championoftime | (no subject)

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[He's trying to be as calm as possible. But what led to what went wrong was needless violence- and again, there's needless violence. The truth is, he doesn't want to admit the dreams came from him because he knows that it will make matters worse. He really wishes that he could write it off as a flood, but it went on entirely too long.] I apologize for the delay in addressing the matter. I was busy dealing with the object [object] responsible for the shared dreams, and then I was needed in the infirmary.

It was an accident, not a calculated strike. It's gone now. You can rest easier.

[He hopes.] That's all the information I'm at liberty to give. Dick passed on the necessary information pertaining to the other events that have transpired.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm still very tired.

[Private to Jesse | Audio]*

We need to have a discussion now that our minds have cleared.

*OOC: Triggers of drug use and sexual assault discussed in thread between Jesse and Doctor.

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But it was an accident. That's all I can offer.

Am I? I must be unwell. I'm sure I be back to insulting you as a reckless renegade in a few days.

[He is a bit concerned about the Doctor, although he'll never in a million years admit it. And a little bit glad of the psychic accident. Thanks to the dream sharing he understands a few things now that he hadn't before.]

Keep it to a few days would you? I'm going to need the rest.

Doesn't change the fact that it hurt people. What kind of accident? What kind of "object?"

[So exhausted.]

One that was in my possession. One that I had to dispose of, and one that was very painful to dispose of. Physically.

[A whole section of his mind counts, right?]

There's no way I could prove it was gone because nothing's left of it, so hate me if you want. But it's done, and that's all I want to say on the matter.

Edited 2012-05-21 07:24 (UTC)

I'm sure I'll continue to be...[vaguely and uncharacteristically supportive]...unwell until you're quite fully recovered.

[The Doctor had helped him once when Narvin had made a grave mistake, hurt people, and was locked in Zero. Narvin owed him. Although this, too, he'd never say out loud.]

I will, absolutely.

So you want to throw Jane at me to do it, you sick piece of shit?? [His voice rises sharply, agonized. He can't believe this. He cannot believe it.]

That's your lesson of the day? You think I shouldn't-- you think I killed Richie and I shouldn't've so you make up this fucked up story about Mr. White murdering my girlfriend?!

I'll request the Admiral give you a copy of your file, but it is a poor day when you'd rather believe in the person that has made you kill people over the one who hasn't.

Shut up! Just shut up! I should've known you'd pull something like this-- I knew you didn't get it from the start.

Hey, you want to ask questions, here's a question: why should I trust your bullshit file over the guy who saved my life? My-- [He hesitates over the word, but no, he's defending Mr. White, here, and maybe the Doctor just won't get it unless he breaks out the big guns.] My family. For all I know, you told the Admiral to doctor it!

[The Doctor does get it, but it doesn't change the fact. And he thinks Jesse knows it somehow, too.] He didn't save her life. You're the one he needed. There might be some affection there, but you're the one he knew he could make do what he wants. Yes. I do resent him for it.

[He doesn't. He can't. He won't.] You're lying!

[He's not even going to reply to this one. He's just going to let him go for a while, because either he'll believe it or he won't.]

[The feed switches off with an angry growl a moment later, but it's not long afterwards that there's a pounding at the Doctor's door. He'll find Jesse standing there tense as a coiled wire, fists clenched, face red and puffy, voice rough with anger and horror.

He's not sure why he's given in enough to come up here, because a big part of him is still shouting inside that he can't. But something's driven him, his brain furiously rationalizing even as he moves up the stairs. Maybe he can find an error in the file, or prove it's a fake, or-- or something. Find out why this is happening, why someone would do something like this.

He's telling himself he still knows which someone and which something he means.]

Show me.

[He doesn't say a word. He just goes into his kitchenette (not his TARDIS), opens a safe in one of the cabinets, and takes it over to Jesse. Many inmates have been given the chance to read their files. This was the only thing holding him back.]

[It's something that occurs to him, too, and a little snake of dread coils up his arm as he takes the file.]

John didn't want me to read this, either. [He says it tightly, jaw clenching; it's the first he's come to admitting it may not be only in the Doctor's mind.]

[He sits down on his couch to wait.] It's why I hadn't offered it. [He can confirm that.]

[The door is open when he gets there. Arkady, ever a DIY girl, was doing mending, and clears aside a pile of filmy dresses off the ouch so he'll have a place to sit down. Bertie Rooster immediately hops up and steals the seat.] Bertie. Bad.

...Object.

[Questioning. What do you mean, OBJECT. He doesn't want his unpleasant history recounted for the masses because of a mishap with an OBJECT. Of course he's not going to rest easy.]

Dean, leave it. He's not releasing the details because Arthas is potentially going to go nuts and kill people if he finds out what actually happened.

[Have a glare, Dick. So it's leftover from where he was warming up, but it's still a glare, and he doesn't bother to try to ease it any.]

Doesn't that asshole have a warden? Wait - so you know what was going on?

[He gives Bertie a quick, sad smile. But doesn't offer to shoo him. He can sit anywhere.] I apologize for taking up your space, sir.

[Arkady grumbles and gathers him onto her lap.] There's not much between him and a cat besides the beak and feathers.

Come, sit. Tea-water's on.

[He settles down, watching the chicken as he waits.] I'm simply exhausted. It was me. It was all me. The dreams, they were because I cracked open everyone's awareness of each other.

[For a half a second, he looks like he might just rip the thing up right there, unread. Maybe it would be better that way. If he could just forget, right now...

He sinks down onto the couch next to the Doctor and opens the file, reading it over. It'll be a while: one might expect him to jump right to the part about Jane, but he doesn't. He reads it all, intently, almost breathlessly, knee jiggling with anxiety as he takes it all in, the details of his life.

He's hoping for a mistake somewhere, something he can point to. Even just a date out of place, although his memory for dates is fuzzy as hell. Something, somewhere.

But it's all just... there. The first thirteen years are pretty uneventful, and then it starts to get good around paragraph two. He reads it all over with more attention than he's given anything since he was running the business, and he reads the first part again, just to be sure, before he moves into the gory stuff.

The Doctor can probably tell when he gets to her. The bouncing knee stops, but his breathing, heartrate, pick up sharply. He shifts the file to one hand and rubs the other over his face, covering his mouth, but when he reads that line, a small sound escapes anyway.

Walter White was present.

Walter White chose not to intervene.

Walter White watched her die.

It carries on after that, into the parts he remembers, the words Mike had him burn into his mind to give to the police -- "I woke up, I found her, that's all I know" -- but it all blurs, and then he's blinking quickly, blinking back tears, and struggling to breathe.]

Edited 2012-05-22 00:55 (UTC)

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