[He tries to think on that a moment. It had changed over…and fallen into Jon’s hands briefly? He’s pretty sure Jon gave it over to someone, though. Regardless-]
If it suits you fine, your apartment might feel better for it.
If it works, what will this look like? You’ll see it or recall it to me?
[He isn’t in the habit of second guessing other people’s limits or comfort outside of a scene or proof of lying, if the Doctor said he’d be fine, he’d be fine.]
I’ll be there soon.
[True to his word, it isn’t much longer before he’s outside the door to the address given, and knocks.]
[ The door opens a second later, into a short hallway. The Doctor is dressed down, for him; no coat, just vest and shirt, trousers rolled up slightly to reveal more of hsi ridiculous socks. His guitar hangs to his waist from a leather strap that may or may not have been repurposed for this. ]
I'd say "welcome to my home" but this won't be pleasant and it's not my home.
[ Grim, but there's a wry smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes as he steps back to let Chris in. ]
[Those socks are amazing and pull a smile from Chris even with everything hanging over this.]
I'll take the welcome, pleasant or not.
For record, cause you know I'm blunt: if this doesn't work or doesn't work full cause of whatever he did, there'll be nothing sore from me. I appreciate you trying at all.
[Not that he isn't nervous. Not that he doesn't feel like he's vibrating under the skin...but he takes a breath.]
Glad to know my impression of you being generally sensible was basically correct.
[ Dry, but with a rough sincerity to it; he could certainly deal with it if Chris wasn't, but it's nice to know. ]
I need you to relax, which is obviously easier said than done. [ With a head tilt towards the living room - ] Let's start with sitting down.
[ Said living room is clearly a work in progress - one wall is painted with a distinctive design with various brushes and buckets still awaiting their turn, there's no coffee table, and the bookshelves are crowded in the room instead of pressed to the walls - but there's a large couch and matching armchair roughly in the centre of it all. Thick, dark curtains are drawn, leaving the room dimly lit with a single floor lamp.
He heads to the couch, walking slowly but casually. ]
[He follows the Doctor into his living room and takes in the seeming chaos with a quick glance. He could hardly judge, he and Festival's place was just a tangle of pillows and blankets and nets after all.]
If you wanted to kiss, Doctor, you only needed to ask.
[He huffs to himself and shakes his head.]
Sorry, nerves.
[He does, however, settle onto the couch with the man, turned towards him, and offer his hands.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow...just the way he's always telling other people. Of course it only works so well, doesn't it?]
[ There's not a trace of discomfort, just grimly sympathetic amusement. He does pause, but only to slip off his guitar and set it against the couch; mostly, he was using it to structure his own mind. If he needs music later, well, he can share it without the strings.
When he takes Chris's hands, it's with confident tenderness. He's not generally a soothing person to be around, but he knows how to project that sort of presence when it's needed. ]
I'm going to speak into your mind now, and you're going to feel my presence.
[ Calm, steady, direct. The words that come after are much the same, but they pulse with concern, intrigue and affection.
Distantly, there is anger, because there is always anger. ]
Focus on me, and on what you want me to hear. Make the words clear as a bell and tell me whatever you like.
[The tenderness is appreciated. He's not much of a hand-holder on a good day and this certainly isn't that, it soothes that vibration under his skin, the impractical part of his mind that shouts the simple contact will trap him in place. He doesn't need that distraction right now.
He tries to focus on the Doctor's voice and words instead and takes another calming breath for the warning. Luckily, a voice in his head isn't so odd for Sending being a normal part of his life back home, but it's still a little jarring for how long it's been. Still, he adapts quickly, determination coating the nervous still in him; he's not sure if this works like the spell in mind, but it's worth a shot.]
Something- something happened two months ago. A man named Grayson. A vampire. I had aphrodisiacs in me and he didn't. I approached him. We had sex. I don't remember how we got there. I don't remember agreeing to let him-
[His thoughts stutter over the feeling of a hand pressed tight against his throat, the brick against him and no way to escape, a hand striking him hard and pain, but oh he'd wanted it, right? How pleasantly tinged the memory is-]
I remember liking the things he did to me but I don't remember agreeing to them. I don't remember wanting them. Even with aphrodisiacs, I've never crossed my own boundary like that before.
