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d8rkmessngrAuthor: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Note that "the Year That Never Was" was suggested that it wasn't fun. I took it as a challenge to somehow still find a way to instill comfort in it. If it didn't work, I'm sorry. I suck. LOL.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, VIOLENCE, torture (mostly implied, all a matter of reader interpretation), child death, character death (but remember what year we're in…lol)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events here that was referenced in DW's "The Sound of Drums", "Utopia", "Parting of Ways", TW's "Day One"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38, Ch 39
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of The Time Lords"
Act I
Valiant
Month Eleven, Ver. 1
Lucy observed the young pockmarked pilot fumbling with the satellite network's controls and trying to realign them once again. They were drifting in and out of sync like a scattering of glittering marbles. Lucy knew exactly how they felt; she was finding herself increasingly caught in an odd conflict of rage, fear, and joy that always resulted in her writhing alone in her bed, a scream stuck halfway up her throat. She looked on, bored, as equations and nervous chatter sailed over her in an incomprehensible prattle. Lucy crossed her legs, smoothed the wrinkles off the silk draped over her body and turned her chair back towards the tent.
Harry was once more off doing…things and left Lucy to watch the Doctor. There wasn't much to watch though. The Doctor stayed inside his tent most of the time, mute, unmoving and if it turned out he was dead—he was quite old now—it wouldn't surprise Lucy one bit.
"What's he doing?" Lucy mused out loud to try to get the Doctor to reply. Just in case. She stretched out her leg and gave the tent a little nudge. None of the maids behind her commented. None of them dared. The ragged blanket serving as his shelter shuddered under her foot.
"Do you think he will succeed this time?" Lucy murmured. She sank deeper into the chair and folded her hands across her belly.
The Doctor said nothing, but his hunched form shifted away from the visible light. Lucy stopped. It was enough.
"Such an interesting thing," Lucy mimicked Harry. Her foot tapped against the tent again. "Fascinating. No wonder my Harry is so amused by him."
Still saying nothing, the Doctor stayed huddled in his hovel.
"You're seeing it right now, aren't you? My Harry and his companion."
"He is not his companion."
The smirk spread easily across her face. It was predictable how easy it was to get the Doctor to respond. He talked to her even without prompting. It frustrated Harry to no end when his taunts went unrewarded. She'd often wanted to tell Harry, show him how to instigate, but something always stopped her. This was hers and hers alone, as private as the dank engine room below was to Harry. There was something comforting knowing something Harry didn't. With all the secrets he wouldn't share, Lucy felt centimeters taller with her own insignificant secret clutched close to her breast.
"No," Lucy agreed, still feeling too good-humored to think about the wisdom of talking with the Doctor, "he isn't Harry's companion." It was odd no one contradicted her here; no hand was slashing across the air to strike her for blasphemy.
"But he will be…soon," Lucy echoed Harry's vow and tried for the same sly crooked smile Harry favored, but her stomach clenched at the promise.
"And where would that leave you, Lucy Saxon?"
Lucy scowled at the tent. "Why would it leave me anywhere? I will still be by his side. Harry came back for me."
"He also came back for him."
Fingers dug into the plush armrests, her nails carving grooves into the leather.
"Only to use him. Only to drain him. Only to—"
"Then why are you here?"
"Because he loves me." It came out too weak, too unsteady and Lucy took a deep breath and tried again.
"Because he loves me."
The laugh from the tent sounded like sandpaper rubbing together. "All right," the Doctor agreed far too quickly.
"He does," Lucy insisted as she rolled her chair closer to the dark opening. She wanted to reach in and grab him yet the thought of touching him, seeing him up-close made her heart pound and her mouth dry.
"If the Master can ever feel love, it would be for the Lucy Saxon who came back for him." The Doctor leaned forward. Eyes dark like slick mud stared at her, crinkled downward with an emotion that made her cringe.
"But you're not her, are you?"
"Yes, I am," Lucy snapped. Her arms shook as her grip grew tight enough that her fingers began to cramp.
"No, you're not."
It would be so easy to kick the tent down, tear it from its hook hanging off the railing of the upper bridge.
"I am the same one who went crawling through the rift, let space and time disfigure me and found him and awakened him. Me. I went to the far future to his past and reawakened our Master."
A chill traveled down her spine when she could see brown coals burning bright in the dark. Lucy fought the urge to rear back.
"Lucy Saxon came from the future, to his past to awaken the Master," the Doctor murmured. "His past…our future. Ah. Time is such a tangled river."
Lucy didn't like the way the Doctor looked, his thinned brows knitted together in thought and she knew, oh, she knew she had said something she shouldn't have.
The Doctor lifted his eyes towards her. Lucy pressed her mouth together. "If she hadn't died back there, do you think he would have come back for you?"
It was a question Lucy never voiced out loud. Hearing it spoken out loud mocked her.
"It doesn't matter," Lucy hissed. Her fingers curled painfully on the edge of the table. She lifted her chin. "The fact of the matter is he did come back for me."
"He's been traveling back and forth in time," the Doctor murmured. "What stops him from going back to get the right one—"
"I am the right one!" Lucy shot up to her feet. The chair rolled back and smacked the table with a loud enough clatter that Lucy flinched.
"Ah, Lucy Saxon," the Doctor sighed.
Everyone around her stilled, stunned in their tracks. Lucy whipped around to glare at them all standing stock-still, gawping like stupid sheep.
"Leave us."
One of the guards, pale and pathetic in his black suit, stepped forward. "Lady Saxon, we were told you were not to be left alone with—"
"Leave," Lucy said in a cold voice, "or the Master and I will dine watching you dropped over the Atlantic."
The guard, one of many youths recruited during Harry's ministry days, blanched. "Ma'am," he stammered before he fled with everyone else including the bridge crew once they set the autopilot.
Lucy stood in her black silk gown, tall in her heels, feet slightly apart. She stood there, her back against the edge of the table and she stared at the tent opening.
When the door clicked, signaling the last of the staff had escaped, Lucy kicked her chair and watched it crash into the side of the tent. It missed the Doctor but tore the blanket off its hook and the tent collapsed. The cover fluttered down, revealing the Doctor sitting cross-legged, his eyes pinned to her face, unflinching.
Old and withered, the Doctor sat with his back hunched, his hands folded in a contemplative gesture. He sat with the stance of a yogi yet with the air of a waiting soldier. His head hung, too old to keep his head up for too long, but his eyes stayed on Lucy.
Lucy didn't approach him.
"I can't kill him." Lucy raised her chin. "You know that, yet you fear for the freak."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"When Harry is done with him, it will be over and I will have my Harry back."
It was infuriating how the Doctor held his tongue. There was no challenge in his gaze, however. He just looked at her with something akin to pity.
Lucy felt a flutter in her belly. She swallowed. Her chin dipped.
"It'll never be over." Lucy stared at the Doctor. She sat heavily on the edge of the table. "You don't think it'll ever be done."
"It is a vicious cycle he is in. The vortex was never meant to be tasted."
The corner of Lucy's mouth twitched. "I have."
