Wendy couldn't help it. She found the tape in her trunk and it just needed to be played. She wasn't a fan of most 80's music. Actually, they both always preferred the older stuff, but this was still their song. They had decided on it at seventeen, after a long night of drugs, booze, and talk.

So, she played it. She played it over and over again. It's almost like it brings her to him everytime. And even now, while she's roaming the halls, she just can't stop singing it.

Whenever I'm alone with you,
you make me feel
Like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you,
you make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you,
you make me feel
Like I am young again
Whenever I'm alone with you,
you make me feel like I am fun again

However far away,
I will always love you,
However long I stay,
I will always love you,
Whatever words I say,
I will always love you,
I will always love you

Alice had taken to running at least once a day. It struck her as somewhat ironic that she'd never exercised anywhere she'd lived, never ran up and down the streets of London, New York, Kansas City, or even done as much as walked around a bus station. And she'd seen many of those. For her, movement was a strictly utilitarian endeavor. She walked when she needed to get somewhere, no more, no less. But at the Hotel, where so many things seemed to stagnate, the freedom to still move herself was refreshing.

She ran outside the Hotel, close enough to still be in its looming shadow, but far enough that she could pretend the air was fresh. She ran in a sports bra and biker shorts, her hair not long enough to need to be pulled back. But it was getting longer. She measured time in inches, in footsteps, in heartbeats. She couldn't pretend that she hated the Hotel, not after finding John, but she wanted to be out with him in the real world. She wanted to show him all of her favorite places in New York. The little Indian restaurant that had been next to her apartment, the way Central Park lit up at night, the absolute still that the city got around 4:30 in the morning.

Instead, she just ran. It distracted her from those feelings, and let her pretend, if only for an hour or so, that she was just on vacation.

There was a velvet-clad elbow resting on the top of the Library table, precariously close to a cup of tea, long since gone cold.  There was a set of fingernails drumming erratically on the varnished surface, fingernails bitten to the quick, a few tips smeared with red-orange blood.  There was a pair of blue eyes that stared unseeing at the open text before them, pinched and creased as if a vicious headache lurked just behind the azure irises.  There was a head of curls disarrayed by nervous pulling, a silk cravat undone by restless hands, a set of shoulders locked with tension.

There was a Doctor, sitting at a table in the Library, drowning in stacks of books, cursing his ineffectiveness and losing his hope.

Feel free to talk to him, but at this point, even he isn't sure of the reception he'll give.

Well, well, well... this place was something and she sure's hell wasn't about to drink like she had that first night in. She knew what she did and while she wasn't shamed by what she did, she was a little ashamed for getting so piss-drunk over something as trivial as her emotional state at the time.

She'd be much more careful next time she went near that damn bar. If you called that a bar... felt a little too sterile for her tastes, but they served good whiskey.

Ellen took her time walking around, reacquainting herself with the various facilities of the hotel in light of everything. She didn't really go looking for anyone in particular, but she knew sooner or later a soul or two might cross her path.

Sam Winchester lingered outside long after most of the others had returned to the hotel's cooler, more comfortable interior. He had just stood there looking out at the desert that seemed endless, but that none of them could ever seem to fully reach during that little "walk-out" attempt.

He took it in for the longest time before he went back instead, quiet and thoughtful. The wind and heat felt real enough to him, but despite that they were in this bubble.

Maybe there was no getting out again. Maybe this was it?

And how bad was that really?.... When he still had Dean.

When they'd been given back their father.

When that living, breathing father was almost at peace here?

When Dean looked like he could be too...

When he had new friends, real friends, other than the simple constant of his brother. Haley and River, and he met others everyday..

When there was a woman here that Sam thought maybe... just maybe was obliterating the rawness of the pain of losing Jessica. And that said so much when they were still just barely learning about each other. Inara fascinated him to no end and he imagined if Jess could see him that maybe she'd be glad he met someone. That he wasn't beating himself up half-so much as he used to. He imagined that she would like Inara... that maybe she'd approve. That she was good enough to be a friend... if nothing more. Because really that was all up to Inara... who was he to assume she was going to want to have more with him when they hardly knew each other as it was?

Wishful thinking he supposed. He wondered if she thought wishfully about him... Or if he was just wishing that she was wishing back.

Sam smiled at his own foolishness as he made his way towards the hotel's kitchen, not really wanting to sit down and eat in the dining hall, so much as he was just hungry and seeking to sate that gnawing in the pit of his stomach.

Lilo was sitting in the lobby. She had a bowl of cut pineapple beside her, and her legs tucked under her dress. She was reading a book on dermatological conditions, and every now and then would dogear one of the glossy pages. She read quietly to herself, from time to time plucking a bit of fruit and munching on it. Only a few times did she have to stop and sound out words that appeared to be medical in origin. For those instances, she had a dictionary beside her.

She didn't notice anyone around her, and probably wouldn't notice unless someone poked her.

She felt her palms, slick and sweaty grope around the handle as tight as she could but she was slipping and she knew it. Slowly she slipped a tiny centimeter, by centimeter and she wasn't quite sure if she could do this. If she could actually hold on for that long. She didn't think she could. Somewhere in the midst of panic, she started to scream at the Doctor. To tell him she couldn't hang on.

His eyes were wide, and he was shouting, but she could barely hear him as the cybermen and the daleks came whizzing by her head, being sucked into the void. She felt like she was being ripped apart, as it tried to suck her in with them. He was begging for her to hold on, but she just knew she couldn't. And then it happened. Her fingers slipped, and she let go of the handle.

( Rose arrives )

When his door was finally unlocked, if one were to enter his room, they would find the alcoholic contents of the Fifth Doctor's minibar emptied and the little bottles covering the floor.

