doc

Again!

Who: Doc and Natalya
Where: The basement, Martens residence
When: 4 AM

Who: Doc and Syn
Where; Syn's guard post (the porch)
When: 10 PM

Who: Doc and Kurt
When: late night
Where: the house's back porch

Who: Doc and Syn
Where: phonecalls!
When: right after Doc and Eva's daring escape

Cradling his phone to his ear, Doc listened as the other end rang. This? Was going to be quite the talk, provided Syn answered. She needed to answer, he needed peace of mind that his kids were okay in the midst of this sudden insanity. "C'mon, c'mon," he muttered, shifting his grip around the wounds in his forearm.

Who: Eddie, Eva, and Doc
Where: Washington Street, Harlow Park, Eva's house
When: Dawn onward

Plans were overlapping in Doc's head, which wasn't an uncommon thing. He was like most people in that regard, always thinking on two or three different things at once, though most people didn't spend time thinking about how to start or stop a war with words alone. And he could only assume that the majority of mankind wasn't trying to puzzle out the origins of the shadowy forms he'd been watching for the past few days. He could at least imagine his last task to be more mundane; the beginning preparations of a new workspace for the man who'd once been a more-than-competent inventor.

Who: Doc and Ivan
Where: Mya's Diner
When: afternoon

Who: Doc
Where: Ituri province, Democratic Republic of the Congo
When: early morning

Who: Doc and Ivan
Where: Washington Street
When: mid-afternoon

Sure, the rules had changed. The man who obeyed them, though, hadn't. He was still practical, a tactician who knew the value of preparation. These days it was simply a different sort of preparing Doc was learning to do. Aside from his visit to Eva, Doc had been a home body ever since he'd become solid again; spending long hours musing on the best way to adapt to the new aspect of his job.

Who: Doc and Eva
When: Afternoon
Where: Eva's place

So the rules changed again. They do that, even in the best days. By now, I should be used to it, should anticipate the shift coming the very moment I begin to grasp my place in things. But some how, some way, I never do. And honestly, this time I'm not scared. Sure I'm uncertain about how to go about it all, but I'm not afraid to fail, or slip up. I sit here and I wonder how to manage shifting the world without actually touching it, and it fascinates me.

Who: Doc, the Mourning Star
Where: 2nd floor of the Martens house
When: early afternoon

It wasn't so bad being a ghost, Doc was learning. Sure, there were plenty of things he disliked, but he was getting used to them. He couldn't touch anything, but Teddybear was on hand to handle anything mechanical. He couldn't smoke or drink or have a coffee, but none of those things were exactly bad. Leaving out the nudity, Doc was even getting used to it.

Who: Doc, Seph, and Syn
Where: The Martens house
When: morning

Who: Doc and Natalya
When: Around 8 am
Where:

Once Kurt had fallen asleep, Natalya had whittled away the hours with a flurry of cleaning. She'd had to clean up all the rags and towels and first aid paraphernalia in the bathroom, and then nothing would do but to start some laundry (for all but the worst-soiled rags; she thought she could get the bloodstains out of the lesser-used ones, and his clothes she just threw away) and bleach the bathroom within an inch of its life.

Who: Doc
Where: his porch
When: sunrise

The sun was rising, slow as it ever did. It stretched slow trails of pink and orange up from the horizon, urging them past the smoky haze of ash-tainted sky to cut across the lingering darkness, heralding a new day for the city. Doc, as always, was thrilled to see it. Sitting on the porch out in front of the house with his legs stretched to nearly dangle past the steps, he couldn't take his eyes off of the sight.

Who: Doc, Kurt, Liadan, Jovie, Dessicant, Seven, Eben, and Evan
Where: Washington Street
When: night

This had officially gone on too long. In Doc's mind, it had been too far with the first death, but he knew that he'd been powerless to stop it at the time. He'd been trapped in the basement of his home, an intangible victim of his own power and the decisions he'd made for Eva's sake. There had been no choice for those first few days but to sit and wait, to listen to Teddybear's status reports and wonder if the twins would get in over their heads. Finally, they had... People were dying and those that were alive were trapped in their fear, resigned to hiding until the plague that had come to town forced them out. But that wouldn't be the case. It was time to do what he'd made a life out of, to cleanse this place the only way he knew how.

