outer_divide

[He didn't hear anything, or see anything- so he has to assume it's from something imagined. He doesn't ask what. But ships he's been around enough...] Ships are resilient. They love their captains and crews. I've seen temperamental warships capable of forgiveness [even if Rommie may never forgive him for even thinking about what he planned to do], so I can't imagine yours would have difficulty once you figure out how.

[And he turns off the feed. He'll work his way through the fog until he finds where the Doctor's at, hoping that the Authorities won't use the opportunity to attack.]

[a strained but warm smile] She's forgiven me worse, that's true enough. Most loyal companion in the universe.

[he lowers the device as the picture fades, slipping it into his pocket; with a hard swallow, he turns to face his ghosts]

[His ears are keen, but his nose is currently useless thanks to the fog. It doesn't smell right, not to mention he still has his scarf in the way. Which he has to pull down to call out to him once he's in sight of the ship.]

Doctor!

[He hopes he can hear him over the hallucinations. Or whatever it is that's happening to him. Some have it worse than others.]

[the Doctor doesn't, at first; his gaze keeps snapping to people who aren't there, people long dead, as their last words twist and turn in his head, aching echoes of the past

i came to help you

you show so many mysteries; with you i know i'm safe

the best must die!

looks like i just didn't make it, doc]

I'm so very sorry...

[it's a hoarse, anguished whisper as he eyes finally focus on Rhode]

You - you're not -

[Even with the scarf down, he's still not noticing anything. Not unless the distracted Doctor here isn't real, and he very much seems to be. And to remind him that he is too he reaches out to take his elbow.] Come on, we should get inside one of the buildings.

[Wait.]

I'm not what?

[the Doctor offers a strained shadow of a smile as he steps forward]

Dead. At least I certainly hope not.

[That observation gives him pause. According to Dylan, in one timeline, he very much is dead. He doesn't know the circumstances, but he has guesses.]

Not yet.

[And with no intention of being if he can help it.]

That's what you're seeing, then? I don't see anyone. But if I do, I'll ask you if they're there. [He won't take his own immunity for granted now, he shouldn't.]

[an earnest nod as he keeps his eyes firmly fixed on Rhade] That's a fine idea. Unless, of course, we hallucinate the same thing. It would be quite unlikely, but I rather think this entire situation fits that description.

[He starts to pull off his scarf as he starts heading in the direction of the settlement.] The planet or the alien ship or the fog? I wonder why the new people didn't warn us about this. [He doesn't think they accidentally forgot. But he tends toward suspicion.

And then offers the Doctor his scarf. It's not a bright pretty one, but-] You might be able to put this over your mouth and block out some of the fog. See if it lessens the effect. [He saw enough of the local residents in gas masks, maybe it'll work after a bit.]

On their own I wouldn't find them particularly odd, but taken as a whole - well, it's very intriguing, to say the very least. [his words are rushed and rapid; his smile is a bit too bright when Rhade offers the scarf]

Ah, thank you! It certainly can't hurt. [he takes it, wrapping it snugly round his mouth] I used to have a scarf, you know, wore it constantly. Much longer than this one, mind.

Were you living on a colder planet? [Which, logically, should be a reason why one wore a scarf all the time. But he'd been wearing this one recently for no more reason than he didn't want to lose it and didn't know when he might need the extra cloth.]

During the attacks several people were injured and I helped them in. I asked for a couple of extra items when obtaining clothing from the local trader that I could use in case it happened again.

[And... still nothing that he could see. So he assumed his immunities were holding.] I would say if I saw dead people, I would be especially inconvenienced.

Sometimes. Well, not living - passing through. Always passing through.

[he knows Rhade can't see the hard, grim smile, and it's all for the best, really] It's no fun at all, I can assure you.

Do you suppose this is another form of attack?

I think this is the remnants of a useless war. One where they became so focused on destroying each other they sabotaged their own survival. If it is an attack, it's foolishly implemented without immediately being followed up when people were displaying symptoms over the network, and everything seems to have adapted to it but us.

[He's a civilized Nietzschean. He believes in conflict, but conflict you can grow from. He's also an individualist that fears being alone, that fears that finality. So he gets the sadness of people passing through.