[ He's very good at keeping rage at bay, most of the time, especially during something like this. That's a good thing; there's a flicker of fury at that name, not a maelstrom, and it burns brighter as Chris goes on but it doesn't overwhelm the connection.
He's biased towards believing the worst, but he won't do that quite yet. Instead, he lets those glimpses guide him towards the memory, sinking into the sensations that remain vibrant and searching for the details that have gone blurry. He doesn't blanch at the violence; it's the raw uncertainty that sickens him a little.
He has been on both sides of this, more than once, but never on a selfish, sadistic whim. ]
[ Downside to telepathic contact: it's much hard to conceal how personal that horrified disgust is. So he doesn't bother, because he has more important things to do. ]
If I can just...
[ He trails off as he focuses on the seams of what was stolen, or changed, digging as gently as he can to find what really happened. This is delicate work; if he isn't careful he could do permanent damage. ]
[That anger is easy and, in fact, makes Chris feel a little better. Good. Let someone else be angry for him for a moment, he's...tired. He'll be angry again when this is done. Except, on the heels of that feeling is vulnerability. The Doctor is horrified and disgusted and Chris can tell it's deeper than even this, but knowing how much he's being seen is...hard.
For a brief moment, he's reminded of Scott saying how much easier communication with telepathy is...but Chris finds he feels the opposite. He's kept all his emotions and thoughts too close for too long to find comfort in this now.]
Do what you need.
[The clouded parts might be easy to notice, once looked for. It's like a blurring of memory done by time. One moment, Chris is swaggering up to a man in a suit, flirtation and enticement on his lips. The next he's face-fist against a wall, hands on him and in him with sharp suctions against his neck.
The 'kisses' are wrong. Changed, altered from the sharper truth of fangs and pleasure inherent in the venom they hold. A hop, skip, and jump have Grayson in Chris, his pace viscous and a hand around the cleric's neck to cut off his breathing, but it's colored rosy in Chris' mind. A pleasant encounter of giving himself over to a complete stranger with no safeword or conversation had and an impression left behind like a mental stamp over the memory: he'd wanted this. This had been good.]
[ This deep in, he can't miss that association, and amidst the fury there's a ripple of wry fondness; he and Scott have had all of one conversation so far, but it was a memorable one.
Then he's laser-focused on the task at hand, refusing to flinch from the glimpses of a much uglier truth. His rage is honed into - not a weapon, no, a tool. Sharp and subtle, driven and delicate. This is a man who knows how to stitch a wound closed, who knows how to burn infections away.
Unfortunately, no matter what he tries he can't break through to what really happened. He could push harder, for longer, and that would be fine with another Time Lord. He won't risk it with Chris, especially with no guarantee it would even work. ]
We need to stop.
[ He's already drawing away from the memory, though not Chris' mind. ]
[Chris waits, quiet even as his mind plays through the memory of it's own volition and still those doubts ring so loudly even if the memory seems fond. He wouldn't have agreed to the kinkier aspects, even if it wouldn't surprise him he'd consented to the sex...but even that seems lost. Aphrodisiacs never clouded his mind quite like that something was off and it itched and pulled and he wanted it sorted because if he can't trust his own mind what in every hell could he trust?
Which is why there's a sharp spike of panic and confusion.]
What? Why? Doctor, please.
[Even in his thoughts, he has a hard time stringing together the words he needs, like they flit just out of grasp, and maybe the Doctor can even feel the sensation of something closing in Chris' throat like it does when his emotions spin themselves too tightly together in a way he can't begin to untangle or process. He feels too deeply, too sharply, and it catches in him too easily.]
I need to know so I can fix it and- ['Hurt him' runs through his mind, 'stop him' and 'take him apart' run together.]
[ All of it - the desperation for a solution, the violent magnitude of emotion, the blurring of protective justice and vicious vengeance - resonates so deeply it almost overwhelms him. There are flashes - echoes - of older fury, grief, helplessness. The scent of dried blood and burning metal invades the scene, and the edges blur into different streets, different attacks, different losses.