"And you saw it, didn't you?" The Doctor tilted his head a little, his gaze unreadable.
Lucy's smile faded. She rubbed her palms along the edge of the table. She remembered the brief moment of clarity she had felt when she absorbed the shattered drums of collected power. She remembered the stark, cold prick of fear when it faded and she became more aware of how too human, too limited she was.
"The truth. What was. What could be. What will be. You saw it."
"Yes," Lucy breathed.
The Doctor leaned forward. "All of it?"
Words strangled her and rendered her speechless. Lucy could only nod.
"The Master and I are burdened with this. Always. But we learned since childhood how to keep it at bay." The Doctor sighed long and low. "But the vortex highlights things in time it shouldn't. We lose perspective in all that power. The vortex reads our desires and shows us what can be possible, but there are so many possibilities." The Doctor shook his head and dropped his eyes.
"Your Master is slowly drowning himself, Lucy Saxon."
"But he won't stop. He'll never stop," Lucy whispered. "The drumming haunts him and I tried but I can't hear it …" Her eyes burned. "I can't. But for him…It'll never go away. It won't, not while he embraces the time vortex, not while he's with him."
"Help your Master, Lucy Saxon." Low and melodic, the Doctor's words wrapped around her like a silk scarf. Lucy rubbed her bare arms absently. "You came back for him. You're the only one who can help him."
"How?" Lucy rasped. She stared past his shoulder at the portholes. The sky was gray and gray would soon turn black and trillions and trillions of years later, it will all turn to nothing.
"Keep him away from the vortex."
Lucy laughed. It scratched her throat like broken glass.
"How?" Lucy repeated, but it was to herself more now. There was something that made her look up. She was caught by the infinite gleam in the Doctor's eyes, older than time itself, stronger than the ancient body that housed them.
"Help me get Jack Harkness off this ship."
Torchwood, Cardiff
There were times when Gwen wanted to hug him.
There were times when Gwen wanted someone to hug her.
After the initial shock of finding Andy with Owen, her joy had turned bittersweet. The resistance found no one else on the list she and Ianto had compiled of their families and Tosh's. Reuniting with Andy suddenly became a luxury, too acute of a privilege to bear. There were times now when Gwen found she couldn't look at Ianto in the eye.
Andy felt thinner than she remembered when she hugged him. His hair was cut shorter, almost shorn off and Andy looked more coltish with his bony knees and elbows than when she last saw him. He didn't appear too impressed with Torchwood and conversation these days was far more strategic and technical than she was accustomed to. Gwen missed their aimless talks about the tavern's new cook—because the chips tasted different this time—the latest on Nasty Nick's chaos in Eastenders and all the little things about subjects they would prattle on about to make the rota pass quickly. Gwen realized during Andy's clipped conversations that nothing they ever spoke about stuck in her memory. She still missed it though.
Gwen shot him a look sideways. They had found spools of cables left in an abandoned factory; wires they could use for explosives, for the rift, for everything. It was a mundane task but better than sitting in the dark, waiting for Ianto and Owen to return. They were seated in Jack's office, the laptop the brightest thing in the room. Andy was staring at the spool he was unwinding with such intensity, still silent, to the point of laconic.
"Tomorrow's the next steel run. Dawn." Gwen snipped off another length of wire and bundled them together. These would be for the resistance, Gwen calculated, for if they ever gathered their nerve to sabotage the rockets.
"Ianto shouldn't be sneaking into that barge alone. I can help. Backup." Andy tugged at the spool for more wire. He trapped them under his feet to straighten the thick cable.
Gwen felt her insides knot. "He's done it before. We all have. We can't all go out there, just in case."
Andy nodded as if it made sense and unraveled more wire for her.
"Andy—"
"You would have been proud of him," Andy suddenly said as he held up the wires for her to trim.
"Rhys?" Gwen asked tentatively. She was almost afraid to say his name out loud as if it had become an unspoken taboo between them. Andy hadn't talked about anything except for the four months he had spent with the resistance.
Andy paused, his hands held up like he was sorting yarn and not meters of copper wiring for dynamite.
"Yeah," he said curtly before ducking his head. After a beat, he raised his head again.
"He came charging in after the news about Torchwood being taken to the Valiant." Andy's smile was brittle these days, as if it physically hurt to smile. His head dropped again and his hands busied around the cables. They looked like golden snakes coiled around his wrists.
The kerosene lamp by the couch flickered against a pale scar under his throat. Gwen was afraid to ask him about it. He sometimes smoothed a finger down it then tensed as if he had forgotten it was there.
Gwen cleared her throat quietly. "You said Rhys charged into the police station?"
Andy shrugged his narrow shoulders, lost in Jack's dark blue service shirt and jumper Ianto had found him. His old clothing had been burned because Owen deemed them infested but didn't elaborate. Owen was becoming as secretive as Jack every passing day. The jeans Andy wore were the right length but he needed to slip a bit of rope through the loops to make the waist fit.
"Insisted you couldn't be one of those terrorists," Andy went on as he cut the wires into the needed length. "Said it was malarkey."
"Sounds like him." Gwen wanted to smile but it felt like her face forgotten how.
"Kept coming back to see if there was any more news. Then at some point, he stopped going home and just stayed. Nearly put him in a cell for all the times he was having a row with the DI—"
"Oh God." Gwen moaned softly and covered her face with her hands.
Andy gave a strained chuckle. "Called Mason a…let's see…'a short, stumpy, self-servicing wanker who couldn't find his own ass even if his thumbs were'…" Andy gave her a sideways look, a small, unsure smirk on his face.
"You don't really want me to finish that, do you, Gwen?"
"Oh no, no, no," Gwen struggled not to laugh too loudly. She dropped her hands and looked at Andy, a new clarity coming over her.
"He's dead, isn't he?"
The rare brief smile faded and Andy lowered his eyes. He nodded.
Gwen was surprised to find her voice calm when she asked, "What happened?"
"We were all watching that broadcast, saw the assassination…" Andy stared at the ground as if it was the telly showing everything. "Then those things came out of the sky and people were screaming. Rhys ran out to help as Abby opened the doors to the basement."
"No windows," Gwen remembered.
Andy nodded. "We tried to herd as many as we could inside but there was all this running …" Andy's brow knitted together. "I don't think everyone really knew where they were running to. Rhys and I and—I think…yeah, Fred was there, so was Tony…"
Gwen smiled, her eyes burning. "I wanted Rhys to meet them one day, they would have got along well."
"You wouldn't have known they were strangers. They were all yanking and pulling people inside, yelling at others to avoid the windows. There were so many. Finally, we couldn't go out there anymore. Then there was…there was this screaming." Andy rubbed the heels of his palms over his knees.
"There was a family across the street. Three children. Their mother was covering them. They were so small. Their father was waving some sort of bin lid at one of those aliens."
Gwen gulped. She blinked rapidly and felt something hot down her cheek. "Rhys ran out there, didn't he?"
"We tried to stop him. By the time he reached them, the children were already orphans. By the time he got them back…" Andy's palms stopped and finger-by-finger, they curled into fists.
