cape_kore | 013 ✳ day 149 ✳ audio

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013 ✳ day 149 ✳ audio

[She isn't showing her face over the network, but still, Fortescue's voice sounds almost as bad as her numerous injuries. It wobbles every so often, from the abuse it's taken, and she can't even drum up the emotion to be angry about her lack of control over it. It is what is is.]

Hello, Science Center. Miss me? [Fortescue holds the phone away from her face, for a moment, to cough. She might sound dry, but she really is grateful to be back. Very grateful.] Had this place let me remember, I would have been able to return the favor.

...I don't want to inconvenience anyone, but I'm not... especially mobile, and the canteen is quite a distance from my room. If anyone feels like being generous, I wouldn't mind a snack. [Or maybe more than a snack, but she doesn't feel worthy enough, anymore, to ask for more than that. What is she, aside from a person who failed in her most basic duties as a sister?

She almost asks for alcohol, too, just for the hell of it, but she doesn't. She cuts the feed after a quick,]

Thank you.

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[ The Doctor is fiddling with something. Yes, he is still at trying to solve some sort of frequency lock on the Science Center. He's dang well determined to fine one. ]

Another one who is back, eh? You've really got to tell me how you do that coming-and-going-away-trick. It would help loads. [ He glances up at the screen with a smile. ] I've got some jammy dodgers if you're interested. Although, I'm not sure where you're at.

[Fiddling with things is pretty much the Doctor's state of being, isn't it? Fortescue frowns at her screen a little, though she's still keeping her side blank for the moment. Her accent is very much like the Doctor's, though for the practiced alien ear there might be one or two differences. Minuscule; the more subtle linguistic differences of alternate reality.]

It's a lot like going to sleep and waking up again. Except with, you know, memory alteration. It's so easy no one here can do it when they want to. [This is as close she comes to teasing, for the time being, because something within her twinges and she winces.] Jammy dodgers... all the things in the Multiverse to show up, and jammy dodgers do. Incredible. I wouldn't be averse — directions are a bit complicated, though.

[She has to limp toward the door. Her leg might be healed, but her muscles are far from happy. Fortescue pokes her head out.]

Hm. My corridor seems to have a large box collapsed in the middle of it. Cardboard. Ring any bells?

[ Fiddling and building and trying to save everyone. That's practically his M.O. to be entirely honest. He does pause as she talks, listening carefully. British and yet not British. But not alien! Oh, that is fascinating. He'll have to ask her about that later. When he's not trying to lock onto a frequency that changes in a milisecond. Or, just about then. ]

So, we don't actually leave. We just go to sleep with our memories restored. Or, gained. That could mean these aren't our proper bodies. Maybe, they're some sort of doppleganger body. Which, hopefully, they aren't. The Flesh tends to get a mind of its own and that is not something that we need to deal with at this moment. [ His voice and demeanor is ramble-y, of course, but there is a gentle calmness there. ] Between you and me? I've got some in my coat pockets. Never leave my ship without them.

Large collapsed box. [ His head whirls around to look down the hall, thinking. ] Give me a few minutes! I think I passed by one of those.

If they are, they went to a terrible amount of trouble to convince me otherwise. [All of her injuries, for example, the hallucinations, and so on.] I'll be waiting, then. Who could resist a man with jammy dodgers in his coat pockets?

[Or they'll be waiting, because Jazz goes out to sniff at the cardboard box. The black alley cat, with half an ear missing, is just as grumpy as he was the night before, from their shared pain. But he's feeling a lot more spry, it seems. Fortescue, uneasy about leaving him out there alone, joins him at the box, barefoot.

She's a strange sight — black eye, sharp cuts on her shoulders and back, bruises everywhere, clad in a short black cocktail dress and wrapped firmly in a blanket like a giant shawl. There's no more blood, at least, and her hallucinations are minor. Like a small shell clinging to the side of the box. She's fairly certain that that's a hallucination, when she thought the Center was a beach.]

You'd be surprised the trouble some people will go to make sure their plans work. Whatever those plans are. [ A frown crosses over his face before shaking his head and he is smiling again. Almost as if this is something amazing that has happened to him. ] Wait till you see the blue box.

[ With that he cuts the conversation and starts moving. The sonic goes in his pocket and he starts walking back down the hall he came. He's started to wonder if the halls are a bit telepathic. If the mind wanders, maybe the hallways do too? Which means it should be rather easy to find the woman whose name he hasn't quite figured out yet.

