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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), sappy maudlin
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events here that was referenced in DW's "The Sound of Drums", "Utopia", "Parting of Ways", "Last of the Time Lords"
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, Ch 40 1/11, Ch 40 2/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act III
Valiant
There was barely a chance to react when the doors were kicked open. Francine and a few of the maids jumped. Two of Lucy Saxon's personal guards flew in and crumpled into a messy heap of blood and oddly bent limbs.
"How?" Saxon's roar introduced him before he charged in. He stepped over the dead guards, avoiding the puddle of blood still spreading on the floor with a lip curled in disgust. Saxon steered for the tent, his face white, his nostrils flared and even Francine couldn't help but cringe. Saxon ignored everyone, his bloodshot eyes glued only to the tent. Like a rampaging beast, he scattered his staff by merely storming through them. The maids and guards scattered to either wall. Francine, herself, pressed up against the wall. She gave the tent a furtive glance.
"How did you turn even my own wife against me?"
With an easy grab, the material of the tent ripped and the tent spilled open around the Doctor. Francine jumped, her hands flexed on the wall her fingers were splayed out on.
The Doctor looked up at Saxon, his head tilted up, his face blank.
Saxon stood over the Doctor, one fist shaking as he held the tent above the elderly Doctor.
"It didn't work," Saxon hissed. "You couldn't change her completely to your side and she failed. You weren't able to take my Companion away from me."
"He. Was. Never. Your. Companion!"
Francine gaped as the Doctor stood shakily in front of Saxon. His gnarled hands curled around Saxon's tie.
"What you're doing must stop." The Master swayed comically as the Doctor tugged at his tie like a leash. "And if you can't, I'll stop you!"
Saxon stared at Doctor, his mouth slightly open. The Doctor shook on his feet and Francine wondered if the tie twisted in his spotted hands was the only thing keeping him upright.
"You?" The Master's shock contorted and his face turned red. "You?" The Master slapped the Doctor's grip away from his tie.
Francine took a step forward when the weakened Doctor stumbled back and fell heavily to the floor with a muffled grunt. One of the maids whimpered and Saxon spun around to glare at her.
The Doctor lifted his head, his eyes still bright and alert. They found Francine's and stayed. Then, he shook his head.
Francine swallowed and took a step back.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Saxon sneered when he turned back to stare down at the Doctor. He stretched out his arm and let go of the tent in his grasp. The coarse material fluttered to the floor.
"I remember the days when the Doctor, oh, that famous Doctor, was waging a time war. Battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handedly."
The Doctor set his jaw and watched Saxon pace to the left and right of him.
Saxon stopped short in front of him. He spread his arms wide. "Look at him now. Stealing screwdrivers. Twisting women into doing his work. Martha Jones. My wife. For shame. Have you no decency, Doctor?"
Shaking his head, Saxon crouched down in front of the Doctor. "How did he ever come to this?" the Master breathed. He cocked his head. A moment later, he snapped his fingers.
"Oh yes…me!"
The Master shot up to his feet and threw his head back and laughed. He abruptly stopped and stared at the Doctor.
"How do you do it? How do you gain their loyalty, even from my own Lucy?" Saxon murmured, almost to himself. His back was rigid in front of Francine. "You turned her against me."
"She never betrayed you. She thought she was helping you."
The Master scoffed. "Yes, I believe she said something to that nature when I caught her with the Captain's corpse on our plane." Saxon pulled out his screwdriver and he tapped its tip to his jaw. "She was going to toss him out somewhere, as if I wouldn't find him."
"Poor deluded child. I wonder where did she get that idea?" Saxon sat back at the edge of the long table that stood in the center of the bridge. His fingers danced up and down on the table by his hip.
"The vortex…" The Doctor met Saxon's gaze unwavering. "This madness, your thoughts…it's from the vortex. It's poi—"
"You're poison!" The tapping ceased and Saxon bunched his hand into a fist instead. He kicked the chair by the table, kicked the torn tent, kicked a spot on the wall next to the Doctor's head. The Doctor never moved.
"Every life you touched has met a fate far different than what they'd ever hoped." Saxon loomed over him, breathing heavily as his thin body shook.
"The Captain, the famous Rose he kept talking about, and young starry-eyed, loyal Martha Jones."
Francine swallowed. She felt pinned to the wall. Her throat closed up at the sight of the Master standing above the Doctor.
The Master lifted his chin.
"They've all been changed because of you, willing to kill, willing to sacrifice their lives for their beloved Doctor. You've changed them. You. Do you deny it?"
Francine could see the Doctor raise his eyes to meet the Master's.
"No." There was a small smile on the Doctor's lips. "I have been changed, too."
The Master scoffed. "Your fascination with humans made you weak. Their underdeveloped minds fed and influenced by degenerative emotions: fear, anger, hunger—"
"Love."
The Master stopped.
"Lucy Saxon was motivated by love."
Francine lowered her eyes.
"She was tricked into thinking she was doing this because of love," the Master snarled. "Like your misguided, doomed Martha Jones. Like the captain even when you left him behind, discarded him like trash. When were you going to do the same to young Jones?"
Her throat ran dry. Francine rested her cheek on the wall. Ah, Martha. She wanted to weep, but she found she lacked the energy to do so.
"How do you think she will look when she realizes that everything you have her doing will be for nothing? That she was misguided by the fallacies of her pitiful human heart? Do you wonder what it would look like?"
"No." The quiet conviction seemed to echo loud in the bridge. "I don't. I'll never see it."
The Master stared at him, at the withered old man sitting cross-legged and slouched by his feet.
"You'll fail. It's fated," Saxon said quietly. "These humans are fond of this saying: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Saxon settled the screwdriver by his side, his hands flat on the table.
"A past we cannot remember?" The Doctor's expression never changed but his voice lowered as if deep in thought. "Whose past?"
Saxon's face flicked as if he realized something. He pivoted on his heel and headed back to the dead men on the floor. He waved towards the guards still standing back, unsure. At his gesture though, two white faced youths stepped forward and dragged the bodies out.
The Master tsked as he stared at the wide smear of blood.
"So hard to get good help these days." Saxon shook his head. "Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well." Saxon paused. "Actually, I didn't. Oh well."
The laugh Saxon made rippled the skin on Francine's back. She wanted to grab the knife on the table, leftover from his last meal and plunged it into his heart.
"Where's Lucy Saxon?"
Why do we care, Francine thought bitterly. She observed the twist from rage to amusement to disgust on Saxon's face.
"Why does it matter?" the Master grunted.
"Because she is your wife." Francine caught a twitch in the Doctor's face. "Did you kill her?"
An image of Lucy Saxon patting concealer on her bleeding cheekbone flashed behind Francine's mind. Francine swallowed.
"Like you said," Saxon said airily, "she thought she was motivated by love. Why would I ever punish her for that?"
"I didn't say she thought. She was motivated by—"
"By the idea," the Master hissed, "that doesn't exist. It's chemical, it's lust, it's dependence, it's weakness, it's a fool—"
"Are you trying to convince me…or yourself?"
There was a heart-stopping moment when Francine thought the Master would truly strike the Doctor. And for a brief second, Francine wanted to run to get the dull knife, but then the violently shaking fist Saxon had pulled back past his ear, lowered. It dropped like dead weight to his side.
"Humans have poisoned us," the Master murmured and without another word, he snapped around and stalked towards the doors.
"What are you doing?" the Doctor called out in his reed thin voice, growing higher the further Saxon walked away. "Master! What are you planning to do? He has nothing to do with this! Nothing! Master!"
Saxon ignored him, his hands slapping on the doors. They whipped open with a roar that sounded like thunder crashing through them. Everyone jumped as if the doors would fly off and cut them.
"Master!"
Francine whipped around towards the Doctor again and caught sight of the elderly Doctor trying to stand, his eyes normally drooped and squinty were now stark and wide.
"Damn," the Doctor whispered, his eyes fixed to the door and Francine felt her guts clench in response.
Torchwood, Cardiff
One day later…
Odd.
