bakerstreet | The Darkest Timeline Meme

[Lana never escaped from Briarcliff] or
[Grace never came back to life, Or both.] or
[Kit sent to hospital not filled with utter horrors]

Edited 2013-05-22 14:34 (UTC)

[The finale's ending. A psychopath who craves destruction is out there in his body, and there's not a thing he can do about it.]

(If this series doesn't enable this, I don't know what does. Take your pick, honestly, but the biggest bads I can think of:

So many spoilers below. Really. White text for obvious reasons.

Sam gives in to Azazel's little 'murder everyone' contest.
Sam gives into Luficer. *I'd love to play this one out.
Sam goes darkside on Gabriel.
Robo!Sam decides to remain Robo!Sam.
Sam kills Benny.
Sam decides to lie about how well he's doing to Dean in S05/08 and spirals downward.)

[Wufei returned to his schooling after Meiran's death instead of becoming a gundam pilot to fight for her ideals.]

[ Literally went insane 200 years in the future and destroyed half the planet. ]

[So much of what she's done is awful that it's tough to make it more awful. But options! Spoilers! Feel free to throw in something different.]

1. She never faked her death and Sherlock never got addicted to heroin. Happy ever after. Except she's still a murderous psychopath that's now completely entwined in Sherlock's life.

2. She never had her mole removed and thus was never discovered, convincing Sherlock to flee the country with her.

3. Despite all rationality, Sherlock takes her offer and joins her.

4. She doesn't take Joan for lunch, she kidnaps her and doesn't bother asking for ransom. Fufufu.

[Watson tells him to let her win.

He doesn't listen. He doesn't listen because listening to Watson means she's right, it means everything was a lie. He goes out to an old haunt, attacks an old dealer, gets his favorite drug. He thinks it's cut with something. He doesn't care. He pushes past Bell and goes up to the bathroom.

The high is mediocre. This is, he will say later, the worst part of the whole situation. His overdose was nothing more than a miscalculation and a bad high. He thins he hears her come in, he thinks he hears her talking to him.]

It was a miscalculation.

[Her eyes and ears are everywhere, and she's informed within the hour of his admittance to the hospital. She's supposed to have dinner that night with one of her lieutenants to wrap up any loose ties in her American dealings before she leaves the country, but she cancels the meeting and plans a video conference for later.

Admittedly Moriarty didn't see this coming, not again, even after Sherlock had told her he'd always be an addict despite his current sobriety. How far he'd fallen because of her, even knowing what she was. It's an opportunity he's sacrificed too much for to go to waste.

A few easy distractions and she's in his hospital room, couldn't keep away without saying goodbye and offering him one last chance to see things her way.]

It didn't have to be like this, if you had listened.

[Her voice is soft, barely audible across the room as she studies his vulnerable form.]

There was a guard at my door.

[He thinks about her, across the room, standing in all of her vicious glory. Able to destroy anything. She was there, in his mind, during the overdose. Heroin is better than any sexual activity, it tears the mind away from everything except feeling good. All the same, she was there, a tangle of limbs and a grip of long fingernails.

She probably can't even begin to comprehend what she meant to him. Means to him.]

Not anymore. He's not dead, just distracted.

[it's a reassurance mostly to keep his anger a bay, uncertain what may cause him to lash out in his state. The distance remains between them, her back almost to the wall as she continues to watch. His mind is brilliant, rivalling hers, but this is exactly why she is better.]

I knew my death would hurt you, keep you busy while I finished my other business. But I failed to predict...

[it's the middle of the night, far past visiting hours, but Moriarty is almost surprised at the lack of Watson. Had Sherlocks's relapse disappointed her enough to drive her off? But the other woman isn't there, and she is. Nothing else in the way of allowing her to collect her prize.]

You wanted me to let you win. I'd say I have, really.

[he lets his head loll to the side so he can see her. His Irene. It makes something in his chest feel tight and then hurt. He aches, just looking at her.]

She was never really alive, was she?

Not like this. I never wanted to see you broken to pieces.

[a saddened sigh. She almost expected better of Sherlock's support system in New York, thought they would have been enough to keep his head on straight as she slipped away. That she could have continued to run him in circles, always just out of his reach.]

Irene?

[Of course she was a persona- an entire life invented, accent and way of dress completely unlike her own. But maybe if she had known how to be gentler, all of her sharp edges smoothed down, if her interest in crime started and stopped at art theft, maybe Moriarty would have been something like Irene.]

It was a different name, a different story. But if you strip away those superficial details, what makes Irene so different from myself? Or are you too afraid to see it?

[Her approach to his bedside is slow, hands held behind her back.]

She was what you brought out in me.

That sounds almost romantic.

[His whole body aches as he tries to turn to look at her. She's in a swirl of nausea and general discomfort. He feels broken to pieces. He's felt that way since he saw the missing star on her shoulder. He loved her, and her betrayal hits him the hardest because he can't ever love again. Not after this.

And she's not even Irene Adler.]

You've lost too much already. Let me help you.

[She sits down at the foot of his bed, smiling sadly at him as she smooths out the stiff, sterile sheets with her palm. He's still a piece of art, and the damage makes her want to keep him for herself, protect and preserve him from what's to come.]

You've fallen from their grace. They won't trust you, even if they wanted to. Nobody will see your value anymore. Only me.

After all this---you want to help me?

[he lets out a low, rueful laugh. He feels so lost right now. And Irene---Moriarty---whoever she is. She wants to help him.

He wants so desperately to believe her.]

If you let me. I know it's difficult to trust me.

[He's hesitant, but she doesn't blame him after all that she did and had proven to be. She's manipulating him, always has, but it's for his own good. She truly believes he'll be better off in her care.]

I thought you'd be safer when I was gone, but look how they've taken care of you. Failed to understand you the way I do, and now they'll toss you aside when they realize how broken you are.

[He doesn't want to believe her but---but Watson's taken the job that Gregson offered her. She's leaving. He is, ultimately, completely alone. Completely alone, apart from the liar and murderer here, offering him her help.

He is vulnerable. Weak. He asks questions he shouldn't.]

Do you love me? Did you ever?

[She does best to hide her surprise, quiet for a long moment where she nearly retreats off his bed and back into the shadows. But right now she knows it's what he needs to hear, even if saying it won't be the lie she wishes it was.]

Yes, I did.

[She glances away, fingers gripping at the bedsheets.]

I do.

[He swallows, and he longs for the water jug on his side table, but his muscles ache too much to reach for it.

She loves him, she says she loves him. Somehow, having that confirmation makes up for the murders, the vicious killings and all of the lying. Watson doesn't love him, not even as a friend. She abandoned him. His juvenile, man-child nature bubbles up, and he wants to rebel, to run away. To be with the only person who cared for him.]

They'll come looking for you.

[She shifts upwards and leans across the small bed, resting a hand on his chest to keep her balance as she retrieves the jug. His voice is rough, dry, and she needs to prove that she can be attentive to his needs. Pouring a small amount of water into a cup, she offers it toward him. Look, her eyes say, look how much I care for you.]

I've arranged to leave the country tonight. I want you to come with me.

[he drinks the water, letting it run down the cracks in his throat. He's parched, he's drying up, he's dying, and there she is. There she is, giving him just enough to stay alive.

Stockholm Syndrome. That's what he's going to end up acquiring if he goes with her. He knows this. But how can he refuse?]

What if I say no?

If you intend to allow yourself to gather dust and rot just to spite me...

[She slowly edges herself off the bed, places the jug back without an offer of more. Her back is turned to him now, a direct statement of what will happen if he says no.]

Then I can't stop you, as much as I prefer to have you with me.

What do you want?

[He doesn't want her to leave. He doesn't want her to abandon him, not like everyone else. Granted, he's pushed them all away, but they should have stayed. They should have seen him for better than that.]

Watson gets immunity. No harm to her once I leave with you.

[She delays turning back around, a snarl forming on her lips at the other woman's name, placated only by the knowledge that she's won. When she glances back over her shoulder, Moriarty nods in a pitying understanding at Sherlock's inability to let go of those who toss him aside.]

I promise.

[Watson has little to do with her business, and once Sherlock's in her grasp, the other woman will be nothing more than an easily-ignored sidenote. She'll leave her be because Moriarty never saw her as a threat to begin with.]

[He nods. He doesn't want to leave Watson. If he had it his way, Watson could come, but then Irene---Moriarty would be there, too. Watson, his backbone. Moriarty (whether he liked it or not), his heart.]

I don't think I can walk yet.

[At his bedside, she slips an arm behind his back to help support Sherlock into sitting and begins removing the tubes and wiring meant to keep him stable and prevent him from leaving. She has more than enough resources to see that he's taken care of once they're gone so she can begin to stitch him back together, make him completely dependent on her help even though she was responsible for breaking him in the first place.]

Shh. Let me help you, darling.

[She's small, but strong and aware of how to use her body, more than capable of carrying most of his weight. Sneaking him out will be easy, the surveillance cameras stuck in a looped feed. Nobody will know he's even missing until the morning, when they're already too far gone to catch.

[He feels somewhat emasculated, being carried by Irene---Moriarty. He thought he was protecting her before, when she had been "traumatized" and changed. Now she was genuinely protecting him, lifting him up. All the strong muscles in his arms and shoulders mean nothing when he can't so much as stand.

He leans against her as she carries his weight.

She still wants him, he tells himself. Even if it isn't the way he wanted it to be, she's still--they're still---she loves him. She has said so.]

This would have been a lot easier for the both of us if we hadn't fallen in love.

Edited 2013-05-27 05:13 (UTC)

[His weight against her as he submits is rewarded with a kiss to the brow, muttered reassurances that his pain will all be over soon. She knows accepting her help isn't easy for Sherlock's ego, for a long list of entirely valid reasons starting with her as a murderous criminal and ending with she's the entire reason he's such a desperate state to begin with. But he has no other choice, she's made sure of it.]

Nothing worth it is easy, isn't that what they say?