The Doctor finally comes to the end of the hall. He back tracks and looks down, seeing the box and Fortescue. He rubs his fingers together for a brief moment before walking down the hall. He notes the cuts and bruises in the very nice and tight black cocktail dress (not that he's looking--maybe he is). Then he takes note of the cat. He can talk to cats sometimes too. Depends on the mood.

He smiles at her and clasps his hands together. ]

I don't suppose you're looking for the mad man with jammy dodgers.

That would be me. I do tend to live on the wild side.

[This isn't really the condition she'd prefer to meet anyone in, really, but beggars can't be choosers. Especially when they can't walk very far without, well — collapsing. Fortescue makes a note of the blue box reference. It does sound familiar. But she doesn't mention it just yet, holding out a hand to shake his with an equal smile.]

Fortescue. [A nod at her cat, who peers cautiously at the newcomer.] And that's Jazz. Sorry about the... [With her other hand, she gestures at her face.] Not my idea.

[Being even a few feet from her open door seems to be a mood lifter, for now. The charming smile of her acquaintance might have something to do with it, too.]

Edited (words) 2014-01-03 10:04 (UTC)

I love a girl who likes a bit of whamo in her life!

[ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a bag of jammy dodgers. He tosses it up and down a few times before offering it to her. The Doctor has already counted the amounts of bruises and cuts she's got. At least the ones he can see.

The Doctor grins at her and takes her hand, making a rather dramatic bow. ] 'Ello Fortescue, Jazz. Interesting name for a cat. [ He looks back at her face. ] I've seen a worse. There's got to be a medical station around here somewhere we can get you to.

Oh, yes, sorry. I'm the Doctor and it is very nice to meet both of you. Now, the most important question: who names their cat Jazz?

Thank you. [Who knew that packaging, of all things, would be interesting. But since it's from another Earth, the similarities and differences are things that will likely be interesting. Later — her company is, evidently, far more interesting.] Oh, don't worry. It will fade. It's not my first black eye, I'm sorry to say.

[And she really is, but then he says his name. And... Fortescue's eyebrows go up. The Doctor. What an odd coincidence. Or is it a coincidence, here? She can barely get over her confusion long enough to pay attention to his question.]

I did. My father was a big fan of jazz. And I suppose it was ironic, as he was a very cranky cat when I was given him. [Time to get off that line of thinking immediately, or she's going to tear up right in front of him. She clears her throat.] Well, I never expected to meet two blokes with that same name. Where's your big coat and your trainers?

[It comes out as a joke, as she expects to merely confuse him with a line like that.]

[ He gracefully drops her hand after a good pat, slipping his hands into the pockets of his pants. Despite the youthful appearance and bowtie? The outfit is very Victorian. Even with a pocket watch! Also, stripped shirt. ]

Doesn't matter if it is the first or the last, Fortescue. You ought to get it looked over. Might be some damage that we don't know about.

[ There's a pull at his lips at her eyebrows going up. So, another one he met before in his previous life. Why hasn't he got the memories of this place? ]

Ahhh! Sentimental! Okay, okay. I gotcha. Brilliant. [ He gives the cat a very fond smile before being distracted by her throat clearing. ]

Retired. Sorry, did I not explain the bit with the face change? [ The Doctor raises his hand and gestures to well--his everything. ] Time Lord trick. When the body is damaged or old, we can change it. Only a set amount of times. [ This is the last him--the last Doctor. ] They're knocking around somewhere in the TARDIS, but, I'm a bit too old for those now. Not to mention they don't fit.

[Wait a minute. He's not staring at her like a fish out of water...]

...no, I don't think you mentioned that part. But you might have. My memories have been a little... [Fortescue makes a wobbly gesture with her hand.] ...since I returned. [She looks at him critically, gauging his reaction to what she's about to say next. Maybe this guy's pulling her leg.] I expect Donna's given you a stern talking-to? You worried her to death when you left like that. And maybe some other people, too.

[She smirks at him. Three guesses who one of those people was.]

Not fully there? Off? Maybe even a bit missing?

[ He might be fishing for answers.

The Doctor flicks the coat out from under him as he squats down to look up at her. Really look at her. Why doesn't he remember her? Or Kore, or any of it for that matter? Something must have happened when he left the first time. Something was able to get in and re-arrange his memories. He frowns to himself. There's no memories he can recall willingly of her. And that? That upsets him. Even more than not knowing how he'll know someone in the future.

