Entry tags:
Fic: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa. Act Three. (4/5)
Here you go, Act Three. For more info, see Cold Open:
Cold Open | Act One | Act Two
Title/Summary: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa.
Summary: Roda knew, at that very moment, that she was going to die.
Authors:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
luckweaver (aka the_redjay - they changed their name) & ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elisi.
Warnings: Character death, grievous injuries.
Setting: Between 'Day of the Doctor' and 'Time of the Doctor'. AU 'verse. Set post-A Good Day and [immediately] post-Galimaufrey.
Spoilers: Day of the Doctor, A Good Day, Galimaufrey.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), the Doctor, Clara, the Master (original/author-created), Jack.
Act Three
The wood of the burning torch felt rough against his palm. He could feel the heat, and absentmindedly followed the light cast by the flickering glow of the fire dancing across the funeral pyre. If he looked up he'd see her body, carefully wrapped, her weapons beside her. The last light of a setting sun cast ink black shadows across the landscape, and he knew that if he turned the faces of the other mourners would be painted with hues of dark orange, before darkness would creep along and envelope them all. Until he lit the pyre and sent his lover to her final rest.
Reaching out, he let the torch touch the carefully stacked wood, and after a moment a flame leapt up. And then another and another...
"Goodbye Ro-Ro," he whispered softly.
The flames were now climbing up the pyre, drowning out the sunset in their brightness, and the heat forced him to step back. Finding it hard to keep his eyes on the brightness he half-turned, letting his gaze drift across the others.
Jack, sombre and face immovable (yet the Seeker knew he was crying), his greatcoat done up right to the top, his collar tall and stiff. The soldier paying his last respect to a fallen comrade… The friend and lover grieving over his loss.
The Doctor, youthful face closed and worn, the stillness of his body a sharp contrast to his usual excited mania. And beside him Clara, silent and pale.
At the end, his father… And not one of them, not even the Seeker, would hazard to guess what thoughts were going through the Master’s mind.
A small, but select crowd, and he was the host. He didn’t feel like a host, didn’t want anyone there, yet at the same time he wanted to keep them all close - even Clara. (The Doctor was holding her hand as if she were his only anchor, and for the first time the Seeker understood why.) On their own, they were prone to wander off and do stupid things such as getting themselves killed.
Watching as the flames engulfed wood and fallen lover alike, his face hardened. He damn well knew why everything felt wrong. The feeling was in many ways similar to the devastation following the destruction of his Matrix… Except then he himself had been the only victim. Some would have said that it had only been just that he’d been killed by his pet project - that he’d needed to learn a little humility the hard way. Although the upshot had not been humility but a much greater focus; a TARDIS, an army of Toclafane, a war for the universe that he’d won, and plans stretching out much further than he’d ever dared envisage.
Bitterness.
That was what this was.
Bitterness that despite everything, he had failed when it mattered the most.
Green eyes looked into orange flames and were lost to thought.
~~~
Clara shivered as the evening breeze picked up, even as the warmth from the funeral pyre made her face uncomfortably hot. Her feet were aching, and mostly she just wanted to go home. She was very sorry that the Redjay Time Lady had died, and the Doctor’s grief was as plain as day, but she felt very much out of her depth.
The Doctor had asked her to come, and of course she had said yes. The planet was as spectacular as she’d been told, except it had not been a day for admiring the landscape… And when she’d asked - innocently - how come the Redjay had died and not regenerated, the Seeker had shot her a look so full of wounded guilt and pain that she had almost taken a step back.
After that she’d merely muttered ‘I am sorry for your loss’ and kept quiet. Clearly the two of them had been a lot closer than she’d thought. Both the Doctor and Jack had spoken before the pyre had been lit, and Clara now had a greater understanding of who the Redjay had been. The Master’s words, however, had been few.
“She was a worthy opponent,” he’d said, leaving Clara waiting for elaboration that never came. “Fitting,” the Doctor had muttered, and Clara was left trying to work out what was hidden behind the words.
The Seeker had kept silent, his face like a mask, but then he’d raised his arm, and suddenly there had been music. It had taken a moment or two before she realised that it was the Toclafane singing, as it seemed as if the whole world had broken into song. She recalled their childlike, yet oddly chilling, victory song from the Medusa Cascade, but this was something else… Solemn, beautiful; thousands of voices interweaving, the different strands separating and joining up in endless harmonies, constantly changing, evolving, yet never losing the central majestic and stately theme.