"He…" Andy sniffed. "I think he was trying to say something, tell me something, but by then …" Andy sighed and he suddenly looked both too young and too old in Jack's shirt and jeans. A man-child hunched in the dark, squinting under the kerosene light.
Andy's gaze was still fixed to the ground. "He saved a lot of lives then, Gwen. A lot of people, but when Saxon's people came …" Andy shrugged. "Some of us were split up for mining work, others for dismantling, it was fatal work for many."
Gwen ran her tongue across her teeth. "What…what happened to the children?"
Andy said nothing. He picked up the wire again and tugged at the cable harder than necessary.
The spool sputtered as wire unwound and rattled. Stiff copper wrapped in colorful plastic or latex made a hissing sound as it spun around under Andy's guidance.
Gwen took the hint and went back to snipping again. She kept her head down and tried not to imagine Rhys facing the Toclafane. God, her daft, heroic man.
"There wasn't enough food," Andy suddenly said. "Everyone rationed their share so the children could have more. Some even went without but in the end …" Andy dropped the wire he held. His fists thumped his knees.
"What were their names?" Gwen asked around the lump in her throat.
"What does it matter?" Andy returned with a bitterness that made Gwen look up. He sighed.
"Sorry." Andy's response was small. "They didn't know their surname if that's what you mean. The children…they were too small to know."
Gwen stared at the clippers in her hands. "Oh," she managed. It was a horrible thing to be grateful for, but Gwen was glad Rhys didn't survive to see that. It would have broken his heart.
"Oh," Gwen repeated because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"There was so much wasted death." Andy sounded worn. Gwen couldn't look at him again, because this wasn't the Andy she knew and the idea felt too much like one more name to grieve over.
"Rhys died trying to save people," Gwen said softly. She wished she had her wallet still. It was lost somewhere in the Himalayas. There was a picture of her, Rhys and Bana—God, she forgot about Banana Boat.
"And those people died eventually, too," Andy bit out.
"Stop it," Gwen hissed. "Don't belittle what Rhys tried to do."
"I wasn't—"
"Yes you were!" Gwen swallowed before her voice rose too high.
Andy was shrouded in the dark. He turned his face away from the laptop, the lamps, from her.
"Sorry," he meekly offered. "I…you're right. They all died trying to save people and me? I was—"
"Surviving," Gwen said before Andy could finish. "You were surviving, love. Just like me, like Ianto, like Owen, like the resistance." Gwen settled a hand over the knee closest to her. "There's been enough death, Andy."
Andy looked at her hand on his knee. He shrugged and his knee shifted away.
"Yeah," he mumbled. Andy studied Gwen with an unreadable look.
"Torchwood, this isn't really special ops, this…" Andy gestured to his surroundings. "You deal with all the strange stuff, don't you? Each time I see you lot it's always after some spooky-do. Am I right?"
"We sometimes deal with…aliens," Gwen acknowledged slowly. "We collect anything that's dangerous."
Andy stared hard, speechless. His mouth shut and his mouth twisted to a tiny smirk.
"I think Torchwood missed one."
Gwen pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. A cross between a giggle and a sob squeaked out before she added, "No shit."
The giggles released were small and stifled, but a balm to the soul. Gwen enveloped Andy in her embrace and buried her face into his shoulder. Andy paused at the contact but then relaxed into it as he dissolved into giggles that didn't just sound like giggles anymore.
When they parted, Gwen said nothing about Andy's red-rimmed eyes and knew Andy would say nothing about hers.
"Thank you," Gwen said quietly, "for telling me about Rhys."
"I'm sorry about Rhys. He was…he was a good man, you know? Everyone ran away. He ran towards the danger. Like I said, you would have been so proud of him."
Gwen felt stinging at the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Diolch," Gwen murmured, "I am." She rose to her feet. "I need to get downstairs, monitor the Morse decoder. The people down there promised they would try and contact us around this time."
"I'll finish up here," Andy offered.
"Remember, if the alarm—"
"Lights out, computer shut then down the hatch, I know," Andy interrupted. He offered her a tight smile. "It's happened enough times before I can do this with my eyes closed."
"Better not, you might trip," Gwen joked weakly. She made her way to Jack's desk.
"Gwen."
Gwen stopped at the top rung and looked over.
The combination of the laptop and kerosene light cast a halo around Andy that Gwen didn't like so she looked away.
"Yeah?"
"Rhys…I think what he was trying to say before he…" Andy took a deep breath. "I think—no, I know, he was trying to say that he loved you."
Gwen closed her eyes. She took a shuddering breath before she looked over.
"Thank you," she rasped before she descended down the rest of the rungs.
The decoder was silent on the floor away from the hatchway. Gwen sat cross-legged on the ground by it. She stared, not really seeing it in the dark, but she could make out its small, angular shape like a hunched shadow by her feet.
After a few deep breaths, Gwen fumbled out a burlap wrapped lump that had sat in her pocket all these months. Despite the lack of light, Gwen knew by touch what it was.
Always completely charged, her mobile lit up as soon as she turned the power on. Bloody thing, useless thing, it took up space in her front pocket that she could use to store more ammo, maybe more food for the little ones she came across. She should really throw it away.
The mobile was too bright and it hurt her eyes staring at it, bright enough that her eyes filled from trying to look too long. Like staring at the sun. Gwen clutched it with both hands and stared at its colorful face and the text flashing repeatedly on the LED screen.
'No signal found'.
Her vision blurred. Gwen pressed the mobile to her face and as quietly as she could, began to cry.
Valiant
Five days later…
The taste of blood never really went away no matter how many deaths he suffered. Even vomiting couldn't get the coppery tang out.
"You know," Jack managed before he spat out a tooth to the side. That so better grow back later. "Most people start with the relationship first before the whole…bondage thing."
Saxon had the balls to look pleased. He straightened out his sleeves, slipped back on his jacket and tweaked his tie in a smooth move that was so unlike Ianto's subtle gesture, it made Jack miss Ianto more. Weird.
The smirk made Saxon's eyes narrow to slits as they lingered on his torso. "I always thought we were past that, Captain. Given our … history."
Jack glowered as Saxon circled him, the pointed tip of the screwdriver tracing a line around his middle. He tensed, his spine a painful line that wouldn't relax until Saxon stood in front of him again.
Saxon tsked. "Look at the state of you." He tapped his screwdriver against his chin. "Really, Captain, appearances and all …"
Jack clamped his mouth shut. He watched Saxon pacing in front of him.
"You know he just left you here."
Jack stared past his shoulder at the pipes cracked and bleeding with steam.
"Left you behind so long ago, left you in here in this rusty room, why do you still insist on being so loyal?"
Blah, blah, blah, Jack thought as he stole a glimpse above the door again then dropped his gaze quickly before Saxon noticed.
"…wrong…a freak left among the dead, rotting where you stand …"
The words grazed him like an old barber's blade skimming down his jaw, scraping clean his stubble, the edge cool and thin as it lingered by his throat. Jack hung still, unmoving as Saxon rattled on. It didn't even look like the Master noticed that Jack was staring at the terrier now sitting by the pipes behind them.