A bitter smile touches his face as he drops his eyes. ]

Yeah... yeah. We sort of thought we weren't the real ones of each other. You know how it goes! Land in a place you've never been, suddenly your best mate from ages back is there talking to you like nothing bad happened at all. It's a bit jarring. [ She may or may not have slapped him.

The Doctor eyes her with a pouty face. Yes, pouty. ] You're not going to slap me. Are you?

Missing. Coming back slowly. I didn't remember this place at all, at first. And I was here for a few months.

[Though that had been the absolute least of her worries. What with the bleeding injuries, hallucinations, trauma... Memories hadn't vexed her too much until she'd realized that she was hallucinating. The hallucination of the beach had become her reality.

Fortescue knows a little about jarring, as a result. Nothing like being discovered by an angel you didn't remember until a second after he blinks at you. And remembering the fact that there are angels in other universes, too, and that you're decent friends with at least two of them.

Her smirk levels off into a smile, as he pouts. No, no slapping. Instead, she taps the end of his nose gently with her index finger.]

No slapping. You're safe, Time Lord. It's not like we can control comings and goings. [That doesn't stop the worrying, but still.] And besides, you've brought me jammy dodgers.

[ The tap makes him blink a few times. It was a gesture he often gave to Amy--Amelia Pond. His hearts sink. Even though Clara and the gang from Victorian London had reignited his love of the universe? Amy Pond was always seared into his hearts. The Girl Who Waited. Even then, the Doctor is brilliant at masking his pain. So a smile is rewarded to Fortescue. ]

We can control who is precious to us. [ This is something he insists. He never forgets a face. Sometimes he is incredibly slow and it takes him a moment to remember, but this is different. It feels like no matter how much time he spends in Kore those memories aren't coming back. Which means he'll need to make new ones.

But it doesn't stop the guilt. ]

I did! Which means you need to snack up. Then we'll get you looked over. [ The Doctor stands and sweeps the coat he is wearing off his shoulders. He then drapes it over her own. It'll work better than that blanket she's got. ]

[She absorbs the blinks — it's an instinct, at this point, to watch body language, even if she's quit the job that requires it. But she doesn't know him well enough (yet) to know when he's covering something up. It seems as though more than his face changes, but the Doctor she knew always started talking faster and louder when he was trying to ignore something. Maybe that's something she can on. But for now, jammy dodgers.

Fortescue smiles at the addition of the coat, as she nibbles on her biscuits. It's certainly less weird than her blanket shawl.]

Thank you, love. You're a gentleman. Moved onto tweed, have you?

[The biscuits do taste like home. A bittersweet thing, at the moment, and maybe she spends too long looking at one while chewing on another.]

I'm fine. Really. [Oh, look, a cough. Thanks, body. She almost sighs.] ...Just some... lingering problems from a pair of enthusiastic thugs. A friend of mine healed the worst of it.

[ His hands slip into his pockets again as a fond smile touches his face. Fortescue must be something. He can tell she's quick witted. Something about her stands out, and that usually means he ends up in trouble with those sorts of people. They end up in his blue box and sailing the universe. Except he's missing his blue box right now. ]

It's a bit granddad, isn't it? [ He nods to it. ] It fits an old man like me.

[ Extremely old. So old he's got no idea how old. He pretends to be over 1,200ish now.

The smile turns into a worried expression again. Set, unmoving, and almost unreadable. ] Healing the worst of it isn't healing all of it, Fortescue. We've got no idea what Kore might of done to you on top of it. Eat up.

And! [ With a snap of his fingers he reaches into his pocket and pulls out cat snacks--don't ask where he got them. He offers the bag to Jazz. ] Some for Jazz too.

From what I understand, it's all the rage with the elite Soviets at the moment. And probably old men in Imperium schools, too. It belonged to elderly professors first.

[Fortescue kept track of fashion quite a bit as a field agent. It helped to be seen as whatever she need to be seen as. But now, she doesn't need to care. That's a liberating feeling. Looking nice is terrific, but fashion is a hundred-headed dragon in Imperium. Every group has their own style, all borrowed from, and inspired by, other worlds.

Jazz squints at the bag, then back up at the Doctor's face. What are those? Will they make the hurting go away?]

...don't mind him. He's a bit... well. We've both had a trying time, lately.

Edited 2014-01-05 12:42 (UTC)

...Well. Hopefully I don't remind you of one of them. They sound rather unpleasant, this Imperium.

