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Tweak says, "Luke, I am your father."

The Doctor (fromgallifrey) wrote in vas_captio_rpg,
@ 2009-06-21 19:29:00

Entry tags:

!complete, day 12, location: barn, remy lebeau, the doctor (ten)

Who: The Doctor and Remy LeBeau
What: Friendly fight
When: Day 12: 8AM
Where: Forest, nearest landmark, the Barn
Rating: PG

Status: Complete

The Doctor hadn't slept well. The night before he knew was leading into an even numbered day; an experiment day. It was sad that his mind kept on it like that; kept turning with the desire to anticipate and thwart a foe he could not see. Perhaps that was why the Doctor had such a difficult time pushing his eyes open. He didn't want to wake and see his friends snatched up for someone's trivial idea of a game. He blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. What was once the barn was still cluttered with musty couches and spread out among them were the people he'd come to call friends. Each were dozing quietly.

The Doctor saw his opportunity and he made good on it. Pulling on his trainers and slipping out the door he was headed out into the woods. He hadn't forgotten the plans he'd made for the people in charge. He was going to make good on them. Today. Twigs and brush crumpled beneath him as the Doctor moved quietly through the trees. He didn't want to take the road. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He had a singular focus and not one iota of it included anyone else within the glass bubble. Well, unless that person happened to be the Insider.

A not so quiet sigh escaped the Doctor. The silence was good company in the sense it didn't make his head hurt any more though also bad as it didn't do anything to still his mind. Wheels kept turning at a furious pace. He needed to go to work on things other than barns. He needed to stop being so attached to the people here, even Jack and Sarah Jane perhaps, and do whatever needed to be done. Would there be collateral damage? How about what he'd do to that 'Insider' when he managed to find them? For a man who didn't like battles or wars or violence the Doctor was finding himself sliding into the darker parts of his mind where things didn't reside in the moral - where they just needed to be done.

Today he would start with the Post Office, he would look through the nooks and crannies there, and then he and his torch would head down into the tunnels where he would find the Insider. He would find the insider and he would find out everything that they knew. He would then continue his search for those working with the insider and force them to return everyone. Following that he would destroy the town and it's bubble so that it would never be used again. Finally, he would deposit those behind it all in a cell on Rigaula Seven where they would never age, never know freedom, and never have any hope for rescue. It was those thoughts that kept cycling through the Time Lord's head. Running through on loop again and again. It was like a mantra. Insider, puppeteers, escape, prison. Those same thoughts caused the distant look in the Doctor's eye and the setting of his jaw. He would have his way.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-21 06:53 pm UTC (link)

"You woul'a wha'?" He narrowed down those oddly colored eyes, slitting them like a lion blocking out the sun while it stalked it's prey. But the Doctor wasn't prey, not by a long shot. He kept his hand fisted tightly there, but when he realized the Doctor was grabbing at his wrist, it dawned on him that he must have been in pain, and his eyes widened just some, face becoming slack for a second as he uncurled those long, thin (but strong) fingers, and withdrew his hand. A breath escaped him but he tightened his jaw and breathed in again, narrowing his eyes down once more. He felt guilty, for hurting the other, but didn't want it showing. Didn't want the Doctor to know. It could be, and would be, perceived as a weakness in all of the places Gambit had ever been, so why was this any different? Still, he rolled back his good shoulder and lowered his voice. He had realized that he was yelling, only when the Doctor had started yelling back.

"He ain' my frien'. He wan' me dea'. He hate me, un'erstan'?" He brought his tongue out in a quick swipe, to wet down his lips, allowing straight, white teeth to graze over his bottom one for only a brief second before he spoke again, just as quietly. "Ain' impor'an'. Wha' is impor'an' is 'dat you gotta be here, wit' us. Can' be t'inkin' 'bou' not'in' but doin' wha's gon' help. 'Dese people, 'dey angry. An' 'dey scare', an' 'dey t'reatenin' someone they ain' never met, don' even know 'xist's. 'Dey wan' kill 'em. Et c'est stupide. Et il est incorrect. An' you know it. You tear off, an' you mess 'dis place up, an' 'dey come here, 'dey gon' hur' someone else' Maybe 'dey hur' you, an' no one wan' 'dat. Maybe 'dey hur' one o' 'de petite, non?" As if Gambit himself weren't one of the youngest here, "Ain' gon' live wit' 'dat. But maybe you hur' 'dem. Maybe you win. Maybe you get your 'venge. Wha' 'dat make you? Make you not'in'. Make you wron'. Make you 'dem." It made him the Cajun.