When it had finally died out, no one moved for the longest time, the silence stretching around them like negative space. Eventually she’d looked at the Doctor, and he’d quietly explained:
“It was a requiem. Gallifreyan. Very old; very very old. Going back to the earliest days. I thought it was lost…”
He’d shot the Seeker an inscrutable look, but the younger Time Lord had chosen that moment to light his torch, and somehow no one had spoken once the pyre had been lit.
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Master walking from the spot where he had so far stood like a statue, unmoving, and making his way to the Seeker, who slowly turned to study his father. The Master still creeped her out; his neatly trimmed beard, impeccable suit and woolen coat somehow adding to the subtle menace.
“Good send-off,” the Master finally said. “Bad death.”
The Seeker’s face went blank, but his father shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, son. She was reckless and paid the price.” His mouth hardened. “Wish I’d done it myself. She deserved better; deserved to be killed by someone who truly cared.”
Father and son looked at each other, black hair framing their faces, young and older, and Clara could feel her heart beating.
“Please leave,” the Seeker eventually said, voice somehow simultaneously cold and choked with emotion, and his father gave him a nod, and walked away.
The exchange had evidently helped wake the Doctor from his silent musings, and, pulling Clara along, he too went up to their host.
“Seeker,” he said, plaiting his fingers and studying the younger Time Lord gravely.
“Thank you. For everything you did for her, tonight. But before I leave, I thought you should know that-”
The Seeker cut him off.
“That you saved Gallifrey, but it’s lost in another dimension. Yes I know.”
Surprise writ large on his face, the Doctor stared at him: “You… know? Did Roda tell you, before...?”
“Not as such, no. Met someone in another dimension who relayed the tale.”
“But then you-” A smile began to blossom on the Doctor’s face, but the Seeker shook his head sharply.
“I’m not going to help you find it. Quite frankly, right now…”
He sighed, bowing his head, staying silent for a long while.
“No, doesn’t matter. But... I wanted to let you know that her last words… She said she was sorry. And that she was sure someone would pick up the mantle. I think that was a message for you, rather than me. You go… do whatever you have to.”
He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation the Doctor took it.
“Don’t be a stranger Doctor.”
“Likewise,” the Doctor replied quietly.
And then they left. Clara looked over her shoulder as they walked towards the TARDIS, seeing the Seeker sink down next to the fire, a small black silhouette against the golden glow, and wished she could have said or done something. She hoped someone else would be able to… No one should be alone after a loss, but the Seeker seemed to be actively pushing people away.
And there wasn’t anything she could do about that.
~~~
The pyre had disintegrated to a bed of hotly glowing embers, the heat radiating out in the evening air. Jack was the last one to still hang around, having fled into Roda's small library when the Doctor started saying his goodbyes.
Re-emerging some time later he found the Seeker sitting by the embers, legs crossed and as still as a statue. He almost looked like an actual statue, maybe carved out of something like ebony, his all-black clothing drinking up what light there was. As Jack tentatively sat down next to him, wondering what to say (there were no words, really), he - with a jolt - realised that the Seeker was crying. He wasn't moving, but his cheeks were wet and Jack faltered.
He had never seen the Seeker cry. He presumed that he must have cried, at some point, but Jack had never seen it before. Impulsively he put his arm around the Seeker's shoulders, pulled him close.
(She was really gone. He found it hard to accept, despite all the people he had lost... If he closed his eyes, he could see her still - so broken, yet so defiant. She had said goodbye with a kiss… )
What happened next would confuse him for years to come.
The Seeker turned, green eyes glistening and vulnerable, saying just "Jack", before reaching up, cradling Jack's cheek, and then - in as instinctive a motion as breathing - leaning in and kissing him.
For a moment Jack froze, but the Seeker was neither tentative nor unsure - Jack never since knew how to explain it, but it was like the kiss of an old lover. Very much like the kiss Roda had given him before she disappeared - the kiss of someone hurting and in need of comfort. It was as if Jack was the most familiar thing in the universe, and although it made no sense whatsoever he knew better than to question it, but just kissed him back.