[It would have been a lot easier to collect her money and leave without him, to allow her nemesis to waste away back into his heroin addiction. But Moriarty views the risk she wouldn't take for anyone else as a bonus than a liability. After extracting him from the safety of the hospital, Moriarty allows him to rest in the car bound for the airport, buckling him in and pressing a damp cloth to his forehead almost motheringly.

She has luggage already packed for the both of them, mostly to avoid suspicion through customs than for convenience. Moriarty examines their fake passports briefly before tucking them into her bag.]

You'll have plenty of time to rest and recover once we're in Paris.

Why Paris?

[Not that it matters, not really. She's here, and she's taking care of him. Watson will be safe. This...this is enough. It has to be.]

[ Maverick erased Yuri's memory of Kotetsu being Tiger as well. ]

((OOC: No real preference, but some suggestions are Jeremy not figuring out XANA's trick and actually leaving Kadic in "Franz Hopper" or the tower wasn't deactivated in time to stop the jet from crashing in "Guided Missile" though Jeremy--while alive--is too badly damaged to be any future help in rebuilding the supercomputer to stop XANA.))

Edited 2013-05-22 14:14 (UTC)

((It's been awhile, but as I recall "Guided Missile" had XANA aiming the missile at the factory. I still do like the idea of Yumi and Jeremie as the only survivors and unable to stop as XANA takes over, but I'm open to anything.))

((Sounds good to me! And here we go!))

[Jeremy winces in pain as his right arm is jostled too much. Really, he shouldn't have survived that crash. It had been a miracle that he had.]

[Only problem is that his body's trashed. He can barely move on his own and definitely not without intense pain. A soft moan escapes his lips as he tries to move the offending arm back into its previous place, but even that much movement is like shoving knives into his own flesh.]

[None of them should have survived, really. Ulrich, Odd, and Aelita probably didn't.

But Yumi's just one of the lucky ones, not that it means anything. Sure, she was sheltered by the rubble that somehow missed her, but she didn't get anything but the chance to see XANA take over.

...Unless...

This was where the plane went down, right? She can only hope she's at the right place as she calls out to him.]

Jeremie? Jeremie?!

[He whimpers in response before managing to get out a shaky call.]

Yumi...?

Jeremie? Hang on!

[She runs now to where she thinks she's heard his voice. She'll dig him out of rubble if she has to.

She spots him, or at least part of his shoe behind the debris, and rushes over.]

Jeremie! Are you OK? Can you walk?

I don't think so.

[He looks like...well...that he's been in a plane crash. There's a lot of blood, and he's pretty banged up.]

I can't feel my left foot.

[Yumi can feel panic bubbling up in her throat but she swallows it down as best she can.]

OK...I'm going to try to carry you out of here. If it hurts, tell me but we've got to get somewhere safe.

That's gonna be hard. Everything hurts.

[He winces and looks back up at her. Everything's blurry and cracked because his glasses are a mess.]

[Yumi sucks in breath as she sees how hurt he is. There has to be a way to get him out of here...]

I have an idea! I'll be right back.

[She jumps up and runs off, only to return 15 minutes later with a length of torn up carpet tied to wires that were severed in the crash.]

Here, climb on this and I'll pull you out of here.

[He survived a jet crash, Yumi.]

I'll be here.

[Fifteen minutes is torturous. He lies there and is trying not to panic. Yumi will come back. Of course she will.]

[He's still relieved when she does return.]

[He whimpers as he uses his better arm to drag himself onto the carpet. Check out that blood smear he's creating. Awesome, huh? He finally just flops onto the carpet.]

((ooc| wherein jeff rolls a three and troy goes to get the pizza. darkest timeline!account.))

Edited 2013-05-22 16:36 (UTC)

[He's out of the hospital, but physical therapy is proving to be a bitch. Annie's locked up. Shirley's a drunk. Abed still wont shut the fuck up about timelines. Jeff would strangle him if he had two hands.

These days, Britta's the only one that's making sense. What a place the world has become.

They're at L Street, because if there's one thing Jeff likes to see these days, it's the bottom of a scotch glass.]

You think Abed'll ever shut up? [The question is bitter but slightly slurred.]

-Assassin instead of archaeologist.

-She finally says "screw the universe" and tells the Doctor who she properly is, consequences be damned.

SPOILERS FOR RIVER SONG'S IDENTITY under white text. Highlight at your own risk!

River didn't save the Doctor in "Let's Kill Hitler", or she saved him by some other means and then promptly ran off --> still has regen abilities, and psychopathic tendencies. Makes a living as an assassin.

Amy & Rory were able to raise Melody like normal parents after Demon's Run, only to discover their child was secretly being brainwashed over the years by the Silence when she turns against them.

[Melody (Pond) Williams is in trouble. Again.

She's always been a bit of a rebel, how could she not, given her mother's saucy attitude? But this is serious. Her grades have been slipping steadily over the past year, and now she's slipped out of the bedroom window for the umpteenth time in the past three months to meet her not-quite-boyfriend for a snog in the bushes.

Enjoy that visual, Rory.]

[It's not that Rory doesn't like the boy (he really, really does not like the boy), but that piled with everything else? It's bothersome. Worrisome.

More than a little terrifying, given well. Their lives.

So he does what he always does when Amy is out, and he's at home with Melody. He opens the front door and steps outside to wait. Father-like.]

[She hears the front door open and rolls her eyes, reluctantly putting her hands on the boy's chest to give him a shove. She spoke loudly, jerking a thumb over in Rory's direction.] Sorry, sweetie. Time's up. The Warden's listening and it's completely putting me off.

[Still, just to make her father wait a little longer, she comes halfway out from the bushes, only to steal one more, very lengthy snog from her guy friend.] Thanks for the you-know-what. Let's do it again soon.

[She lets him go off down the street, his motorbike roaring through the whole neighborhood as he takes off. Melody puts her hands in the pockets of his leather jacket she's taken to wear, flippantly tossing her hair as she approaches her father at the front door.] Evening, Dad. Hell of a night to be a buzzkill, innit?

[He wonders if his mother had this much issue with him and Amy. And then he shakes the thought away, because good god.]

A bit late for sarcasm and hideous rebellion, isn't it?

Never. Girl's gotta get her kicks somehow, and it's certainly not happening up there. [She scoffs a little, her head rolling slightly to indicate her bedroom upstairs.]

[Rory shakes his head.]

I don't understand what's going on with you. Your grades. All of this.

What's to understand?! School sucks, Jeremy doesn't. He's fun, unlike you and mum.

Yes, your mother and I are so very boring. I know, it must be so trying. Do you think that I enjoy lecturing you? Worrying about you at all hours of the night?

Why do you think you need to worry about me? I can take care of myself! It's you guys I'm not so sure about.

You're my daughter, why wouldn't I worry about you? Your mother and I are perfectly capable of taking care of each other.

Oh, please. Have you looked in a mirror lately? You're drones to suburbia and it's sucking the life out of you guys! It's sucking the life out of me!

You guys used to be somebody, you know? All those stories you told me growing up, about the Doctor and the stuff you guys did with him - THAT's a life! Not this! This is just....sitting around and waiting to die.

And it's NOT for me.

Then, when you graduate you can have your big adventure. Until then, all you're doing is throwing your life away for that boy. God knows what else you've been doing. And what for? All you'll end up doing is digging yourself deeper into a hole you can't climb out of.

[Melody sneers at him, about to retort when her phone beeps. She pulls it out with her left hand, shooting back a quick response.]

Well you're right about one thing, Dad. I have been digging a hole.

To escape. [Her right hand leaves her jacket, grasping a small-caliber gun.] I was planning on waiting 'til you were both here for the announcement, but it seems that plans are accelerated now. I'm moving out, Dad. ASAP.

[Rory frowns, both at the gun and the announcement. He's so bothered by the idea of this, of what on earth is happening, that he doesn't even notice that there's a tally-mark on his hand. Not at first.]

What are you talking about? What are you doing?

My big adventure, of course. I'm just not waiting 'til graduation. [She has just a little bit of a manic grin on as she continues.] I've been working on it for months now, Dad. I don't even know where the idea came from or how I got it done so quickly, but it just...it's right, you know? It feels like I've been waiting my whole life for this.

I'm gonna travel in time. I'm gonna find the Doctor, and do what somebody should've done a long time ago.

I'm gonna make him pay.

Pay. Pay for what? You've met the Doctor, he hasn't done anything to you. Where is this coming from?

[And another tally mark. He sees that one, and it scares him. Or maybe he's just afraid in general.]

Melody. Give me the gun.

No, that's it, don't you see? He acts one way but he's this completely different man! There's so much he's done to hurt people, and so much that he could've stopped and he didn't! THAT'S what he needs to pay for!

Not to mention dumping you and Mum here with me. That was just rude.

No! I thought you'd be proud of me for this! You're always telling me to put my mind to use, right? Take initiative. That's what I'm doing!

He's one person, one person and it is not his job to fix everything.

[Rory knows this feeling, knows that it's panic, and he can feel that it's not just because of her. Because of this. Something is wrong in this house, and he can't remember what it is.]

Melody, I love you. So much. But you need to give me the gun, there is something in the house.

[He shuts his mouth, not even entirely sure why he said that.]

Then what is is job? He gets to save people as he pleases? If the wind's blowing right and the right stars are in alignment, he jumps in to save the day? That's crap. [She waves the gun as she gestures with her hand, thankfully it doesn't go off accidentally.]

There is? [Her attention perks up.] Is it my friends? They said they were coming for me....

They are not your friends. Melody, give me the gun.

Yes they are! They've always been there for me. Even if I can't see them, I know they're there. They've been helping me with this, Dad!

How long? How long have they been here?

[She shrugs.] As long as I can remember? At least since I was six....

[That is...more than a little unsettling, in Rory's opinion. He wonders if the Doctor knew this, if that's why he stopped visiting as often. If Amy knew...]

Oh God.

