.... I hope this is okay? I couldn't resist.hasperkynipplesDecember 18 2010, 17:25:55 UTC
Dean being in jail is nothing new.
It happens fairly often to him. It was easier when he wasn't a wanted fugitive for murder, and he thinks that after the last Apocalypse he really should have gotten the angels to wipe that record clean, but alas, beggars can't be choosers.
(Actually, they could, because that is what Dean had just spent that one year of his life fighting for, but ... details.)
Dean's most recent trip to jail involved an angry ghost, a loaded weapon that he may or may not have had a permit for, and a sheriff who was really probably just doing this to teach him a lesson, but Dean isn't really all that amused. At least Mills promised not to book him completely, but until she got done with her little power trip, he was going to stay right where he is sitting. On a cot, in jail, in Bumfuck Nowhere, South Dakota.
Sounds fantastic to me!rude_not_gingerDecember 18 2010, 17:38:09 UTC
The man, a man known only as the Doctor (except to one particular woman from Italy who still calls him "Bobby" for reasons even he doesn't really understand), turns to face the young man in the cell with him.
"Seconds happen to mean everything right now!" he insists, furiously. "I'm not even supposed to be on this side of the---"
Galaxy happens to be the next word he should be saying, but he's very aware that saying that doesn't do a whole lot in this American town, so he amends his statement somewhat.
Dean just stares. For a good long while. This guy? Clearly not a prison frequenter. Dean is a pro at the old hurry up and wait routine, but he also knows that sometimes the really important thing that you have to do is actually a really important thing.
Which means he honestly doesn't know what to tell the guy, other than:
"Well, unless you've got a teleporter hidden in there somewhere, you're probably gonna have to reschedule. Cops around here? They like to take their time."
"No, they took it from me when they searched me," the Doctor says, dejectedly dropping onto the opposite bed. He is a prison frequenter, though he's not a prison stayer, if such a word actually existed. He usually can break out of the most complicated setups, from the Gargantuan prisons to the complicated cells at Stormcage. He can't, however, figure out a way out of a simple cell in South Dakota.
whatever you want, can be new, can have some Taxon history to it, I don't care~ beholdthedrumsDecember 18 2010, 18:04:34 UTC
It is new for the Master to be in jail. Quite new. That was the Doctor with all his faults, not him.
It was one little, tiny colony. Which, the Master would like to add, wasn't his fault for arriving on.
In fact, he had very little idea of how he came across it. But! He was alive, still in a quite fashionable suit; so what if there was this nice block to his memory about what happened to him before he found himself on the colony. He'd deal with that later! Perhaps after he brought the little place to its knees and had them begging for their lives until they restored his mind to its proper state -
Okay, okay. So the real truth of the matter was that the Master had arrived on some tiny colony, with his mind in disarray, a block on his memory that even he couldn't tear down, and therefore blamed this tiny colony on everything ever and laid waste to it until his mind was fixed.
That was how the Master found himself in prison. He, and the narrator, will not go into how he came managed this downfall and spiral to prison, but it
( ... )
The Doctor was in full-out yell-at-the-guard-until-something-happens-or-he-gets-sedated mode, and he was quite comfortable being in this position, actually, when he heard that voice. Only a very few voices in the universe could pull him out of the previous mode, and the Master's was one of them.
He spun around, eyes wide. He wanted to say something like You! Of course it would be you! or maybe How?! How is it possible that you're here!
Even if that Doctor had asked those questions, the Master wouldn't have given him a legit answer. Skirt away from the topic, perhaps? Yes, of course. Maybe he could play this mishap off as some plan of his with a deeper truth, or maybe he could just plain use the Doctor. Not... that he needed the Doctor's help or anything. Never.
The Master seems plenty unaffected by the Doctor's reaction.
Well, that is the truth, not that the Doctor will ever admit it.
He reaches for his sonic, but realizes that it, along with everything else useful he had in there, has been confiscated by the authorities who arrested him. He's going to have to face the Master off with his wits alone. Because they couldn't possibly (in his mind) work together.
He's been in more difficult situations, surely.
He goes for tactic numero uno: Nonchalance. He flops back onto the bed, feigning with the best of the feigners.
"Suppose you've been put in here without any promise of bail as well, then?"
"Hello, Doctor!" comes a cheerful voice from one corner, as a thirteen year old Dennis Creevey waves at him from where he's sat on the bench/bed, feet kicking above the dusty floor.
"In jail again, then?" asks an older version of the first voice, because there's a twenty-year old Unspeakable-in-Training Dennis Creevey at the small barred windows, standing on tip-toe to look out.
They both beam, like this isn't a major temporal catastrophe waiting to happen. Which it is. Which is why they are in the jail in the first place.
The Doctor spins around, at first immensely excited to see his young companion, and then excited to see the older version of his young companion, and then utterly terrified.