Who: Doc and Seph
Where: Doc's room aka the sick bay
When: Late afternoon

Who: Doc and Synnove
Where: the Martens home
When: late night

Who: Doc and Mourning Star
Where: basement, the Martens home
When: immediately after this

Who: Doc
Where: The Martens basement, then Singapore (via flashback)
When: Mid-day

Who:Doc, Seph, Syn
When: Late afternoon (directly after Doc/Eva)
Where: Martens household

He hadn't felt like this in some time; flooded with anger that pulsed with veins of worry and discontent for the entirety of Doc's drive from Eva's house to his own. There was a haze behind his eyes the entire time, a constant whisper of how stupid Eva's actions had been, and how risky his own as well. What might this cost the man, saving that one life? What scales might tip? Doc wasn't good to dwell on those thoughts too intently as he drove, managing to fit three cigarettes into the scant trip from point to point. But he was clear enough to ask the questions repeatedly, echoing them still as he pulled up to the curb out front and hopped free, slamming the door and stalking up to the house, then inside.

He must've been a sight for certain; dripping wet, blood had dried over one side of his face and down his neck from a dozen scrapes and small cuts, bruises were already forming under his eye and all along his jaw, and there wasn't much to be seen that didn't have a smear of rock dust on it as a memento from the caves. Beyond what could be seen, he could feel the rest plainly; bruises, cuts, strained muscles, and most worrying was the hot-cold burn in his gut. Doc had pushed the constraints of reality to do what he felt necessary, had grabbed them in both hands and pulled fiercely to force the cave-in, now he was stuck waiting for his punishment. And some part of him knew it wouldn't be so small as his time on the island with Star, no... this was going to be an unignorable lesson, if it didn't outright kill him. Deal with it when it happens, he chided himself, shutting the door and dropping his keys nearby. "Either of you home?" Doc called plainly into the house from where he stood before stalking towards the kitchen, wondering if maybe he should leave a note in case they weren't. They'd love that, he mused as he walked, 'Broke reality again. Home later. Walk Voltaire.'

Who: Doc and Eva
When: Afternoon
Where: Eva's place, then the mines.

The weeks had not passed well for Eva, whose temper seemed to be increasing while her self-control disintegrated. She flew into rages at the littlest things lately, like a water glass she accidentally dropped or a rip in her favorite sweater. The house was being neglected, Eva's attempts at cleaning not quite keeping up with the way she threw things around when she got upset. She never had recovered her memory from the night she'd blacked out and woken up on her bathroom floor surrounded by broken glass from the trinkets she'd kept there, and though it was a constant niggling worry in the back of her mind, it seemed less and less important.

Who: Doc and Linn (unfinished)
Where: Marquette side streets
When: Late afternoon

Who: Seph and Doc
Where: The Martens house, basement
When: Dusk

Who: Doc and Kurt
When: evening
Where: Remillards

There was a happy balance that could be struck, Doc was finding. A steady safe zone between work and a life as normal as he was ever going to get. Granted, it could shatter at any time, but he was feeling pleased with the spot he'd gotten to; spending his time more and more at home and around town. There didn't seem to be any crises he was missing, the twins both seemed as content as they ever got, and even his tasks of War hadn't crept into the more haunting side of things lately. All in all, Doc was feeling entitled to a night off, or maybe to talk business, or perhaps a bit of both. He hadn't spoken to Kurt since before the disappearance in the mines, a fact Doc had meant to rectify much sooner, but sometimes trying to be a dad took priority. The important thing was that the bond between the pledged man and himself had been restored, and Doc knew that no matter what else had happened, his associate was alive and well.

The night was nice enough for a walk, too nice to deal with Voltaire even, and as Doc strode along the sidewalk with a cigarette pursed and glowing in his lips, he quickly punched in the phone number he'd set up for Kurt. Tucking it to his ear, he stopped at a corner to linger as it rang, wondering if maybe Kurt had other business tonight. Natalya had been at the mines too, after all, and just seeing people like Doc exist had seemed to be almost too much for her to handle. She might be on stress-leave, Doc thought with a humorless smile, flicking his cigarette away.

Though he hated the thing, Kurt kept the cell phone given to him by his supernatural employer close at hand at all times. He was sitting on the porch at Natalya's small house, one long leg stretched out on the worn boards in front of him, the other bent and knee raised. Well-practiced fingers were working on cleaning and oiling Big Iron in the way that great guns deserved. She didn't like it when he did it in the house. He looked over at the board next to his thigh as the little bit of plastic started to glow and make noise and vibrate like a demon, and wiped his fingers off on a rag and plucked it up, putting it to his ear after hitting the correct button. Which was more or less all he knew how to do with the damn thing. "Doc," he greeted. There was really only one person it could be.