[More tally marks on his hand. He looks at it, and around the room. They're here, and he knows it. He doesn't remember, doesn't even remember what they look like, but they're here.

So he tries to get the gun away from here.</small.]

Dad, stop it! [Melody screams as she tries to twist it away from him. She doesn't want to shoot her father, even if he is turning into a completely domestic pain-in-the-arse. Her finger slips, and the gun goes off.

Melody gasps, letting go of the gun as she staggers back. Her other hand clutches beneath her jacket. When she shakily pulls it out, her palm is stained with blood. Wide, fearful eyes flicker to Rory.]

Daddy?

[Her voice is small, her legs are shaking.

Melody falls.]

[How much would he give to be the one that had gotten shot in that? Pretty much everything, really and honestly. He's by her side quickly, glad that he's a nurse and able to handle gunshots. Even as his hands shake as he tries to stop the bleeding.]

You're going to be okay. It's okay...

[She swallows thickly. Parts of her feel numb and other parts feel like they're on fire. She wants to believe that her father's right, that he'll fix her. But on the off chance he's wrong...] Dad, ..'m sorry. The gun was stupid. They said it would be a good idea, that it would h-help...

Daddy, I don't wanna die yet!

Don't. You're going to be okay.

[He just has to find a phone. Call for help.]

[Her cell phone tumbles out of her jacket, just as Melody's skin begins to glow.] W..Wh-What's happening?

[Her eyes flick upwards, and she sees one of her 'friends' - the gangly suited monsters who've been whispering in her ear all her life.

Thisss is what you were born to do. Born to die and kill the Doctor. Embrace your destiny, Melody Pond.]

That doesn't make any sense!

[He gets a hold of the phone, and then he sees the glow. And one of those things.]

Stay away from her.

[He dials emergency, and sets the phone on the floor. He's not foolish enough to think that they'd let him talk to emergency services, but keeping the line open? They'll send someone.]

[She's glowing, and that's totes freaky, but right now she's a little distracted by the fact that she's NOT hurting quite so much anymore. Her gaze ducks down to her abdomen, forgetting whatever she was just worrying about. She manages to sit up, the golden light spreading further across her skin.]

Dad...it stopped. I think...I think it's fixing me.

Fixing you.

[That'd be a relief, wouldn't it? But...he's not so certain.]

Yeah! [She laughs, giddy with relief as she finds a surprising amount of strength to get to her feet. She wanders past her father a few feet, staring at her hands with wonder.] This.... is awesome! Now if I could just stop glowing everything would be perf-

Oh.

[She groans. Pain. She thought the pain was gone, but no, but it's a NEW pain. She feels like she's being torn apart from the inside out, like the light is piercing her.

And then it is. The light overwhelms her and she screams, just as every atom of her being screams, and her last thoughts are of her mother and father, and how she'd been so looking forward to growing up...]

Melody!

[He watches this, horrified. Fearful. For the first time in a long time, he doesn't know what to do. How to fix this, how to stop it. Whatever this even is.]

[The light explodes, and then dissipates. Melody is gone, and in her place, in the same (now poorly-fitting) clothes, is an older woman with wild curls and a surprised face.]

...Well then. That was an adventure.

[She'll just have to pardon the staring then, won't she? It's a bit shocking, seeing your daughter explode into a completely different woman.]

...Melody?

Dad! Look, I'm okay! [Her smile is bright, and then it quickly becomes a frown. She clacks her teeth together.] Okay, that's weird...

[She taps her front teeth with her finger, and suddenly becomes aware that her shirt isn't fitting quite as well as before. She looks down at her figure.]

Oh. Oh. [Eyebrows raised, she looks back up to her father, her own shock reflecting his. She tucks the leather jacket around herself, feeling modest because DAD.] ....Oh, Jeremy's SO not going to like this.

[He's just going to keep on staring. And well. Shocked...feelings. Fear. Monsters in his house. He can spare a moment later to be annoyed about Jeremy.]

We...we need to go.

Go? Go where?

Anywhere but here. We need to find your mother, and we need to run.

[And find the Doctor. Somehow.]

Yeah. Right. Okay. [Her brain is still trying to adjust to everything, and it's just easier to go along with what Dad's saying.]

...Is this a bad time to mention I flunked gym?

[Slowly, carefully.]

I think, strictly speaking, that doesn't matter as much.

Oh. Super. [Well that's a relief. She zips up the leather jacket as best she can, following her father. And trying to surreptitiously feel how much her breast size has changed.]

Just...get in the car. Quickly.

[Once he's in the car, he's going to take a moment to cover his face and sigh. This is...incredibly trying. Frustrating.]

[Shotgun it is. She feels a brief wave of nausea, that there's something she's forgetting to do... But she brushes past it, getting into the car. Her now-wild hair rubs against the top of the ceiling. She pulls down the car visor to look at herself in the mirror.] Wow....it just doesn't stop, does it?

[She's a little bit caught up in herself, so it takes her a moment to look over at her father, sighing into his hands.] ...Dad?

Nothing. It's fine.

[Lowering his hands to see one of those things is standing in front of the car. Startling!]

[She looks up as well and jumps a little in her seat.] Shit!

[He puts the car in reverse, keeping his eye on the creature.]

It's okay...

Dad, what are those things? My frie- I, mean, um...they never said.

I don't know. I think...we need the Doctor, but I don't know.

Yeah. The Doctor. [A memory returns, echoing in her mind. Born to die and kill the Doctor...Embrace your destiny.... She shakes it off.]

....D'you think he'll like my new look?

[He drives. Because God, they need to get the hell away from these things.]

I'm not calling the Doctor.

[Not after everything she said.]

Oh come on, Dad! Just because I'm all mature now is a completely stupid reason to not call him.

That's not why.

Oh. It's 'cause I said I was going to...

I suppose that's a better reason. [She looks down at her lap a little.] But, I mean, I haven't got a gun anymore and it doesn't look like the...whatever it was...is... can take me anywhere like they said they would.

Your mother will know what to do.

[She looks back at herself in the mirror.] ...I'm totally in trouble, aren't I?

At the moment, no. Later, yeah.

[She sinks down lower in her seat, legs pulled up and resting against the dashboard.] Great. I'm still getting grounded at this age.

You haven't suddenly become over 18, whatever body you're in.

Well why the hell not? It'd sure make this whole thing a lot easier to swallow! It's not like I can have a normal life, looking like this!

We will figure it out, but I really don't think this is the time to argue about it!

Fine!

[She's still a teenager, and it shows with how she huffs and crosses her arms. How long can she get away with giving him the silent treatment, she wonders.]

[Probably not long on a good day. This is not a good day.]

Watch for those things.

Thankyou, Captain Obvious.

Excuse me?

[The 'young lady' is probably implied'.]

[Shitshitshit Dad Mode Engaged.] I mean, yes, sir.

Was your mother at the library today?

Um, I think so. But she also said she was going shopping. I think she's trying to get you an anniversary present on time, for once.

Really.

[That'd be something, wouldn't it. It certainly makes this more difficult.

Call her.

[Except, did anyone even bring the phone?]

[Melody reaches inside her jacket, frowns, and then begins patting herself.] My phone, I thought I had...Where's my phone?

[That's a no.]

I used it...dammit.

[Back at the house. On. To emergency services, which explains that ambulance driving by them.]

[She watches the ambulance shoot past them.] ...Well, to look on the bright side of a really lousy day, at least that's one awkward conversation we're missing?

Unless those things are still there when she gets home.

Actually I was thinking of trying to explain to Emergency Services how your daughter got shot and suddenly doesn't need any medical care.

That too.

[He blanches a little, remembering.]

[And she notices that. And it makes her feel a little guilty.] Um, about that...

I'm sorry. I didn't mean for all that to...to happen. I was just trying not to hit you.

It's my fault. I shouldn't have grabbed the gun.

Well, yeah. I-I mean, no! You were just trying to protect me...or something. Probably.

I was trying to shoot one of them.

Right. Or that.

...I still don't get why you think they're bad.

They're trying to kill the Doctor. Think of everything that he's done. He's everywhere. Everywhen.

...So if it came down to it, would you shoot me, too?

Of course not!

Why not? I'm not all that far off from them. Why give me special treatment?

You're my daughter.

But what if I found the Doctor and I did kill him? What then? Am I still your daughter or am I just some knock-off with a new face?

You're my daughter. But honestly, I don't think that anything would matter if you killed the Doctor.

How do you mean?

I don't know that the universe could survive that.

How is he that important? I mean, one minute he's this goofy, gangly bloke with weird fashion sense, and the next it's like he's god of the universe.

He saves people. It doesn't make him a god, but how long he's lived? He's important.

Then why do so many...whatevers... want him dead?

I don't know. I really don't.

[The Pandorica didn't save Amy.
or
Rory had to stay on the pirate ship.
or
life in the timecrash universe. bonus? eye-patches.]

Edited 2013-05-22 17:03 (UTC)

[Sherlock relapses at any point.]
[Joan leaves Sherlock as scheduled after his encounter with Moran]
[She turns Sherlock down when he offers her a partnership.]
[She leaves Sherlock to be a sober companion to Gregson's friend's daughter.]
[Sherlock leaves with Irene before he's able to discover her secret.]
[Moriarty kidnaps and tortures Joan.]

Edited 2013-05-22 17:04 (UTC)

[We can give it a shot! Maybe Kit's already been released? The last two would probably work out best. Either Joan has to solve the Moriarty puzzle by herself and Kit helps her/supports her, or she's kidnapped and tortured and Kit helps Sherlock and is the one to find her?]

[Either works well, I think! Whichever you'd want to do most!]

[Let's go dark and go for the kidnapping one :) There's a lot more action there, I think.]

[Truth. Darkest timeline and all. Did you want to set it up?]

[The warehouse is cold, and dark, but Joan is beyond able to recognize either things, beyond able to perceive anything but pain.

She's been in Moriarty's clutches for three days now. She had expected to be questioned, to have to do her equivalent of giving name and rank and nothing more. But the men never ask her anything. They just hurt her. Over and over.