[ Definitely not imperialistic.

He nods to Jazz to encourage him. A glance is sent up at Fortescue at her comment. Again he squats down and opens the bag up, holding the treats out in his hand. ]

I can tell. Hurting--what does he mean by hurting?

Just in attire.

[Fortescue can't keep the bitterness out of her smile. She's distracted, though, when he mentions hurting, and she blinks as a painful memory rears its head. A blonde girl by a small pond, telling her that a fish was hungry and couldn't they get it some bread?]

...you can talk to animals?

Right then. Might have to change that up.

[ Which probably won't happen as he doesn't have the TARDIS here. Instead he just fixes his bowtie with his extra hand.

The bitterness isn't lost on him. He calmly and patiently waits for her to answer as best as she can. And when she can. Traumatic memories always take humans a bit longer to sort out than him. ]

I can also speak baby. [ The Doctor looks back to Jazz with a bit of a smile. ] Time Lords are telepathic. We can sense one another, hear things you humans can't, and plenty of other things I don't actually feel like listing off at the moment. Speaking cat is very easy compared to all of that.

[ Which means he wants to make sure Jazz knows he isn't a threat. Well, not to them at least. ]

[The bitterness melts into a mischievous smile.]

So you're a fleshy multitool. Good to know.

[Of course, answering his question means letting him know certain facts about her that could compromise her. But if this is the Doctor, and it really does seem to be, she's not too worried about him taking advantage of that.]

...Jazz and I are connected. When I'm in pain, he's in pain, too. But it doesn't work the other way 'round. [Not that it matters. Fortescue has always taken great pains for his safety, even in the most intensive of firefights.]

Sort of. Except I've got a sonic screwdriver and not knives. I don't like weapons.

[ He snaps his free hand and points to her. Brilliant connection there. Good job. ]

A sort of familiar then. He feels what you feel but you don't feel what he feels. [ A slow nod. ] So, then, question. If you get healed does it heal him? Or is this only one of those feel-y type of symbiotic relationships? [ The Doctor still keeps his eyes on Jazz, hoping the cat will take the peace offering of sorts. ]

No knives. Good to know. What about a bottle opener?

[Fortescue doesn't hesitate to answer, now that she's resigned herself to telling the Doctor the truth. It feels good, being able to tell the truth for once.]

He's not actually hurt. Believe me, I looked him over. But because I am, he thinks he is. If he were really injured, we would both have to be looked after. [And they have been.] ...He carries my soul around with him. Most of it, anyway. I've got a little bit left, and a tether between us, and that's our connection.

[It makes Jazz a very important familiar. He eyes the Doctor only a moment more before slinking up and, slowly, accepting a treat from the Doctor's hand. He picks it up and then takes a step back to eat it.]

...Sonic might be able to. Never tried opening a bottle with it.

[ The Doctor looks amused briefly by the notion. He's got to try that. ]

Well, I wouldn't say he isn't injured. [ His head tilts to look Jazz over. ] The mind is a funny thing, Fortescue. Especially the psyche. If you think it hard enough? Your body responds to it. So, Jazz thinks he's hurting because you're hurting and he may very well be hurt. Not on the outside, but the inside. Might not be physical just yet. Depends on how much he wants to embody your bond.

[ Then there is a pause at that. It's clear the Doctor tries to put two and two together. He eyes the cat, then the woman, then the cat again. ]

My point stands even more then. You might want to be careful what you project into him. [ He grins at Jazz. ] Good boy!

We're all hurt on the inside.

[It's quiet, almost muttered, but it slips past her lips all the same as she watches Jazz eat his treat. At least he seems to be enjoying it — the second it's down, he boldly walks right up to the Doctor and sniffs at him for more.]

We've had the bond for eighteen years. Nothing physical's come up yet. And I do plan on keeping it that way. [She tries for a smile.] Twenty-five is pretty ancient, as far as cats go. Makes him a little distant to most people. But usually food does work on him, eventually.

Not that sort of hurt.

[ The Doctor glances up at her. He knows a bit about being hurt on the inside and hiding it. He hides it extremely well, except by those who know him far too well. They're the ones that try to hide their hurt from him.

"Never let him see the damage."

Oh, River.

The Doctor pats his pockets before offering his arm for Jazz to hop up into. They'd need to find more snacks for him! ]

Twenty-five? Blimey, look at you Jazz! You're almost as old as I am. [ There's a soft smile. ] Old men like us always need good company. Don't we? The best.

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