Letting the Days Go By...

Seven Dollars' Worth of Moon Rocks

The loudest, most ear-piercing shriek of a name bounced through the theatre, causing the marine and everyone else inside to look toward the projector room in a panic – All except one.

Alas, Richtofen had finally looked behind him and found Chloe far from where he thought she was. After all, she must have known it wouldn't have taken him too long for his initial suspicions to catch up to her.

"I gave you an order, you– get up here! NOW!"

"Then do something worthwhile." They heard her reply back, insouciant in listening to the man above.

"Don't you dare talk to me that way!" The seething Doctor continued with more tirades of fury being thrown out with each passing step she took towards the stage.

Dempsey, joined by Nikolai and Takeo – whom he had dragged along – looked on as the woman stopped at the base of the stage, the German man teetering on the edge of throwing something out the window at her. The rest of the group could only predict what was going to happen between the scientists once more; either one backed down or it would end in bloodshed.

A roaring cry meant the Doctor had snapped and decided for them.

"That. Is. IT! No more Doctor Nice-Guy!" He yelled.

They heard the upstairs projector door as it was flung open, the reverberating shockwave of its impact into the wall, the stomping of jackboots bouncing their way through the theatre and down the stairs and past the trio residing in the aisle.

"Hey!-" Dempsey began, only to find he was unable to stop the German with an insult or a backhanded comment of his own.

He could hardly move in time for the tall figure to shove the other behind the steel door, for them to disappear within the loud electrical whirring of the teleporter. He could only stand still as the coinciding flashes from sparking electricity illuminated the grandiose interior and the pit in his stomach dropped with the rise of malicious cackling – a common sound from the deranged, psychopathic Doctor.

Dempsey had done nothing; failed to stop him and done nothing but watch that madman... and now it had cost a life.

.

.

.

The quiet that was instilled within the theatre was ear-ringingly silent.

Sleep provided a curse more than a blessing.

The only couch he was able to clean off enough rubble and wood chips, was the one at the front.

He honestly couldn't have cared where he slept, just that he did. It would get him out of this rut... Didn't help he was supposed to be on watch.

The events from earlier proved a harrowing glimpse into how he, or any of his other allies could easily be dealt with if the Doctor so pleased.

It didn't have to happen to her.

Of all people, her.

If he'd spoken up, or told her to stop pestering the Doctor, then she might've stood a chance.

She might have lived through this nightmare.

She could have ... if she just....

He tossed himself over onto the other side of the couch.

Try to think of something else is what he told himself, but his mind struggled, acutely listening in on every howl of wind for screams, for every creak of wood as the breaking down of barriers, for every drop as a sign of the undead's untimely return. His ears picked up on a low sound, rhythmic and stable. You would think it would be calming but it made his stomach slowly twist and knot itself together.