paradisa | 6th Memory ~ [Accidental Dictation]

Entry tags:

david webb/jason bourne

6th Memory ~ [Accidental Dictation]

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[The second that David Webb woke up, he managed to slip past everyone and get up to his room. Despite being weak, dirty, disheveled, with a nasty bullet-gash on his side, he didn't want to speak to anyone. He'd take care of himself.

Which is, of course, why his journal decided to flop open.

What people will hear is the quiet sobbing of a man who held his own, rather admirably, against the collectors, the man who sung in perfect Vietnamese, who can speak German and read Chinese... Sobbing, brokenly.]

I can't... I can't do this... Can't even control myself. [His tone seems angry, angry at himself.] Oh God... What do I do...?

[A noticeable pause]

Marie... My darling... I'm sorry. I can't cope without you, but... If you were ever to come here... I don't think I could bear it. You've put up with so much... But I miss you. I miss you and Jamie. I miss Mo, and Alex. Things would be so much bearable with you.

...No. That's... No. I don't want them here. I don't want them to be worrying...

[A sigh, a couple more sobs.]

I don't know what I want.

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((OOC: I promise I'll stop spamming y'all with this guy now. XD Open to everyone! David will highly likely try to avoid talking about anything, but will be broken enough to be obvious about it. Have at.))

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[ Sneakily and quietly aren't much help when Duke is paying attention more to whether people smell of blood or not. So the blind man follows, carefully and slowly, and ends up with a shut door and a journal of ... broken. At least he's pretty sure this is still the right door.

So he knocks, journal in hand yet. ]

If you are still bleeding, I can heal that for you.

[To avoid meeting people. Yeah, this is written.]

I'm fine.

[No-one's home.]

There is fresh blood at your door. Your definition is off. I can fix the bleeding.

I had blood on my hands. It's nothing to worry about.

I'm sure more people are in worse shape than me.

[ Whoever you are, Lowell has a particularly unimpressed look that Duke wished he knew how to emulate- and get across through doors and voice. ]

Then point me their way.

I would say the clinic, probably, or out on the lawn where the ship crashed.

It's a graze. I can deal with it myself.

[He doesn't see David leave in the aftermath. There's too much to do, even for a Doctor. He can't be in every place at once, though he tries. He can listen though. You'd think that after everything he's heard enough.

He can already see the repercussions of this, Paradisa's greatest abhored stunt he's witnessed so far, lasting a long time, for everyone. It's that thought that follows him when he hears David from his journal and thinks he can recognise a man about to break.]

David? Where are you?

[Everything's silent from the other end for a long moment. A long, drawn out moment.]

I'm... I'm safe, Doctor. I'm fine...

[He's only half-answering the question.]

[He starts looking around for him and counting the seconds it takes for him to answer.

When it comes, David's not really answered him at all. After what everyone has just gone through and what he's heard, he seriously doubts that anyone is fine, especially those from off the other ship.]

You don't sound it David. I don't think anyone realistically is. Tell me where you are. Are you hurt?

I'm not hurt.

[Lies upon lies. He's dealing with it.]

Doctor, I... [A pause.] I think other people need more attention.

And they are receiving it. Look, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried. I know what I heard from you on the ship. [And there's what he witnessed at Terre Haute and that's another whole cricket match.] You don't have to talk to me but at least let me check up on you. Please. And then I'll leave you in peace.

[Looking around again, the Doctor is satisfied that David isn't outside and he makes his way into the castle.]

I'm coming upstairs and trying your room first. Or you could tell me where you're at. I don't think I want to run all over the castle... [His tone is deliberately light, but what is he saying? He would anyway.]

Edited 2013-05-27 16:19 (UTC)

[There's a long pause, but something in him urges him to trust the Doctor. It might be Bourne, or it might be himself, but...]

Has anyone told you that you're a little too persistent, Doctor?

[That's said gruffly.]

I'm in my room.

Yes. Amongst other things. [It's a good job he doesn't take any notice and the relief in his voice is evident.] Thank you.

[Crossing the lobby at a run now he has a definite location, he takes the stairs of Terrere Tower two at a time. It isn't so long before he's at David's door, knocking and trying the handle to see if it's open.]

David?

[The door is open, but the main bedroom is empty. One thing to note is the bloodied, dirty shirt tossed off to one side on the back of a chair.

The Doctor may hear a sharp intake of breath, and a grunt of pain from the bathroom, however. Seems that's where his patient is.]

[He sees that bloody shirt as he enters and stops short, his hand still on the door handle as he takes it in. And then he hears the noise. Shoving the door closed, he rushes to the bathroom.]

David?

[Entering, he sees him and he sees blood. Snatching a clean towel from the rack, he doesn't even think, just acts, and goes straight to him.]

That looks like a bullet wound. Why did you lie? You should be at the clinic.

It's a graze. I'm dealing with it.

[When the Doctor burst in, he was cleaning the wound with rubbing alcohol, and now he was deftly wrapping his side in gauze and clean bandaging.

This side of the work was Jason Bourne. He knew how to deal with bullet-wounds.]

Yes, I heard you dealing with it clearly. [Meaning the grunt of pain he heard. His voice is mild, not chiding.]