Looks can be deceiving though. Unable to even risk the siren call of the bottle whilst he was locked in his room the Doctor had done the only thing he could think of. Empty the contents down the bathroom sink.

He was laying on his bed, eyes shut and completely oblivious to the fact that he wasn't locked in any more. The first day he'd tried every hour, over the following two he'd barely checked the door at all.

Right now, he really wished he hadn't emptied every bottle.

Sweet Lord Rassilon, he really needed a drink.

The door is shut but now unlocked. Feel free to simply barge on in.

His hair was a mess.

It was sticking up and mussed to one side from ripping his fingers through it too many times. As he stared at the same old readings on the screen from behind his thick-rimmed glasses and with squinted eyes, the Doctor let his mind drift. His hands were in his pockets, his maroon Chuck Taylor's propped up on the edge of the console, and he was humming softly. Something by Kylie Minogue, probably, but he wouldn't remember it. His face twitched once in a while just to show he hadn't lapsed into some sort of coma, his lips twisting to the side thoughtfully or his nose wrinkling for a moment. Once he even tugged on his ear and scratched his cheek.

One tiny little breach. That was all he wanted. A crack in the symbolic floor. A hole in the bloody wall.

An eency-weency rip in the universe.

His eyes flickered to Rose's jacket for the fifth time, laying on the controls in a bundle just as she left it, and he took a deep breath in, patting his hands against his legs and puffing his cheeks out. His throat still felt scratchy from shouting her name over and over, yelling at the top of his lungs, begging her to hold on. This wasn't the end. He'd find that tear in the fabric of space and time. It was simply a matter of how long it took. He would be quite pleased if the TARDIS hurried it up a bit

"Come on, try!" he exclaimed suddenly, swinging his feet to the floor with a metallic thud and jumping up from his sitting position. The melancholy look hardened into something fierce, his eyes sharply trained on the controls as he gripped the edge of the console with white knuckles. "A rift. A rift, a rift, a rift! Give it. Please and thank you.”

It was almost as if his saying 'please' did the final trick, because the screen beeped at him not more than a moment after the words left his mouth. “Oh, yes! Yes! Wait... no—Yes! Well done, you!” he shouted, his fist hooking through the air dramatically. Rose. He'd found a way to Rose. Possibly. Maybe. If odds were something to be scoffed at and probability had no bearings on the outcome. See, there? Optimism!

( Read more... )

After Operation Walkaway didn't work, Dean felt even more conflicted and even more shitty than usual. He knew he couldn't be the only one torn about leaving, but it didn't matter in his head. He still felt guilty, still felt like he was alone in feeling grateful that at the end of the day, he wasn't the Weird One. Wasn't alone. He could go to Sam's room and hug his baby brother. He could go check in on his father and make sure his chest was still rising and falling.

He could go kiss River. All the stuff he daydreamed about - mowing lawns, a girlfriend to make dinner for - he couldn't have that at the Hotel. But he could have something similiar, and it thrilled him.

To sort his thoughts, Dean put on his swimming trunks and made his way to the pool. He didn't swim laps, just waded into the middle, turned onto his back, and floated aimlessly. With the water in his ears, all he could hear was the dull lub-dub of blood in his ears. Maybe it would drown out his thoughts,his irrational worries.

Oh, it's the little surprises that can make your day so better. So, when Wendy found a huge bag of Neil's weed and his pipe in the bottom of her trunk, it cracked her up for a while before she figured why not?

Neil could be so perfect without even knowing it. Although, it was a good place to stash it. Wendy usually shoved so much in that trunk that she never saw the bottom of it and Neil could pull anything out of anywhere. That's sounds vaguely wrong, doesn't it?

Anyway, that aside, she's not ashamed, paranoid about other people, or shy in any way. She's right outside in clear view, laying on the ground, and smoking weed.

Kind of reminds her of high school, even though it's been quite a while since than. Her body is tingling and her head is drifting off.

What: Talk about the big plan
When: Before the walkout (yeah, I'm slack...)
Rating: F for fluff.
Where? here of course

What: Phone conversation between Jack and the Fifth Doctor
When: Day after the return from their little walk
Rating: PG13 for swearing
Status: Complete

( Oh, the humiliation )

(OOC: As far as we know, only Jack and Five are locked in. All else, up to you.)

WHAT: Sam and Inara talk after Sam's night of tequila.
WHERE: The library.
WHEN: Ages ago, I suck at posting. The morning following this log.
WARNINGS: Nah.

LINK: You were actually .... funny.

Who: Alice, Wilson
Where: Wilson's room
What: She says she's sorry and rubs his back.
When: Forever ago; I'm an idiot and thought I posted it already. Gamewise, it's after House and Wilson have their talk about Alice mentioning that she thinks Wilson is in love with House, here.
Warnings: R for UST and Alice's pottymouth.

Link: HERE.

Who: House, Stacy
Where: The bar > outside the hotel
What: They meet! And fight!
When: Before House and Cuddy's current thread, after House and Wilson's last thread.
Rating: PG

What hurts the most...

Oh, the bars.

The bars keep her flying high. She'll take rosin all over and a couple falls. When she does fall, it only makes her want to try it again. It's all for those few seconds where she lands something and it just feels so good.

She's past the sadness and anger or at least most of it. Haley's always gone with the punches before and there's no reason to stop now. Simple as that, right?

What: Dean finally sucks it up and tells River the truth.
Where: River's room.
When: Right after Dean and Sam's talk.
Warnings: Um. Cute?

Link Here.

Who: Sam and Dean
When: After Dean bangs Ellen.
Where: Dean and Sam's room.
Warnings: PG-13 for swearing and silly.

Link: HERE.