InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "You hate me? I dont know you!"

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 07:07 pm UTC (link)

"Non." The soft reassurance to the Doctor's earlier question of 'no?'. No, Doctor. You couldn't leave him. Even if you wanted. Even if you tried. Like now, caught there and unable to run away. The Doctor couldn't run this time, he'd realized that he'd have to fight, because turning his back on the red-head simply wasn't an option. Hiding in the tunnels? Running to find his blue box? He could think about it, he could imagine it, but he couldn't do it. And not just because he had no access to the box. He simply couldn't leave, and the Cajun was capitalizing on it, he was reminding, planting the seed a bit deeper. He was so sure of himself. That was one thing he'd always been good at. He could stand and have an argument about the sky, for hours. He could say it was red, while someone else insisted it was blue, and he could be so sure of himself, so confident and convincing, that he could even get the other person to believe. That, though, wasn't a power. It was just personality. Remy had always been sure of himself, he'd very rarely questioned his own actions. He couldn't.

"Don' t'ink so? Non. I won' get hur'." Still, he carried over that same confidence. "An' bein' human? Oui, it make you frail. No' in 'de min', but in 'de body. 'Dey break so easily, ain' righ'." It wasn't right that they were so fragile. And he knew all about them being fragile.. he'd killed one too many for his tastes. Knew the weaknesses and how to use them. Human bodies were delicate. His was the same way, but he had the skills to protect it.. normal humans simply.. didn't. And it was their downfall, when up against something as superior as a mutant.

"For my own good? You t'ink you runnin' 'way from me for my own good? Non. You may believe 'dat, but you wron'." How many times had you been told that you were wrong, Doctor? Count them on one hand? It never happened, because he rarely was wrong. But here the cocky Cajun was, announcing it so plainly. "Ain' for my own good. S' for your own good. I ain' gon' get hur'. But even if I do, what's it matter? Ain' not'in' wort' havin', if you don' gotta figh' for it. Ain' not'in' wort' havin' if you ain' gotta bleed for it. You don' get handed grea'ness, Doctor, you gotta earn it. Gotta work for 'de t'in's you wan', gotta work for 'de t'in's you need. An' sometime, people get hur'. But you pa'ch youself up, an' you get back on 'de horse. Besi'e." He slid in just a little closer, eyes lowering down over the Doctor's face before they came back up to his eyes. "Ain' not'in' wron' wit' a lil' pain, oui? Remin' you 'dat you ain' dea', when you t'ink you are."

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 07:08 pm UTC (link)

The Doctor didn't like the feeling of being challenged. No one challenged him. Those who did were commonly chewed up, spit out and droped at the nearest despoitory for immediate forgetting. He didn't have time for trite questions or pokes at his ego. He certainly didn't respect those who made their lives focus playing those sorts of games. But this? This wasn't that. Gambit wasn't challenging him for the sake of being challenged; rather, the Cajun thought with earnest that what the Doctor was saying was wrong. He was never wrong. Not in the strictest sense, anyway.

"Go ask Jack and Sarah Jane about how I left them, Remy. Then come back and tell me I'm not wrong." Was he talking about the same people he'd labelled friends? Did he realize how cruel that sounded? Yes. That's why he said it. He needed to get the bull headed man across from him to understand.

Whatever space between them that had been left was claimed by the Doctor. It was his turn to push and to press and to pull and to force. He would make Remy understand the very important fact that he was going to leave. He'd drill it into his head no matter how painful it was.

"à quoi jouez-vous, Cajun?" The Doctor asked quietly. Well, what was he playing at? Invading his space? Making edicts? Trying to convince the Time Lord that he didn't know exactly what he could and could not do. What he would and would not do.

The dark eyes of the Doctor were fused with the Cajun's. The man, now literally against him for all intents and purposes, was like a puzzle. He said he wasn't a hero and he claimed that he didn't want to be one of those 'good guys' yet here he was, trying to push the Doctor back into check; trying to make him realize just what he had come here to do. It seemed backwards, and the Doctor intended to call him out on it.

"Who's really in there, hm?" The Doctor inquired. "The good guy? The bad guy? The bad guy too scared to be good?" His lips moved slowly as he spoke, it ws the Doctor's turn to play. "People come with me, Gambit, because they want an adventure. I'm not offering that here. There's no fun or games or brilliant trips through time to be had in this big glass jar. So, what are you pining after?"

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