There are screams in his mind that never quite stop, and he keeps them at bay whenever he connects with someone else. Those walls are crumbling, now.
He squeezes Chris's hands to steady both of them as he centres them in the present moment, focusing with everything he has left on what he can do, here and now, for someone who needs help. ]
Listen.
[ It's a command, one made with ferocious compassion. The screams that threatened to swallow them whole soften into a symphony and harmonise with his words. Still furious, but steadied with severe tranquillity. ]
You aren't wrong. Your mind has been tampered with. You were violated. We're going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another, just not like this.
[ What he doesn't say explicitly, but imbues in every syllable, is: You are not foolish. You are not alone. You deserved better.]
[There's so much just out of reach of him, like he can feel the Doctor trying to keep the worst of it back and what slips through, he can suddenly see why. If Chris felt like he was drowning in himself, The Doctor must be chained at the bottom of his own sea and had been for far far longer.
It feels like an echoing resonance of pain and anger and impotence and never enough, not in action, not in result, not in how far they needed to run-
But then there's hands squeezing his and Chris takes a shuddering breath in as his eyes sting. There's a resistance to the feeling, imbedded and strong, that keeps anything more than that stinging from taking hold.
'Listen' he commands, and Chris does. He listens as the cacophony turns it's tune and anger smoothes, not gone but changed into something that feels like it sits over the Doctor's shoulders like a mantle. Heavy, unmoving, but necessary. Something Chris leans into, like it's a blanket for warmth.]
Alright.
[He's not...as sure he deserved better, he's not sure he can make that call without knowing everything, but he knew the violation of his mind is enough to take even a fraction of that anger and light his own: hot, steady, but deeply fierce. No matter what else he might have invited in this, he didn't invite this. His mind was his own and no one had a right to put their fingers in it.
He's not alone...because the Doctor is right there and, looking at him, feeling him there in his mind: it's like having a stone wall to his back. Chris' next breath is more steady and he blinks away what tears had gathered to bun away the feeling of drowning. Compartmentalize. Focus.]
Breathe.
[It's something he told others panicking all the time. The first step was to remember to breathe.]
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timeasmymeasure
Text; un: Ravens
Date: 2022-05-12 07:09 pm (UTC)Crais told me you might have some skill for extracting a memory?
text; un: doctordisco
Date: 2022-05-13 11:03 am (UTC)What sort of memory are we talking about?
no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 01:08 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 02:13 pm (UTC)But I suspect the LIEr the memory involves might have had something to do with it
Maybe some form of magic?
no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 02:20 pm (UTC)I can't guarantee success, but I can definitely take a look. Where would you be comfortable doing this?
no subject
Date: 2022-05-13 02:29 pm (UTC)It might not be a pleasant memory though, so somewhere private would likely be best.
Thank you for this
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 07:19 am (UTC)[ He really should keep more on top of his research on things like that.
Or try to start building a Zero Room. Maybe with Nate? Okay, file that idea away for later - ]
My apartment is nothing special in regards to security but it's got no one else in it at the moment.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 09:47 am (UTC)If it suits you fine, your apartment might feel better for it.
If it works, what will this look like? You’ll see it or recall it to me?
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 09:57 am (UTC)If it works, we'll see it together.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 10:04 am (UTC)If Crais is right, it might not be kind or pleasant. Last check that you want to help, I’ll not hold it against you at all if you change your mind.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 10:10 am (UTC)Noted and appreciated, but I'll be fine.
[ Furious, he imagines, but fine. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-05-14 02:08 pm (UTC)[He isn’t in the habit of second guessing other people’s limits or comfort outside of a scene or proof of lying, if the Doctor said he’d be fine, he’d be fine.]
I’ll be there soon.
[True to his word, it isn’t much longer before he’s outside the door to the address given, and knocks.]
no subject
Date: 2022-05-18 11:10 pm (UTC)I'd say "welcome to my home" but this won't be pleasant and it's not my home.
[ Grim, but there's a wry smile on his lips and a glint in his eyes as he steps back to let Chris in. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 01:19 am (UTC)I'll take the welcome, pleasant or not.