But it's an unfortunate commonality.]

It smells terrible though. [He rubs his nose.]

It may not be so direct. Perhaps... [and he trails off, as other battlefields flicker before his eyes; her can almost taste the ash in his mouth, and it's not long before he stumbles]

It is possible it could be long-standing- [But then the Doctor is stumbling, and he catches him again. This time he doesn't let go of him, and keeps his arm hooked firmly around his back.]

We'll speculate when the fog's cleared. [Still earnest. He keeps an eye out for the nearest building appearing to have a door, and leads him that way.]

[the Doctor takes several deep breaths before straightening, meeting Rhade's eyes a bit ruefully] Yes, a fine idea. Onward, then.

[he's been supported too many times to mind it overmuch]

[If asked, Rhade could come up with any number of lengthy explanations as to why he was helping the Doctor and how it contributed to his individualist goals. The Doctor had a ship. The Doctor was necessary to figure out more information on the collars. He had to prove his capacities to the Doctor-

The truth is, his biggest benefit is that he feels better about himself as he helps him get into one of the buildings. The fog is outside- but Rhade doesn't know if the improved air quality will help him much.

He puts his hand to his cheek to turn his head (he's from a very touchy race, many apologies to the Doctor) and meets his eyes again. Though this time he's seeing if they're regaining focus.] What were you seeing then?

[the Doctor is most decidedly not, and he's far from tactile in this incarnation, but he feels far too raw and weary to protest; the gentle touch is, really, a nice contrast to the barrage of violence in his head

he blinks a few times, before he focuses on Rhade, on here and now]

I - other times, other worlds, other battles. I've seen...far too many, in my time. Caused some of them, in fact. Sometimes by accident, sometimes... because it was the only way.

[He thinks on what Dylan has said about his future, about siding with the Nietzschean rebellion. His people coexisted with the Commonwealth for centuries, without compromising their competitive natures. It was when the Commonwealth showed hesitance with the Magog that Rhade started backing the revolution, while previously he'd been in support of their combined strength.

Sometimes... because it was the only way.

A tight swallow is all he allows of the thought to show on his face, before he finally gives the Doctor his personal space bubble back and goes to make sure there aren't any unblocked windows in this room.]

What happened? [Curiosity compels him, considering its relevance.]

[the sudden space is both a relief and a loss; he takes a moment to steady himself, to take in the worn walls and dusty corners

he turns to Rhade with a wry, bleak smile]

Which war? [then he shakes his head] They weren't all wars. Some were - were barely skirmishes, really. Some didn't need to be battles at all if they'd only bloody listened. [his voice rose higher and higher, only for him to wince at the end, raising a hand to his temple]

I'm sorry. I - it's all so vivid now.

[Now that he's satisfied that at least this room's secure, he goes to sit nearby.]

It may be vivid, but you're safe. [If they'd only listened. That he can relate to, too. But apparently Dylan doesn't hear him until its far too late. There's nothing that he can do for his friend here. All his warnings were for nothing.]

You can't start any wars in here.

[Maybe he can. Maybe Rhade will take words and ideas and use them to tear down a civilization. He doesn't know whether he likes or hates the idea. He's slowly coming around to acceptance of what he is, anyway.]

Can't I? [he rubs at his forehead, as if he could rub the images away] I've seen people incite violence from iron cells.

[his eyes widen as the room changes; wood to steal, boards to bars

he can't help but chuckle as his hand falls] Well, there's a familiar sight.

[he blinks rapidly, willing reality to come into focus]

[He leans to get a better look at the Doctor's face, watching for his reality to drift in and out. But his tone briefly becomes cheeky.]

Oh, I can be incited into violence. But I'm quite stubborn and prefer my violence to be my own. So it would take you a while.

[the room fades back into view as the Doctor laughs] Careful. Nothing tempts me more than a challenge.

I knew you had a competitive spirit. [His grin looks a little cheekier, encouraged that the Doctor's spirits seem to be lifting. Maybe if the hallucinations hold, at least they'll keep with mood.] There's nothing a Nietzschean likes more than a little character building competition.

[And they like winning, too.]

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