The last thing Ianto remembered was cording the Rift modulator through the adaptor to boost the extensions. Gwen and Andy were debriefing the Milligan fellow. Owen went to check the vaults and Ianto had coils of wire as thick as his arm wrapped around him like a boa constrictor as he struggled to eke more power from the Rift manipulator while avoiding alerting Saxon what was cached underneath the Rift activity.
Then suddenly, he was on the camp bed in the dark.
Ianto blinked. He sat up and just…blinked. He lifted his hands and studied them. Where did the wires go?
"Ianto?"
All questions fled the moment a hushed voice wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. Ianto's chest filled two sizes too big and his gasp was caught within the thumping of his heart. He whipped his head around and immediately located the almost eerie blue tinted glow.
Jack stood, garbed in his greatcoat, in the center of the quarters, illuminated by his presence.
"Jack," Ianto choked out. He suddenly couldn't move. God, what was wrong with him? His throat wouldn't work now. His eyes blurred.
Jack stared at Ianto as if he was the apparition.
"Ianto?" Jack repeated. He looked around himself, his mouth slightly open. "How did …I shouldn't …" Jack took a few steps towards Ianto then stuttered to a halt before he was under the feeble spot of light from the hatch's opening. Jack stared at Ianto, looked around himself again but didn't take another step. Something crossed Jack's face and his shoulders slumped slightly.
"The TARDIS." Jack looked up at a spot beyond his right shoulder. He tilted his head as if he was listening for something. He sighed.
"What?" Ianto murmured, distracted. His eyes greedily memorized every line and seam displayed in front of him. He knew the greatcoat and the braces he used to twist around his fingers as he pulled them off Jack's shoulders weren't real. The tint that cloaked Jack betrayed its incorporeality. But his fingers twitched regardless. The urge to reach out the last remaining inches to Jack made him lightheaded.
Ianto tore his gaze away and Jack's words finally filtered in. The confusion on Jack's face hurt.
"You…you weren't trying to reach me?" Ianto fought to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wasn't a child, damn it, but there was a stabbing sensation in his gut that made him swallow convulsively. "You're not doing this?"
Jack hesitated, unsure himself, before he slowly shook his head.
"Last thing I remember," Jack murmured, "was waking up in that room again, him charging in screaming something about the Doctor and his charming wife and—" Jack averted his eyes, his Adam's apple working as he drew in a steadying breath.
"Later, I…I thought I heard Rose singing then nothing. The TARDIS must have…" He didn't come closer and Ianto was afraid to approach now. Jack wavered like a mirage by the ladder. Shafts of weak light from above cast a sickly halo around Jack. Jack edged closer, his eyes studying the dim quarters.
"You're here," Ianto whispered. "You're…you're really here then. But the TARDIS did this. Not you." He bit his lower lip.
Jack looked smaller in front of him for some reason, his glow dull as he smiled back. It looked forced.
"I guess I am," Jack murmured. He flinched for some reason and fidgeted where he stood. "…for now. I don't know for how long—" Jack hissed. He bowed his head, took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "The TARDIS pushed our link wide-open without my permission." Jack turned away, his shoulder to Ianto.
Ianto thought of saying diolch to the TARDIS but he didn't think she would hear it. To his surprise though, he thought he could feel a tendril of air caressing his cheek in reply. He watched Jack wag a finger in the air and Jack muttering something under his breath.
"What are you doing?"
Jack turned back around just as he rolled his eyes. "Scolding her but I doubt it worked. I think she just gave me the mental equivalent of the finger. I guess it really is the universal language."
"I ought to be doing that to you, you bastard," Ianto bit out.
"Me?" Jack sounded baffled. "I'm non-corporeal here, what did I do?"
"How could you block me out like that? All this time?" Ianto whispered. He hated how unsteady his voice was.
"Oh." Jack stuck his hands in his trousers. His head dropped and he stared at the ground. Jack rocked on his heels and said nothing.
"That's it? You're not going to say anything? You're not even going to say you're sorry?"
Jack raised bleak, almost colorless eyes at Ianto. "I'm not apologizing. Not for shutting you out from the ship, from me. I…" Jack's shoulders twitched. The coat around him quivered like a flag wound around a pole, flapping to get free.
"I didn't want you to see."
Ianto swallowed the lump so it wouldn't choke him, but it lodged in his throat and his eyes burned. "You didn't think I could handle it?"
Jack smiled tightly, his eyes devoid of light. Ianto quelled the shiver he felt up his spine at the hollowed look.
"I was thinking more along the lines that I couldn't handle you seeing me…like…" Jack made a deprecating laugh. He took a deep breath and held it a beat before releasing it. Jack shook his head. His shoulders rounded forward around his ears.
"I just didn't want you to see," Jack said in a barely audible voice.
"I don't need protecting. I just wanted to be there for you," Ianto murmured, "I-I…" Ianto sighed. It came out cracked.
"I want to help."
"You are," Jack reassured him, "by staying alive and helping the resistance, you're helping us up here."
"I was talking about you, Jack." Ianto kept his gaze on Jack, silently willing, pleading with Jack to meet his gaze, but Jack stayed shrouded in the shadows. "I was talking about helping you."
Jack's mouth twisted crookedly. He lifted his eyes and they crinkled with the tiny smile Jack mustered up. "Yeah."
Ianto sat up higher and for some reason, Jack retreated a step, ducking away from the hatchway. Jack cleared his throat.
"Report."
Ianto gaped at him. "That's it? You're just going to—"
"What's happening down here?" Jack pressed. "Ianto, I don't—" Jack hissed under his breath. He rolled back his shoulders. "I don't know how long I can risk being down here with you. Please. There are bigger things to consider."
Jack was right, of course. It seemed there were always bigger things, far more important things to prioritize before them. They couldn't afford to let it be about one person, not with possibly the universe at stake. But it didn't ease the bitter taste in his mouth when Ianto inhaled to recollect his thoughts.
"We've gotten word…Martha's coming," Ianto murmured. "Tomorrow at dusk, actually."
"Martha Jones," Jack breathed. There was a glimmer in his eyes again. "How long has it been?"
"A year nearly."
"Only a year?" Jack sounded distant. He looked a little lost. "Felt longer."
Ianto silently agreed. "The resistance has found us a guide for her. Milligan. He's a doctor with the right credentials to allow him to travel openly by day and by car." Ianto leveled his gaze at Jack.
"She has all parts to the gun, Jack."
Jack nodded soberly. "Hopefully it won't come to her using it."
"Jack, the gun…from what Martha could tell us in the telegrams…even if she does, it's not going to be able to do anything more than…" Ianto chose his words carefully. "…annoy him."
Jack offered Ianto a crooked eyebrow that was so like him it ached to see.
"That should be enough," Jack quipped. "In my experience, the Master—" Jack grimaced, "gets annoyed easily."
"I don't see how it can—"
"Doesn't matter," Jack interrupted. "It's what the Doctor wants. He seems to think that's enough."
"All right," Ianto mumbled, his brow furrowing nevertheless.
"We'll need to find a way to get her on the Valiant to use that thing, though," Jack said, his voice wavering as he fidgeted, "the Doctor seems to think that won't be a problem."
"There's something else…when Martha was in South Africa, she came across something that might be useful going up against those beasts."
"The Toclafane?"
Ianto nodded. "Martha's going to meet up with Milligan and seek out a Professor Docherty first about this. See if we can replicate it."
"Do you trust Docherty?"
Ianto hesitated. "The resistance found out Docherty has been actively searching for her son's whereabouts. That could be bad. Martha doesn't seem to care though. She wouldn't say why. I'm guessing it's because of—"
"The Doctor," Jack sighed.
"Yup."
"She'd been hanging around the Doctor too long," Jack griped.
The corners of his mouth upturned a little. "Seems to be thematic." Ianto studied Jack. Even though he knew it was an illusion, Ianto couldn't help his scrutiny.
"God, I miss you," Ianto blurted out, unable to help himself.
Jack smiled sadly. He opened his mouth as if to reply but then he jerked for some reason and his shoulders rounded.
"Jack?" Ianto stared at Jack.
The slow shake of the head didn't reassure him. Nor did the tiny step Jack tried to hide when Ianto swung his legs around to the edge of the bed.
