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

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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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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 07:06 pm UTC (link)
Gambit moved closer with ballet grace the other man stepped near silently across the wooden floor and the gap between he and the Doctor was no longer quite so comfortable. The Doctor wasn't quite sure what he was up to. People didn't usually come into his space unless they were seeking one of the galaxy renowned hugs he'd offered. And again, they sought it only when offered. The clasp of Jack's hand on his shoulder before? It had been an anomoly, and only just more evidence that the immortal didn't quite know how to handle the Time Lord.

The Doctor's face remained blank as a canvas, the wheels still quite quickly turning as he listened to what Gambit said. He didn't think he would harm him? There was more to harm than just the physical, the Doctor knew this quite well. So, as the cat sat there tring to milk something off of him. Was it contact? Was it feeling? What was it that held the other quite so close?

"I could leave you." He said this plainly. He'd done it before, left his companions, and none had been quite so stubborn about entering into his company as the mutant that stood in front of him. Where had his voice gone? His tone had dribbled into a shell of itself. The Doctor clearly wasn't crumbling that would imply that he had been injured in some way. No,, he was almost being tender.

He'd unceremoniously left companions. He'd pushed them away until they thought they had no other choice than to leave He'd watched as those he wasn't ready to let go walked away or even worse runned. He knew what it meant to leave. He did it quite well, thank you. But, to be clung to, mirrored and mimic'd and nearly absorbed, that was a far cry and idolization - that was something he was used to. He couldn't quite place just what the cajun was driving at. Just what he was trying to push or pull for.

"Scared?" That word sounded incredulous. "Scared for you, perhaps." The Doctor stepped backward. Needing out of the closeness. He couldn't stay like that, Not like that. Not close. Not quiet. Not intimate. Those hands in his pockets were not an offensive measure or a defensive measure. No, they were a way of hiding away vulnerabliilty. Nothing could touch him. Nothing.

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