Sometimes I just want to get out of here

[notwhoiwas]

[It's been a bare handful of days since he's been broken out of prison and already Andred is finding the Vaults to be dreadfully boring. Oh, it's easy enough to dodge the patrols that have been sent out to look for him, but that doesn't much change the fact that it's not really very exciting. Stone corridors, stone floors, and it's all dreadfully tedious - despite rumors that it might actually be dangerous down here, so far he hasn't come across anything much more threatening than a pigrat.

And in any case, it's not like he has very many choices about where to go. If he were to show his face in the Capitol proper he'd almost certainly only find himself captured and thrown right back into prison... and that only if Romana decides to not have him eliminated outright. But such is life of a would-be fugitive and there's a part of him that's at least aware that it's all his fault.

(In his more daring moments, he thinks about sneaking back up to the Capitol anyway, if only to speak to Leela, but he hasn't yet managed to gather up the will to do more than think about it.)

It's the restless boredom that's begun to set in of late that drives him out of his more usual haunts. Though the rumors of what lurks beneath the Capitol might be nothing more than that, there has to be some grain of truth to it. Something more than just a twisting catacomb of tunnels and dust.

That said, he's not expecting to find what he does stumble across and certainly not as early on in his search as he does. But there it is all the same; a little room, hidden away from the main corridors and thoroughfares - such as they are - that looks very nearly as if it hasn't been touched in centuries. And despite himself, he can't help but be curious; he steps inside without so much as a second thought, eyes roving over the forgotten and dusty relics of days of yore. It is, however, what looks like distinctly like a long-range transmat that catches his interest most. An older model, but in decently good shape all things considered and even one can't deny that there's nothing for him on Gallifrey anymore.

Needless to say, he spends the next several spans doing his best to get it even passingly functional and he very nearly surprises himself when he manages, at last, to get the thing powered up. And from there, it's a foregone conclusion: if he can get off Gallifrey, he will, and he takes only the briefest of glances at the coordinates that are programmed in before deciding that anywhere has to be better than where he is now and consigning himself to the transmat beam.

(He is not, however, aware that by luck or chance the coordinates are - quite literally - in the path of the Doctor, but by the time he's gone it's already to late to change where he'll be landing.)]

Comments

[toobravehearted]

[ Noise. Flight. That's all there is. From the sound of his feet slapping the ground as he runs, the whip-snap of branches and foliage in his wake, his breath coming hard and ragged through his throat, the thud of his hearts in his chest coping with the physical demand.

It's not usual that the Doctor is concerned for himself. Worried about others, often, while his attitude on his own luck and well-being is blasé at best, ever hopeful to see the good in people, confident that most will do the right thing eventually and that it will benefit in him landing on his feet.

Except this time, he's alone, running through a dense and dark forest from an unseen but definitely heard something that he's sure is getting closer, and he's afraid.

When he catches whomever transmatted him here, they'll be getting a stern talking to. Providing what is hunting him in the forest doesn't get to him first. It feels like it's right behind him but whenever he dares risk a glance over his shoulder, he sees nothing. He does however, hear everything. Old trees creak and topple, ground and soil is churned as if by some vast beast.

He doesn't have time to ponder the curiosities of it all. Somewhere behind and to the left another tree topples and shakes the ground. The Doctor breaks right. It's a surprise when he bursts through the trees and onto open land but there's no way he's stopping. Before him there's a steep embankment and at the bottom a thin, gated, road. Further beyond that, a building about 200 yards away.

Building it is, and he run-slips-slides at speed down the embankment. At the bottom and on firmer ground he digs in, gaining more speed again, and just about to draw level with the gate, there's the tang and crackle of matter transference and right before him, a man appears as if from nowhere.

The unmistakeable sensation of another Time Lord pricks his senses but he doesn't have time to dwell on that; he tries to skid to a halt to avoid running into the man, but he's moving too fast and it's too late. ]

[notwhoiwas]

[Andred just barely has time to take in the general layout of where he's landed - and that he's not alone - before the Doctor quite literally comes crashing into him. In catches him off-guard too, and although his hand reflexively drops to his hip (where the staser he's ... appropriated lies hidden under the assorted layers of his robes) he can't quite manage to counteract the Doctor's momentum in time to stay upright and he goes down in a messy tangle of robes and Time Lord.

It's only then that he manages to take in just what the other man is wearing, and though they've never exactly met in person (at least, not in these incarnations), there are records enough to tell him just who it is he's just run into.]

Oh, yes. That's all I need.

[The comment seems to be mostly addressed to himself, and his voice is one that sounds like it would probably be not an unlovely one, if not for the fact that it seems to have a sort of world-weary lack of care firmly grafted on.]

[toobravehearted]

[ Newton's First Law of Motion is a marvellous thing, and as Andred goes down, so does the Doctor. If he had time to see hand drop to hip, he certainly doesn't have room to think on it. Rolling away and disentangling himself, more of a concern is the recognition of the robes of the Council but not the face, and hoping at least that he's unhurt. The latter appears true when the man speaks. Right now, the Doctor could get behind that world-weary. ]

Speak for both of us, why don't you.