There was a sick twisting in Ianto's gut. "Jack, what's going on up there? What's happening?"
Jack's mouth crooked and his hands went into his pockets. "The Doctor tried to get me off the Valiant a few hours ago and no," Jack added quickly when Ianto straightened, "it didn't work."
Ianto fell back against the wall of the camp bed. His eyes burned. "Oh," Ianto choked out.
"I told the Doctor it was a bad idea." Jack twitched and he shrugged. "He was planning to change the plan, take me out of the equation." Jack scowled. "I don't know what he thought he could do in his current condition—"
Ianto's mouth ran dry. "Are you alone right now?"
Silent as a shadow, Jack didn't speak. It seemed like the light around Jack flickered and Jack's image wavered like a candle flame in a breeze.
"Jack?"
"Now I know why the TARDIS did what she did." Jack huddled deeper into his greatcoat like burrowing into a blanket. "I didn't want to be there anymore."
Quickly, Ianto thought back to everything Jack didn't say and his insides twisted.
"Jack, is…is Saxon there?"
Jack stared past Ianto as if he hadn't heard him.
"Came to tell me the Doctor had failed me. To gloat, to say I told you so, I'm not sure. Tried to tell me that the Doctor never really wanted me to escape, that he wouldn't have wanted to save me." Jack scoffed to himself. "I almost believed him. Almost. There were so many times, I had believed him. But when he saw I didn't anymore, not even after he told me the Doctor failed, he…." Jack swallowed.
Ianto edged off the bunk, barely sitting on the edge. "Jack," Ianto whispered. He wished there was something he could say, but his mind was blank, his heart tight in his chest, so painful his eyes grew hot.
Eyes still past Ianto, Jack's voice dropped to a tiny sound.
"It's cold."
Ianto couldn't bear it. Choking, Ianto grabbed, reached in some vain attempt to connect, Jack's name stuck in his throat.
His fingers unexpectedly wrapped around Jack's wrist.
On contact, Ianto jolted. Jack jerked back as if charged.
"What?" Ianto snatched his hand and clutched it to his chest. His fingers tingled. His heart raced. "Christ…I…was that…I touched you." Ianto lifted his startled gaze up towards Jack. "Did I just imagine that?"
Jack gaped at his own hand as if he had never seen it before. "No…I-I felt it too. How…" Jack lifted his eyes up towards the ceiling in wonder. "The TARDIS must have enhanced the link somehow between us and with the rif—"
It didn't matter. Ianto didn't care. He grabbed Jack by the arms and pulled Jack towards him. Jack, startled, made a surprised yelp as he tumbled forward, crashing into Ianto. The two fell back onto the bunk in a tangled sprawl.
Ianto clutched Jack—oh, the solid feel of him—to him. He didn't have anything to compare what he was feeling, this need to bury Jack deep within him: a prize, a child's favorite toy, a buoy, a life preserver, all the universe and its bright, shiny light that rivaled any sun—
"Jack," Ianto sobbed into Jack's hair. "Jack."
Ianto could feel silky strands grazing his cheek. Ianto crushed a speechless Jack to his chest, his arms wound so tight around the lean—God, thin, too thin—body that his arms ached with the strain but Ianto refused to let go.
Jack was stock still in Ianto's embrace, his face smashed against Ianto's throat, his arms pinned to his sides, his legs and coat tails tangled with Ianto's legs. It felt oddly like how he used to wake up and in some ways, not. Jack was frozen in Ianto's hold instead of the usual wiggle and stir he used to do, as if he didn't know how to react.
"Cariad," Ianto murmured over Jack's temple. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "Jack," Ianto chanted as he squeezed Jack to him.
Ianto could feel the minute trembling in Jack's body. He hushed Jack every time something choked out against his throat. "I don't care how this is happening, I don't care what this will cost us. I'm not letting you go," he hissed into Jack's hair. "Ever."
Hands hesitantly settled around Ianto's middle.
"Ianto," Jack sighed against Ianto's throat. Suddenly the grip shrank around Ianto with a desperation that brought tears down Ianto's cheeks.
The trembling grew in earnest as well as the jerks and spasms Jack had tried to hide before. Ianto bore them, absorbed them into him.
Despite the solidity of Jack's body in his arms, there was no real weight crushing him. No warmth or scratchy texture of Jack's jaw brushed against him. Jack felt cool, airless, form without real shape, solid yet not entirely here.
Ianto told himself it was enough. It had to be. He was sure Jack was telling himself the same thing. Jack curled tighter towards him, his legs pulled in, his head now on Ianto's shoulder, his face pressed over Ianto's heart.
Each twitch Jack made, Ianto smoothed away with a hand swept down the length of Jack's back. Each muffled groan Ianto shushed with a kiss to the top of Jack's head. He'd tried to kiss Jack's temple once, but it felt like kissing chilled glass and it felt too cruel to them both to try again.
"You're not there," Ianto murmured, "you're here, with me, away, far away. Whatever is happening, just know my arms are around you, your arms around me. Nothing else matters. Nothing."
Jack, mute, merely curled his arms tighter around Ianto's middle.
"Cold."
Ianto blinked back the stinging in his eyes. His hand carded through hair that felt light as trickles of air against his skin. He pressed his lips on Jack's head. He let them linger for a moment. The absence of the mixture of spice and musk he associated with Jack was painful.
Ianto couldn't measure how long they laid tangled on the bunk, listening to each other breathe and pretending that the parody of their bodies rising and falling against each other was enough. It was a gift, yet a cruel present at best because it also served to remind them of what they were missing as well.
There was no powdery feel of wool under his palm as Ianto stroked, petted really, up and down Jack's spine. He could feel the chest expanding against him as Jack inhaled, but he couldn't feel the air rattling in the lean body. Despite the muted sensations, Ianto could feel Jack's heart, beating frantically with each invisible blow, rallying and enduring. Ianto never felt its beat so pronounced before. It now felt like physical blows rhythmically fluttering against him. It filled his ears and blocked everything else. Judging by how fervently Jack was pressed over his chest, Ianto suspected Jack could hear the same beating gently against his ears.
"There's so much…so much we need to do…" Jack sighed but he made no move to wiggle out of Ianto's embrace. "I shouldn't be here." Jack absently rubbed small circles on Ianto's belly.
"I'm not particularly feeling like I care right now," Ianto mumbled as his left hand traced the bony ridge of a shoulder blade he could feel under the greatcoat. Ianto marveled at the miracle of it all. "Jack, how is this possible?"
"Do you want the techno-babble version or Owen's version?" Jack slurred against Ianto's throat.
Ianto found he couldn't stop stroking the rounded back huddled up against him as if seeking shelter. Ianto squirmed closer, looking for the same.
"Harper's edition if you please," Ianto kissed the searching hand that fumbled out from his back to stroke his jaw.
"TARDIS."
"You already said that." Ianto rolled his eyes and he felt the quiet rumble of Jack's chuckle.
"She did something."
"A little more specific, please."
"Picky."
"Detail oriented."
"Obsessive compulsive."
"Passionate."
"Yes." Jack nuzzled the crook of his neck. "You are, Ianto Jones."
Ianto smiled but it died quickly when Jack flinched against him.
"I usually try to go into some sort of trance when he…Man doesn't like to be ignored. The TARDIS must have done something, stepped in when he started," Jack muttered, "but he'll get bored eventually and leave me alone. I might…I might not be here if he kills me though."
Ianto nodded. The smile felt jagged on his face.
"Then we make the most of this. Tell me what I can do in the meantime," Ianto soothed as Jack flinched once more.
"Just keep talking."
The small request pricked at his eyes and crushed his heart, but Ianto nodded regardless.
"I never thought of myself as loquacious before," Ianto remarked.
"Welsh vowels," Jack mumbled.
Ianto cupped the back of Jack's head. He rested his cheek on Jack's temple. "You sound tired. Do you want to sleep?"
"Just keep talking."
The plea was undeniable. Ianto gulped and blinked rapidly. His fingers glided down Jack's spine as his mind sorted through his memories for something. He cleared his throat. In a haltering voice, Ianto reminisced about the things he saw during his university years. He spoke of the professor in basic chemistry who always called on him whether he was ready or not. Ianto spoke of the chip shop by the library and the matronly woman there who always gave him an extra piece of fish. He told Jack about the classes that bored him and the ones that didn't.
