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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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.

[To Jazz, this seems as though the treats are simply elsewhere. He leaps deftly onto the Doctor's arm and then moves quickly to his shoulders, agile and clever from doing this a million times with shoulders that are less broad. The black cat then proceeds to sniff the Doctor's hair for treats.

Fish, thinks the feline, hopefully.

Fortescue chuckles, reaching out to stroke the cat's back.]

Er, no, Jazz, I don't think he's got anything for you there. [She smiles, the bone-weariness of her previous expression gone — like leaves in an evening breeze.] I've only met two of your friends, Doctor, but you do seem to have a knack for finding good company.

[She doesn't mention the fact that Jazz will live as long as she does, or until something happens to him. While her soul is held in his body, he won't die from old age. He could live on to be a very ancient cat indeed.]

[ The Doctor laughs at the thought. ]

Sorry, no fish in there mate. Also? Be careful. Don't mess up the wig. Wigs are cool.

[ He got extremely bored one night okay? He turns to Fortescue, a hand up to catch the cat before he falls forward. ] I get around a bit, yeah. Happens when you travel. You mentioned Donna, so, that would leave Martha. Right?

[ It doesn't even cross his mind that maybe she talked to Clara. ]

[Jazz almost seems to huff. He has no problem hanging onto the Doctor, however, even if the pressure of his claws is — for a brief moment — bracing. He routinely hangs onto Fortescue when she's jumping about, and this is small stuff by comparison.]

You're wearing a wig? [Fortescue arches an eyebrow, smirking.] It's a very nice wig. And oh, no, I meant the very cute brunette. [This is not a very innocent smirk, Doctor, but at least it's not malicious. Fortescue does, in fact, play for all the teams, so to speak.] So that makes three of your friends I've met. All lovely.

Yes! It was to get past a planetary shield. The Church forces everyone to be neutral and not to cause a war, you see. Papal Ministry and all the good they try to do. They're not too fond of clothing either, something to do with the whole honesty factor. So, put on a wig and hid a TARDIS key in it. Not sure she'll be able to lock onto the signal here if the sonic can't lock onto anything.

[ This means it is officially debatable if the Doctor is wearing clothes. Presumably, he is, as the TARDIS isn't around to project an image of them.

Brunette, cute? Clara? Well, she's cute. Wears too tight of skirts... ] Clara? She's a bit bossy. Nose does a funny thing. [ Which is basically as much as he's going to say about "cute." Although he sends her a glance that is supposed to somehow say "Stop it!" What, is she like Jack Harkness? ] Three out of loads and loads. All recent--more or less. Martha and Donna traveled with me when I was the previous bloke. Martha first. Then Donna...

[ He pauses for a moment and a dark look passes over his eyes. ]

Clara's the latest friend. She's impossible though. So, don't expect her to make a bit of sense. [ Or maybe that's just him. ]

A church where you don't wear clothes? I could get behind that.

[She's still smirking, and the innuendo is there, but Fortescue doesn't care about clothing, for the most part. She'd barely wear anything if she could get away with it. Sadly, the majority of people are... pretty hung up on it. Shame.]

Oh, I don't know. She made sense to me. [Fortescue cants her head slightly to the side.] It's good to have a lot of friends. And I can't really fault you for your taste.

[Innuendo aside, Donna is very dear to her and, yes, Doctor, you have good taste.]

It would have been nice to have friends along when I traveled. But... that didn't work out.

They do allow you to project clothing onto yourself! But, I don't think that'll be a problem for you.

[ The Doctor turns his head to her again, but this time there is a playful smile. And a brief wink. ]

That's because you haven't met her multiple times through out all your lives. [ A dark look passes over his face as he looks forward. Oswin Oswald and Clara Oswin Oswald. Just two of the lives he met. He knows there is more out there. Ones that he never even noticed. How many times was she born, how many times did she die? It's something he constantly thinks about. ]

Yeah, well, they're all better than me. Every single one of them. Maybe that's why I travel with them. They... they force me to be better. Maybe. [ Then he reaches up and taps Jazz on the head. ] Not true, you've got Jazz here. Good ol' reliable Jazz.

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