It apparently didn't matter that for weeks, Jack had thrown up walls and doors to close in around him, to barricade himself from witnesses and Saxon's non-too-subtle attempts to throw a sledgehammer into his mind. The Doctor had walked through his mental blocks with a cheerful ease that was both impressive and a little frightening.
"…everything around you withers and turns to dust…"
The black and brown terrier lifted one bushy brow. It now looked like it was winking at him. Huh, didn't think dogs could do that. It got up on all fours and trotted over to Saxon and began stepping in the Master's shadow, mimicking the pacing with light feet.
"…drumming under your skin…"
Saxon stood close, far closer than Jack would have liked, his fingers tapping the back of Jack's head like a table.
"He was never going to come back for you."
Jack's right eye flinched before he could stop himself and Saxon chuckled.
Fingers danced on his skin, nails pricking up and down in a pattern Jack knew too well.
"You can still hear it, can't you? If you try hard enough, you can still hear it."
Jack set his jaw. He didn't react to the hand now curled around the back of his neck.
"Surely you must wonder. Why wasn't he the one to greet you in 1941?" Saxon's upper lip curled back into a sneer. "Did you fear what he would have said if he saw you on your hands and knees, taking every co—"
The terrier growled soundlessly, pranced up to Saxon's feet and lifted up his hind leg.
Jack burst out laughing.
"What is so funny?" Saxon seethed.
There was a smack—Saxon apparently didn't have a sense of humor—and Jack's head rocked back. The room dimmed then brightened with a few blinks. When Jack's head fell forward, he saw the Doctor on the pipes, slouched down, his bearded muzzle droopy, his eyes liquid and wide.
Great, Jack thought blearily, puppy dog eyes, I thought only Ianto could pull that look off.
The terrier straightened then bared its teeth up at Jack in a canine version of a Cheshire grin.
A fist on his hair drew Jack's head back.
"What are you looking at?" Saxon snarled.
Jack made a point to meet the Master's eyes.
"Nothing," Jack said very clearly then spat into his face. When Saxon staggered back, Jack drew up a knee and kicked him in the balls. That should ensure a quick death rather than the alternative.
Saxon's face purpled. He stood feet apart in front of Jack, breathing hard.
"I will break you, Captain. We have a long time to make it happen." Saxon loosened his tie as he approached.
Jack just stared right at him with little expression, but in the corner of his eye, behind Saxon, he saw the terrier cringe.
Three days later…
"You sure?"
Francine nodded. It was hard to tell with the meshed fence, but Tosh looked stunned.
"Think," Tosh whispered. She glanced behind her shoulder at the guard pacing outside the door. "You're certain that's the message he gave you?"
Francine pushed back the irritation that wanted to come up. Martha and Tish sounded like that when she announced she was divorcing Clive.
Tosh cleared her throat. Her fingers settled on the fence that divided their cells.
"I don't mean…"
"I know and yes," Francine replied, "I'm quite certain those were the exact sequences he gave me every time I was there for the past few days. Why? What was the message pieced together?"
Tosh swallowed and lowered her head to check the ground where she had etched out the code.
"Tosh?"
"'Change of plans'," Tosh recited. She lifted her eyes to Francine, her brow furrowed. "'Don't wait for Martha. I'm getting Jack out.'"
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Note that "the Year That Never Was" was suggested that it wasn't fun. I took it as a challenge to somehow still find a way to instill comfort in it. If it didn't work, I'm sorry. I suck. LOL.
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, dark, angsty, VIOLENCE, torture (mostly implied, all a matter of reader interpretation), child death, character death (but remember what year we're in…lol)
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events here that was referenced in DW's "The Sound of Drums", "Utopia", "Parting of Ways", TW's "Day One"
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38, Ch 39
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of The Time Lords"
Act I
Valiant
Month Eleven, Ver. 1
Lucy observed the young pockmarked pilot fumbling with the satellite network's controls and trying to realign them once again. They were drifting in and out of sync like a scattering of glittering marbles. Lucy knew exactly how they felt; she was finding herself increasingly caught in an odd conflict of rage, fear, and joy that always resulted in her writhing alone in her bed, a scream stuck halfway up her throat. She looked on, bored, as equations and nervous chatter sailed over her in an incomprehensible prattle. Lucy crossed her legs, smoothed the wrinkles off the silk draped over her body and turned her chair back towards the tent.
Harry was once more off doing…things and left Lucy to watch the Doctor. There wasn't much to watch though. The Doctor stayed inside his tent most of the time, mute, unmoving and if it turned out he was dead—he was quite old now—it wouldn't surprise Lucy one bit.
"What's he doing?" Lucy mused out loud to try to get the Doctor to reply. Just in case. She stretched out her leg and gave the tent a little nudge. None of the maids behind her commented. None of them dared. The ragged blanket serving as his shelter shuddered under her foot.
"Do you think he will succeed this time?" Lucy murmured. She sank deeper into the chair and folded her hands across her belly.
The Doctor said nothing, but his hunched form shifted away from the visible light. Lucy stopped. It was enough.
"Such an interesting thing," Lucy mimicked Harry. Her foot tapped against the tent again. "Fascinating. No wonder my Harry is so amused by him."
Still saying nothing, the Doctor stayed huddled in his hovel.
"You're seeing it right now, aren't you? My Harry and his companion."
"He is not his companion."
The smirk spread easily across her face. It was predictable how easy it was to get the Doctor to respond. He talked to her even without prompting. It frustrated Harry to no end when his taunts went unrewarded. She'd often wanted to tell Harry, show him how to instigate, but something always stopped her. This was hers and hers alone, as private as the dank engine room below was to Harry. There was something comforting knowing something Harry didn't. With all the secrets he wouldn't share, Lucy felt centimeters taller with her own insignificant secret clutched close to her breast.
"No," Lucy agreed, still feeling too good-humored to think about the wisdom of talking with the Doctor, "he isn't Harry's companion." It was odd no one contradicted her here; no hand was slashing across the air to strike her for blasphemy.
"But he will be…soon," Lucy echoed Harry's vow and tried for the same sly crooked smile Harry favored, but her stomach clenched at the promise.
"And where would that leave you, Lucy Saxon?"
Lucy scowled at the tent. "Why would it leave me anywhere? I will still be by his side. Harry came back for me."
"He also came back for him."
Fingers dug into the plush armrests, her nails carving grooves into the leather.
"Only to use him. Only to drain him. Only to—"
"Then why are you here?"
"Because he loves me." It came out too weak, too unsteady and Lucy took a deep breath and tried again.
"Because he loves me."
The laugh from the tent sounded like sandpaper rubbing together. "All right," the Doctor agreed far too quickly.
"He does," Lucy insisted as she rolled her chair closer to the dark opening. She wanted to reach in and grab him yet the thought of touching him, seeing him up-close made her heart pound and her mouth dry.
"If the Master can ever feel love, it would be for the Lucy Saxon who came back for him." The Doctor leaned forward. Eyes dark like slick mud stared at her, crinkled downward with an emotion that made her cringe.
