kore_logs | The Return

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The Return

Who: the Doctor, open
Where: the edge of the woods, by the ocean side. Southwest of the island
When: Day 34
What: The Doctor returns, and is surprised to find himself in a somewhat familiar location.

At first there were echoes of crashing waves in the distance, growing louder and more distinct when the Doctor finally opens his eyes. Odd... I don't remember landing-- He startles, sitting up only to feel something on his wrist and he quickly recognizes the communicator.

"I've been here before." But he didn't remember how he had left or how he had returned. Nor did he remember any events up to this point, as if his memory had been tampered. Resting his elbows on his knees, he sat there looking around before running hands through his hair.

After a while, he taps on the communicator, sending out a video to the network, "Hi! Hello! Anyone out there?"

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He frowned at her reply, making him wonder what kind of personality-types he would be running into. He opened up his mouth to comment there were planets and vast societies where the female halves were more dominate, but what matter did it have? He was without his TARDIS and stuck on an island.

At her last comment, he laughed, "Not a medical doctor, no. Although a scientist of everything else. Astronomy, geology, physics, botany, literature..." He gives a cheeky grin before sitting down.

"A jack of all trades?" She couldn't help but show a bit of admiration. Immortal though she was, she hadn't yet found the time to study many of those subjects. It was her own fault, she supposed. She'd made choices about how to spend her off-duty years. And none of those choices had involved literature.

Mina removed her blazer, tossing it over the back of a chair. She rolled up her sleeves. On her left arm, halfway between her wrist and her elbow, there was an old scar. A P-shaped burn, leftover from her mortal days. Once upon a time, she'd been self-conscious about it. Now, she gave it no thought at all as she took out her stethoscope, draping it around her neck, prepared to do work.

Life was always easier with a task at hand.

He watches her intently, moving about the table and collecting some items. Leaning forward, he unbuttons his tailored jacket, folds it across his lap and unbuttons a sleeve to roll it up, knowing she was interested in a blood sample. Although, her tests wouldn't show much of anything. He had no blood type, at least not in human standards.

"What's your scar there? It's like a letter..." Rude and not ginger, that was him. Always curious and wanting to know more.

Mina glanced down at her arm. "Nasty encounter with a less than gentlemanly gentleman," she replied. Her standard response. And it was a truth. As long as one accepted lies of omission. It wasn't as though she was about to out and out tell a stranger that she'd been condemned to death for piracy in the 1700s.

Which reminded her.

"What year do you think it is?" she asked, walking over and pulling out a chair across from him.

"That's a shame. I'm sorry."

He blinks for a moment at her question, furrowed his brows, and quickly stands up and walks to the nearest window, looking out. "The stars..." His eyes dart across the night's sky. A hand is raised as he traces a finger along what constellations he could spot, and he closes his eyes for a moment.

"It's distorted. Time is distorted here." Opening his eyes back up, he looks at the dimly lit kitchen, "This kitchen looks like it dates to the 1980s or even earlier, however, these communicators don't fall into place for that, nor does that camera." He nods to the one on the wall.

"The exact date, I don't know. But time..." And he half laughs, "It's all wibbly-wobbly, but even moreso here."

Both of her eyebrows shot up, practically to her hairline. She was certainly learning a lot about her new friend. And not at all what she expected.

"I mean," she said politely, once he'd finished, "what year was it before you arrived here? Not what year is it here? It does seem to be...to use your term...distorted."

The stars, she could understand. Dating a place by the kitchen left her at a loss.

Then again, she'd never owned a kitchen.

Time to have a confession, "I'm not human." He walks back to the table, resting his hands on the back of the chair, "I'm a Time Lord. I can see all of time and space, but here, the laws of physics don't follow up quite right, meanings someone or something is tampering with it."

He smiles softly, "I didn't mean to startle you, if I did." She did have a surprised look upon her face, "As for what year? Last I checked, it was 2009, but even that isn't correct, as I can travel through time."

Mina considered it for a moment. And then she unlooped the stethoscope from around her neck, gathering up the cord, and setting it down on the table. "I'm going to guess that giving you a physical would be bloody useless," she declared.

She leaned over, picking up a pad of paper and a pencil. "What, exactly," she asked, pencil poised, "is a Time Lord?"

"From a planet that no longer exists, I'm the last of my kind. From a medical standpoint, as I assume that's what you're interested in: two hearts, a double pulse that is bradycardic compared to yours, no blood type, a respiratory bypass, a fast metabolism, I don't need as much sleep, a low core body temperature... What else would you like to know?"

He grins as he steps around to sit back down, "You haven't told me much about yourself, might I point out."

She took a few notes, particularly curious about what it meant to have no blood type. Blood had, of course, come to the forefront of almost everything she did in Cape Kore. It was necessary for her survival. Back home, it was a simple matter to get the blood she needed to stay alive. She worked in a bloody hospital, after all. But here? She never knew exactly what she might be biting into. And while having Pendragon to serve as a virtual blood spigot was certainly convenient, she didn't want to rely on him too heavily.