He holds out his hands, as if by the sheer force of his own will he could keep them from being in the same place at the same time.
"Dennis!" he says. "What are the two of you doing here?!"
"I was trying to make my wardrobe bigger on the inside than the outside," Dennis the younger explained, "so my brother and dad could hide in it if Snatchers or Death Eaters came after us!"
"And I was trying to make the perfect hard-boiled egg," Creevey the elder, added. "So you can see how that would be a problem!"
"We're okay if we don't touch, though, right?" Dennis asked hopefully. "We've already discovered it's a really bad idea to try magic!"
"Hence the jail," Creevey put in, attempting to look innocent and failing spectacularly.
"Hard-boiled eggs and wardrobes," the Doctor said, nodding emphatically, as if that explained everything. It didn't.
"Yes, well, that's---part of it, actually," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Any accidental touching, any at all, and we're talking universal catastrophe." A beat. "The bad sort of universal catastrophe."
He looked back at the cell door. "How bad is it to try magic, again?"
The cell isn't that bad really and Jo's been in plenty of them. At some point she'll see about escaping or waiting for rescue, but for now she's happy to sit comfortably.
When she hears someone coming she wonders if they're going to let her out, but no, they're just going to put someone in the same cell as her. So Jo stands up and grins at him. She doesn't recognise him as any of the protesters, but then she hadn't met them all.
"I wouldn't worry about it," she says to him. "This sort of thing happens all the time."
"Yes, maybe, but when it happens to me, I can usually find a way out!" the Doctor says, irritated. He gives the bars a kick, which does little bit to stub his toe. He hops about, and then heads over to the bed, which he climbs up onto in order to look out the window.
"If I could resonate the concrete on these bars, we should be able to loosen them---no, no, sorry, wrong cell. This one needs something else."
Jo sits back down on the other bed to watch him. "My husband knows where I am. If we wait long enough he'll get us out." She's entirely relaxed about the whole thing.
"Hmph," the Doctor replies. "If he can figure out where to find us. I've always had a problem with genius scientists. Well, genius scientists who aren't me. Well, genius scientists who aren't me and aren't me currently."
He fumbles through his pockets and comes up with nothing.
"Jewelry!" he says, spinning to look at her. "Jo, do you have any earrings, anything thin and pliable?"
It had been a long time since Martha had been in a cell. Torchwood might have been beyond the police, as Jack was so fond of reminding her, but UNIT worked within the law and with the approval of the United Nations. This sort of thing hadn't happened to her since she'd left the TARDIS.
"You can't do this!" she yelled as she was thrown roughly into the cell, stumbling into her new cellmate for a moment before turning round to run to the door. "I'm the delegate for the Unified Intelligence Taskforce and ..."
And they were gone.
"Brilliant," she snapped, letting go of the bars she'd been gripping fiercely. "Just brilliant."
It wasn't the most successful first contact in the history of the human race. In fact, it was probably near the very bottom of the list. But before she could consider the wider ramifications of her arrest, she turned back and realised exactly who she was sharing a cell with. Her eyes widened in understandable astonishment.
"Did you see that?" he raved, throwing his hands up in the air. "They don't listen! Not one bit! Did you see? Not all these hours of shouting at them, they haven't even----"
Which was when he noticed who it was he was addressing.
"Martha?" he said, grinning madly as he turned to her. "Martha Jones!"
She definitely wasn't imagining things, then. It really was the Doctor. (And, although it had been months since she'd seen him, some things never changed. He was still getting himself into trouble.)
"Oh my god!" Despite the circumstances, his grin was rather infectious. Martha couldn't help but return it. (She couldn't resist throwing her arms around his neck to give him a hug, either. It had been months, after all.) "What are you doing here?"
He hugged back, tightly. After the last week in this place (and other really unpleasant places he didn't want to think about), he really needed the affection (plus, the fact that she was strong enough to brace him if he decided to collapse in a pile of exhaustion was always helpful).
"Long and...complicated story! What about you? How did you get here?" He held up a hand. "Wait, no, nevermind. We can sort that out once we're out of here."
Comments 259
It happens fairly often to him. It was easier when he wasn't a wanted fugitive for murder, and he thinks that after the last Apocalypse he really should have gotten the angels to wipe that record clean, but alas, beggars can't be choosers.
(Actually, they could, because that is what Dean had just spent that one year of his life fighting for, but ... details.)
Dean's most recent trip to jail involved an angry ghost, a loaded weapon that he may or may not have had a permit for, and a sheriff who was really probably just doing this to teach him a lesson, but Dean isn't really all that amused. At least Mills promised not to book him completely, but until she got done with her little power trip, he was going to stay right where he is sitting. On a cot, in jail, in Bumfuck Nowhere, South Dakota.