They're not here now, and that's its own torture. She knows they'll be back, even if she doesn't know when. It could be hours from now, it could be the next second. She had no way of predicting, much less of controlling.

She's duct taped to a chair, her wrists bound behind her, her ankles bound to the chair legs, strips wound around her chest. She sags against her bonds, head bowed. She can feel blood trickling down the side of her face. The last beating must have opened a cut in her forehead. Her nose is bloodied too, and as her mouth is also taped, she snuffles through it, barely able to breathe.

They don't want her for answers. And she strongly suspects they don't want her for ransom. They want her pain. Moriarty wants to see her suffer, and will kill her when she's feeling merciful.

At this point, she's hoping for the mercy.]

[Kit Walker was pretty worried. He'd been out for a while, and he hadn't heard from Joan. Not for a few days. He hadn't been that worried at first, but 2 days passed. Then a third. He knew she'd been working on a case, but...well. They talked. A lot.

So. On the third day, the third evening really, he called Holmes.]

[Sherlock is impatient and rude to Kit, which can perhaps be forgiven, considering he's been driven half-mad with fear for Joan, anger at the Woman who he knows took her, and guilt for the situation.

"She'd never just leave, so clearly she's been kidnapped. Now, if you will excuse me, I'm quite busy trying to save her life."]

[Perhaps a testament to Kit's empathy, that he's fairly calm in dealing with the other man.]

What can I do?

[There's an exasperated sigh on the other end of the line, and Kit can practically hear Sherlock scrubbing his eyes with one hand.

"Look...if you must, you can help look into locations where she might be held. I've been able to narrow the search area somewhat, but there's still hundreds of abandoned buildings, shipping containers, basements, what have you. Another pair of feet might find her faster."]

I can do that. No worries. Just give me the addresses.

[He'll even bring his rifle.]

[Sherlock gives him a list of twenty, all sorts of places, one of which is an abandoned warehouse down by the river.]

[That's the second place he goes, in all honesty. It's close by, and it's well. A warehouse. It's very cliche, and yet there's a reason for that. So he goes there second, parks where he can't be seen and carefully navigates around the warehouse.]

[There's also the suspicious fact that it's being guarded. The man standing outside the main entrance might be trying to look nonchalant, smoking casually, but of course there's no reason for him to be there in the first place.]

[Abandoned warehouses don't generally need to be guarded, do they? Not in Kit's opinion or experience. So. Getting the guard away from the door. He could shoot the guy, but he's pretty sure he'd get shot back in the process.

So he tries for a distraction. Aiming his shotgun at what he assumes is the other man's vehicle, and shooting it. Seeing if the alarm goes off.

It does.]

[The man jerks at the gunshot, pulls his own gun and heads toward his car, scanning the area for where that shot came from. He has to stop the alarm, though, because it will draw attention to their location, so he soon turns his attention fully to that.

Inside the warehouse, the sound of the car alarm teases into Joan's consciousness, and the cogs of her weary and bruised brain start to turn sluggishly. Something's going on.]

[Once the other man is at the car and distracted, Kit aims again. For the man's leg, and he fires.]

[The man goes down with a yell, dropping his gun as he grabs at his leg.

Joan hears the gunshot, and lifts her head. Is it the police? Have the men turned on each other? Dare she hope?]

[Kit can't imagine there aren't others in the building, but they've probably been alerted by the gunshots. He makes his way, quickly, towards the building.]

[Joan doubts it too, and listens carefully, hearing people running, hissing orders to each other, reporting what's going on, probably on a cell phone, probably to Moriarty herself. Not internal strife, then. She also doesn't hear anyone shouting "POLICE!" so it can't be SWAT. What the hell is going on?]

[Kit also kind of doubts that 'his' aliens would let him get killed here, so he's not too worried about that. Well. Much. But he is worried about getting to Joan. More shooting at people than he'd care for. He aims for limbs instead of killshots.

Like he's said a lot. He's not a killer.]

[It's his lack of self-preservation and their surprise that lets him get through the four men he encounters immediately inside the building. They're clearly trying to keep him from one particular door, the one that leads to the main room of the warehouse.]

[Which is, of course, exactly where he wants to go now. How long does it take to get past them, either by wounding them or otherwise distracting them? Too long, for his taste.]

[It seems like forever to Joan, too. She doesn't know what's happening, doesn't know if whoever this is is trying to rescue her or is just taking down Moriarty's people.]

[Hopefully the door finally opening will help with that. Seeing her is both a relief and a horror. At what's happened to her, at her state. He makes his way over to her, carefully. Keeping an eye out for more guards.]

[The light from the hallway floods into the dark room, and Joan lifts her head. Her eyes widen when she recognizes Kit, her mind flooding with relief and fear for his safety.

He's only able to get a couple steps closer before a man steps from the shadows behind Joan and presses a gun to the side of her head.]

[Kit doesn't exactly drop his rifle. But he stops where he is, he doesn't want to get her killed, after all.]

[Joan closes her eyes, sucks in a breath.

"That's close enough," the man snarls. "Who the hell are you?"]

Kit Walker. Who the hell are you?

[Honestly, he's kind of hoping that the fact he was cleared of the Bloody Face killings isn't that wide-spread just yet. Which has to be a first.]

["I'm asking the questions here. Who sent you?"]

"The Zeta Reticulans, who sent you?" [So clearly he's plan is to make the other guy think he's crazy.]

[Joan opens her eyes, looking at Kit with a mix of gratitude, admiration and fear.

"Whatever the hell you're doing here, you know you're not leaving alive, don't you?"]

[He offers a brief smile, for the most part directed at her.]

So shoot me. I'm not leaving here without her, and I'm really kind of curious to see what happens if you shoot me.

[Well. Not really. But he might as well try to own the pretend-crazy. Right?]

[He smiles unpleasantly, presses the gun harder against Joan's head.

"All I have to do is wait for backup. Then the boss will have two people to torture. "]

[Kit narrows his eyes at the gun.]

You think that's what will happen? You sure?

["You won't leave without her, and you won't shoot me because you might hit her. So yeah. That's what's gonna happen."

Why is it that everyone underestimates Joan?

She snaps her head back, hard into his solar plexus, and he grunts in pain and surprise, stumbling back.]

[Kit? Would never, ever dare underestimate her. The guy stumbles back, and Kit shoots at him. He aims for the gun arm, hoping.]

[he hits his shoulder, and the man grabs at it, then turns, his face wrenched in anger and pain,and raises the gun at Kit.]

[Kit narrows his eyes again, keeping his rifle level. He doesn't particularly want to get shot, but he's also not just going to leave her here. Or anything in between.]

You shoot me, I shoot you. Is that how you want it to work? By my count, I shot everyone else in this place, and I don't hear backup coming for you.

[he snarls and takes the shot.]

[Kit shoots at the same time, or just about. This doesn't exactly stop him from getting hit himself. The shoulder, he thinks, from the explosion of pain and the way he gets knocked backward.

He's pretty sure the other guy got hit too. There is that.]

[In the chest, in fact. The man goes down. Joan strains forward against her bonds, wanting to go to Kit.]

[Kit squeezes his eyes shut for a minute, breathing through the glaring, flaming pain of having been shot. He gives himself one minute exactly, because he wasn't really that sure that more people wouldn't be here soon. Then, he manages to sort of stumble to his feet, kicking the gun away from the other man, just in case. Getting on his knees in front of Joan's chair so he can get her loose.]

Hey. Lets get out of here, okay?

[She looks down at him, her eyes full of worry. He's been shot, and they're really, really not safe here. She makes a sound, grating and strangled behind the tape over her mouth.

She looks terrible. Bruised, swollen, her face and clothes dirty and bloody.]

[First things first, getting rid of the tape. He can tell she's hurt. How badly, how extensively? He has no way of knowing. Enough that he wants to get her out of her and to a hospital before he calls Holmes.

He pulls the tape away and then works on getting her out of the chair.

Do you think you can walk?

[He takes the tape off, and it hurts, ripping away skin, but she doesn't make a sound. She takes a gulping breath through her mouth, then ignores his question.]

You've been shot.

I know. It's okay. [It is not even a little bit okay, and he knows that. But they need to get out of here, and then he'll worry about it.] Can you walk?

I don't know.

[Her voice grates, rough from both disuse and agonized screams.]

I don't think so.

[Kit swore under his breath. He's not sure that he can carry her. He thinks.

Okay. 911 or Sherlock?

911.

[She strains weakly at her bonds, wanting to help him.]

[Getting her bonds undone is pretty difficult with his shoulder shot up, but he manages it after a while. Then, the phone. 911, he can manage.]

[Once the bonds are no longer holding her up, she slumps to the floor, barely able to keep herself up on all fours and cursing herself for being useless.]

[He grabs her as well and as quick as he can, helping her sit up and back. Holding onto her]

Shit. Shit, sorry.

Not your fault.

[She holds onto him weakly.]

I'm sorry you got pulled into this.

Don't be. No one pulled me into it, I volunteered. I was worried.

[And clearly rightfully so. He dials 911 while trying to keep her upright.]

[That is so Kit. Disregarding his own safety to protect others. She wishes she could help him in return, but its all she can do to lean against him.]

Sherlock. Is Sherlock okay?

[He'd honestly probably do the same for Sherlock, if need be.]

He's fine, he was fine when I talked to him. Trying to find you. He gave me a list of places to check.

Good.

[It's a whisper. She hasn't slept, hasn't eaten, since she was taken three days ago, and that combined with the abuse she's taken means that even talking wears her out.]

Just rest, they'll be here soon.

[She sighs against him. She can't do much more than rest.

From down the hall comes the click of heels, approaching.]

[Which...well, honestly, it gets Kit's aattention. People who come in ambulances don't generally come around in heels, do they? And he's not exactly sure how great he'll be with his rifle now.

Getting the gun off the floor seems a priority. Just in case.]