"But you're not her, are you?"
"Yes, I am," Lucy snapped. Her arms shook as her grip grew tight enough that her fingers began to cramp.
"No, you're not."
It would be so easy to kick the tent down, tear it from its hook hanging off the railing of the upper bridge.
"I am the same one who went crawling through the rift, let space and time disfigure me and found him and awakened him. Me. I went to the far future to his past and reawakened our Master."
A chill traveled down her spine when she could see brown coals burning bright in the dark. Lucy fought the urge to rear back.
"Lucy Saxon came from the future, to his past to awaken the Master," the Doctor murmured. "His past…our future. Ah. Time is such a tangled river."
Lucy didn't like the way the Doctor looked, his thinned brows knitted together in thought and she knew, oh, she knew she had said something she shouldn't have.
The Doctor lifted his eyes towards her. Lucy pressed her mouth together. "If she hadn't died back there, do you think he would have come back for you?"
It was a question Lucy never voiced out loud. Hearing it spoken out loud mocked her.
"It doesn't matter," Lucy hissed. Her fingers curled painfully on the edge of the table. She lifted her chin. "The fact of the matter is he did come back for me."
"He's been traveling back and forth in time," the Doctor murmured. "What stops him from going back to get the right one—"
"I am the right one!" Lucy shot up to her feet. The chair rolled back and smacked the table with a loud enough clatter that Lucy flinched.
"Ah, Lucy Saxon," the Doctor sighed.
Everyone around her stilled, stunned in their tracks. Lucy whipped around to glare at them all standing stock-still, gawping like stupid sheep.
"Leave us."
One of the guards, pale and pathetic in his black suit, stepped forward. "Lady Saxon, we were told you were not to be left alone with—"
"Leave," Lucy said in a cold voice, "or the Master and I will dine watching you dropped over the Atlantic."
The guard, one of many youths recruited during Harry's ministry days, blanched. "Ma'am," he stammered before he fled with everyone else including the bridge crew once they set the autopilot.
Lucy stood in her black silk gown, tall in her heels, feet slightly apart. She stood there, her back against the edge of the table and she stared at the tent opening.
When the door clicked, signaling the last of the staff had escaped, Lucy kicked her chair and watched it crash into the side of the tent. It missed the Doctor but tore the blanket off its hook and the tent collapsed. The cover fluttered down, revealing the Doctor sitting cross-legged, his eyes pinned to her face, unflinching.
Old and withered, the Doctor sat with his back hunched, his hands folded in a contemplative gesture. He sat with the stance of a yogi yet with the air of a waiting soldier. His head hung, too old to keep his head up for too long, but his eyes stayed on Lucy.
Lucy didn't approach him.
"I can't kill him." Lucy raised her chin. "You know that, yet you fear for the freak."
The Doctor narrowed his eyes but said nothing.
"When Harry is done with him, it will be over and I will have my Harry back."
It was infuriating how the Doctor held his tongue. There was no challenge in his gaze, however. He just looked at her with something akin to pity.
Lucy felt a flutter in her belly. She swallowed. Her chin dipped.
"It'll never be over." Lucy stared at the Doctor. She sat heavily on the edge of the table. "You don't think it'll ever be done."
"It is a vicious cycle he is in. The vortex was never meant to be tasted."
The corner of Lucy's mouth twitched. "I have."
"And you saw it, didn't you?" The Doctor tilted his head a little, his gaze unreadable.
Lucy's smile faded. She rubbed her palms along the edge of the table. She remembered the brief moment of clarity she had felt when she absorbed the shattered drums of collected power. She remembered the stark, cold prick of fear when it faded and she became more aware of how too human, too limited she was.
"The truth. What was. What could be. What will be. You saw it."
"Yes," Lucy breathed.
The Doctor leaned forward. "All of it?"
Words strangled her and rendered her speechless. Lucy could only nod.
"The Master and I are burdened with this. Always. But we learned since childhood how to keep it at bay." The Doctor sighed long and low. "But the vortex highlights things in time it shouldn't. We lose perspective in all that power. The vortex reads our desires and shows us what can be possible, but there are so many possibilities." The Doctor shook his head and dropped his eyes.
"Your Master is slowly drowning himself, Lucy Saxon."
"But he won't stop. He'll never stop," Lucy whispered. "The drumming haunts him and I tried but I can't hear it …" Her eyes burned. "I can't. But for him…It'll never go away. It won't, not while he embraces the time vortex, not while he's with him."
"Help your Master, Lucy Saxon." Low and melodic, the Doctor's words wrapped around her like a silk scarf. Lucy rubbed her bare arms absently. "You came back for him. You're the only one who can help him."
"How?" Lucy rasped. She stared past his shoulder at the portholes. The sky was gray and gray would soon turn black and trillions and trillions of years later, it will all turn to nothing.
"Keep him away from the vortex."
Lucy laughed. It scratched her throat like broken glass.
"How?" Lucy repeated, but it was to herself more now. There was something that made her look up. She was caught by the infinite gleam in the Doctor's eyes, older than time itself, stronger than the ancient body that housed them.
"Help me get Jack Harkness off this ship."
Torchwood, Cardiff
There were times when Gwen wanted to hug him.
There were times when Gwen wanted someone to hug her.
After the initial shock of finding Andy with Owen, her joy had turned bittersweet. The resistance found no one else on the list she and Ianto had compiled of their families and Tosh's. Reuniting with Andy suddenly became a luxury, too acute of a privilege to bear. There were times now when Gwen found she couldn't look at Ianto in the eye.
Andy felt thinner than she remembered when she hugged him. His hair was cut shorter, almost shorn off and Andy looked more coltish with his bony knees and elbows than when she last saw him. He didn't appear too impressed with Torchwood and conversation these days was far more strategic and technical than she was accustomed to. Gwen missed their aimless talks about the tavern's new cook—because the chips tasted different this time—the latest on Nasty Nick's chaos in Eastenders and all the little things about subjects they would prattle on about to make the rota pass quickly. Gwen realized during Andy's clipped conversations that nothing they ever spoke about stuck in her memory. She still missed it though.
Gwen shot him a look sideways. They had found spools of cables left in an abandoned factory; wires they could use for explosives, for the rift, for everything. It was a mundane task but better than sitting in the dark, waiting for Ianto and Owen to return. They were seated in Jack's office, the laptop the brightest thing in the room. Andy was staring at the spool he was unwinding with such intensity, still silent, to the point of laconic.
"Tomorrow's the next steel run. Dawn." Gwen snipped off another length of wire and bundled them together. These would be for the resistance, Gwen calculated, for if they ever gathered their nerve to sabotage the rockets.
"Ianto shouldn't be sneaking into that barge alone. I can help. Backup." Andy tugged at the spool for more wire. He trapped them under his feet to straighten the thick cable.
Gwen felt her insides knot. "He's done it before. We all have. We can't all go out there, just in case."
Andy nodded as if it made sense and unraveled more wire for her.
"Andy—"
"You would have been proud of him," Andy suddenly said as he held up the wires for her to trim.