For record, cause you know I'm blunt: if this doesn't work or doesn't work full cause of whatever he did, there'll be nothing sore from me. I appreciate you trying at all.
[Not that he isn't nervous. Not that he doesn't feel like he's vibrating under the skin...but he takes a breath.]
What do you need me to do?
no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 01:31 am (UTC)[ Dry, but with a rough sincerity to it; he could certainly deal with it if Chris wasn't, but it's nice to know. ]
I need you to relax, which is obviously easier said than done. [ With a head tilt towards the living room - ] Let's start with sitting down.
[ Said living room is clearly a work in progress - one wall is painted with a distinctive design with various brushes and buckets still awaiting their turn, there's no coffee table, and the bookshelves are crowded in the room instead of pressed to the walls - but there's a large couch and matching armchair roughly in the centre of it all. Thick, dark curtains are drawn, leaving the room dimly lit with a single floor lamp.
He heads to the couch, walking slowly but casually. ]
We'll need to be touching for this.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 04:57 am (UTC)[He follows the Doctor into his living room and takes in the seeming chaos with a quick glance. He could hardly judge, he and Festival's place was just a tangle of pillows and blankets and nets after all.]
If you wanted to kiss, Doctor, you only needed to ask.
[He huffs to himself and shakes his head.]
Sorry, nerves.
[He does, however, settle onto the couch with the man, turned towards him, and offer his hands.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow...just the way he's always telling other people. Of course it only works so well, doesn't it?]
Alright.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-19 05:17 am (UTC)[ There's not a trace of discomfort, just grimly sympathetic amusement. He does pause, but only to slip off his guitar and set it against the couch; mostly, he was using it to structure his own mind. If he needs music later, well, he can share it without the strings.
When he takes Chris's hands, it's with confident tenderness. He's not generally a soothing person to be around, but he knows how to project that sort of presence when it's needed. ]
I'm going to speak into your mind now, and you're going to feel my presence.
[ Calm, steady, direct. The words that come after are much the same, but they pulse with concern, intrigue and affection.
Distantly, there is anger, because there is always anger. ]
Focus on me, and on what you want me to hear. Make the words clear as a bell and tell me whatever you like.
cw: referenced dub/non-con and non-con kink
Date: 2022-05-19 04:47 pm (UTC)He tries to focus on the Doctor's voice and words instead and takes another calming breath for the warning. Luckily, a voice in his head isn't so odd for Sending being a normal part of his life back home, but it's still a little jarring for how long it's been. Still, he adapts quickly, determination coating the nervous still in him; he's not sure if this works like the spell in mind, but it's worth a shot.]
Something- something happened two months ago. A man named Grayson. A vampire. I had aphrodisiacs in me and he didn't. I approached him. We had sex. I don't remember how we got there. I don't remember agreeing to let him-
[His thoughts stutter over the feeling of a hand pressed tight against his throat, the brick against him and no way to escape, a hand striking him hard and pain, but oh he'd wanted it, right? How pleasantly tinged the memory is-]
I remember liking the things he did to me but I don't remember agreeing to them. I don't remember wanting them. Even with aphrodisiacs, I've never crossed my own boundary like that before.
There's pieces missing. Or changed.
no subject
Date: 2022-05-22 03:02 am (UTC)He's biased towards believing the worst, but he won't do that quite yet. Instead, he lets those glimpses guide him towards the memory, sinking into the sensations that remain vibrant and searching for the details that have gone blurry. He doesn't blanch at the violence; it's the raw uncertainty that sickens him a little.
He has been on both sides of this, more than once, but never on a selfish, sadistic whim. ]
There's definitely something missing. Possibly something altered, too.
[ Downside to telepathic contact: it's much hard to conceal how personal that horrified disgust is. So he doesn't bother, because he has more important things to do. ]
If I can just...
[ He trails off as he focuses on the seams of what was stolen, or changed, digging as gently as he can to find what really happened. This is delicate work; if he isn't careful he could do permanent damage. ]
cw: referenced dubcon
Date: 2022-05-22 11:10 pm (UTC)For a brief moment, he's reminded of Scott saying how much easier communication with telepathy is...but Chris finds he feels the opposite. He's kept all his emotions and thoughts too close for too long to find comfort in this now.]