[Joan rouses at the sound of the heels, begins to paw at Kit's chest, in fear for his safety more than hers. She knows very well who that is.

"Quite enough, Mr. Walker," comes a female voice, British accent, from behind Kit. "If you touch the rifle, I will shoot both you and Miss Watson."]

[Kit freezes, taking Joan's hand and squeezing it.]

I've already called the police. You get that, yeah?

[She tightens her grip on his hand as much as she's able.

"I am quite aware our time here is limited, Mr. Walker. How it ends, however, is up to you. The police will be here in about five minutes. Enough time for me to kill both of you and walk away. I have no interest in you, though. Just in Miss Watson."]

Yeah, well, if you think I'm going to give her to you? You're nuttier than anyone I ever met at Briarcliff.

["Your chivalry is touching, really. Not to mention, Miss Watson is lucky that you're the one who's come for her. See, if Sherlock had found her, the situation would have been very different. I would never kill Sherlock. I just want to hurt him. And I would have done that by killing his beloved Miss Watson while she was in his arms."

She aims the gun at Kit.

"Now, I'll kill you, and Miss Watson will live to die another day."]

[Kit stares at the woman for a moment, and laughs. It's probably just a bit hysterical.]

Sure. Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me. Let's see what happens.

[Because he's pretty sure if the aliens flipped when Arden tried to kill him, they won't be too happy with her either.]

Kit...

[Joan protests weakly, and tries to push herself away from him.]

Don't. Don't hurt him. You can have me.

[Kit holds onto her tightly.]

No. She can't. He's not the only one who cares about you.

She'll...

[She'll kill him. She knows she will. And she doesn't have as much trust in the aliens as Kit.

Moriarty tilts her head, her lips upturned in a cruel smile.

"Isn't that sweet. Such devotion, that you're willing to die for her. It would be beautiful if ti wasn't so completely stupid."

She fires.]

[It's less trust and more belief that they probably won't want to waste how many years of experimentation on him. He closes his eyes when she fires, tightening his grip around Joan's shoulders. At the very least, maybe he can make this difficult on Moriarty. He feels the bullet hit him, and it hurts just as much as the other. If not more.

And for a moment, he wonders if he made a mistake. But then, there's that horrible noise. That blinding light that he can even see with his eyes shut tight.</small.]

[Joan cries out, half scream, half choking sob, as Kit is shot, as his blood spatters over her.

Then the light, the noise, and she doesn't know what's going on, have the police come, are these Moriarty's people, has their been an explosion, are they both dead, what?

Moriarty is just as shocked, as confused, as she throws her arms in front of her face to block out the light.]

When he opens his eyes, finally, he can see them out of the corner of his eyes. Thin fingers, giant eyes, that weird mouth. Touching him. Not so much fixing him as keeping this from killing him. He closed his eyes again, because well. That tended to hurt. Everything they did hurt. He doesn't know if they help Joan. If they do anything to the other womn.

The light, the noise, eventually it fades and he can hear a siren.]

[The woman is gone. Just gone. Joan is curled on the floor, shaking. She still doesn't know what happened, still thinks Kit is dead, and Moriarty is there to hurt her again, to keep hurting her.]

[Kit will wonder, later, where she went. The woman. Sherlock, he's sure, will never stop wondering.

Kit opened his eyes again, his vision crazy blurry. There was definitely an ambulance on its way, judging by those sirens. Good. He didn't think he could manage to get up, and he was pretty sure he was still bleeding.]

...Joan? Are you there?

[She hears him, and for a moment thinks she must be imagining things. But no, when she opens her eyes, she sees him. Sees him moving. He's alive. And Moriarty is nowhere to be seen.

She moves to him, an action that hurts like hell but is absolutely necessary.]

Are you okay?

I'll be okay. Are you?

I will be.

What happened?

[He shook his head.]

I think they took her.

Moriarty? Who took her?

Them. The aliens. Creatures. Monsters. [He closed his eyes again.]

Kit? No...stay with me.

[Funny thing for her to say, they're probably in equally bad shape.]

[They really are, and he'd honestly say she's probably worse off. She's been here for days.]

I'm okay.

[She nods, relieved, and lies down with him, her head on his good shoulder. She reaches for his hand, entwines their fingers.]

You came for me. Thank you.

[He squeezes her hand, carefully.]

Of course I did.

[He owes her a lot.]

[She squeezed his hand back.

The police come in, and Captain Gregson is with them. He crouches over the two of them and calls for medics.]

[Kit honestly has no idea who the guy is, but so long as he's not one of Moriarty's people, that's fine. Eventually, they'll get loaded onto the ambulances, get taken to the hospital. Kit insisting he'll be okay the entire way.]

[Sherlock comes to Kit's room when the doctors say he can receive visitors.

"I owe you a great debt of gratitude."]

[Kit isn't sure what to say to that.]

She'd have done it for me.

["I don't doubt it. But you saved her life, at great cost to yourself. I will never forgive myself that Moriarty hurt her. It would have been infinitely worse had she died."]

She turn up yet? That woman?

["She has not been found, no. I'm certain she will turn up eventually."

Sherlock doesn't believe the whole "aliens" explanation.]

[Is Kit surprised? Not even a little bit.]

Well, I hope you're right.

["Believe me. She will pay for what she's done."]

That, I'm sure of. Is Joan all right?

["She will recover. Bones cracked but not broken. The physical will heal fairly quickly. The psychological damage is less certain. She's very strong, though."]

Can I see her?

["I believe she can receive visitors. Are you well enough to leave your room?"]

[Is he? Kit honestly has no idea, but...]

I'll manage. Anyone call Alma? Or Grace?

["I'm fairly certain Captain Gregson has been in touch with your family."]

That ought to be something.

["How do you mean?"]

People don't tend to enjoy hearing about their husband getting shot.

[He shrugs with his good shoulder, and sits up, eyeing the IV for a moment.]

They have one of those wheeler stands?

["I would imagine they're happy to know you shall recover. Let me go get you a stand..."

He heads out to talk to a nurse, and comes back with a nurse pushing a wheeled IV stand. She transfers the saline bag and tells him he's good to go, as long as he doesn't overdo it.]

[He promises that he won't, of course and smiles at the nurse. Apparently that's all it takes here, at least. The benefits of an actual hospital above Briarcliff.

Off to see Joan, then.]

[Kit can also walk out of the hospital whenever he likes. It's a plus.

Joan is asleep when Kit gets there. She's a bit more hooked up than he was, with oxygen tubes and several kinds of monitors to go with her IV.]

[He sits down beside her bed, then. Waiting and watching her.]

[She sleeps for a little while. Sherlock stands at the doorway, keeping vigil.

She finally stirs, opens her eyes and smiles weakly.]

Hey.

Hey. How're you feeling?

[She gives him a small smile.]

I'm not taped to a chair. It's a plus.

I'm glad you're safe.

Thanks to you.

[She reaches for his hand.]

You okay?

You helped me. I'll always help you.

[Taking her hand.]

I'll be okay.

I didn't get shot twice helping you.

That second shot...that should have killed you.

Maybe. I don't know how bad it was.

It looked like a head shot. But...you're okay.

You saw the lights. I know you did.

...I'm not sure what I saw.

[He's a little bothered at that idea, but right now? That's not important.]

Whatever happened, I'll be okay. You being okay, that's what matters.

And you're okay. And alive.

[She squeezes his hand.]

[He squeezes back.] And she's gone.

She'll come back. She'll always come back.

We'll see.

[She glances at Sherlock, watching over her worriedly.]

He blames himself.

He shouldn't. Do you?

No. It's her fault. Not his, not mine.

Nope. Just hers.

How long do you have to stay in the hospital?

I didn't really ask. Have you talked to anyone?

They want me to stay for at least five days. I think Sherlock will change their minds just by annoying the hell out of everybody.

[She smiles fondly at Sherlock, and he smiles fondly back.]

It's good you have each other.

It is.

[She squeezes his hand again.]

It's good that I have you, too.

[Kit smiles at her.]

You're going to be okay.

[Bad Future. Enough said.]

[ The Doctor dies, and UNIT isn't able to figure out how to save him. As far as Donna knows, she's just a temp. No, she isn't even that. She's nothing. ]

[ She meets the Doctor and learns about traveling the universe. She chooses to burn alive rather than lose those memories, rather than forget what she's capable of. She wants to live briefly knowing she was important rather than live safely never knowing. ]

[ She doesn't enter metacrisis mode. Instead, she's injured by the blast, and the others are that much farther from saving the universe. ]

[ Other? ]

(He never shows up to meet Pike at the shipyard, never joins Starfleet

Or

He's assigned to the Enterprise, but not as Captain. It doesn't keep him out of trouble.

Or

Jim's risk taking finally catches up with him, and he gets some of his crew killed on what should have been a simple away mission)

[Options:
1) Moriarty makes John jump/die instead of Sherlock.
2) Moriarty captures Sherlock instead of making him jump and tortures him
3) Sherlock learns Mycroft and Moriarty work together
4) Sherlock learns John actually works with Moriarty
5) Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and/or John shot/killed instead of Sherlock jumping

Or make up your own, just please let me know ahead of time how dark you want Sherlock to go.]

The Doctor stays "Mr. Clever" from Nightmare in Silver"

or other

[the first thing that pops into my head hrs later is 'mr clever and the paradox machine XD]

[ooh that'd be cool. Building that would keep all the cybermen armies from being blown up]

[Indeed! Like the 12th Cyber Legion!]

Intriguing! Now I need to figure out if I'm going to keep River good and canon or if she goes a little dark under his influence...

Yeah. Like I said above, that Episode made me wish DW had a Mirror Verse like Star Trek.

Indeed! Although River would be hell in high heels no matter what the universe. Just to spite the Doctor.

Well, I'm a sucker for dark!River, so she's probably going to take that route. How do we want to set this up? Does Mr. Clever go traveling about the universe in order to spread Cybermen?

Ok that works. Probably when I get home from work I'll be able to reply Assuming I don't fall asleep with the computer on my lap...again.