Ianto switched to Welsh at some point during his one-sided conversation, his voice low and slow, pacing with the hand Jack skimmed across his chest, painting invisible symbols Ianto didn't recognize.
Even when Jack stopped fidgeting and grimacing, Ianto kept going. He felt compelled; his voice never tired, never ached. Ianto feared that once he did stop talking, the spell that suspended them in fragile amber would shatter.
"Ianto."
His last syllable faltered and Ianto looked down at Jack. Blue eyes, clearer and brighter, gazed up at him with a sadness Ianto felt in his chest.
"Now?" Ianto croaked.
"Something's happening. I can sense the TARDIS getting upset. We can't have her—"
"Yeah," Ianto whispered. He brushed feather-light hairs away from Jack's forehead. It felt like caressing air. "We can't. She's done too much for us already."
"We're nearly there. You get Martha up here and all the pieces will fall into place."
Ianto nodded. He fought to hold back whatever he could feel pushing to get out.
It was too much though. Ianto huddled over Jack, burying his face into Jack's hair. He sucked in a loud, wet-sounding gulp of air.
"I don't want you to go." Ianto's voice cracked at the end.
Jack's arms went around Ianto, his cool fingers kneading his back.
"I'm not looking forward to it either," Jack admitted quietly into Ianto's ear. His embrace tightened. "But, Ianto—"
"Be there when I come for you," Ianto whispered. "We'll be coming up there with Martha. Be there."
The fingers on his back curled around the back of his neck.
"Ianto," Jack gently reminded him, "I can't die."
"I'm not talking about that, you daft sod," Ianto choked out.
Jack's eyes crinkled. "Yeah."
"Promise me, damn it."
"So bossy." Jack rubbed a cool knuckle across Ianto's lower lip.
"Promise," Ianto repeated.
"I promise." Jack rubbed his head over Ianto's heart. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Because I hate goodbyes."
Ianto nodded and rested his chin on Jack's head.
"See you later," Ianto whispered.
Jack patted Ianto's mouth with the tips of his fingers.
Ianto closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. He looped his arms over Jack's shoulders. He felt Jack relax further into his hold.
"Jack, I lo—"
"Oi."
Ianto's eyes flew open. It was dark again, too dark, but what ripped his insides apart was the fact that he was lying flat on his back, his arms folded in front of him. Empty.
"Jack?" No, no, no. He wasn't ready. Please, not yet.
"No, mate."
The sputtering blue light from a kerosene lamp flickered on, revealing Owen's pinched face frowning down at him.
Ianto stared up at Owen until the light became too much.
"The light," Ianto muttered as tears brimmed and spilled down his face. Ianto looked away as the light was set down on the ground away from him. In the cloak of dim shadows, Ianto wiped a sleeve across his eyes.
"What happened?" Ianto's throat felt raw as if he had been talking for hours.
"What happened was you chose to piss me off after I just said I didn't need my stethoscope by passing out in front of the bloody Rift manipulator," Owen growled. He grumbled to himself as he fumbled for Ianto's wrist.
"I passed out?" Ianto repeated. He grimaced as Owen's two fingers dug into the inside of his wrist for his pulse.
"Christ, you're ice cold and yes, you passed out. Like a girl, you did. Swooned like one out of those serials you'd probably watch. Face down on the ground. Can't even faint properly. Got your limbs all tangled up in the stupid cables like a spider web. Scared the shit out of PC Andy. He screamed like a girl. Thought for sure he was going to bring the whole fucking lot of Toclafane on us." Owen grunted. "Milligan was no help either. Did you know he was a bloody pediatrician? Not one bit of kit on him. Unbelievable."
Ianto blinked at Owen's dark shape sitting on the bed. "How long I was out?"
"Like I have a watch on me," Owen shot back. He nudged Ianto to turn his head. His fingers probed Ianto's skull. "A couple of hours. Nearly dawn here."
Ianto endured Owen ordering him to squeeze his hands, raise his legs and track his finger under the light from the open hatchway. Ianto did everything without protest, his mind still trying to remember every detail of before. It still felt like he was holding Jack at times.
A tap on his cheek drew his attention back to Owen.
"Only reason why Gwen didn't panic was because it looked like you were just sleeping," Owen told him, quieter now. "Were you?"
Ianto swallowed but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. "I think so."
"You think?" Owen turned his head, his back to Ianto. He scratched the goatee.
"You were calling out a name before," Owen said quietly, the irritation in his voice gone. "Uh…Did you—"
"Yes." Ianto pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His heart hurt. "Yes. I saw Jack."
The bunk creaked as Owen twisted back around. "What he say?"
Bitterness soured Ianto's throat. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
The confusion hung heavy in the air, but Owen said nothing.
Ianto sniffed. He didn't pull his hands away.
"H-he said absolutely nothing. Just…he just couldn't be there anymore." It was getting hard to breathe. The lump in his throat kept pushing to come out. Ianto sniffed again. He dug the heels of his hands deeper into his burning eyes.
"He…I…there was nothing that needed—that could be done. Nothing."
Owen was quiet, just sitting on the edge of the bunk.
"Light still bothering you?" Owen finally said.
Ianto gulped, sniffled and then nodded. "Yeah," he managed hoarsely.
The light by the ground to his right was doused.
Ianto hastily wiped his sleeve across his eyes again. And again. For some reason, his sleeve was only getting wetter.
"I better let them know you're up. Three girls up there, fretting. I'm surrounded by a lot of ninnies, I am." Owen rose to his feet.
"Owen," Ianto croaked.
Owen stopped with one foot on the bottom rung.
Ianto smiled, brittle and painful on his face.
"Do you honestly need a stethoscope to know if we're alive and breathing?"
Owen grumbled and he climbed the ladder up loudly. "Piss off, Ms. Jones. Bring that light back up when you're ready."
Ianto nodded to himself. He could hear Owen talking to the others. Their voices were low although Gwen's did go up a little before the three men shushed her. Ianto chuckled or coughed. It sounded like both.
In the dark, Ianto heard the hollow echo of Jack's voice. Somehow, he knew Jack was still out there. Still cold.
"I promise."
Ianto sniffled and sat up. "See you later," Ianto whispered.
After a deep breath, Ianto steeled himself, grabbed the lamp on the floor and climbed up the ladder.
Valiant
Francine held the tent folded up to her chest when the doors flew open again. Saxon sailed through them, two of his guards trailing behind him, dragging…
Francine gasped as the limp form of Jack Harkness was dragged, facedown, across the bridge. His head hung low, his shirt and trousers crusted with blood. One of the maids recoiled. One of the guards looked ill.
"I believe you two have already met," Saxon declared as he straightened out his sleeves. He snapped his fingers impatiently and a subdued Lucy Saxon, her face bruised, her lip cut, hurried forward to slip his suit jacket over his shoulders.
The guards dumped Jack Harkness unceremoniously by the Doctor's feet. The captain groaned. He was, somehow, still alive.
"What have you done?" the Doctor rasped. His spotted hands shook as he settled them on Jack's shoulders.
Saxon crouched down in front of him.
"What haven't I done?" Saxon sneered. He leapt up and back when Jack weakly swiped at his legs. His arm missed and flopped to the floor.
"Easy, captain," the Doctor rasped, his hands cupped over the matted hair.
"D-doctor," Jack croaked as he lifted his head. "'ancy meeting you 'ere."
For some reason, Jack's response enraged Saxon. His face purpled and Lucy cringed.
"Look at him," Saxon hissed. His finger cut the air towards the Doctor like a saber. "Look at him! Old, withered, useless. And you still call him Doctor?"
Jack flipped himself around and Francine closed her eyes briefly. The front of his shirt and his t-shirt were brown with blood. Jack's chest heaved as he propped himself up on his elbows.
"I d-don't see anyone el'e 'ere who f-fits the d-description," Jack gasped, but his eyes, while glazed, were resolute.
The Master's fists shook by his side.