For what seemed like lifetimes there was nothing but the two of them, but then the Seeker pulled back, looking at Jack with a look Jack couldn't decipher at all. He reached up, dried the tears from the Seeker's cheek, and the other momentarily closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then he opened his eyes again, and it could have been a different man looking back at him.
"I'm sorry Jack," he said, slowly. "I shouldn't..."
Jack waited, unsure. And yet...
"Why not?" he asked. "If this is what you need..."
The Seeker watched him in silence for the longest time, then he shook his head.
"It's what I want, I can't lie about that. But... I don't want it like this. You deserve better."
Jack frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Better than I can give you right now. I can find solace in a bottle, and probably will. But not with you. I can't-"
He broke off, stood on unsteady legs. The second sun had long since set, but there was still a faint glow on the edge of the horizon, enough to outline the Seeker’s pale face against the dark sky above.
Scrambling to his feet, Jack grasped the Seeker and turned him towards him.
"You kissed me. Seeker- you can't just leave that lying there. What was that?"
(They had known each other for more than three hundred years, and in all that time he’d been the Seeker’s ‘brother’. They had been the very definition of ‘platonic relationship’, and the Seeker had always reacted with distaste to the suggestion of anything more. What the hell had happened? Was it Roda’s death? Or something on his travels? It was a deviation from everything they’d ever had, and Jack felt like he was standing on quicksand.)
A strange little smile.
"Wishful thinking. Or nostalgia, depending how you look at it. Doesn't matter now."
"Excuse me?"
(He’d lost Roda, the blow having only been somewhat softened by the safe return of the Seeker… He needed something stable, going forward.)
"My Matrix blew up. Roda is... lost. I need to-" His eyes were a million miles away, and Jack knew what this meant. "I need to find the plans, build it properly. If I can go back, add her some time before she falls… At least she won’t be gone completely..."
Jack let his hand fall, recognising defeat when he saw it. The Seeker wouldn't be finding solace in drink, but drown himself in work instead.
'He feels as guilty as the rest of us', he realised. She died in his arms, he must have felt so helpless…
“Were you listening?” the Seeker asked abruptly. “When I talked to the Doctor. When I told him her last words. Did you hear?”
Jack wasn’t sure where the Seeker was going with this, but decided that honesty was the best course of action.
“Yes,” he said cautiously, and the Seeker fell silent for a long moment. Then:
“I lied. No, that’s not true. Those were her last words. Until I woke her up again.”
Jack could feel a strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck. What did he mean? The Seeker was staring at the glowing embers, as if speaking to himself.
“There is ancient Gallifreyan lore - myths and legends about something called the Sisterhood of Karn, who knew how to restore a Time Lord, how to trigger a regeneration when the body was too… damaged to manage it on its own. So I tried.” A pause during which Jack couldn’t have spoken even if he’d wanted to.
“And those were her last words: ‘Well you tried’. I tried, and I failed.”
The bitterness in his words was so profound that Jack almost felt it physically, even as he tried to take on board what this meant. The Seeker hadn’t just watched her die - he’d seen it twice. And had run into the limitations of what he was capable of...
No wonder he was in such a state. This was more than grief, it was defeat.
Whatever the kiss had been (although he now had a better idea, even if the familiarity was still unexplained), this was clearly not the time to question it. It was clear, however, that the Seeker needed a release, some way of dealing - something to help him take his mind off everything.
"Listen, Seeker - I have invitations to a costume party. I will send you co-ordinates. When you are ready for a break, let me know, OK?"
He nodded, but Jack had a feeling that he might have to drag him out of his labs forcibly. He'd give it a month.
And he needed to piece his own life together as well.
A life without Roda. Two hundred years, and now she was gone. Where did they go from here?
Act Four
Cold Open | Act One | Act Two
Title/Summary: The Death and Life of Rodageitmososa.
Summary: Roda knew, at that very moment, that she was going to die.
Authors:
luckweaver (aka the_redjay - they changed their name) & elisi.Warnings: Character death, grievous injuries.
Setting: Between 'Day of the Doctor' and 'Time of the Doctor'. AU 'verse. Set post-A Good Day and [immediately] post-Galimaufrey.
Spoilers: Day of the Doctor, A Good Day, Galimaufrey.