Aww, poor thing! I've been there, although it's usually me snuggled next to it.... o__0;;

Is it cool if we start with River meeting Mr. Clever for the first time? We can always do magic time-skippy powers to progress to where she's completely on his side.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

River Song didn't break out of her prison cell all that often. Only for adventures with the Doctor.

And holidays. And hair appointments.

This time she had actually just popped out briefly to do a little shopping, nothing special. But when she came back, things had gone to hell. She teleported in via her vortex manipulator to a battlefield within the corridors of the Stormcage. Guards and prisoners were running loose, some chasing each other, but nearly all were shooting at the same targets.

"Cybermen?!" She could scarcely believe her own eyes, but that didn't stop her from dropping the shopping bag and liberating a machine-gun from someone else's grasp. Right into the fray, that's how she liked it.

But they're fighting a losing battle, and River knows it. These Cybers are fast, her ammo is low, and nearly all the guards have fallen. She teleports to her cell for ammunition, instead finding a pleasant surprise.

"Oh, it's about damn time!" Her face lights up at the sight of the TARDIS, parked just outside her cell. The Doctor. She knew he wouldn't let her down. She pushes the doors open with a high of relief, but she chooses to play it cool. "I didn't even have to call you this time - you checking up on me, sweetie?"

Edited 2013-05-30 11:37 (UTC)

The Doctor lost the chess match. Three moves Ha! The Cybermen always thought he was less clever than he thought he was. This time they were right. The Cyberplanner got control of that amazing brain. He also decided to stick with the moniker he devised for himself, Mr. Clever, mostly to mock what was left of the Time Lord. Now to pick up where the Cybermen left off taking over the universe.

Stormcage seemed like good a good enough place to start and lucky for him, the Doctor's ship, the most powerful ship in the universe was his too. Stormcage was suddenly very easy to get to.

Most of the prison's residents were unable to break out, and no one would really miss the inhabitants once they were converted. The worst criminals in the universe, and they were all going to be his.

Imagine his surprise when a woman came through the doors of his ship. A woman that The Doctor fancied. Oh, this was going to be fun.

"Why would I check up on you?"

"Oh, please, don't give me any of that masculine posturing," River scoffed, shaking her head. She knew it was difficult for the Doctor to express emotion, but he didn't have to be snarky about it.

Still, she shrugged it off and dashed up the steps to the console, about to make her way down the corridor. She paused, not yet having glimpsed his face in its entirety. Thus far all she's seen in the right side.

"If you missed me, you'll have to tell me later. The entire prison's been overrun by Cybermen and I can't fight them all by myself. Got anything back here to slow down a Cyber soldier that moves like he's the bastard child of a cheetah?"

"Now why would I want to stop them?"

He leaned back against the console to face her straight on. It wouldn't be difficult from where she's standing to figure out just why he'd said that.

"New and improved model. So much better this way, don't you think?"

"Because you're--" River halted in her words as the shock of his appearance hit her. She gripped the railing at her side for support as she stumbled downwards a step towards him.

"No..." She whispered, shaking her head slowly, wide eyes locked on his face. "No, this isn't...This isn't right. Where is he? Where's the Doctor? What have you done with him?!"

"He's in here," the Cyberplanner pointed to his temple, "somewhere."

That much was true. The Doctor was in his head somewhere, he had to be, otherwise how would he be able to pilot the TARDIS? Only the Doctor could do that.

"Terrible chess player."

"Good, then get out of him," River commanded, coming forward to meet him, despite how much her legs felt like jelly. She could keep a brave face in times of peril, the Doctor had surely seen that plenty of times. But even she isn't sure how long she can keep this facade up.

"Get of him and I'll at least give you a head start before I come after you and kill you. And, if I'm feeling really generous, I'll even let you go quick. How's about that?"

"No," he bit out. She could threaten him all she wanted, it wasn't going to change a thing.

They made a deal. The Doctor lost. Winner got the brain. The whole brain and all of it's processing power. He lost.

"And why the hell not? What do you need him for? And more importantly, why the hell are you here?!"

River took a break to calm herself, steeling her gaze once more. "There are people - out there, dying. And if it weren't for what I'm assuming is a Cyber-brain in there, I'd say you were enjoying it. But if you think I'm going to stand idly by while you wear that face, you've got another thing coming."

"He lost." Two simple words that carried a lot of weight. "Like I said, terrible chess player. I'm here because we got the better of him."

After all those years, the Cybermen finally did what the Daleks couldn't. Managed to destroy the Doctor, and use him against himself.

"'We'? As in, the Cybermen?" River felt sick at the thought. What had he done, gambled away his life? What had been the stakes? She had so many questions, too many feelings, and not enough time to satisfy all of it.

She turned away from the false Doctor in discuss, pacing slightly about the console. "So what does that make you, then? The leader? Bit of an abomination, aren't you? Leader of the Cyberiad in a flesh body."

Was she always this thick? The Doctor seemed to put a lot of faith in this woman, thought she was clever. It's not something he's really seeing at the moment.

"If it works, it works."

Oh, don't go underestimating River Song just yet. She gets through life by pretending to be thick and oblivious. Spoilers.

River slowed her pacing to linger around the console, idly fidgeting with a few of the controls. Though really what she intended to do was cause a bit of trouble for him.

"And you're not concerned that your programming could be overridden? I doubt you're hiding an emotional inhibitor under that lovely coat."

He was going to keep and eye on her and what she may or may not be touching on that console.

"I'm glad you like the coat. So much better than the ten foot scarf."

He wasn't going to give away whether or not his programming could be overridden or not. That much he could glean from the Doctor's memories. River would use whatever she could to win in a fight.

Edited 2013-06-03 00:46 (UTC)

"Oh, I dunno about that, scarves have their uses," she murmured suggestively, flicking a switch on the console. "By the way, you're avoiding my question. Don't think I haven't noticed."

River lifted her head to look over at him. "I really would give it some thought, you know. One heart, emotions are tricky enough. But two? Could give you quite a spot of trouble if you're not careful.... What do I call you anyway? I'm assuming you're not idiotic enough to keep using the name 'Doctor'."

River got a tight chuckle for that, "So he says." Those memories weren't bad ones at all.

Two hearts had taken some getting used to, but only because the rhythm was different than what the Cybermen had been used to. After that, he'd seen the Doctor's emotions as something of an asset. It was so much easier if you could manipulate someone do to what you wanted, then having to fight them every step of the way.

"I like Mr. Clever."

Oh, wasn't that fantastic. He had access to those memories, too. Well, at least that helped River figure out a little bit of where the timestream was for her and her Doctor.

"Mr. Clever? Really?" River scoffed a little, shaking her head as she brushed a hand over one of the levers on the console. "Figures. As if my sweetie didn't have enough of an ego already."

He did, though he didn't plan on bringing them up again, unless there was some sort of advantage in doing so.

"Believe me, that wasn't his idea."

He hadn't taken his eyes off what River was doing. Nothing said anything was going to interfere with his plans so far. But one could never be too sure.

"Oh, I'm sure it wasn't," River replied amicably. "But the more you talk, the more I wonder just where he ends and you begin."

She reached for another switch, but hesitated, very aware of his eyes on her. "You're staring."

To be honest, Mr. Clever wasn't entirely sure either, neither was the Doctor. In both cases, he supposed it didn't matter. The Doctor wasn't as good as the universe thought him to be.

"Of course I'm staring. Piloting us away from here is not something you want to be doing. I like it here."

"That's exactly the problem, isn't it? You like it because it's got plenty of helpless people for you to convert. Or at the very least some quality target practice." River hated how coldly the words fell from her tongue, but it was the only way she could get them out.

"Unless of course you've got some other reason for being here?"

"Is there a better place to start taking over the universe?"

Stormcage was a veritable fortress. The disadvantage to being some kind of hybrid was that he could be killed quicker than a Cyberman. He needed a vantage point and now he had one. Only one person was ever able to break out, then in again with any frequency, and she was standing right in front of him.

"So, it's both."

Why he was letting her stand there and continue to talk to him, he had no idea.

"Honestly I'd prefer you didn't do it at all, but we're clearly past that juncture."

The fact that she was still standing here, talking to him and fiddling with the console was one she was grateful for. It was buying her some time, after all. "So, I suppose my only choice is to either submit to your will or, as you've so cleverly suggested, pilot the TARDIS away from here. And you should know that I'm not very good with authority, so-" She hit the switch from before, and the TARDIS roared to life, but it was clearly struggling to complete her intended travel, as if fighting a great paradox.

"Fancy a little crossing your time stream, Mr. Clever? Say, your point of origin?"

"Clearly," he agreed.

After the scarf memory came back to him he decided to see what else was hiding in the Doctor's mind concerning River Song. Quite a lot from what he saw and not much of it bad, though she did try to kill him twice. That's interesting.

"Planning to convince your Dear Doctor to make a different decision? I doubt he would."

She laughed. "There's the difference between you and I, Mr. Clever. I have no doubts. I'm absolutely certain he'd still make the same choice." With a smirk on her face, she leaned forward to keep her hands on the controls, urging the TARDIS to continue on.

"So I'm not going to change his mind. I'm going to change yours."

River cursed lightly under her breath as the TARDIS fought her from crossing the Doctor's time-stream, making slow progress. "I'm from the Doctor's future. I know him far better than you ever could. But that's all changed now, thanks to you. So let's change it up again, eh?" She raised her eyebrows at him, challenging him.

"I can't change what the Doctor's done, but making him - and you - cross your own timelines, that creates what we call a paradox. And considering - ungh-" She groaned as she struggled with the controls. "-how much the old girl here is fighting me, I'd say your creation has become a pretty fixed point. So if I change it - well, it just might rip a hole in the universe. Actually, I'm certain it will. Bye-bye Universe, bye-bye Cybermen, bye-bye to you, me, all of this."

She gestured around them as her gaze narrowed. "Unless. You give him. Back. Now. And if you think I'm bluffing, wrack that brain you've stolen. See what happens to the universe when I get involved."