You're timing was really far off, Doctor ( ... )
Reply
"Seconds happen to mean everything right now!" he insists, furiously. "I'm not even supposed to be on this side of the---"
Galaxy happens to be the next word he should be saying, but he's very aware that saying that doesn't do a whole lot in this American town, so he amends his statement somewhat.
"---city today."
Reply
Which means he honestly doesn't know what to tell the guy, other than:
"Well, unless you've got a teleporter hidden in there somewhere, you're probably gonna have to reschedule. Cops around here? They like to take their time."
Reply
"Is that shirt all cotton?" he asks, suddenly.
Reply
It was one little, tiny colony. Which, the Master would like to add, wasn't his fault for arriving on.
In fact, he had very little idea of how he came across it. But! He was alive, still in a quite fashionable suit; so what if there was this nice block to his memory about what happened to him before he found himself on the colony. He'd deal with that later! Perhaps after he brought the little place to its knees and had them begging for their lives until they restored his mind to its proper state -
Okay, okay. So the real truth of the matter was that the Master had arrived on some tiny colony, with his mind in disarray, a block on his memory that even he couldn't tear down, and therefore blamed this tiny colony on everything ever and laid waste to it until his mind was fixed.
That was how the Master found himself in prison. He, and the narrator, will not go into how he came managed this downfall and spiral to prison, but it ( ... )
Reply
He spun around, eyes wide. He wanted to say something like You! Of course it would be you! or maybe How?! How is it possible that you're here!
Instead, he managed:
"What do you mean, me and my timing?!"
Reply
The Master seems plenty unaffected by the Doctor's reaction.
"That it's always terrible."
Reply
He reaches for his sonic, but realizes that it, along with everything else useful he had in there, has been confiscated by the authorities who arrested him. He's going to have to face the Master off with his wits alone. Because they couldn't possibly (in his mind) work together.
He's been in more difficult situations, surely.
He goes for tactic numero uno: Nonchalance. He flops back onto the bed, feigning with the best of the feigners.
"Suppose you've been put in here without any promise of bail as well, then?"
Reply
"In jail again, then?" asks an older version of the first voice, because there's a twenty-year old Unspeakable-in-Training Dennis Creevey at the small barred windows, standing on tip-toe to look out.
They both beam, like this isn't a major temporal catastrophe waiting to happen. Which it is. Which is why they are in the jail in the first place.
Reply
He holds out his hands, as if by the sheer force of his own will he could keep them from being in the same place at the same time.
"Dennis!" he says. "What are the two of you doing here?!"
Reply
"And I was trying to make the perfect hard-boiled egg," Creevey the elder, added. "So you can see how that would be a problem!"
"We're okay if we don't touch, though, right?" Dennis asked hopefully. "We've already discovered it's a really bad idea to try magic!"
"Hence the jail," Creevey put in, attempting to look innocent and failing spectacularly.
Reply
"Yes, well, that's---part of it, actually," he said, rubbing the back of his head. "Any accidental touching, any at all, and we're talking universal catastrophe." A beat. "The bad sort of universal catastrophe."
He looked back at the cell door. "How bad is it to try magic, again?"
Reply
When she hears someone coming she wonders if they're going to let her out, but no, they're just going to put someone in the same cell as her. So Jo stands up and grins at him. She doesn't recognise him as any of the protesters, but then she hadn't met them all.
"I wouldn't worry about it," she says to him. "This sort of thing happens all the time."
Reply
"If I could resonate the concrete on these bars, we should be able to loosen them---no, no, sorry, wrong cell. This one needs something else."
Reply
ooc: I entirely forgot to mention she's post-SJA
Reply
He fumbles through his pockets and comes up with nothing.
"Jewelry!" he says, spinning to look at her. "Jo, do you have any earrings, anything thin and pliable?"
OOC: Sounds good!
Reply
"You can't do this!" she yelled as she was thrown roughly into the cell, stumbling into her new cellmate for a moment before turning round to run to the door. "I'm the delegate for the Unified Intelligence Taskforce and ..."
And they were gone.
"Brilliant," she snapped, letting go of the bars she'd been gripping fiercely. "Just brilliant."
It wasn't the most successful first contact in the history of the human race. In fact, it was probably near the very bottom of the list. But before she could consider the wider ramifications of her arrest, she turned back and realised exactly who she was sharing a cell with. Her eyes widened in understandable astonishment.
"Doctor?"
Reply
Which was when he noticed who it was he was addressing.
"Martha?" he said, grinning madly as he turned to her. "Martha Jones!"
Reply
"Oh my god!" Despite the circumstances, his grin was rather infectious. Martha couldn't help but return it. (She couldn't resist throwing her arms around his neck to give him a hug, either. It had been months, after all.) "What are you doing here?"
Reply
"Long and...complicated story! What about you? How did you get here?" He held up a hand. "Wait, no, nevermind. We can sort that out once we're out of here."
Reply
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