Who: Doc, open
Where: Beaches along Lake Superior
When: Dusk

It was a gorgeous day, the best sort anyone could ask for. The skies were brilliantly colored overhead; a display of light that was a rare thing Doc thanked the powers-that-be for. He was in good spirits, seated on the beach with bootheels dug into the sand and a beer in his grip as he watched Voltaire run and play. The puppy scampered in the distance, making a show of bringing back an oversized length of driftwood Doc had been throwing for him, and the older man had to laugh quietly at the sight.

who: doc and syn
where: martens residence
when: evening

No two ways about it, Doc was confused. He'd left Eva's house behind almost an hour earlier, opting for a long drive along the lakeshore before finally heading home. He needed the time, a chance to work against the resentment over her ire, and at how she'd spoken to him. Why was it so hard to understand that he was trying to protect her? He knew she'd had a valid point; that everyone had to learn their lessons eventually, but the delivery was what had him so chapped. She'd been genuinely angry, and had made little effort to hide it. And that had, in turn, left him somewhat wounded. Doc was a man who rarely voiced his own anger, and now was no exception. No, now was instead a time to seek out familiar surroundings and the solace of the family he was still (and would always, in his mind) be working to make amends with. Trotting up the stairs with a foul cup of gas station coffee in hand, Doc shouldered through the door and shrugged off his coat easily. "Seph? Syn?" he called, dropping it onto the rack, "You guys eat yet?"

Synnove was in, sitting in the living room with her mother's laptop on her lap, frowning over the screen, and she glanced up when Doc arrived home. "In here." she called. She gave Teddybear on the screen a frown. "Well...keep looking, okay?" she asked, sighing as she finally shut it, eyes feeling over tired and aching. She rubbed at them, then stretched, turning her neck from side to side to get the massive crick out of it.

Who: Eva and Doc
When: Evening-ish
Where: Eva's house

who: Eva, Doc, Seph & Syn
where: mine of crazy doomness
when: afternoon

Seph was bemused as he entertained the thought that walking down into a mineshaft was something like a comfort. It wasn't their dreamscape, by far, and the flashlights kind of ruined some of the effect, but there was something about being underground in tunnels that made him feel better. It felt weird, granted, spiritually speaking. Like the rhythm was off somewhere vital, but the feeling wasn't strong yet. The whole place still felt kind of familiar to his crossed wires. They'd grown up in a cave, after all, and their secret mental landscape was mostly under the surface. Part of him half-expected to find the room at the center, where both of their labyrinths met. Their shared space. It wouldn't happen, and he didn't want it to with other people there, but still. He glanced over at his sister as he walked, arm that wasn't holding the flashlight extended to one side so his fingers could brush lightly against the jagged rock walls. What do you think of her? he posed to his twin, referring to Doc's knockout of a girlfriend who had unexpectedly turned up with him. Maybe an inanely odd question for their situation, but hey.

Who: Doc and Seph
When: late morning
Where: Martens kitchen

The kitchen was the source of it all, a spout that fed the slow creeping aroma of fresh coffee through the house as early morning light filtered past blinds and through windows. It wasn't uncommon, really; Doc drank enough that he could probably bleed an espresso out. But today there were other scents mixing with it, toasting bread and cooked meats, as well as a definite burned edge to it all. In defiance of his long-standing limitations, Doc was cooking. He'd already buttered up some toast, cutting it and setting it aside some likely overcooked bacon as he worked a spatula around in a skillet of eggs, quickly tossing them to minimize the scorching they were suffering in the too-hot pan.

He knew it was a cheap attempt to soften the talk that was growing closer by the minute, but at the same time felt it was a small bit of proof to the talk he'd had with Syn, and his renewed motivation to move past his own shortcomings for the sake of all of them. Doc was determined, as much as he'd ever been on a hunt or a task of War. He was going to do this, to do whatever it took to make Seph believe he was genuine, and to commit to whatever personal changes it was going to take. Pulling the skillet off the stove, Doc scooped the eggs out between three plates, then grabbed a piece of bacon and bit into it with a small grimace. Gotta set your goals lower, old man. Saving the world's doable. Breakfast? Not so much, he mused with a personal chuckle as he dropped the pan in the sink and moved for a cup of coffee.