"H-harry," Lucy murmured. Her hand reached for his arm.
The Master spun around. His eyes were cool, the snarl that twisted his face smoothed out to something colder. "You lost the right to speak, dear, sweet Lucy. Do not test my affections for you at this time."
Lucy blanched. She nodded and stepped back.
"Look at him, Time Lord," Saxon demanded. "Look at her." He yanked Lucy back against him, crushing her to his side. "Look at them all. Weak human minds; falling for the charms of the Doctor. You are infallible in their eyes, even now, in your pathetic state."
The Doctor never removed his hands from Jack's shoulders. Francine thought she saw the corner of his right eye twitch.
"You call me a villain, but you," Saxon waved at the Doctor and pushed Lucy away. "You are worse. You let them blindly fall into rank, armed with nothing but their fragile human bodies, charging blinded by their faith in their beloved Doctor!"
Saxon spun around and he crooked a finger at his wife. "Look at him, my dear. This is who you follow?"
"I was tricked," Lucy muttered, resentfully. She glowered at the Doctor under her lashes.
Saxon pretended to gasp, his hands to his chest. He pivoted around.
"Do you hear that? Tricked! How apt of a word! Tricked!" Saxon clapped his hands as he barked out, "Look at him, my captain. He can barely stand. He failed to save you. He failed to come back for you! Does he even deserve your loyalty?"
Jack said nothing.
Francine glanced back at Jack and tensed. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or scared to see Jack slumped back against the Doctor's lap, his head lolled to the side. From where she stood, she could see Jack's eyes, half-mast, dull, his face slack.
"What have you done?" the Master hissed, his arms lowering to his sides.
The Doctor pulled his hands away from Jack's temples. He just stared up at Saxon, his mouth set.
"What have you done?" Saxon signaled the guards to haul Jack up to his feet and he gripped the captain's chin with a curled claw-like grip. He turned Jack's head left then right. He slapped one cheek hard enough that made Francine flinch.
"You can't reach him." The Doctor wore a little smile that made Francine shiver. "He is beyond you now, even in death."
"You sealed him." The Master grasped Jack's head with both hands now and stared intently at the slitted eyes. "You sealed him!"
The Doctor made an odd, rough sounding laugh. He shrugged one shoulder.
"Bring him back!" the Master snarled.
The Doctor just rasped another laugh.
Francine caught Lucy's tiny smile behind the hands she clasped over her mouth in posed shock.
"I order you to bring him back!" Saxon roared.
"Order?" Another papery, scratchy bark. "Your name may be Master, but it doesn't demand obedience from me. And since when did I ever follow orders?"
"Bring. Him. Back."
The Doctor never flinched. To his credit, he never even blinked. He smiled like a grandfather in a park and simply said, "No."
Francine fought the urge to smile as well. She hid hers behind the tent blanket she'd folded up. Saxon ranted some more, waved his fists, but the Doctor merely smiled at him with the kind of indulgent look a teacher would give a pupil.
When Saxon's tirade died down, he dismissed Lucy, dismissed Jack and stood by the Doctor on the floor.
"I will not be denied," Saxon seethed.
The Doctor cocked his head. "Odd. I think you just were."
"You will release him or I—"
"You'll what? What could you possibly do to him now? Anything, anything else you do to him, he will merely sink deeper and deeper into the haven I provided him." The Doctor's eyes gleamed. "Then he'll be beyond even me."
Saxon scoffed. He crouched down by the Doctor's ear, whispered something and rocked back on his heels with a smirk. The Doctor stared at him.
Then, as hard as he could, he slapped Saxon.
The guards left on the bridge exploded into action around the pair. Saxon raised a hand, halting them, the other hand on his cheek. He chuckled as he rose back to his feet.
"Master," the Doctor hissed as he held his hand, surely broken by the way the wrist started to swell, "I will stop you."
Eyes as dark as the night sky skewered Saxon. Francine's arms pimpled into goose bumps. She swallowed.
The Master's chuckles died down a little, his voice caught as he stared back. Then a shadow cast over his face.
"Not unless I stop you first," Saxon hissed. "It's my turn to dictate the terms." Saxon spread his arms open as his voice rose.
"Revenge!" Saxon boomed. "Best served hot. And this time…" His sneer spread from ear to ear. "It's a message for Miss Jones."
Francine's mouth ran dry.
"Let's see if they will all fall for your charms now…Doctor."
Somewhere Along the Shores of Britain
It was cold, exhausting really, to cling to the rope that lined the raft. The inflatable boat bounced as waves crested, white froth spilling into the tiny vessel.
"Nearly there," someone murmured from the vicinity of the motor.
Martha Jones merely nodded. Too used to traveling alone for so long, it was hard to remember how to carry on a conversation again on the rare periods of company.
"If there's no one there," a soft voice to her left whispered by her ear. "We'll turn back."
One wave nearly upturned the raft. Martha curled her fingers tighter on the rope.
"No," Martha said, her mouth grim. "It's not like I've never been alone before."
"Jack would kill me if I just left you there."
Martha glanced over her shoulder at the bright blue eyes hidden under a messy fringe of hair and a black wool cap.
"No he wouldn't. He likes you," Martha smirked. She turned back towards the shore she could see expanding across the midnight horizon.
"I see the signal," someone in the back of the raft reported.
Sure enough, a tiny light, the lantern they agreed on, swayed left then right before it blinked, then swayed once more.
"That's it," Martha sighed. She blinked rapidly.
"Good luck."
There were claps on her back, whispered well wishes, as Martha stepped out of the raft and into the cold water. Icy water lapped her calves.
Martha sloshed up a step then turned back to grin at blue eyes again.
"Better get back alive to him, Daniel, or Jack will have such a fit."
There was a sloppy salute, a chuckle from someone else and Martha waded up the last few inches to shore as the raft softly puttered away behind her.
Martha wanted to weep when her borrowed boots met hard sand but she just steeled herself and trotted up to the two men waiting for her.
There was a bit of hesitation when she saw it was two men, not one as she had discussed with Torchwood, but when they did nothing, Martha stiffened her back as she approached.
"What's your names, then?" Martha asked curtly.
The one with dark eyes and a scruffy beard spoke up first.
"Tom Milligan."
The other, thinner and paler, cleared his throat. "Andy Davidson, ma'am. The famous Martha Jones, I take it?"
Martha grimaced. "Just Martha, please."
Milligan nodded. "All right, Just Martha. How long since you were last in Britain?"
Martha took a deep breath of salty air and felt a knot in her gut unclench.
"Three hundred sixty five days," Martha sighed. She stared beyond them at a sky once lit with tall buildings and buzzing with life.
"It's been a long year."
She was finally home.
Act IV
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), sappy maudlin
Notes For This Chapter: Note there are events here that was referenced in DW's "The Sound of Drums", "Utopia", "Parting of Ways", "Last of the Time Lords"
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, Ch 40 1/11, Ch 40 2/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act III
Valiant
There was barely a chance to react when the doors were kicked open. Francine and a few of the maids jumped. Two of Lucy Saxon's personal guards flew in and crumpled into a messy heap of blood and oddly bent limbs.
"How?" Saxon's roar introduced him before he charged in. He stepped over the dead guards, avoiding the puddle of blood still spreading on the floor with a lip curled in disgust. Saxon steered for the tent, his face white, his nostrils flared and even Francine couldn't help but cringe. Saxon ignored everyone, his bloodshot eyes glued only to the tent. Like a rampaging beast, he scattered his staff by merely storming through them. The maids and guards scattered to either wall. Francine, herself, pressed up against the wall. She gave the tent a furtive glance.
"How did you turn even my own wife against me?"
With an easy grab, the material of the tent ripped and the tent spilled open around the Doctor. Francine jumped, her hands flexed on the wall her fingers were splayed out on.
The Doctor looked up at Saxon, his head tilted up, his face blank.
Saxon stood over the Doctor, one fist shaking as he held the tent above the elderly Doctor.
"It didn't work," Saxon hissed. "You couldn't change her completely to your side and she failed. You weren't able to take my Companion away from me."
"He. Was. Never. Your. Companion!"