That's her plan. Not to be the good diplomat and change the Doctor's mind, but to threaten Mr. Clever's - and the entire universe's - existence.

"If the ship lets you, which it doesn't seem it's going to."

He knew what a paradox was, considering he was currently using a Time Lord's brain. He also knew River was a professional at creating them. Most likely, she was going to make good on her threat.

"He's that important to you?" Then a smile, if you could call it that, "If I say no, he's not going to forgive you for this. That'll be the last thing he remembers. You destroyed the universe."

"I'm just as stubborn as she is," River spat back. She wasn't going to stop fighting. It was a gamble, but one she was fully willing to take. Even though it pained her to see the TARDIS struggle so, she was too wrapped up in her feelings for the Doctor.

"I don't care." She replied with a defiant shake of her head. "A universe without him isn't worth having. I'd rather have none at all, because, yes, he is that important to me. See, that's what you Cybers never understand! Emotions don't make you weak. They give more power than you could ever dream of!"

Edited 2013-06-04 05:37 (UTC)

"Oh, I know that."

Feelings can give you power, sure. They can also give power to others. Mr. Clever wasn't 100% Cyberman. He had the Doctor's feelings and he knew exactly how the Doctor felt about River, and how she felt about the Doctor. It'd be almost too easy to use that against her. Emotions make you an easy target. The question was, how much of what was left of the Doctor could come out and play a bit?

A deep breath was enough to make him change character just a little at least enough to change his tone of voice to sound very much like The Doctor, "River, what are you doing?"

Her head shot up at that. His voice was...different.

"Doctor?" She tried to hold the wavering of her emotions in check. Was it really him, or was the universe about to strike her another cruel blow? "I'm...I'm tearing apart time for you, sweetie. Have you come to scold me?"

So far so good. Bringing up her memories of him would probably be a smart choice.It was enough to show her the Doctor was still in there, somewhere.

"I scolded you the last time. No weddings to save things this time."

"This time it's not your plan that's in motion," she replied, moving to take a step towards him. Unfortunately the TARDIS lurched and came to a sudden halt, and instead she stumbled forward into him.

"Looks like I'm not the only stubborn woman you've got here," she joked. "She doesn't like my plan either."

Mr. Clever caught her despite his better judgement. He was, after all, supposed to be the Doctor.

"No, you're not. Maybe you should listen to her."

"I can't do that, sweetie." She looked up at him and shook her head. "I've made my choice, now I've got to go through with it. Unless he accepts my terms and gives you back."

"I lost River."

And the Doctor lies, sure. He thought, when everything was going on, that he was doing that then too. But in the end, the Cyberplanner took him at his word.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't talk like that."

She shook her head vehemently once more. "No, I can't - I won't accept that!" She let tears fall freely down her cheeks, her arms instinctively wrapping around him. He sounded, felt, and smelled like her Doctor - wasn't that enough?

"What good is a universe without you? What...what good am I?" And there it was - the weakness River Song tried so hard to hide behind her flirtations and big hair and gun - her own vulnerability and self-doubt.

And almost as quickly as Mr. Clever decided to allow the Doctor to talk to his wife, he was just gone, the Cyberplanner back in his place. His tone was unbearably mocking, "Face it, Dear. Your Sweetie's not coming back. He's right. He lost."

He wasn't going to get into the Doctor's feelings about this woman or the fact that he could feel how upset the time lord was about seeing her tears.

"Shut up! Shut up and give him back!" River screamed and raised her hand to slap him. She drew close to hitting him, but then stopped. She let her hand, now clenched in a fist, fall to her side.

"Then take me, instead," she whispered, staring at the bow-tie he wore. She couldn't bring herself to look up at him. Out of shame for herself and her weakness.

"And why exactly would I want you?" He bit the words out.

He couldn't fathom why he'd want her. Thanks to the Doctor's mind, he knew she was human plus, but it wasn't anywhere near what the Doctor was.

"I don't mean...." River faltered for a moment, her heart sinking. "I don't mean take my body over his...I don't hold that sort of value. I'm well aware of that. But that body you're using is precious to me, and you're the first of your kind, Mr Clever. A Time Lord cyberplanner - Advanced software in a complicated casing. If you aren't careful, you can still be....deleted."

She let the word drip from her lips with disdain. But was it for him or herself?

"You could use a bodyguard."

Well, she did have a point. It was possible for him to still be killed, so he thought. Time Lords had that little trick to cheat death, but neither he nor the Doctor were sure if he would survive that.

"That, might not be a bad idea."

River raised her eyes to look at him, the distressed sounds of the TARDIS having faded as if to focus upon their exchange.

"Perhaps we can come to an...arrangement, then."

He leaned against the console and crossed his feet at the ankle before folding his arms across his chest, "What sort of arrangement?"

"One that gives you an accomplished bodyguard and one that leaves me with my brain attached to the rest of me," she said, crossing her own arms. "I'm a better asset as I am than as one of your cyber drones. Those memories you've got access to should tell you as much."

The Cyberplanner thought about it for a minute it wasn't a bad idea, and the Doctor's memories were clear on one thing, River Song was good with a gun, among other things.

"And what's going to keep you from deleting me?"

"You're all that's left of the Doctor in this universe," River replied, stepping up to meet him.

"I'd rather be by his side in hell than be an angel in a world without him."

Mr. Clever let his eyes sweep over River, very slowly. He knew how much she loved the Doctor, but what concerned him was what she did the last time he was in trouble. Tearing time and space apart was no small feat. He supposed it was a good offer though, as good as he was going to get. He would just have to keep an eye on her.

"Alright, then."

"Then we've got a deal."

And that had been it. The day River Song signed her soul over to Mr. Clever and the Cyberiad.

People do crazy things for love.

[I think there's a classic Who episode with another universe. Everyone's all evil and its implied that Doctor turned it into a police state.

Anyways, this dude! Should he and Mr. Clever interact or...]

ooh cool. Sorry this took so long, it's crazy time at my job.

I haven't watched much Classic Who. But yes, they should interact.

[ _{either:
1) he's on the side of Atlas, knowing full well who the man really is. it's rumoured his friends and enemies alike fall to his pistol at Atlas' commands, but that doesn't stop him from getting his fingers in every pie- and it certainly doesn't stop anyone from trusting him;;

2) he's on the side of Lamb, but not of his own volition. this Big Daddy can't control his actions and his mind is broken. he hates what he's doing, but he can't stop;;

3) he's the cold-blooded spliced-out king of Persephone. Lamb didn't triumph because she was outnumbered: all the Alpha class still breathing in Rapture are under his command, and just like Ryan he's handy with pheromones and empty promises.} ]

[1. Daisy gets shot instead of Gatsby.
2. Daisy runs off with Gatsby...but it doesn't guarantee a happy ending.
3. Daisy owns up for Myrtle's death, and she gets arrested.]

[He squeezes the steering wheel as a secretive smile touches his lips. This is it. Nothing can stop them now – nothing. Where they're going, there will be no Tom to come between them. They've escaped arrest (thanks to a few lingering connections, of course) and now they're racing across the European countryside towards a better, brighter future. Together. They'll start over. They'll pick right up where things left off five years ago and it'll be like they never stopped loving one another. Everything has finally come together.

Jay can no longer contain his grin and it splits his face. You can't repeat the past, Nick Carraway had told him. Oh, Jay thinks, but you can, my friend, and I have. The proof sits right next to him, looking pretty in the early afternoon sun and lovingly tousled from the wind. While one hand guides the car – a newer model, pristine and white and perfect like Daisy herself – he steals glances at her profile.]

Stunning view, isn't it?

[He nods to her window, indicating he means the ocean stretching into the horizon.]

We'll have one even better. A good friend of mine has set us up with a beautiful house just off the coast in the French Riviera.

[It's almost too perfect.]

[She remembers. As much as she tries to forget, she remembers it all:

The hotel room on that terrible summer afternoon, blazing like a furnace even with chips of mint-scented ice wrapped up in handkerchiefs, curtains spread wide to coax in the barest wisp of a breeze, the walls papered in scarlet like—like hellfire and brimstone, she thinks, almost whimsically. The odor of alcohol and Gatsby's handsome face, contorted with rage.

The woman, running blindly out into the road, her lovely string of pearls dyed with blood, the heavy, sickening thud of flesh and bone colliding with the custom grille of Gatsby's golden car. The screeching of tires, rubber burning on asphalt, the questions and investigations afterwards. For days, she cringed at the sound of sirens.

Her husband was having a polo game when she last saw him. Her daughter, probably sitting on the lap of one of the colored maids. It has just taken a moment, ringing up her lover's home with shaking fingers, taking just a few suitcases of clothes and jewelry and then slipping out of her old life forever, discarding the hollow husk of her marriage for Gatsby's glorious, glimmering vision of their future. Daisy had left her engagement ring in the ashtray in lieu of a note.

She can almost taste the sharpness of ocean salt in the wind, the white silk petals sewn onto her gown fluttering as they ride comfortably on along the coast, the vast hills of emerald green disappearing behind them like simple blades of grass.

Gatsby had originally promised her Louisville, a marriage of an even broader spectacle and grander proportions than her first, but it was discovered to be impossible for a still-married woman to be married once again. So plans had been made instead for a quieter arrangement, a more modest home, at least until he established new connections and he could give her the wedding she deserved. It may take a little time, he patiently explained, but she would have it, as soon as her union to Tom could be annulled. Bootlegging business, after all, was more difficult in the country than in the vast concrete kingdom of the city.

Everything, he soothed, would be all right. And she so desperately wanted to believe him.]

It's absolutely beautiful.

[Her voice is a strange, simultaneous mix of relief and anxiety, her nerves still jittering, her hands tightly curled in her lap. Today is their first day in a new life, breathing out the last of the old air of the time she had abandoned. She turns, half expecting to see her husband's blue coupé roaring behind them, hot on their trail. But there is only the seaside and Gatsby's handsome profile, a smile curling at his lips with boyish delight.]