Rating: PG-13
Characters: The Seeker (OC), Roda (OC), the Doctor, Clara, the Master (original/author-created), Jack.
The wood of the burning torch felt rough against his palm. He could feel the heat, and absentmindedly followed the light cast by the flickering glow of the fire dancing across the funeral pyre. If he looked up he'd see her body, carefully wrapped, her weapons beside her. The last light of a setting sun cast ink black shadows across the landscape, and he knew that if he turned the faces of the other mourners would be painted with hues of dark orange, before darkness would creep along and envelope them all. Until he lit the pyre and sent his lover to her final rest.
'This is wrong', he thought. Something, somewhere deep inside, refused to believe what his own senses were telling him. The memory of her fading away in his arms was still etched on his mind so strongly that he'd barely slept since. It was irrefutable, yet he couldn't shake the feeling that this couldn't possibly be real.
(‘Do you trust me?’ ‘Yes…’ But he’d failed her, and the fire he now carried was like a mockery of the fire he had failed to light within her.)
Reaching out, he let the torch touch the carefully stacked wood, and after a moment a flame leapt up. And then another and another...
"Goodbye Ro-Ro," he whispered softly.
It had to be pride... Wounded pride that he could save the universe, but not her. Searing mortification that he'd failed. Anger - as bright as the fire he had lit - towards her, for being so stubborn and stupid and brave that she had ended up so mortally wounded that not all his skill and ingenuity could bring her back.
The flames were now climbing up the pyre, drowning out the sunset in their brightness, and the heat forced him to step back. Finding it hard to keep his eyes on the brightness he half-turned, letting his gaze drift across the others.
Jack, sombre and face immovable (yet the Seeker knew he was crying), his greatcoat done up right to the top, his collar tall and stiff. The soldier paying his last respect to a fallen comrade… The friend and lover grieving over his loss.
The Doctor, youthful face closed and worn, the stillness of his body a sharp contrast to his usual excited mania. And beside him Clara, silent and pale.
At the end, his father… And not one of them, not even the Seeker, would hazard to guess what thoughts were going through the Master’s mind.
A small, but select crowd, and he was the host. He didn’t feel like a host, didn’t want anyone there, yet at the same time he wanted to keep them all close - even Clara. (The Doctor was holding her hand as if she were his only anchor, and for the first time the Seeker understood why.) On their own, they were prone to wander off and do stupid things such as getting themselves killed.
He had sat with her body for a long time, the combination of crushing defeat and bone-deep grief paralysing him. He wasn’t good at this, had deliberately surrounded himself with near-immortals so he would not have to deal with death and loss…
He’d sent the hypercubes out in a daze, forcing himself to do something - if nothing else to stop himself from wondering why everything felt wrong.
Watching as the flames engulfed wood and fallen lover alike, his face hardened. He damn well knew why everything felt wrong. The feeling was in many ways similar to the devastation following the destruction of his Matrix… Except then he himself had been the only victim. Some would have said that it had only been just that he’d been killed by his pet project - that he’d needed to learn a little humility the hard way. Although the upshot had not been humility but a much greater focus; a TARDIS, an army of Toclafane, a war for the universe that he’d won, and plans stretching out much further than he’d ever dared envisage.
Bitterness.
That was what this was.
Bitterness that despite everything, he had failed when it mattered the most.
Green eyes looked into orange flames and were lost to thought.
Clara shivered as the evening breeze picked up, even as the warmth from the funeral pyre made her face uncomfortably hot. Her feet were aching, and mostly she just wanted to go home. She was very sorry that the Redjay Time Lady had died, and the Doctor’s grief was as plain as day, but she felt very much out of her depth.
The Doctor had asked her to come, and of course she had said yes. The planet was as spectacular as she’d been told, except it had not been a day for admiring the landscape… And when she’d asked - innocently - how come the Redjay had died and not regenerated, the Seeker had shot her a look so full of wounded guilt and pain that she had almost taken a step back.
After that she’d merely muttered ‘I am sorry for your loss’ and kept quiet. Clearly the two of them had been a lot closer than she’d thought. Both the Doctor and Jack had spoken before the pyre had been lit, and Clara now had a greater understanding of who the Redjay had been. The Master’s words, however, had been few.