Francine gaped as the Doctor stood shakily in front of Saxon. His gnarled hands curled around Saxon's tie.
"What you're doing must stop." The Master swayed comically as the Doctor tugged at his tie like a leash. "And if you can't, I'll stop you!"
Saxon stared at Doctor, his mouth slightly open. The Doctor shook on his feet and Francine wondered if the tie twisted in his spotted hands was the only thing keeping him upright.
"You?" The Master's shock contorted and his face turned red. "You?" The Master slapped the Doctor's grip away from his tie.
Francine took a step forward when the weakened Doctor stumbled back and fell heavily to the floor with a muffled grunt. One of the maids whimpered and Saxon spun around to glare at her.
The Doctor lifted his head, his eyes still bright and alert. They found Francine's and stayed. Then, he shook his head.
Francine swallowed and took a step back.
"Oh, how the mighty have fallen," Saxon sneered when he turned back to stare down at the Doctor. He stretched out his arm and let go of the tent in his grasp. The coarse material fluttered to the floor.
"I remember the days when the Doctor, oh, that famous Doctor, was waging a time war. Battling Sea Devils and Axons. He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handedly."
The Doctor set his jaw and watched Saxon pace to the left and right of him.
Saxon stopped short in front of him. He spread his arms wide. "Look at him now. Stealing screwdrivers. Twisting women into doing his work. Martha Jones. My wife. For shame. Have you no decency, Doctor?"
Shaking his head, Saxon crouched down in front of the Doctor. "How did he ever come to this?" the Master breathed. He cocked his head. A moment later, he snapped his fingers.
"Oh yes…me!"
The Master shot up to his feet and threw his head back and laughed. He abruptly stopped and stared at the Doctor.
"How do you do it? How do you gain their loyalty, even from my own Lucy?" Saxon murmured, almost to himself. His back was rigid in front of Francine. "You turned her against me."
"She never betrayed you. She thought she was helping you."
The Master scoffed. "Yes, I believe she said something to that nature when I caught her with the Captain's corpse on our plane." Saxon pulled out his screwdriver and he tapped its tip to his jaw. "She was going to toss him out somewhere, as if I wouldn't find him."
"Poor deluded child. I wonder where did she get that idea?" Saxon sat back at the edge of the long table that stood in the center of the bridge. His fingers danced up and down on the table by his hip.
"The vortex…" The Doctor met Saxon's gaze unwavering. "This madness, your thoughts…it's from the vortex. It's poi—"
"You're poison!" The tapping ceased and Saxon bunched his hand into a fist instead. He kicked the chair by the table, kicked the torn tent, kicked a spot on the wall next to the Doctor's head. The Doctor never moved.
"Every life you touched has met a fate far different than what they'd ever hoped." Saxon loomed over him, breathing heavily as his thin body shook.
"The Captain, the famous Rose he kept talking about, and young starry-eyed, loyal Martha Jones."
Francine swallowed. She felt pinned to the wall. Her throat closed up at the sight of the Master standing above the Doctor.
The Master lifted his chin.
"They've all been changed because of you, willing to kill, willing to sacrifice their lives for their beloved Doctor. You've changed them. You. Do you deny it?"
Francine could see the Doctor raise his eyes to meet the Master's.
"No." There was a small smile on the Doctor's lips. "I have been changed, too."
The Master scoffed. "Your fascination with humans made you weak. Their underdeveloped minds fed and influenced by degenerative emotions: fear, anger, hunger—"
"Love."
The Master stopped.
"Lucy Saxon was motivated by love."
Francine lowered her eyes.
"She was tricked into thinking she was doing this because of love," the Master snarled. "Like your misguided, doomed Martha Jones. Like the captain even when you left him behind, discarded him like trash. When were you going to do the same to young Jones?"
Her throat ran dry. Francine rested her cheek on the wall. Ah, Martha. She wanted to weep, but she found she lacked the energy to do so.
"How do you think she will look when she realizes that everything you have her doing will be for nothing? That she was misguided by the fallacies of her pitiful human heart? Do you wonder what it would look like?"
"No." The quiet conviction seemed to echo loud in the bridge. "I don't. I'll never see it."
The Master stared at him, at the withered old man sitting cross-legged and slouched by his feet.
"You'll fail. It's fated," Saxon said quietly. "These humans are fond of this saying: Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." Saxon settled the screwdriver by his side, his hands flat on the table.
"A past we cannot remember?" The Doctor's expression never changed but his voice lowered as if deep in thought. "Whose past?"
Saxon's face flicked as if he realized something. He pivoted on his heel and headed back to the dead men on the floor. He waved towards the guards still standing back, unsure. At his gesture though, two white faced youths stepped forward and dragged the bodies out.
The Master tsked as he stared at the wide smear of blood.
"So hard to get good help these days." Saxon shook his head. "Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well." Saxon paused. "Actually, I didn't. Oh well."
The laugh Saxon made rippled the skin on Francine's back. She wanted to grab the knife on the table, leftover from his last meal and plunged it into his heart.
"Where's Lucy Saxon?"
Why do we care, Francine thought bitterly. She observed the twist from rage to amusement to disgust on Saxon's face.
"Why does it matter?" the Master grunted.
"Because she is your wife." Francine caught a twitch in the Doctor's face. "Did you kill her?"
An image of Lucy Saxon patting concealer on her bleeding cheekbone flashed behind Francine's mind. Francine swallowed.
"Like you said," Saxon said airily, "she thought she was motivated by love. Why would I ever punish her for that?"
"I didn't say she thought. She was motivated by—"
"By the idea," the Master hissed, "that doesn't exist. It's chemical, it's lust, it's dependence, it's weakness, it's a fool—"
"Are you trying to convince me…or yourself?"
There was a heart-stopping moment when Francine thought the Master would truly strike the Doctor. And for a brief second, Francine wanted to run to get the dull knife, but then the violently shaking fist Saxon had pulled back past his ear, lowered. It dropped like dead weight to his side.
"Humans have poisoned us," the Master murmured and without another word, he snapped around and stalked towards the doors.
"What are you doing?" the Doctor called out in his reed thin voice, growing higher the further Saxon walked away. "Master! What are you planning to do? He has nothing to do with this! Nothing! Master!"
Saxon ignored him, his hands slapping on the doors. They whipped open with a roar that sounded like thunder crashing through them. Everyone jumped as if the doors would fly off and cut them.
"Master!"
Francine whipped around towards the Doctor again and caught sight of the elderly Doctor trying to stand, his eyes normally drooped and squinty were now stark and wide.
"Damn," the Doctor whispered, his eyes fixed to the door and Francine felt her guts clench in response.
Torchwood, Cardiff
One day later…
Odd.
The last thing Ianto remembered was cording the Rift modulator through the adaptor to boost the extensions. Gwen and Andy were debriefing the Milligan fellow. Owen went to check the vaults and Ianto had coils of wire as thick as his arm wrapped around him like a boa constrictor as he struggled to eke more power from the Rift manipulator while avoiding alerting Saxon what was cached underneath the Rift activity.
Then suddenly, he was on the camp bed in the dark.
Ianto blinked. He sat up and just…blinked. He lifted his hands and studied them. Where did the wires go?
"Ianto?"
All questions fled the moment a hushed voice wrapped around him like a familiar embrace. Ianto's chest filled two sizes too big and his gasp was caught within the thumping of his heart. He whipped his head around and immediately located the almost eerie blue tinted glow.
Jack stood, garbed in his greatcoat, in the center of the quarters, illuminated by his presence.
"Jack," Ianto choked out. He suddenly couldn't move. God, what was wrong with him? His throat wouldn't work now. His eyes blurred.
Jack stared at Ianto as if he was the apparition.
"Ianto?" Jack repeated. He looked around himself, his mouth slightly open. "How did …I shouldn't …" Jack took a few steps towards Ianto then stuttered to a halt before he was under the feeble spot of light from the hatch's opening. Jack stared at Ianto, looked around himself again but didn't take another step. Something crossed Jack's face and his shoulders slumped slightly.
"The TARDIS." Jack looked up at a spot beyond his right shoulder. He tilted his head as if he was listening for something. He sighed.
