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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]ace_of_clubs
2009-06-21 07:30 pm UTC (link)
It was only when the Doctor started shaking just that bit, that Gambit knew for certain he'd won this war. He wasn't letting go yet, though. Even when you'd won, the other side could still retreat and hope to fight back another day. He wasn't going to let that happen. Not a chance. But when the Time Lord spoke, Gambit was slowly removing his hands from those pockets and sliding his hands to the others elbows, from where they were lifted, clutching to his shirt. Up those gloved hands went, over his coated biceps, and finally to his shoulders, where he wrapped them around and pulled himself in closer, body molded near, breathing in the same pattern. His heartbeat, though, was much slower. Much more relaxed, thumping firmly against the double hearts across from him.

"You'll learn." The words were thicker, and it might take the Doctor a moment to puzzle out why they sounded different, because he was focused on the moment, and the feelings the red-head was pushing on him, not the words the Cajun was spouting. They sounded different because they weren't English. They weren't French. They were Mayan, and they were throaty. Looked like he'd learned more than just the curse words of a few different languages. He would probably astound the Doctor with the things he knew, the languages he could speak. It certainly wasn't common here, and certainly not for a boy who'd never been to school a day in his young life. And young was something he certainly was. Older than Rose, but young for a human -- younger, still, for a mutant. And honestly, he wasn't quite sure how he'd age, none of them were. Only time told. But it didn't matter to Remy how long he lived, just so long as he didn't waste his time.

And with the Doctor, he knew he wouldn't.

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[info]fromgallifrey
2009-06-21 07:30 pm UTC (link)
He'd been dragged across the threshold and the Doctor for all his protest found himself still. Quietly still. His mind wasn't running and his muscles weren't tensing any longer. He wasn't trying to make still the wind any longer. He was settled. He hadn't been settled for a long, long time. He never looked for that, not for peace. He looked for people who might keep up with his chase, with the adventure and never stop for a moment to do anything other than look forward because that's what he did. He tugged their hands and pulled them away from the wreckage and steered their eyes far from the man behind the curtain.

The Doctor hadn't realized immediately the language of the mutant. It distracted him a moment. He could feel the difference as Gambit's voice came less from the head and more from the throat and chest. Mayan? Nobody spoke Mayan. Apparently, Mssr. Lebeau did. How in the world? The Doctor let the moment of amusement settle.

Gambit had said he'd learn. Learn? It wasn't a problem of needing to learn, it was a problem of needing to simultaneously remember and forget. It was a paradox. The Time Lord sighed into the embrace he'd somehow managed to find himself in. This quiet place he had avoided had turned out to be just as frightening as he had imagined it to be. Perrilous, even. Though, for all the running away he'd said was for Gambit's own good, he knew it was for his own good, too.

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