“She was a worthy opponent,” he’d said, leaving Clara waiting for elaboration that never came. “Fitting,” the Doctor had muttered, and Clara was left trying to work out what was hidden behind the words.
The Seeker had kept silent, his face like a mask, but then he’d raised his arm, and suddenly there had been music. It had taken a moment or two before she realised that it was the Toclafane singing, as it seemed as if the whole world had broken into song. She recalled their childlike, yet oddly chilling, victory song from the Medusa Cascade, but this was something else… Solemn, beautiful; thousands of voices interweaving, the different strands separating and joining up in endless harmonies, constantly changing, evolving, yet never losing the central majestic and stately theme.
When it had finally died out, no one moved for the longest time, the silence stretching around them like negative space. Eventually she’d looked at the Doctor, and he’d quietly explained:
“It was a requiem. Gallifreyan. Very old; very very old. Going back to the earliest days. I thought it was lost…”
He’d shot the Seeker an inscrutable look, but the younger Time Lord had chosen that moment to light his torch, and somehow no one had spoken once the pyre had been lit.
Catching movement out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Master walking from the spot where he had so far stood like a statue, unmoving, and making his way to the Seeker, who slowly turned to study his father. The Master still creeped her out; his neatly trimmed beard, impeccable suit and woolen coat somehow adding to the subtle menace.
“Good send-off,” the Master finally said. “Bad death.”
The Seeker’s face went blank, but his father shook his head. “Don’t blame yourself, son. She was reckless and paid the price.” His mouth hardened. “Wish I’d done it myself. She deserved better; deserved to be killed by someone who truly cared.”
Father and son looked at each other, black hair framing their faces, young and older, and Clara could feel her heart beating.
“Please leave,” the Seeker eventually said, voice somehow simultaneously cold and choked with emotion, and his father gave him a nod, and walked away.
The exchange had evidently helped wake the Doctor from his silent musings, and, pulling Clara along, he too went up to their host.
“Seeker,” he said, plaiting his fingers and studying the younger Time Lord gravely.
“Thank you. For everything you did for her, tonight. But before I leave, I thought you should know that-”
The Seeker cut him off.
“That you saved Gallifrey, but it’s lost in another dimension. Yes I know.”
Surprise writ large on his face, the Doctor stared at him: “You… know? Did Roda tell you, before...?”
“Not as such, no. Met someone in another dimension who relayed the tale.”
“But then you-” A smile began to blossom on the Doctor’s face, but the Seeker shook his head sharply.
“I’m not going to help you find it. Quite frankly, right now…”
He sighed, bowing his head, staying silent for a long while.
“No, doesn’t matter. But... I wanted to let you know that her last words… She said she was sorry. And that she was sure someone would pick up the mantle. I think that was a message for you, rather than me. You go… do whatever you have to.”
He held out his hand, and after a moment’s hesitation the Doctor took it.
“Don’t be a stranger Doctor.”
“Likewise,” the Doctor replied quietly.
And then they left. Clara looked over her shoulder as they walked towards the TARDIS, seeing the Seeker sink down next to the fire, a small black silhouette against the golden glow, and wished she could have said or done something. She hoped someone else would be able to… No one should be alone after a loss, but the Seeker seemed to be actively pushing people away.
And there wasn’t anything she could do about that.
The pyre had disintegrated to a bed of hotly glowing embers, the heat radiating out in the evening air. Jack was the last one to still hang around, having fled into Roda's small library when the Doctor started saying his goodbyes.
Re-emerging some time later he found the Seeker sitting by the embers, legs crossed and as still as a statue. He almost looked like an actual statue, maybe carved out of something like ebony, his all-black clothing drinking up what light there was. As Jack tentatively sat down next to him, wondering what to say (there were no words, really), he - with a jolt - realised that the Seeker was crying. He wasn't moving, but his cheeks were wet and Jack faltered.
He had never seen the Seeker cry. He presumed that he must have cried, at some point, but Jack had never seen it before. Impulsively he put his arm around the Seeker's shoulders, pulled him close.
(She was really gone. He found it hard to accept, despite all the people he had lost... If he closed his eyes, he could see her still - so broken, yet so defiant. She had said goodbye with a kiss… )
What happened next would confuse him for years to come.