Edited 2013-06-27 02:58 (UTC)

[His eyes linger on her for a beat longer, his expression softening. Misinterpreting her nervous glance and overlooking her clenched hands, he mistakes it all for hurry.]

Good. It won't be long now. We'll be there before you know it.

[Everything feels so far away – Tom, the murder, the wails of bystanders echoing in the night. He'd almost forgotten the cold rush of fear he'd felt when grasping for the wheel, jerking the car in a vain attempt to avoid collision. Even Nick's concerned stare, offered when Gatsby begged for company while awaiting Daisy's call, had nearly slipped his mind. All of it (every single bit) ceased to matter the instant his telephone rang. He'd knew she'd call – he just knew it. The rest had been a blur, a flurry of activity and secrecy that Jay, while wearing another of his warm, wide smiles, had assured Daisy was necessary.

A mysterious group of contacts (friends of friends, really) had agreed to assist their getaway, on the condition Jay give them cold, hard cash – cash Jay didn't currently have, but he'd find. After all, here in the French countryside, they had access to the only finest wines and champagne. It'd make him another fortune in no time. And then, Jay muses, still smirking because he's simply unable to find a flaw in his plan, he'd give Daisy the wedding he'd promised.

A bit excited himself, he makes some idle chitchat to fill the silence. In between glances at the road, he gives her his most playful, scolding stare:] You best call Nick when we get there. Last I heard, old sport's worried sick about you. Do you want him going gray before he even has a chance to marry?

[She feels a warm rush of affection at her cousin's name, tempered by her last memories of him, her vision blurred with tears and barely being able to make out the concerned tension in his face. She shifts in her seat, turning to her side as she draws her legs up, folding them neatly beneath her. She reaches out, not intending to pull one of his hands away from the steering wheel, but resting one hand loosely around his wrist, taking in the small comfort of his warmth.

Although it's still daylight, she doesn't want to call Nick today. Not now, not yet. Today, she wants to gather up the broken remnants of her life, collect her bearings, and remind herself that this is what she wants. Maybe then, her heart will stop fluttering in her chest, aching like a tangible wound, feeling short of breath and more scared than she had been at that sunny luncheon. Maybe she has a sickness, and needs a doctor. Maybe—she recalls Jordan's cool, exasperated drawl—she's just being morbid.]

I'll call Nicky in the morning.

[Now that they're alone, the slow burn of the South creeps into her voice, muddying her crisp American tones with a richer, warmer sound. It happens when she's at her most distressed, or at her most tired, and it's perhaps a combination of both. Aw'l cawl Nicky in the mawning is what it sounds like—mother always told her she sounded inelegant, but Gatsby won't judge her. Still, she feels a bit childish, compared to his posh speech.

Not wanting to distract him from his driving (she has grown to be extra-sensitive about the rules of the road, in the past few days), she dares to lean against his shoulder, resting her weight against his solid frame.]

How much farther is it?

[Nicky – good, old Nick. Jay's heart goes out to the man. After all, without him, none of this would be possible. He makes a mental note to phone him himself, perhaps after Daisy retires, and he can stand in the doorway while gazing at her dozing figure as he tells Nick everything is fine. No, everything is perfect. With Daisy's comforting warmth against his side, things have never been better.

At her relaxed drawl, he adopts a more lively tone. One hand steers the car, and the other makes it way over her shoulder. His touch is firm but affectionate, his fingers squeezing in a way (he hopes) she finds reassuring.]

I wish I could sweep my hand and say it's just around this next corner. That'd make you happy, wouldn't it?

[Were it possible, he would have arranged for that sea-side house to be picked up, brick by brick, rose bush by rose bush, and move ten miles closer – just so he could surprise her. A small part of him aches to know the grand Gatsby lifestyle must be put on hold.]

Sorry to say we're still an hour out. Don't tell me you're tired of my company already!

Edited 2013-07-17 03:06 (UTC)

Never. [She is completely, purely earnest in her answer, nestling close when his hand finds the curve of her shoulder, her nerves somewhat placated, but not too much so as to not accept every bit of affection he can give. She will miss the house, the convenience, and the utter scale and scope of his fantastic celebrations—but she remembers all that she left behind: the scandal and death, and all that she will receive in exchange for sacrificing her luxuries: Gatsby, and a life together. She will never tire of him: romantic, lovely, gentlemanly Gatsby.

She turns her gaze upwards, adoring and full of wonder, and also childishly desperate. She wants to believe that this is what he meant when he had whispered: it will be, that his brilliant imagination will never run out of ideas, and that this will lead them into a better life. This is what she had dreamed of when he was away for those long, terrible years during the war, when she had first been swept off her feet by the charismatic soldier for one night of passion.]

It's perfect, Jay.

[1. Shunsui dies (somehow).
2. A lot of people die.
3. She's working for Aizen.]

[1. Somebody manages to kill Batman (Ra's, Joker, Bane, idk all that matters is that he's dead.)
2. Ra's plan worked and Gotham City has descended into mass chaos.
3. The events of TDKR but a bajillion times worse.

Really, the darkest timelines are the pretty swell timelines when you're a villain.]

(Mind if I whip up a little something with this one?)

[Let's do this!

[Batman gone and so much of the law and order of Gotham City deteriorated. It made the already infamous city that much more of a breeding place for violence and vice. Some liked to pretend the forces of "good" had some sway here, but it was dying fast.

One of the "freaks" Gotham had to contend with now that Blackgate and Arkham were both open wide slunk through the alleyway, her duffel bag over her shoulder and her too-large trenchcoat trailing on the ground. The bloodstains on it would never come out.

The girl herself was remarkable for how unremarkable she was. Short brown hair, brown eyes, a little thin, average height. She was the sort of creature someone could see without ever remembering seeing. She was the cipher. Jane Doe. A creature who became whomever she interacted with long enough. She had been incarcerated more than once -- increasingly violent crimes before attempting to (and sometimes succeeding in) assume the identities of her victims.

The chaos of Gotham, however, had created a problem for Jane. She took the lives of peoples whose lives she wanted. People she admired or respected or who had families... But the good people in Gotham were becoming rare. Her prey was fast fleeing the city, leaving a confused predator to go hungry.]

[One of the downsides to the city's deterioration was that what control over Arkham Asylum Crane actually had was weaning. An asylum had no use in a city full of lunatics. So, he had started to...expand his business somewhat. After all, a hallucinogenic like his could fetch a pretty price on the black market.

It had started getting annoying that all his customers were going insane. What part of 'buyer beware' didn't they get?

So, he was waiting in an alleyway for his 'client'-an alleyway that he was certain would be deserted. The presence of some average looking little girl threw a bit of a wrench in his plans.]

I hope you're only passing through, [Crane calmly said, giving Jane a cold look.]

[The young woman looked at him and tilted her head. She knew the man. After all, she'd been a patient in Arkham. Before and after the madness of Jonathan Crane. But Jane (in her more lucid moments) knew her greatest asset was how unmemorable she was.

Her crimes were almost legendary. Faces beaten in, corpses burned, teeth filed away. Everything to destroy evidence that could reveal who the bpdy really belonged to.

The perpetrator, however, was forgettable. At least in her "natural" state.

She shrugged her shoulders, an almost vacant look in her eyes. Like someone who wasn't quite with it. At least not mentally.]

Don't know. Why?

[Almost like a child, with only a vague grasp of the remark without understanding the context the situation provided.]

[Crane didn't recognize the woman. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter that much to him. Arkham had plenty of lunatics, who now were out and about on the streets. He could hardly remember all of their faces.]

To put it mildly, this won't exactly be a safe alleyway to be at in- [a pause, while he checked his watch] five minutes or so.

[He said the words in an idle tone as if casually informing somebody that a road was under construction, or a store would be closing down soon. The unsafe alleyway was just a small inconvenience.] Wouldn't want you over your head.

[There were too many lunatics in Arkham. Before and after. Besides, one frequently noted for good behavior was hardly anyone's priority. Dr. Carver had been fascinated by Jane... and Jane was, perhaps, best known for having killed Carver and masqueraded as her while continuing her shifts with the inmates for three months before vanishing.

But that didn't call attention to what Jane looked like. Only what she was capable of doing. The mimicry she could pull off and the duration of the act.

At present, she looked harmless. A young woman, unarmed and alone, walking alone in Gotham. She shrugged her thin shoulders, peering at him as her posture shifted a little. A subtle adaptation to be more like his, slowly taking in the characteristics of who she was talking to.]

Never is. Gotham.

[Gretel. Black magic. Need I say more?]

His AU IS pretty much this.
>Captured by slavers at an early age
>Family killed
>Vocal cords removed

I'm fine with rescue situations if you'd like, or maybe he was sent to do things to your character? Strange shenanigans? Hit me up! <3

[may still work for the Empire] or
[may still favour killing civilians]

[Splits off at S.02 "Waters of Mars". The Doctor now has the power to change and control all of time and space. Either Adelaide's suicide did not affect him, or he flew away before it happened. Now he decides who lives or dies.

Don't like it? Tough.]

[So, is he still calling himself Time Lord Victorious, or has he accepted the Valeyard?]

Edited 2013-05-23 17:50 (UTC)

[He is still the Time Lord Victorious, but he's aware that the name Valeyard might soon become his own title.]

The Darkest Timeline Meme

Kit Walker - American Horror Story: Asylum

Dale Cooper / Twin Peaks

Sam Winchester (63'd) | Supernatural | OTA

Chang Wufei | Gundam Wing

Shadow the Hedgehog [AU]

Irene Adler // Elementary // OTA

Zomg spoilers for 1.23 "The Woman" and 1.24 "Heroine"

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LUNATIC | TIGER&BUNNY

Jeremy Belpois | Code Lyoko | OTA

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BRITTA PERRY ; community

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River Song | Doctor Who | OTA

oh lets do that last one shall we?

Yes, let's!

Re: Yes, let's!

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exactly