I'm here, let me help. There's no reason to make things difficult for yourself. [And shucking off his coat quickly, he'll take up the slack of that bandage and continue to wrap and fasten.]

Do you know who did this? [Not that knowing who did should matter now.]

Edited 2013-06-11 00:20 (UTC)

[He relents that much, keeping his arms lifted.]

Yes, I know who it was.

[His voice is despondant, hollow. He doesn't seem interested in furthering the conversation.]

[He's almost done with the dressing and bandage, and thinking on how the wound would be better stitched when images of David's memory of what happened flood in. It's accidental but the Doctor can't unsee them never-the-less. With his hands still on David he stands perfectly still while what he sees feels disjointed, missing parts, out of order, but then, memory so often is.]

[Two, three, two, no, how many people? The voices, they're everywhere. What? No, that's not right. You're struggling. Why? Gun and muzzle flash. Who are you?]]

He wasn't of sound mind. No one was.

Anyone who works for MI6 seems to have a penchant for the insane.

[He says that, dryly, as he remembers Hong Kong, China, Kowloon...]

[The scene he picks up changes; impressions of Asia, the Far East, a walled city. They're memories, but... There's something not right. His gaze travels up to David's face, noting his tone of voice and the dryness in it, it doesn't sit alongside what the Doctor heard from the journal, not even close in his opinion, not after what everyone has been through on the ships. His fingers fumble with the tapes to fasten the bandage and he removes his hands from David's side as if they were burned.]

[Quietly and cautiously, ] David... On the ship. No one was of sound mind on the ship... British Intelligence or not. Nineteen Eighty Five and the Sino-British Joint Declaration. An Oriental Studies Professor, but you're more than that, aren't you? You showed me. In Terre Haute.

[He moves to come around in front of him and his hand goes out slowly to David's shoulder.]

Come on. Let's get you out of the bathroom and resting, properly. I'll help you through if needed, lean on me if you have to.

[David looks to the Doctor and frowns.]

How...?

[How did he know about that? Simple guess-work? It's a little bit off, though. That supports the guess work theory.]

No. That's all I am. Just a professor. Plain old David Webb.

[He's not ready. Not yet. He doesn't want people to know... He doesn't want to ruin what he's got. Doesn't want Delta to ruin it.]

Some people do extraordinary things under pressure. Invading aliens? I'd say that's pressure.

[He's going to start moving, though, not leaning on the Doctor.]

I'm fine, Doctor. Thank you for the help.

How...? [After what just transpired and David's state, he thinks that coming right out and telling him how will not help things, not yet. But the Doctor doesn't lie, either. His voice is level, calm and gentle, but sure.] You told me, David.

The year you're from, that you're a Professor. Where else would you teach that subject? Just from the amount of books that you have from the Far east, it's clear that you've spent time there. The same year and the biggest, most important event to happen to Japan in that decade. I know history well, and the same event happened where you're from. I'm not wrong, am I?

[Moving with David he stays close by his side, just in case. His voice keeps the same calm and sure tone.]

You're correct. People are capable of amazing feats when under great pressure. But what you did in Terre Haute requires training. No one is capable of shooting at that level of accuracy if they are just a Professor.

The crash of Japan Airlines flight 123. A Boeing 747 Aircaft crash-landed off of Mount Takamagahara. It happened a couple of weeks ago, I heard about it on the radio.

[A pause.]

I was assigned to Vietnam. My specialist subject was useful, as you can imagine. We were at war, I had training to be able to defend myself, but I was there as an officer of the Foreign Service, nothing more.

[All true. David Webb was assigned to Vietnam, he was a member of the Foreign Service. There's more, but he's not lying.]

What's your point, Doctor?

[Chell recognizes the voice when she opens the journal. But she doesn't want to disturb the man. So, she writes him a message in the journal instead. That way he can find it whenever he does.]

Professor Webb,

Don't give up. I know it's hard. I do. But... I'll support you any way I can.

[She hesitates, before writing.]

I don't know what help I can be, but I'm pretty good for crying on or offering an ear.

[There's a delay. A long delay before a response is written back.]

I'm fine. Don't worry about me. There's people worse off.

[She just shakes her head before penning an answer.]

I know. But I want to give you something in return for staying around, for talking to me back there.

[He really doesn't want to see anyone, but doesn't want to be too rude.]

Can you hold onto it for me? I need to sort some things out.

[Like the mess his brain is in at the moment...]

[Dairine is taking a quick break to drink some energy when the sobs come over the journal. She ponders whether closing it or simply ignoring it would be more polite, but then he begins to speak. And although his broadcast was clearly unintentional... well, Dairine has a lot of experience with missing people from home.]

It's not uncommon ― not knowing what you want.

Nothing is certain. Nothing is common.

[Wow... She knows they just went through hell, but that's a new level of cynical.]

Some things are certain. We might all have different experiences, but life still runs by the same basic rules. So there's always at least one thing in common between people.

We're born, we suffer through life, we die. Same basic rules.

[He's super-cynical today.]

All we can do is deal with it.

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6th Memory ~ [Accidental Dictation]

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Written

Duke always talks-

Understandable

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Feel free to scrap if this doesn't work; dictated to start

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Dictated

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Dictated

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