Do what you need.
[The clouded parts might be easy to notice, once looked for. It's like a blurring of memory done by time. One moment, Chris is swaggering up to a man in a suit, flirtation and enticement on his lips. The next he's face-fist against a wall, hands on him and in him with sharp suctions against his neck.
The 'kisses' are wrong. Changed, altered from the sharper truth of fangs and pleasure inherent in the venom they hold. A hop, skip, and jump have Grayson in Chris, his pace viscous and a hand around the cleric's neck to cut off his breathing, but it's colored rosy in Chris' mind. A pleasant encounter of giving himself over to a complete stranger with no safeword or conversation had and an impression left behind like a mental stamp over the memory: he'd wanted this. This had been good.]
cw: referenced dubcon
Date: 2022-05-29 04:00 am (UTC)Then he's laser-focused on the task at hand, refusing to flinch from the glimpses of a much uglier truth. His rage is honed into - not a weapon, no, a tool. Sharp and subtle, driven and delicate. This is a man who knows how to stitch a wound closed, who knows how to burn infections away.
Unfortunately, no matter what he tries he can't break through to what really happened. He could push harder, for longer, and that would be fine with another Time Lord. He won't risk it with Chris, especially with no guarantee it would even work. ]
We need to stop.
[ He's already drawing away from the memory, though not Chris' mind. ]
cw: referenced dubcon
Date: 2022-05-30 05:40 pm (UTC)Which is why there's a sharp spike of panic and confusion.]
What? Why? Doctor, please.
[Even in his thoughts, he has a hard time stringing together the words he needs, like they flit just out of grasp, and maybe the Doctor can even feel the sensation of something closing in Chris' throat like it does when his emotions spin themselves too tightly together in a way he can't begin to untangle or process. He feels too deeply, too sharply, and it catches in him too easily.]
I need to know so I can fix it and- ['Hurt him' runs through his mind, 'stop him' and 'take him apart' run together.]
Re: cw: referenced dubcon
Date: 2022-05-30 07:08 pm (UTC)There are screams in his mind that never quite stop, and he keeps them at bay whenever he connects with someone else. Those walls are crumbling, now.
He squeezes Chris's hands to steady both of them as he centres them in the present moment, focusing with everything he has left on what he can do, here and now, for someone who needs help. ]
Listen.
[ It's a command, one made with ferocious compassion. The screams that threatened to swallow them whole soften into a symphony and harmonise with his words. Still furious, but steadied with severe tranquillity. ]
You aren't wrong. Your mind has been tampered with. You were violated. We're going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another, just not like this.
[ What he doesn't say explicitly, but imbues in every syllable, is: You are not foolish. You are not alone. You deserved better. ]
no subject
Date: 2022-06-01 05:15 am (UTC)It feels like an echoing resonance of pain and anger and impotence and never enough, not in action, not in result, not in how far they needed to run-
But then there's hands squeezing his and Chris takes a shuddering breath in as his eyes sting. There's a resistance to the feeling, imbedded and strong, that keeps anything more than that stinging from taking hold.
'Listen' he commands, and Chris does. He listens as the cacophony turns it's tune and anger smoothes, not gone but changed into something that feels like it sits over the Doctor's shoulders like a mantle. Heavy, unmoving, but necessary. Something Chris leans into, like it's a blanket for warmth.]
Alright.
[He's not...as sure he deserved better, he's not sure he can make that call without knowing everything, but he knew the violation of his mind is enough to take even a fraction of that anger and light his own: hot, steady, but deeply fierce. No matter what else he might have invited in this, he didn't invite this. His mind was his own and no one had a right to put their fingers in it.
He's not alone...because the Doctor is right there and, looking at him, feeling him there in his mind: it's like having a stone wall to his back. Chris' next breath is more steady and he blinks away what tears had gathered to bun away the feeling of drowning. Compartmentalize. Focus.]
Breathe.
[It's something he told others panicking all the time. The first step was to remember to breathe.]