"Rhys?" Gwen asked tentatively. She was almost afraid to say his name out loud as if it had become an unspoken taboo between them. Andy hadn't talked about anything except for the four months he had spent with the resistance.
Andy paused, his hands held up like he was sorting yarn and not meters of copper wiring for dynamite.
"Yeah," he said curtly before ducking his head. After a beat, he raised his head again.
"He came charging in after the news about Torchwood being taken to the Valiant." Andy's smile was brittle these days, as if it physically hurt to smile. His head dropped again and his hands busied around the cables. They looked like golden snakes coiled around his wrists.
The kerosene lamp by the couch flickered against a pale scar under his throat. Gwen was afraid to ask him about it. He sometimes smoothed a finger down it then tensed as if he had forgotten it was there.
Gwen cleared her throat quietly. "You said Rhys charged into the police station?"
Andy shrugged his narrow shoulders, lost in Jack's dark blue service shirt and jumper Ianto had found him. His old clothing had been burned because Owen deemed them infested but didn't elaborate. Owen was becoming as secretive as Jack every passing day. The jeans Andy wore were the right length but he needed to slip a bit of rope through the loops to make the waist fit.
"Insisted you couldn't be one of those terrorists," Andy went on as he cut the wires into the needed length. "Said it was malarkey."
"Sounds like him." Gwen wanted to smile but it felt like her face forgotten how.
"Kept coming back to see if there was any more news. Then at some point, he stopped going home and just stayed. Nearly put him in a cell for all the times he was having a row with the DI—"
"Oh God." Gwen moaned softly and covered her face with her hands.
Andy gave a strained chuckle. "Called Mason a…let's see…'a short, stumpy, self-servicing wanker who couldn't find his own ass even if his thumbs were'…" Andy gave her a sideways look, a small, unsure smirk on his face.
"You don't really want me to finish that, do you, Gwen?"
"Oh no, no, no," Gwen struggled not to laugh too loudly. She dropped her hands and looked at Andy, a new clarity coming over her.
"He's dead, isn't he?"
The rare brief smile faded and Andy lowered his eyes. He nodded.
Gwen was surprised to find her voice calm when she asked, "What happened?"
"We were all watching that broadcast, saw the assassination…" Andy stared at the ground as if it was the telly showing everything. "Then those things came out of the sky and people were screaming. Rhys ran out to help as Abby opened the doors to the basement."
"No windows," Gwen remembered.
Andy nodded. "We tried to herd as many as we could inside but there was all this running …" Andy's brow knitted together. "I don't think everyone really knew where they were running to. Rhys and I and—I think…yeah, Fred was there, so was Tony…"
Gwen smiled, her eyes burning. "I wanted Rhys to meet them one day, they would have got along well."
"You wouldn't have known they were strangers. They were all yanking and pulling people inside, yelling at others to avoid the windows. There were so many. Finally, we couldn't go out there anymore. Then there was…there was this screaming." Andy rubbed the heels of his palms over his knees.
"There was a family across the street. Three children. Their mother was covering them. They were so small. Their father was waving some sort of bin lid at one of those aliens."
Gwen gulped. She blinked rapidly and felt something hot down her cheek. "Rhys ran out there, didn't he?"
"We tried to stop him. By the time he reached them, the children were already orphans. By the time he got them back…" Andy's palms stopped and finger-by-finger, they curled into fists.
"He…" Andy sniffed. "I think he was trying to say something, tell me something, but by then …" Andy sighed and he suddenly looked both too young and too old in Jack's shirt and jeans. A man-child hunched in the dark, squinting under the kerosene light.
Andy's gaze was still fixed to the ground. "He saved a lot of lives then, Gwen. A lot of people, but when Saxon's people came …" Andy shrugged. "Some of us were split up for mining work, others for dismantling, it was fatal work for many."
Gwen ran her tongue across her teeth. "What…what happened to the children?"
Andy said nothing. He picked up the wire again and tugged at the cable harder than necessary.
The spool sputtered as wire unwound and rattled. Stiff copper wrapped in colorful plastic or latex made a hissing sound as it spun around under Andy's guidance.
Gwen took the hint and went back to snipping again. She kept her head down and tried not to imagine Rhys facing the Toclafane. God, her daft, heroic man.
"There wasn't enough food," Andy suddenly said. "Everyone rationed their share so the children could have more. Some even went without but in the end …" Andy dropped the wire he held. His fists thumped his knees.
"What were their names?" Gwen asked around the lump in her throat.
"What does it matter?" Andy returned with a bitterness that made Gwen look up. He sighed.
"Sorry." Andy's response was small. "They didn't know their surname if that's what you mean. The children…they were too small to know."
Gwen stared at the clippers in her hands. "Oh," she managed. It was a horrible thing to be grateful for, but Gwen was glad Rhys didn't survive to see that. It would have broken his heart.
"Oh," Gwen repeated because she couldn't think of anything else to say.
"There was so much wasted death." Andy sounded worn. Gwen couldn't look at him again, because this wasn't the Andy she knew and the idea felt too much like one more name to grieve over.
"Rhys died trying to save people," Gwen said softly. She wished she had her wallet still. It was lost somewhere in the Himalayas. There was a picture of her, Rhys and Bana—God, she forgot about Banana Boat.
"And those people died eventually, too," Andy bit out.
"Stop it," Gwen hissed. "Don't belittle what Rhys tried to do."
"I wasn't—"
"Yes you were!" Gwen swallowed before her voice rose too high.
Andy was shrouded in the dark. He turned his face away from the laptop, the lamps, from her.
"Sorry," he meekly offered. "I…you're right. They all died trying to save people and me? I was—"
"Surviving," Gwen said before Andy could finish. "You were surviving, love. Just like me, like Ianto, like Owen, like the resistance." Gwen settled a hand over the knee closest to her. "There's been enough death, Andy."
Andy looked at her hand on his knee. He shrugged and his knee shifted away.
"Yeah," he mumbled. Andy studied Gwen with an unreadable look.
"Torchwood, this isn't really special ops, this…" Andy gestured to his surroundings. "You deal with all the strange stuff, don't you? Each time I see you lot it's always after some spooky-do. Am I right?"
"We sometimes deal with…aliens," Gwen acknowledged slowly. "We collect anything that's dangerous."
Andy stared hard, speechless. His mouth shut and his mouth twisted to a tiny smirk.
"I think Torchwood missed one."
Gwen pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. A cross between a giggle and a sob squeaked out before she added, "No shit."
The giggles released were small and stifled, but a balm to the soul. Gwen enveloped Andy in her embrace and buried her face into his shoulder. Andy paused at the contact but then relaxed into it as he dissolved into giggles that didn't just sound like giggles anymore.
When they parted, Gwen said nothing about Andy's red-rimmed eyes and knew Andy would say nothing about hers.
"Thank you," Gwen said quietly, "for telling me about Rhys."
"I'm sorry about Rhys. He was…he was a good man, you know? Everyone ran away. He ran towards the danger. Like I said, you would have been so proud of him."