[ Pushing up off the floor, his hand finds something straight, cold and hard. Scrabbling away the dust and gravel, he sees he edge of the transmat pad set in the ground, so that explains that. His attention is pulled away however, when from the top of the embankment there's an almighty crack as several trees fall, and a swirl of dust and soil fills the air and the ground heaves. Whatever it is, is coming towards them. ]

Go to go. Get up! [ He reaches to take a nice fistful of robe to haul Andred up. ] Can you run?

[notwhoiwas]

[There's a huff of breath at the Doctor's first comment, something that's not, quite, a laugh but suggests at something close to a grudging sort of amusement all the same. It hadn't been Andred's intent to speak for the both of them, but he can at least recognize that this particular method of meeting is something the both of them could have done with out.

The crack of trees falling, however - to say nothing of the Doctor's subsequent comment - is more than enough to pull him away from that particular moment of emotion, even if it's only to replace it with the realization that he might have been better off still in the Vaults and never mind the boredom.]

I can stand on my own.

[It's not offered snappishly, but only just, for all that the point is essentially moot given the handful of robe the Doctor's hanging onto. (Though Andred does, to his credit, at least prove part of what he's said to be true, given that he's already scrambling to his feet by the time he speaks.]

And yes, I can.

[He refrains from mentioning that he's been sort of on the run already, instead offering a 'lead the way' sort of gesture in the Doctor's direction. As much as he's not fond of the idea of following the Doctor anywhere, he has to assume the Doctor's been wherever this is longer and probably has a better idea of where they ought to be running to.]

[toobravehearted]

[ Well good for you, the Doctor thinks, only letting go of his robes once happy Andred is on his feet and ready. He makes another glance at what is coming for them before quickly returning his gaze to the other man with the affirmative that he's capable. It could be a telling expression to show the Doctor has been here for some time at least. There's a measure of genuine fear in his eyes, a result of being toyed with and relentlessly pursued by what he still can't see since the moment he landed, six hours ago by his reckoning. ]

Then do it! Building, over there! It's our only chance for cover.

[ The 'lead on' gesture doesn't help his mood. He can't tell if the man is underestimating the threat, or just being sarcastic. It is however beside the point; the Doctor is running, gaining speed and glancing over his shoulder to make sure Andred is with him and able to keep up.

The building isn't too far. The closer they get, the more the Doctor sees it's a simple structure of cement and steel, but hopefully sturdy. Providing they can get in of course, because between the forest and open land, there's not a lot of options right this minute. ]

[notwhoiwas]

[The fear is noted, without even so much as a second thought (one of the few good things to come of Andred's stay with the CIA). Admittedly, he hasn't got any more idea as to what might be chasing them than the Doctor does, but it does suggest as to some of urgency of the whole affair.

Which is, admittedly, still something of an annoyance, but rather than actually say anything one way or another, he simply nods his understanding and hikes his robes up a bit before following the Doctor's lead. He keeps pace with the Doctor remarkably well too, for someone who looks very much like he's fresh off Gallifrey. (And is not just that but also spent the last seven weeks cooling his heels in a cell, besides.) But both the CIA and the Chancellory Guard are such that he's used to certain amount of moving around and the desire to not get left behind sees to the rest.

He doesn't speak again until they start to draw reasonably close to the building in question.]

We're going to need a way in.

[It's meant more as a general comment than anything, but the inherent tone of his voice has it sliding closer to something that could come across as minor annoyance, even if it's clear enough that none of it's aimed at the Doctor.]

[toobravehearted]

[ The Doctor has to admit to himself, the man is keeping up pretty well for someone that has presumably never left the Capitol, for most Time Lords never do. As soon as he has that thought, he questions it. Most don't set outside the Capitol but some do. Fast on it's heels is the fact the man hasn't shut down in shock at being outside the Capitol in the first place. It's a thought that's shelved for now because there are more important things to think about.

Drawing ever closer, the building doesn't appear to have windows - good - and does appear to be abandoned - perhaps even better. Not that much of a surprise as the Doctor hadn't seen evidence of another soul here until running full pelt into his sprinting companion, bar the ageing transmat pads.

At his back he could swear he could feel grit and gravel raining down on his shoulders. Or, it could be his overactive imagination. Either way he doesn't risk another look back, and it's a moment before he has breath to spare to give an answer and Andred's irritation isn't taken personally. ]

Working on it!

[ For sure, he doesn't see an entrance on the sides of the building at their approach. He runs to the topmost corner and around, and on the far side is a wide metal door. The Doctor lunges for the handle and slips, only catching his balance by holding on. It serves a purpose in that he discovers it's locked. The mechanism though is primitive, flimsy even. Amazingly simple to open with an ident kit, but the Doctor is certain they don't have time for subtlety. ]

Help me! Shoulders. Break it in. On three!