The Seeker turned, green eyes glistening and vulnerable, saying just "Jack", before reaching up, cradling Jack's cheek, and then - in as instinctive a motion as breathing - leaning in and kissing him.
For a moment Jack froze, but the Seeker was neither tentative nor unsure - Jack never since knew how to explain it, but it was like the kiss of an old lover. Very much like the kiss Roda had given him before she disappeared - the kiss of someone hurting and in need of comfort. It was as if Jack was the most familiar thing in the universe, and although it made no sense whatsoever he knew better than to question it, but just kissed him back.
For what seemed like lifetimes there was nothing but the two of them, but then the Seeker pulled back, looking at Jack with a look Jack couldn't decipher at all. He reached up, dried the tears from the Seeker's cheek, and the other momentarily closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
Then he opened his eyes again, and it could have been a different man looking back at him.
"I'm sorry Jack," he said, slowly. "I shouldn't..."
Jack waited, unsure. And yet...
"Why not?" he asked. "If this is what you need..."
The Seeker watched him in silence for the longest time, then he shook his head.
"It's what I want, I can't lie about that. But... I don't want it like this. You deserve better."
Jack frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"Better than I can give you right now. I can find solace in a bottle, and probably will. But not with you. I can't-"
He broke off, stood on unsteady legs. The second sun had long since set, but there was still a faint glow on the edge of the horizon, enough to outline the Seeker’s pale face against the dark sky above.
Scrambling to his feet, Jack grasped the Seeker and turned him towards him.
"You kissed me. Seeker- you can't just leave that lying there. What was that?"
(They had known each other for more than three hundred years, and in all that time he’d been the Seeker’s ‘brother’. They had been the very definition of ‘platonic relationship’, and the Seeker had always reacted with distaste to the suggestion of anything more. What the hell had happened? Was it Roda’s death? Or something on his travels? It was a deviation from everything they’d ever had, and Jack felt like he was standing on quicksand.)
A strange little smile.
"Wishful thinking. Or nostalgia, depending how you look at it. Doesn't matter now."
"Excuse me?"
(He’d lost Roda, the blow having only been somewhat softened by the safe return of the Seeker… He needed something stable, going forward.)
"My Matrix blew up. Roda is... lost. I need to-" His eyes were a million miles away, and Jack knew what this meant. "I need to find the plans, build it properly. If I can go back, add her some time before she falls… At least she won’t be gone completely..."
Jack let his hand fall, recognising defeat when he saw it. The Seeker wouldn't be finding solace in drink, but drown himself in work instead.
'He feels as guilty as the rest of us', he realised. She died in his arms, he must have felt so helpless…
“Were you listening?” the Seeker asked abruptly. “When I talked to the Doctor. When I told him her last words. Did you hear?”
Jack wasn’t sure where the Seeker was going with this, but decided that honesty was the best course of action.
“Yes,” he said cautiously, and the Seeker fell silent for a long moment. Then:
“I lied. No, that’s not true. Those were her last words. Until I woke her up again.”
Jack could feel a strange prickling sensation at the back of his neck. What did he mean? The Seeker was staring at the glowing embers, as if speaking to himself.
“There is ancient Gallifreyan lore - myths and legends about something called the Sisterhood of Karn, who knew how to restore a Time Lord, how to trigger a regeneration when the body was too… damaged to manage it on its own. So I tried.” A pause during which Jack couldn’t have spoken even if he’d wanted to.
“And those were her last words: ‘Well you tried’. I tried, and I failed.”
The bitterness in his words was so profound that Jack almost felt it physically, even as he tried to take on board what this meant. The Seeker hadn’t just watched her die - he’d seen it twice. And had run into the limitations of what he was capable of...
No wonder he was in such a state. This was more than grief, it was defeat.
Whatever the kiss had been (although he now had a better idea, even if the familiarity was still unexplained), this was clearly not the time to question it. It was clear, however, that the Seeker needed a release, some way of dealing - something to help him take his mind off everything.
"Listen, Seeker - I have invitations to a costume party. I will send you co-ordinates. When you are ready for a break, let me know, OK?"
He nodded, but Jack had a feeling that he might have to drag him out of his labs forcibly. He'd give it a month.
And he needed to piece his own life together as well.
A life without Roda. Two hundred years, and now she was gone. Where did they go from here?
Act Four