"What?" Ianto murmured, distracted. His eyes greedily memorized every line and seam displayed in front of him. He knew the greatcoat and the braces he used to twist around his fingers as he pulled them off Jack's shoulders weren't real. The tint that cloaked Jack betrayed its incorporeality. But his fingers twitched regardless. The urge to reach out the last remaining inches to Jack made him lightheaded.
Ianto tore his gaze away and Jack's words finally filtered in. The confusion on Jack's face hurt.
"You…you weren't trying to reach me?" Ianto fought to keep the tremor out of his voice. He wasn't a child, damn it, but there was a stabbing sensation in his gut that made him swallow convulsively. "You're not doing this?"
Jack hesitated, unsure himself, before he slowly shook his head.
"Last thing I remember," Jack murmured, "was waking up in that room again, him charging in screaming something about the Doctor and his charming wife and—" Jack averted his eyes, his Adam's apple working as he drew in a steadying breath.
"Later, I…I thought I heard Rose singing then nothing. The TARDIS must have…" He didn't come closer and Ianto was afraid to approach now. Jack wavered like a mirage by the ladder. Shafts of weak light from above cast a sickly halo around Jack. Jack edged closer, his eyes studying the dim quarters.
"You're here," Ianto whispered. "You're…you're really here then. But the TARDIS did this. Not you." He bit his lower lip.
Jack looked smaller in front of him for some reason, his glow dull as he smiled back. It looked forced.
"I guess I am," Jack murmured. He flinched for some reason and fidgeted where he stood. "…for now. I don't know for how long—" Jack hissed. He bowed his head, took a deep breath and cleared his throat. "The TARDIS pushed our link wide-open without my permission." Jack turned away, his shoulder to Ianto.
Ianto thought of saying diolch to the TARDIS but he didn't think she would hear it. To his surprise though, he thought he could feel a tendril of air caressing his cheek in reply. He watched Jack wag a finger in the air and Jack muttering something under his breath.
"What are you doing?"
Jack turned back around just as he rolled his eyes. "Scolding her but I doubt it worked. I think she just gave me the mental equivalent of the finger. I guess it really is the universal language."
"I ought to be doing that to you, you bastard," Ianto bit out.
"Me?" Jack sounded baffled. "I'm non-corporeal here, what did I do?"
"How could you block me out like that? All this time?" Ianto whispered. He hated how unsteady his voice was.
"Oh." Jack stuck his hands in his trousers. His head dropped and he stared at the ground. Jack rocked on his heels and said nothing.
"That's it? You're not going to say anything? You're not even going to say you're sorry?"
Jack raised bleak, almost colorless eyes at Ianto. "I'm not apologizing. Not for shutting you out from the ship, from me. I…" Jack's shoulders twitched. The coat around him quivered like a flag wound around a pole, flapping to get free.
"I didn't want you to see."
Ianto swallowed the lump so it wouldn't choke him, but it lodged in his throat and his eyes burned. "You didn't think I could handle it?"
Jack smiled tightly, his eyes devoid of light. Ianto quelled the shiver he felt up his spine at the hollowed look.
"I was thinking more along the lines that I couldn't handle you seeing me…like…" Jack made a deprecating laugh. He took a deep breath and held it a beat before releasing it. Jack shook his head. His shoulders rounded forward around his ears.
"I just didn't want you to see," Jack said in a barely audible voice.
"I don't need protecting. I just wanted to be there for you," Ianto murmured, "I-I…" Ianto sighed. It came out cracked.
"I want to help."
"You are," Jack reassured him, "by staying alive and helping the resistance, you're helping us up here."
"I was talking about you, Jack." Ianto kept his gaze on Jack, silently willing, pleading with Jack to meet his gaze, but Jack stayed shrouded in the shadows. "I was talking about helping you."
Jack's mouth twisted crookedly. He lifted his eyes and they crinkled with the tiny smile Jack mustered up. "Yeah."
Ianto sat up higher and for some reason, Jack retreated a step, ducking away from the hatchway. Jack cleared his throat.
"Report."
Ianto gaped at him. "That's it? You're just going to—"
"What's happening down here?" Jack pressed. "Ianto, I don't—" Jack hissed under his breath. He rolled back his shoulders. "I don't know how long I can risk being down here with you. Please. There are bigger things to consider."
Jack was right, of course. It seemed there were always bigger things, far more important things to prioritize before them. They couldn't afford to let it be about one person, not with possibly the universe at stake. But it didn't ease the bitter taste in his mouth when Ianto inhaled to recollect his thoughts.
"We've gotten word…Martha's coming," Ianto murmured. "Tomorrow at dusk, actually."
"Martha Jones," Jack breathed. There was a glimmer in his eyes again. "How long has it been?"
"A year nearly."
"Only a year?" Jack sounded distant. He looked a little lost. "Felt longer."
Ianto silently agreed. "The resistance has found us a guide for her. Milligan. He's a doctor with the right credentials to allow him to travel openly by day and by car." Ianto leveled his gaze at Jack.
"She has all parts to the gun, Jack."
Jack nodded soberly. "Hopefully it won't come to her using it."
"Jack, the gun…from what Martha could tell us in the telegrams…even if she does, it's not going to be able to do anything more than…" Ianto chose his words carefully. "…annoy him."
Jack offered Ianto a crooked eyebrow that was so like him it ached to see.
"That should be enough," Jack quipped. "In my experience, the Master—" Jack grimaced, "gets annoyed easily."
"I don't see how it can—"
"Doesn't matter," Jack interrupted. "It's what the Doctor wants. He seems to think that's enough."
"All right," Ianto mumbled, his brow furrowing nevertheless.
"We'll need to find a way to get her on the Valiant to use that thing, though," Jack said, his voice wavering as he fidgeted, "the Doctor seems to think that won't be a problem."
"There's something else…when Martha was in South Africa, she came across something that might be useful going up against those beasts."
"The Toclafane?"
Ianto nodded. "Martha's going to meet up with Milligan and seek out a Professor Docherty first about this. See if we can replicate it."
"Do you trust Docherty?"
Ianto hesitated. "The resistance found out Docherty has been actively searching for her son's whereabouts. That could be bad. Martha doesn't seem to care though. She wouldn't say why. I'm guessing it's because of—"
"The Doctor," Jack sighed.
"Yup."
"She'd been hanging around the Doctor too long," Jack griped.
The corners of his mouth upturned a little. "Seems to be thematic." Ianto studied Jack. Even though he knew it was an illusion, Ianto couldn't help his scrutiny.
"God, I miss you," Ianto blurted out, unable to help himself.
Jack smiled sadly. He opened his mouth as if to reply but then he jerked for some reason and his shoulders rounded.
"Jack?" Ianto stared at Jack.
The slow shake of the head didn't reassure him. Nor did the tiny step Jack tried to hide when Ianto swung his legs around to the edge of the bed.
There was a sick twisting in Ianto's gut. "Jack, what's going on up there? What's happening?"
Jack's mouth crooked and his hands went into his pockets. "The Doctor tried to get me off the Valiant a few hours ago and no," Jack added quickly when Ianto straightened, "it didn't work."
Ianto fell back against the wall of the camp bed. His eyes burned. "Oh," Ianto choked out.
"I told the Doctor it was a bad idea." Jack twitched and he shrugged. "He was planning to change the plan, take me out of the equation." Jack scowled. "I don't know what he thought he could do in his current condition—"
Ianto's mouth ran dry. "Are you alone right now?"
Silent as a shadow, Jack didn't speak. It seemed like the light around Jack flickered and Jack's image wavered like a candle flame in a breeze.
"Jack?"
"Now I know why the TARDIS did what she did." Jack huddled deeper into his greatcoat like burrowing into a blanket. "I didn't want to be there anymore."
Quickly, Ianto thought back to everything Jack didn't say and his insides twisted.
"Jack, is…is Saxon there?"
Jack stared past Ianto as if he hadn't heard him.
"Came to tell me the Doctor had failed me. To gloat, to say I told you so, I'm not sure. Tried to tell me that the Doctor never really wanted me to escape, that he wouldn't have wanted to save me." Jack scoffed to himself. "I almost believed him. Almost. There were so many times, I had believed him. But when he saw I didn't anymore, not even after he told me the Doctor failed, he…." Jack swallowed.
