Rose M. Tyler

Well. Here we go again. I see so much familiar handwriting, names I thought I'd never hear again, and people who I've never met in my life. Welcome back, gang. Team? Whatever.

Trust each other. I remember this place and I can tell you that much. Use the buddy system. Find a mate and stick with them whenever possible. It doesn't always help, but it can't hurt, either.

Speaking of things that can't hurt... There's lots of people who know other people. Someone-I think it was Sam, or maybe Shannon who I haven't seen yet-used to do a list. Like the attendance list from school. Who's here, who's missing, you know.

( So here goes.  )

Nothing below this post is readable to the residents of Vas Captio. (That includes you, Monsieur LeBeau!)

[Private to Selene and Tonks]

The cages... Are you two thinking what I'm thinking? Is it possible? The moon should be any day now. Did they put them there for him? Are there others like him? Or is their some other purpose? And if there is, what are the odds we could use it anyway?

I'm not letting them win. And that's final.

[Private to the Doctor. Meaning One/Both/Whoever]

She needs help. Selene. She needs help or she'll starve. Or snap, the way they want her to. And I'm not letting it happen. You can help me or not, but I'll find a way and I'm going to do something for her. Meaning I'd love your input. I could use your input. But I'll figure something out no matter what. I'm not letting the stupid bastards running this place hurt her.

Bloody fucking hell.

If anyone's seen a bloke, relatively tall I guess, dark hair, gorgeous green eyes, probably a bit out of it, answers to the name Chris, lemme know? Or if you're reading this, Mr. Halliwell, a 'Hi I'm still alive', would be nice.

Fuck.

Furthermore, Management, if you're going to force us to sit in darkness, some light might be nice. Or at least some music, let's make a damn club out of this place if it's going to be night all the time. You're doing this to get back at us-- It's because of Remus isn't-- And while we're at it, you really shouldn't drop dead bodies all over the place without at least providing shovels for a proper burial. And some body wash. What was the point of filling out those bloody surveys if you're not going to at least make them count for anything?

Private

What was I expecting? A hello, how've you been? Guess I should just be grateful he's alive and move on.

Right. Step one, find what the hell happened to Chris. Step two, sort out Thing 1 and Thing 2. Step 3? Get out of this hell hole.

( Private to the Doctor )

( Private to the Doctor--whichever one(s) read it )

( Private to Remus )

( Private to Self )

I've never liked crows. They remind me of ravens. Ravens remind me of the Tower, and they remind me of that awful Poe poem and...yeah No crows next time, please oh great and powerful powers that be.

Also, I'm sorry glad to see the kids are no longer kids. Hope no one's suffering any ill-effects other than perhaps a bit of embarassment. Don't worry, your tiny little secrets are safe with me! Except the Ninja Turtles.

( Private. Completely, totally, a thousand percent private. )

( Private to the Doctor )

( Private to Jack )

Alright, everyone, it seems it's an experiment day and some of our local residents are...well, kids. Hurray? Let's play tag? Ugh.

We should probably make to get them all in one place if we can find them. Make a list of who we know is here as a child so we don't lose track. That's ordinarily the kind of thing John would do, but seeing as he's...well, small right now, that won't be happening.

So he, Ilyana, and Tonks are accounted for. Anyone else?

The least these people could do is give us toys or games or something while the uh, kids are here. I mentioned tag, there's that Mother May I game...anyone else have anything that doesn't take extra equipment? Is there anything left in the gym that could be used for play?

I was really planning on not having to worry about these sorts of things for another ten years, give or take.

( Survey my big British arse )

( Private )

( Private to Remus )

( Private to Jack )

( Private to Nine )

( Private to Shannon )

Brilliant. Now, we just need a few more pieces and we can bloody get the hell out of here by putting the damn thing back together.

And you can't prove it's the real thing, either. Good show, that.

While we're at it, what the hell's with all the noise in this place? You'd think a place where everyone's in serious danger would be a bit quieter at night. Barely slept an hour and I am not a happy girl with little sleep. Seriously, ask the Doctor. Or Jack. Last time he sneaks up on me in the wee morning hours, hmm?

I had a diary when I was little. Shareen and I would pass one back and forth back in school. It's supposed to be where you write all your hopes and dreams and the things you love and the boys you fancy. It's supposed to be where you write that you want to be a pop star someday and that Patrick, though he has freckles and his hair's a bit last year, is terribly fit and boy wouldn't he make a great date to the dance.

It's not supposed to be where you write to your fellow kidnapees to let them know you're still alive and kicking.

Hello, everyone. I'm Rose and I'm still alive and kicking. Though barely. What the hell is this place and how are we getting out? Really, that's all I'm concerned with.

Oh, and I did end up going with Patrick. To the dance, I mean. Freckles and all.

( I've travelled with a lot of people, but you're setting new records for jeopardy friendly. )