[ Yes, he is suggesting they bump it hard at the same time, confident they'll be able to snap the lock in the jamb for it's not like he carries a weapon of any description. ]

[notwhoiwas]

[Andred, for his part, is mostly wondering why anyone would want to transmat here, of all places. It certainly doesn't seem particularly safe, and from the outside, the building itself doesn't look particularly interesting either.

(Andred is, of course, neither a historian or an architect, so he can't say even so much as whether it might have been of Gallifreyan origin, but it's probably not particularly relevant.)

Still, he manages to curb his initial reaction to the Doctor's comment. He certainly doesn't bear any real fondness for the man, but it's been made adequately clear over the past few weeks that he has no real authority anymore in either the CIA or the Chancellory Guard, and even if he had, the Doctor is not of either. So it is that Andred simply follows the Doctor as he makes his way around the building.

The actual suggestion, on the other hand, earns the Doctor a raised eyebrow. Andred may certain be more brash than he used be, these days, but he's not sure he can entirely believe what he's just heard. On the other hand, it's not like there are really a lot of options available, and after only a brief moment, he sighs and shakes his head.]

Sure.

[Unlike the Doctor, he is actually carrying a weapon, but he's reasonably certain that a staser isn't likely to blow the lock out no matter how hard he tries; it's the Doctor's suggestion or nothing, and he would really rather not stand around to see what it is that's following them, if there's some for of safety easily at hand.]

[toobravehearted]

[ Sure? Sure? For a split second the Doctor has to wonder if there's anything wrong with the man, especially with the sigh and head shake to go along with the single word. Perhaps it is shock after all. Or, if he has other options the Doctor is all ears. As it is, the Doctor himself is pretty much running on adrenaline right now and that doesn't come with such room for his usual politeness and niceties, just straight, pragmatic thinking about ensuring their continued existence. Later, if he's not regenerating or just plain dead, there will be a discussion to be had.

Positioning with his best shoulder forward and making sure Andred is right beside him and doing the same before charging, the Doctor doesn't waste time with an actual count. ]

Three!

[ Only then does he move, hoping his new friend is ready and doing the same, while also hoping that a) this will work as his confidence expects, and b) that it won't overly hurt. ]

[notwhoiwas]

[To be entirely honest, straightforward pragmatism is the sort of thing that Andred reacts best to. Which is not to say that there isn't likely to be some sort of discussion once they aren't busy trying to not do, but for now, Andred remembers the futility of trying to argue with the Doctor. Even if he isn't entirely certain if this version of the Doctor is anything like the one remembers.

(He hopes not, because that whole invasion had been exceedingly strange, but now is hardly the time to ask.)

Instead, he shoves his concerns and misgivings about this whole affair out of his mind as best he can, and - taking a position similar to the Doctor's - pretty much throws himself at the door at the Doctor's signal. And if he finds himself suddenly grateful for the few things Leela managed to teach him about throwing oneself against larger objects before things ended up as they have, he figures that this too is something that he doesn't need to mention.

Better still, the aging lock does indeed yield under their combined force, with a tortured screech of metal. And for all it raises the question of how they're going to keep the door closed if they need, at least they have a way in, now.]

[toobravehearted]

[ The Doctor's quite different to the one Andred remembers. That him likely would have sauntered along, expecting whatever it is that's after them to take its cue from the Doctor's pace and not the other way around, while getting Andred to do all the work of finding them shelter as he plays at dragging the mile long scarf in the dust and aloofly dictating the situation instead of reacting to it. Is Andred better off this time?

(As for that invasion... Yes, Andred probably is better off in this Doctor's company than last.)

As if to prove a point, from working together and their combined weight, they have a way in. It's dark inside, the only light coming from the open door. There's just enough time to see the room is long with a few abandoned pieces of old furniture; a desk, filing stacks, empty book cases. It isn't the Doctor's imagination any more that soil, grit and gravel are indeed raining down on his head and shoulders, and the noise from the thing as it tears up the earth behind them is deafening. ]

Inside, quickly!

[ Once inside, they probably are going to need to keep that door closed. ]

[notwhoiwas]

What is that thing?

[The question is mostly rhetorical, or at least, not one he expects to have answered right now. Saving their respective skins is far more important, and he follows close on the Doctor's heels (whatever else his faults, Andred has a surprisingly decent self-preservation instinct).

He doesn't make any attempt to hide to the way he almost instinctively checks over the inside of the building for anything at all that can be of use; a habit that has far more to do with his stay in the CIA than anything to do with the Chancellory Guard. But it's useful too; only the briefest of moments has passed before he speaks up again.]

If we drag a couple of those [he points to the filing stacks] up against the door, it should hold for now.

[He's not sure, either, when the two of them became a we and not a pair of people who happen to be working to a similar a goal, but right now, he's more interested in not dying then trying to figure out his emotional responses to any of this.]