Gwen felt stinging at the corners of her eyes. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
"Diolch," Gwen murmured, "I am." She rose to her feet. "I need to get downstairs, monitor the Morse decoder. The people down there promised they would try and contact us around this time."
"I'll finish up here," Andy offered.
"Remember, if the alarm—"
"Lights out, computer shut then down the hatch, I know," Andy interrupted. He offered her a tight smile. "It's happened enough times before I can do this with my eyes closed."
"Better not, you might trip," Gwen joked weakly. She made her way to Jack's desk.
"Gwen."
Gwen stopped at the top rung and looked over.
The combination of the laptop and kerosene light cast a halo around Andy that Gwen didn't like so she looked away.
"Yeah?"
"Rhys…I think what he was trying to say before he…" Andy took a deep breath. "I think—no, I know, he was trying to say that he loved you."
Gwen closed her eyes. She took a shuddering breath before she looked over.
"Thank you," she rasped before she descended down the rest of the rungs.
The decoder was silent on the floor away from the hatchway. Gwen sat cross-legged on the ground by it. She stared, not really seeing it in the dark, but she could make out its small, angular shape like a hunched shadow by her feet.
After a few deep breaths, Gwen fumbled out a burlap wrapped lump that had sat in her pocket all these months. Despite the lack of light, Gwen knew by touch what it was.
Always completely charged, her mobile lit up as soon as she turned the power on. Bloody thing, useless thing, it took up space in her front pocket that she could use to store more ammo, maybe more food for the little ones she came across. She should really throw it away.
The mobile was too bright and it hurt her eyes staring at it, bright enough that her eyes filled from trying to look too long. Like staring at the sun. Gwen clutched it with both hands and stared at its colorful face and the text flashing repeatedly on the LED screen.
'No signal found'.
Her vision blurred. Gwen pressed the mobile to her face and as quietly as she could, began to cry.
Valiant
Five days later…
The taste of blood never really went away no matter how many deaths he suffered. Even vomiting couldn't get the coppery tang out.
"You know," Jack managed before he spat out a tooth to the side. That so better grow back later. "Most people start with the relationship first before the whole…bondage thing."
Saxon had the balls to look pleased. He straightened out his sleeves, slipped back on his jacket and tweaked his tie in a smooth move that was so unlike Ianto's subtle gesture, it made Jack miss Ianto more. Weird.
The smirk made Saxon's eyes narrow to slits as they lingered on his torso. "I always thought we were past that, Captain. Given our … history."
Jack glowered as Saxon circled him, the pointed tip of the screwdriver tracing a line around his middle. He tensed, his spine a painful line that wouldn't relax until Saxon stood in front of him again.
Saxon tsked. "Look at the state of you." He tapped his screwdriver against his chin. "Really, Captain, appearances and all …"
Jack clamped his mouth shut. He watched Saxon pacing in front of him.
"You know he just left you here."
Jack stared past his shoulder at the pipes cracked and bleeding with steam.
"Left you behind so long ago, left you in here in this rusty room, why do you still insist on being so loyal?"
Blah, blah, blah, Jack thought as he stole a glimpse above the door again then dropped his gaze quickly before Saxon noticed.
"…wrong…a freak left among the dead, rotting where you stand …"
The words grazed him like an old barber's blade skimming down his jaw, scraping clean his stubble, the edge cool and thin as it lingered by his throat. Jack hung still, unmoving as Saxon rattled on. It didn't even look like the Master noticed that Jack was staring at the terrier now sitting by the pipes behind them.
It apparently didn't matter that for weeks, Jack had thrown up walls and doors to close in around him, to barricade himself from witnesses and Saxon's non-too-subtle attempts to throw a sledgehammer into his mind. The Doctor had walked through his mental blocks with a cheerful ease that was both impressive and a little frightening.
"…everything around you withers and turns to dust…"
The black and brown terrier lifted one bushy brow. It now looked like it was winking at him. Huh, didn't think dogs could do that. It got up on all fours and trotted over to Saxon and began stepping in the Master's shadow, mimicking the pacing with light feet.
"…drumming under your skin…"
Saxon stood close, far closer than Jack would have liked, his fingers tapping the back of Jack's head like a table.
"He was never going to come back for you."
Jack's right eye flinched before he could stop himself and Saxon chuckled.
Fingers danced on his skin, nails pricking up and down in a pattern Jack knew too well.
"You can still hear it, can't you? If you try hard enough, you can still hear it."
Jack set his jaw. He didn't react to the hand now curled around the back of his neck.
"Surely you must wonder. Why wasn't he the one to greet you in 1941?" Saxon's upper lip curled back into a sneer. "Did you fear what he would have said if he saw you on your hands and knees, taking every co—"
The terrier growled soundlessly, pranced up to Saxon's feet and lifted up his hind leg.
Jack burst out laughing.
"What is so funny?" Saxon seethed.
There was a smack—Saxon apparently didn't have a sense of humor—and Jack's head rocked back. The room dimmed then brightened with a few blinks. When Jack's head fell forward, he saw the Doctor on the pipes, slouched down, his bearded muzzle droopy, his eyes liquid and wide.
Great, Jack thought blearily, puppy dog eyes, I thought only Ianto could pull that look off.
The terrier straightened then bared its teeth up at Jack in a canine version of a Cheshire grin.
A fist on his hair drew Jack's head back.
"What are you looking at?" Saxon snarled.
Jack made a point to meet the Master's eyes.
"Nothing," Jack said very clearly then spat into his face. When Saxon staggered back, Jack drew up a knee and kicked him in the balls. That should ensure a quick death rather than the alternative.
Saxon's face purpled. He stood feet apart in front of Jack, breathing hard.
"I will break you, Captain. We have a long time to make it happen." Saxon loosened his tie as he approached.
Jack just stared right at him with little expression, but in the corner of his eye, behind Saxon, he saw the terrier cringe.
Three days later…
"You sure?"
Francine nodded. It was hard to tell with the meshed fence, but Tosh looked stunned.
"Think," Tosh whispered. She glanced behind her shoulder at the guard pacing outside the door. "You're certain that's the message he gave you?"
Francine pushed back the irritation that wanted to come up. Martha and Tish sounded like that when she announced she was divorcing Clive.
Tosh cleared her throat. Her fingers settled on the fence that divided their cells.
"I don't mean…"
"I know and yes," Francine replied, "I'm quite certain those were the exact sequences he gave me every time I was there for the past few days. Why? What was the message pieced together?"
Tosh swallowed and lowered her head to check the ground where she had etched out the code.
"Tosh?"
"'Change of plans'," Tosh recited. She lifted her eyes to Francine, her brow furrowed. "'Don't wait for Martha. I'm getting Jack out.'"
Act II
Additional Notes: Many thanks to
soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2008-11-30 04:47 am (UTC)Although, I did find my notebook. Small comfort, but now I can finish things off...
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Date: 2008-11-30 04:59 am (UTC)Too much eating had befuddled me. LOL
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Date: 2008-11-30 04:53 am (UTC)I love how Lucy is losing her mind and is the one who gets a reaction out of the Doctor.
Love how Rhys died a hero.
Go Doctor projection peeing on Saxons leg.
