dark someone tried to nick my screwdriver."

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 08:27 pm UTC (link)
"Recrea'n'l mat'? You gotta be kiddin'." He smirked all the same and was following the Doctor down those steps, shaking his head as he did. He'd rather be in front, if the Doctor wasn't impossible to kill. He figured he could protect them both if he had to.. though he wasn't sure he would. He was following anyway, and once down the long flight of stairs he was coming along the Doctor's side, lifting the piece of plastic to light the way.

"Screw'river? 'Da's too kinky even for me, Docteur, we gon' have to ret'ink our rela'ionship. Don' know as I wan' you an your screw'river havin' free-range." His done was definitively light and teasing as those red eyes turned aside onto his.. friend? Was he, really? Gambit supposed he was the closest thing he had to a friend. So sure. Why not? It was rare that he got to use that word.. but he reminded himself that it didn't mean he wouldn't leave him behind in a heartbeat if it came to it.

Then why had he wanted to go first? Idiot Cajun. Remy let out a slow breath at his own logic.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 08:57 pm UTC (link)
"You don't know what you're missing!" He was serious in his enthusiasm, certainly Gambit had picked up on that. It was never clear if the Doctor's pseudonym came from his desire to help or a love of learning, it wouldn't be all the surprising that he enjoyed the idea of numbers and math being fun.

"It's my sonic screwdriver. I was trying to replicate bits of it with the modulator," again his mind went back to the thought of the most likely destroyed tool residing in the library. "I've gotten out of more pickles with my screwdriver than anyone ever has with a gun."

The steps finally came to a halt and the Doctor squinted into the darkness. There was the smell of earth in the tunnels, he was fairly sure at some point parts would be crumbling courtesy of the earthquake. The air tasted stale, like the place had been closed up a while. He didn't like the feel of it. Though, the darkness seemed almost a comfort in an odd way.

His fist few steps and the Doctor winced, looking down at what had just crumpled beneath him. "Is that a slimfast bar wrapper?" His brow quirked.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 09:08 pm UTC (link)
"Guns? Ils ne font rien pour moi. Don' like guns." He scrunched up his nose and shook his head in displeasure. "Sonic?" Don't bother, Doctor. He didn't know what 'Sonic' was. He'd need it explained from the bottom up.

However, when the Doctor suddenly came to a stop, Gambit did as well and lowered his eyes to look at the ground as well, eyebrows lifting. He was crouching down to pick it up, standing up just seconds later to show the Doctor, bringing the piece of plastic closer so they could inspect it. "How you know it was a slimfas', Docteur? You ea' 'dese?" It was a light tease, but he was definitely more interested in this wrapper than anything else at the moment. "Someone been down here," Captain Obvious. "L'initié, non?" Or, that was what Gambit had instantly thought of.

"You got slimfas' in 'dis town, Docteur?" Was it something that someone could have gotten from the town? Maybe one of their own people who had found this tunnel before them? Or was that something that they definitely had none of in the town?

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 09:17 pm UTC (link)
The Doctor beamed in the dim light of the charged plastic. No wonder they were friends. The Doctor was quite amused by the thought of that. It actually made his grin brighter.

Gambit leaned over and took up the crumpled wrapper with care, turning it about and inspecting it. "I would the smell of it anywhere. Shannon eats those like they're the only food suitable for consumption... I think I can taste them in my sleep." There were bits of crumbs and residue left on the wrapper, and for the Doctor he might as well have the damned thing in his mouth. "Besides, they come in the same style of wrapping - white on the outside, silver on the inside."

"They had cases of them..." Apparently, some of the cases had wandered down into these tunnels. Where they had been consumed. By someone.

"Could be the Insider... Could be someone else from our group. Perhaps someone who got here before us and came down into these tunnels to hide?" The Doctor's face was scrunched in concentration. He wouldn't put it past someone wanting to hide down here, especially if they had been alone in town for a very long time.

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[info]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-10 09:25 pm UTC (link)
"Shannon?" Gambit prompted quietly, looking aside at him with a lift of his eyebrows. Shannon ate these things? The Insider had mentioned Shannon, too. Which made the Cajun give the Doctor a scrutinizing look, before he dismissed it.

But then again.. he was dropping the wrapper, listening as the Doctor spoke.. then he finally breathed in deeply. "Vous savez, I can' be sure you're not L'initié, an' you can' be sure I'm not L'initié." He turned to face the Doctor as he said that, lowering the piece of plastic between them so the glow lit their faces from beneath. He wasn't accusing, though. He wasn't panicky. Wasn't worried. He was simply stating the obvious. However, after a few seconds, he was moving his hand into his inside jacket pocket to pull out his journal and offered it over to the Doctor, so that he could look in it. The first little bit of non-sense, the back-and-forth from himself and the Insider, was right in the front.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-10 09:36 pm UTC (link)
"She seems to think that despite the fact they are laden with high fructose corn syrup they are either nutritious or good for her figure." The Doctor's tongue clicked at he thought about it. He'd have to ask her why she ate them later.

There was a strange intonation to the Cajun's voice that gave the Doctor pause. The light shifted and the Cajun was rustling as he exhumed the journal and held it out for the Doctor to see. He gave it a cursory glance. It had never occurred to him that he was the Insider, and he hadn't thought that it would occur to anyone that he might be, either.

"I would show you mine, unfortunately it's back in my coat pocket in the museum." The Doctor shrugged. His coat had been there all day, buried under the rubble no doubt. "I can't believe you try and charm people through the paper," he jabbed, snapping the journal shut and handing it back.

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