InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "IO SONO LA VITA!"

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 07:09 pm UTC (link)

When the Doctor made that motion to move, the Cajun had immediately shifted his weight to.. but ultimately, that Chuck-covered food came back and Gambit had opened his mouth to speak -- and had been interrupted. The Doctor took a step back and the mutant had let him. But only for a second. He moved in after him, hands sliding forward to seat themselves in the coat pockets of the Doctor's trench and he stepped in closer, pressing the length of that boneless body against the Time Lords, every plane of his own body molding to meet with the Doctor's, as he moved his hands back behind him, bringing the jacket (and thus, the Doctor's hands) behind him as well, so they were both nearly wrapped in the same trench coat. It was a lethargic, sensual move.. but it wasn't sexual. The Cajun was a decidedly sensual creature, who could make even the most mundane thing into a lengthy, attention-worthy affair. But he'd had the other man so close before and he'd mourned the loss of the warmth and the feel of that other body. So he'd gone after it, and there he was, right back in it's presence.

"No' 'nough." He insisted quietly. "You don' trus' me, 'dat it? Don' believe me? Personne ne fait jamais. It's norm'l." And he clearly wasn't offended, but perhaps just a little amused at the prospect. "Ain' playin' at not'in', Docteur. I ain' doin' 'dis to save 'de worl', like I say, I ain' like you. Ain' good, by no stre'ch 'de imagina'ion. Ain' tryin' to save 'de people here, I tell you 'dey mean not'in'." Whether or not that was a lie, was very hard to tell. He hadn't left them, so that was saying something. "Bu' ain' no one happy 'lone. An' you 'de lonelies' person I ever met, an' 'das sayin' somet'in'." He shook his head, just enough that his hair moved a little, before his smile returned. "You 'lone in a crow'e' room. An' 'dats 'de wors' sort, non? One t'in' to be on your own, an' 'lone. Comple'ly differen', t' be surroun'e' by frien's, an' be 'lone. And you are." He leaned his face in closer, much too close for comfort for the Doctor, surely, and he pressed their foreheads together in an intimate gesture, reveling in the heat there. "But you ain' 'lone righ' now. Not wit' me."

So, with a deep breath, the Cajun let his eyes close. Being this close was nice, and feeling two hearts beating against his chest? Well.. that was awesome. "So you ask your ques'ions, non? Remy gon' answer, hones'ly. Bes' my abili'y. 'Less you ain' got not'in' more you won'erin'."

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fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 07:10 pm UTC (link)

For the tiniest of instants the Doctor thought perhaps he had escaped. He was too smart to be toyed with in the way that the Cajun seemed to want to bat him around. The cat and his mouse. The Doctor, certainily, was not a mouse. He wasn't a tin dog, either, but that was beside the point. He had here someone who insisted on the one thing he never gave: intimacy. Not the sexual sort, but that quiet closeness that the Doctor kept at arms length, even with his closest of friends. Even with Rose he could still hide behind the ego; but she tempered that with her expectations of him. He knew he ought to fly straight and he'd never disappoint her. Never dream to.

The Doctor made no movement to counter the Cajun's - he could see where the other was going to go and with a twitch of his fingertips he forced himself to stay quite motionless. There was a forming that went on there as fluid motion brought the Cajun literally inside of his coat. Again, an intimate pose. A physical reminder that he would not be rid of him. Not just yet, and not without kicking him in the knee, groin, and stomach. Perhaps not even then.

What did it matter what the Doctor thought of Remy? What level he trusted him? The Doctor had already demonstrated that he trusted him more than most. He trusted him more than Shannon or Sam or Dean. He'd told him among the deepest of his secrets. That was trust. That was intimacy. Intimacy that was paying dividends of a Cajun in his coat, purring nonsense about being indestructable.

Then came Remy's diagnosis of him and the Doctor winced. His brow furrowing and the immediate visceral reaction to push away. Of course he was alone you sodding idiot! He was the last, the only. Singular. Remy may or may not have realized it, but he wounded him there, cut him to the quick. The Gallifreyan didn't run around waving a banner shouting 'I'm lonely' and he never would because he didn't want the pity. He didn't need it. He had a job to do and he would do it, just as he always had.

The Cajun's forehead sat down on his own and the Doctor's lips pursed, a grimmace settling upon his features. Clearly this was uncomfortable. There would be no question. "Stop." The Doctor said quietly, his eyes capped shut. He didn't want to ask any more questions. He didn't want to be pushed or pulled any longer. No. He had managed enough of this.

The Time Lord, for better or worse, wanted to lick his wounds and crawl back into his hole. He'd learned his lesson.

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