"Ain' no one here wan' 'dat. No' me, no' you. No' your frien's. I ain' gon' let you mur'er no-one here. Ain' gon' let you hur' 'dem. Not 'de people in 'de box, not 'de people outta 'de box. Jus'ice one t'in'. 'Venge is ano'ter." It was only then that black and red eyes lowered away from the Doctor's lighter set, and slowly, Remy was lifting two hands, some fingers gloved, some naked, so that he could deftly, simply fix the Doctor's rumpled shirt, giving him somewhere else to focus his attention.

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 06:55 pm UTC (link)

"Friends and enemies, sometimes it's difficult to tell the difference," the Doctor had long ago decided that of all the people who knew him, perhaps the one who knew him best was the Master. It was a derranged sort of knowlege; but, still there was a certain sort of ability to anticipate an longtime foe that even friends could not easily mimic.

"Of course they're scared and angry," his voice was quieter. His temper had flared enough earlier and while by no stretch of the imagination had the Doctor's mind been swept away from his plots of the keepers of Vas Captio, for the moment his temper had ebbed. "You think I haven't dealt with worse than this place? Than these people?" Still quiet, still almost to himself. "One of 'them'" he repeated, it wasn't like anyone was even sure what they were. Kidnappers, certainly. Murderers, perhaps. Heathens? Maybe that, too. The Doctor knew that he certainly didn't fall into the category with any of that lot.

"I'm going to do whatever it takes to get us all out of here. Though, with the display in that barn, I'm quite certain I'll be much better suited doing it on my own." For as much as the Time Lord ought to dislike the feeling of loneliness it had become his only near constant companion. He was always alone in the universe; in his understanding and feeling of time there really wasn't anyone else who could really parallel him.

The Doctor made no motion as Gambit reached out and righted his shirt. "I wouldn't murder anyone," he retorted terminally. It was truthful. Nothing in his plans involved murder. If anything, quite the opposite when it came down to their stint for eternity.

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ace_of_clubs
2009-06-21 06:56 pm UTC (link)

"Doin' on your own?" Gambit removed his hands then and took a step back, sliding them into his pockets once more. "I ain' no spaceman, Docteur. Ain' like you. But I done t'in's on my own. I been on my own. An' I like it. Ain' no one to hur' me, ain' no one t'get hur'. Ain' no one for me to leave behin'. But ain' no one to care 'bou' wha' happen to me, nei'ter. Good t'in', really. I like it. Bet you do too, non?" He slowly lifted his eyebrows, making the point clear, though he'd said just the opposite, that neither of them liked it. "Like 'de soli'tue. Je le comprends. But you gon' live 'de res' o' your life 'lone. An' you in 'dis place, wit' 'des people, wan' help you. 'Dem boys, 'dey care 'bou' you. Shan, she care 'bou' you. You got frien's here. You gon' be 'lone 'til you die, an you in 'dis box wit' 'des people 'dat love you, an' you pushin' 'dem 'way, t'inkin' 'bou' doin' t'in's 'lone, 'cause you gon' be better off?" He shook his head a little. "Ain' no one better off 'lone. No one. 'Dese people, 'dey care 'bou' you, 'care 'bou' wha' happens to you. Let 'dem help you. No' jus' gettin' outta 'dis box. Let 'dem help you." He stressed that last word, eyes narrowing down only a little. It was then that the Doctor would feel that little tickle, and something urging him to agree. But it faded, shortly after. The Cajun had been trying to influence him, but had found out quickly that he couldn't get in. So he'd stopped.

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 06:56 pm UTC (link)

The Doctor had concluded that perhaps in too many ways he and the Cajun were alike - outside of the incessent joking and flirtation. Quick witted. Adversarial. Explorers. Two people who perhaps knew better than many what it meant to be alone in the middle of a crowd.

At every turn he'd been bucked by the people here, not just the insider, not just the quake. He'd said up they'd said down. He'd said ignore and they intimately listened. He tried to get the barn fixed and all he got was a collision with an ego nearly as big as his own and a case of frightening one of his closest friends and allies. It all seemed mucked up and there wasn't a thing that the Doctor might do about it.

"They're depending on someone to get them out of here. That's all that matters, really." No, that didn't come out wrong. Though, in response, Gambit seemed to talk over him and there was this odd sort of itching right behind his left ear. "Are you.. Are you really?" The Time Lord didn't want to sound as amused as he actually felt. "Psychic jimble jamble?" Head tilt.

"Listen, I just want to keep people safe. That's it. Get us out of here and keep them safe. You'd think the order of things would be escape and then dealing with the people behind this; but, I'm sorry, it's not. You can think what you like, but I don't want people getting hurt for following after trying to be helpful." That was plain enough said, wasn't it?

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