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:02 am (UTC)Sadly, it was only projection pee. LOL
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:15 am (UTC)And then Fedex foiled my plans and didn't deliver the ereader in time...
But regardless, I read through the whole thing as getting over jetlag! You've done an amazing job with this, and I'm following with bated breath because there are no episodes now, you're breaking new ground.
Thanks for posting this latest, it makes me sad for Jack which just satisfies this underlying dark, sadistic part of me ;)
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:20 am (UTC)Ack, good night! I had to do the last few chapters in separate docs because Word couldn't fit the whole thing! :)
Thanks for posting this latest, it makes me sad for Jack which just satisfies this underlying dark, sadistic part of me ;)
You're welcome, hon. Glad it helped with the jetlag.
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:47 am (UTC)Sadly, true. It felt like it would have been too contrived, too false to have them both survive, but whomever I decided on, I wanted to be sure though whoever had perished, had died heroically.
Interesting, that Lucy can get the Doctor to talk whereas the Master can't.
She thinks she got the Doctor talking. ;)
And I do so love the Doctor projecting himself as a dog.
I saw a picture and description of the Welsh terrier and I just couldn't resist. LOL
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:32 am (UTC)I really love the Doctor charming Lucy into working for him. Puts the Master's ability to shame, the way he elicits obedience. It's so interesting how the Doctor can use such similar means but for different ends, and how that seems to justify it (at least for me).
Terrier!Doctor may be my favorite Doctor now. And I'm a cat person. (Not the exciting, New Earth kind, just prefer cats. XD)
I really want to know what made the Doctor change his mind. Will we find out? I mean, has the Master got some hold over Jack that means Jack can't be trusted? Surely it's not guilt over all Jack's been through.
In your universe, is the effect of remembering what happened during the year based on proximitiy to the paradox device, or would some deep involvement be enough?
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Date: 2008-11-30 05:51 am (UTC)I'm not sure really. The Doctor's plan's been changing as time progresses the more he learns from Lucy and with what was happening to Jack escalates, he Doctor at this point realizing Saxon might actually break Jack.
Our Capt is tougher than that though. :)
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:42 am (UTC)The interaction between Gwen and Andy is adorable. Nice to know what happened to Rhys and that he died a hero.
I can't believe that this is the last chapter! I can't wait to see what goodies you have in store for us!
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:13 pm (UTC)It was interesting. Lucy and the Doctor was an accidental dynamic that came as the story progressed, yet it seemed aptly tragic yet fitting to have the Doctor use her like Saxon did.
I can't believe that this is the last chapter!
I know! When I started in March, I expected to be done by summer!
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:45 am (UTC)I cracked up with the Doggie!Doctor, Jack and Master scene. That was brilliant! I love the idea of the doctor doing puppy dog eyes in dog form. that's cute.
And yays for the Doctor getting Jack out! I hope it all works out for them...
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:15 pm (UTC)You know what? Me, too. I wasn't expecting that.
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:54 am (UTC)FYI - I'm reading this story aloud to my partner. I'm almost up to Chapter 37. Race you to the finish?
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:31 pm (UTC)Luckily the plothole involves the last chapter so I'm surviving. I probably could get awayy with an easy out, but nothing about the storyline was easy, why should this? :)
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Date: 2008-11-30 10:34 am (UTC)Dog!Doctor 'peeing' on the Master's leg was awesome.
Can I tell you how tempting it was to suddenly go writing a spin off Andy Davidson: the Resistance Years?
You should totally do that. Although that might possibly be even more distressing than this fic.
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:32 pm (UTC)You're probably right about that. :)
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Date: 2008-11-30 10:35 am (UTC)But seriously, what was the plothole? It's driving me crazy!
Oh, oh god. RHYS! How darest thou maketh Gweneth likeable and then take away her Rhys?!?!?! But I can admit, it was a good death.
And yes, I totally vote for Andy: The Spin off
.,;:Meex:;,.
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:34 pm (UTC)Mum's the word for now. As soon as the fix is spackled, I'll share in the a/n. :)
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Date: 2008-11-30 10:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-30 06:37 pm (UTC)It was the one thing in the AU I wanted and it was the Doctor to wise up. :)
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Date: 2008-11-30 11:58 am (UTC)Jack is not the same as 1941, he developed into a strong leader. Break this BIG JACK? Absolutely, it's no means an easy thing ^ ^
Waiting Tuesday LOL
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Date: 2008-11-30 06:38 pm (UTC)And he has Ianto to thank for that.:)
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Date: 2008-11-30 11:59 pm (UTC)*sounds of cheering and wild screaming taking place*
'Thank you and it's a pleasure to be here.'
'Andy, is it ok for me to call you Andy?'
'Yes, I'm getting tired of PC Andy and was so happy when they gave me a last name. My job never defined me and now that it's gone, well. You know how it is.'
'Um, no. Rumor has it that a new spin-off series called Andy Davidson: the Resistance Years will be coming soon. Is that true?'
'It's still in the talking stages. But if if does happen, I promise you that it will be filled with laughs, sorrow, tears and a lot of smut. For me. There has been a lot of interest from the women in playing my love-interest. To make me forget about Gwen. Even Jack Harkness offered but Ianto wasn't pleased with making that a permanent thing. He's more interested in a three-way drunk weekend type thing. I'm up for it.'
'Well that's all the time we have for this interview. Again I like to thank Andy for talking with us and stay tuned for more of Andy Davidson: The Resistance Years. Coming soon to a LJ near you.'
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Date: 2008-12-01 12:23 am (UTC)For some reason, this stuck in my head. Go figure. LOL
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Date: 2008-12-01 02:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 03:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-01 09:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-02 02:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-02 12:10 am (UTC)GW
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Date: 2008-12-02 02:16 am (UTC):X Well....it's more about the aftermath than the plan...
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Date: 2008-12-02 01:04 am (UTC)I love this, I love this, I can't say it enough. Please keep it going forever. Thanks much!
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Date: 2008-12-02 02:19 am (UTC)Ack 40 chapters isn't enough? LOL. How about a sequel? :)
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Date: 2008-12-02 03:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-02 03:13 am (UTC)Don't forget the one shot epilogue. :)
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Date: 2008-12-02 10:10 pm (UTC)anyway, it was lovely. I liked that you let us know what happened to Rhys. He's a nice guy (he could do so much better than Gwen though :O) Still irritating that Jack's so stubborn about letting Ianto in. I'm sure that Ianto will have something to say about that in the future. The Doctor making Jack laugh was great.
Can wait to see how things continue!
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Date: 2008-12-03 02:55 am (UTC)When is it ever not? LOL. Don't worry about it, hon. I always enjoy and always grateful your comments no matter when they come in! :)
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Date: 2008-12-04 10:04 am (UTC)Let's go and save poor, hurt Jack!
Yes, yes, yes!!!
All right, I actually don't really believe, they are going to succeed in getting Jack out, but it the thought that counts... *melts contentedly*
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Date: 2008-12-04 02:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-01 11:50 pm (UTC)Also: neutered Doctor FTW.