After all, people had a peculiar way of vanishing around here.

"As you're not my physician," she replied when he turned the conversation back on her suddenly, "I don't think there's much you'd want to know. Now. What is your standard body temperature?"

"There's plenty I want to know." He could play this game, be tight-lipped as much as she was.

He rested an arm on the table, playfully leaning forward, studying her, "You've evaded most of my questions or barely answered any at all. You can trust me, but I doubt you believe me as we've just met, but what else do you have to lose?"

He leaves it at that, as he sits back in this chair, stretching out his long legs before him and watching her body language.

Cheeky.

Mina raised an eyebrow, leveling her greenish-blue eyes on him for a moment. It was not in her nature to trust. Kindred were innately secretive. But, she supposed, he was clearly not a Kindred. And as far as she could remember, she'd never heard of a Time Lord at all, let a lone a Time Lord hunter.

"All right," she finally said, setting down her paper and her pencil. She bridged her fingers in front of her chest. It was an old pirate's trick she'd never quite been able to shake. It was meant to show dominance. Steepled fingers displaying the vast amounts of wealth she possessed. In the form of her rings. "What would you like to know?"

His gaze is focused on her hand, before catching her eyes, "What year is it for you? What's the actual story of that scar of yours? Can I trust you?"

Three questions, that's all it was, and he couldn't help that smug smirk of his forming on his features. He really wasn't here to play games, but he needed to know who he could trust, and he needed allies. He had escaped here once before, somehow, and he needed to know how he managed it and if he were able to save others.

Of those three questions, at least two of them were simple enough.

"Before I came here," she said casually, "it was 1932. I've been told I'm horrendously out of date, as everyone else here seems to be from my future." And didn't stop complaining about the lack of technology. As far as she was concerned, this was, by far, the most advanced tech she'd seen.

Excluding Doctor Brown's flying car.

She leaned her head to one side. "As for whether or not you can trust me," she said, "it seems that you have, so far. I do stand by my oaths. Doctor-patient confidentiality and all. And I hardly think I have any reason to stab you in the back."

Mina glanced at her scar a moment. "As for this...that is a more complicated mater."

"Sixteen degrees Celsius." He replied, "That's my average temperature." Although she was opening up to him, he still remained doubtful for some of the truthfulness. For starters, he felt she was older than that time she gave. It was just a guess, however, as his senses were a bit off here.

"And you can trust me. I won't hurt you, and that's outside of that silly oath of yours."

"You would not believe the number of times I've been stabbed in the back by someone telling me that I could trust them," she replied coolly. Not a bitter statement. Not angry or resentful. A sad, frank, fact of her life.

She glanced down at her arm for a moment. Then her eyes flicked back to him. Mina liked to think she was getting to be a better judge of character in this place. He, at least, seemed better than most.

All right. Fine.

"I was held prisoner in a Jamaican prison for two months," she said flatly. "During that time, a man named Captain Jonathan Rogers took a fancy to me. He came into my cell one evening and tried to rape me. I resisted. He grabbed an iron from the fire and burned me."

Dispassionate again. That was what had happened. No editorializing.

He rubs his face before nodding, "Thank you... for sharing that memory." And without a hesitation, he stands up, slipping back on his jacket.

"I don't know what I can do for you yet, but somehow I was able to escape once. I don't know how or why, but I was able to. If I find another way... If I can help you in anyway, I will."

She ran her tongue along the inside of her lower lip, watching him scurry after a single moment of honesty.

Men.

"You needn't do anything for me," she said dully. "I didn't ask for anything." Nor would she.

"You don't have to." He sees that look, he's seen it before in so many people. She wasn't going to fully trust him, not yet.

"I'll never take advantage of you and I'll never harm you. I'm your ally and hopefully friend. I don't know how else to convince you that, besides, it looks like we're going to be stuck here for a while."

She crossed her legs. It was an uncharacteristically feminine gesture on her part. "Between you and me, darling," she said, deciding to be merciful, "allying yourself with me is tantamount to social suicide around here. I'm not a popular person. I speak my mind. I'm not a follower. And I don't suffer fools."

And there were plenty of fools around here.

"I rather fancy you a bit, so this is a warning. A genuine warning for your own protection. I'm not a valuable friend to have."

He grins, meeting his eyes and full of mirth, "I'm typically a good judge of character and I like you. So... Danger? Hah! I walk on the wild side. I laugh in the face of danger.... Oh," He pauses, running his tongue along the tops of his teeth, "There's a Lion King quote for you."

"But I'm not here to have tea parties, I got out and I want back out. I have enough on my plate as it is." Such as the prophecy foretold he was to die at some point. He had to figure that much out.

He wanted to run so very badly.

Mina had no idea what this 'Lion King' was, but really, she didn't understand half of what these people from the future were saying at any given moment, so it no longer fazed her. And she no longer bothered to ask.

He was mental. Absolutely mental. And for some godforsaken reason, she liked it.

"We all want out," she agreed. "We're just not coordinated enough to work together for it."

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The Return

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