Ianto edged off the bunk, barely sitting on the edge. "Jack," Ianto whispered. He wished there was something he could say, but his mind was blank, his heart tight in his chest, so painful his eyes grew hot.
Eyes still past Ianto, Jack's voice dropped to a tiny sound.
"It's cold."
Ianto couldn't bear it. Choking, Ianto grabbed, reached in some vain attempt to connect, Jack's name stuck in his throat.
His fingers unexpectedly wrapped around Jack's wrist.
On contact, Ianto jolted. Jack jerked back as if charged.
"What?" Ianto snatched his hand and clutched it to his chest. His fingers tingled. His heart raced. "Christ…I…was that…I touched you." Ianto lifted his startled gaze up towards Jack. "Did I just imagine that?"
Jack gaped at his own hand as if he had never seen it before. "No…I-I felt it too. How…" Jack lifted his eyes up towards the ceiling in wonder. "The TARDIS must have enhanced the link somehow between us and with the rif—"
It didn't matter. Ianto didn't care. He grabbed Jack by the arms and pulled Jack towards him. Jack, startled, made a surprised yelp as he tumbled forward, crashing into Ianto. The two fell back onto the bunk in a tangled sprawl.
Ianto clutched Jack—oh, the solid feel of him—to him. He didn't have anything to compare what he was feeling, this need to bury Jack deep within him: a prize, a child's favorite toy, a buoy, a life preserver, all the universe and its bright, shiny light that rivaled any sun—
"Jack," Ianto sobbed into Jack's hair. "Jack."
Ianto could feel silky strands grazing his cheek. Ianto crushed a speechless Jack to his chest, his arms wound so tight around the lean—God, thin, too thin—body that his arms ached with the strain but Ianto refused to let go.
Jack was stock still in Ianto's embrace, his face smashed against Ianto's throat, his arms pinned to his sides, his legs and coat tails tangled with Ianto's legs. It felt oddly like how he used to wake up and in some ways, not. Jack was frozen in Ianto's hold instead of the usual wiggle and stir he used to do, as if he didn't know how to react.
"Cariad," Ianto murmured over Jack's temple. He couldn't think of anything else to say. "Jack," Ianto chanted as he squeezed Jack to him.
Ianto could feel the minute trembling in Jack's body. He hushed Jack every time something choked out against his throat. "I don't care how this is happening, I don't care what this will cost us. I'm not letting you go," he hissed into Jack's hair. "Ever."
Hands hesitantly settled around Ianto's middle.
"Ianto," Jack sighed against Ianto's throat. Suddenly the grip shrank around Ianto with a desperation that brought tears down Ianto's cheeks.
The trembling grew in earnest as well as the jerks and spasms Jack had tried to hide before. Ianto bore them, absorbed them into him.
Despite the solidity of Jack's body in his arms, there was no real weight crushing him. No warmth or scratchy texture of Jack's jaw brushed against him. Jack felt cool, airless, form without real shape, solid yet not entirely here.
Ianto told himself it was enough. It had to be. He was sure Jack was telling himself the same thing. Jack curled tighter towards him, his legs pulled in, his head now on Ianto's shoulder, his face pressed over Ianto's heart.
Each twitch Jack made, Ianto smoothed away with a hand swept down the length of Jack's back. Each muffled groan Ianto shushed with a kiss to the top of Jack's head. He'd tried to kiss Jack's temple once, but it felt like kissing chilled glass and it felt too cruel to them both to try again.
"You're not there," Ianto murmured, "you're here, with me, away, far away. Whatever is happening, just know my arms are around you, your arms around me. Nothing else matters. Nothing."
Jack, mute, merely curled his arms tighter around Ianto's middle.
"Cold."
Ianto blinked back the stinging in his eyes. His hand carded through hair that felt light as trickles of air against his skin. He pressed his lips on Jack's head. He let them linger for a moment. The absence of the mixture of spice and musk he associated with Jack was painful.
Ianto couldn't measure how long they laid tangled on the bunk, listening to each other breathe and pretending that the parody of their bodies rising and falling against each other was enough. It was a gift, yet a cruel present at best because it also served to remind them of what they were missing as well.
There was no powdery feel of wool under his palm as Ianto stroked, petted really, up and down Jack's spine. He could feel the chest expanding against him as Jack inhaled, but he couldn't feel the air rattling in the lean body. Despite the muted sensations, Ianto could feel Jack's heart, beating frantically with each invisible blow, rallying and enduring. Ianto never felt its beat so pronounced before. It now felt like physical blows rhythmically fluttering against him. It filled his ears and blocked everything else. Judging by how fervently Jack was pressed over his chest, Ianto suspected Jack could hear the same beating gently against his ears.
"There's so much…so much we need to do…" Jack sighed but he made no move to wiggle out of Ianto's embrace. "I shouldn't be here." Jack absently rubbed small circles on Ianto's belly.
"I'm not particularly feeling like I care right now," Ianto mumbled as his left hand traced the bony ridge of a shoulder blade he could feel under the greatcoat. Ianto marveled at the miracle of it all. "Jack, how is this possible?"
"Do you want the techno-babble version or Owen's version?" Jack slurred against Ianto's throat.
Ianto found he couldn't stop stroking the rounded back huddled up against him as if seeking shelter. Ianto squirmed closer, looking for the same.
"Harper's edition if you please," Ianto kissed the searching hand that fumbled out from his back to stroke his jaw.
"TARDIS."
"You already said that." Ianto rolled his eyes and he felt the quiet rumble of Jack's chuckle.
"She did something."
"A little more specific, please."
"Picky."
"Detail oriented."
"Obsessive compulsive."
"Passionate."
"Yes." Jack nuzzled the crook of his neck. "You are, Ianto Jones."
Ianto smiled but it died quickly when Jack flinched against him.
"I usually try to go into some sort of trance when he…Man doesn't like to be ignored. The TARDIS must have done something, stepped in when he started," Jack muttered, "but he'll get bored eventually and leave me alone. I might…I might not be here if he kills me though."
Ianto nodded. The smile felt jagged on his face.
"Then we make the most of this. Tell me what I can do in the meantime," Ianto soothed as Jack flinched once more.
"Just keep talking."
The small request pricked at his eyes and crushed his heart, but Ianto nodded regardless.
"I never thought of myself as loquacious before," Ianto remarked.
"Welsh vowels," Jack mumbled.
Ianto cupped the back of Jack's head. He rested his cheek on Jack's temple. "You sound tired. Do you want to sleep?"
"Just keep talking."
The plea was undeniable. Ianto gulped and blinked rapidly. His fingers glided down Jack's spine as his mind sorted through his memories for something. He cleared his throat. In a haltering voice, Ianto reminisced about the things he saw during his university years. He spoke of the professor in basic chemistry who always called on him whether he was ready or not. Ianto spoke of the chip shop by the library and the matronly woman there who always gave him an extra piece of fish. He told Jack about the classes that bored him and the ones that didn't.
Ianto switched to Welsh at some point during his one-sided conversation, his voice low and slow, pacing with the hand Jack skimmed across his chest, painting invisible symbols Ianto didn't recognize.
Even when Jack stopped fidgeting and grimacing, Ianto kept going. He felt compelled; his voice never tired, never ached. Ianto feared that once he did stop talking, the spell that suspended them in fragile amber would shatter.
"Ianto."
His last syllable faltered and Ianto looked down at Jack. Blue eyes, clearer and brighter, gazed up at him with a sadness Ianto felt in his chest.
"Now?" Ianto croaked.
"Something's happening. I can sense the TARDIS getting upset. We can't have her—"
"Yeah," Ianto whispered. He brushed feather-light hairs away from Jack's forehead. It felt like caressing air. "We can't. She's done too much for us already."
"We're nearly there. You get Martha up here and all the pieces will fall into place."
Ianto nodded. He fought to hold back whatever he could feel pushing to get out.
It was too much though. Ianto huddled over Jack, burying his face into Jack's hair. He sucked in a loud, wet-sounding gulp of air.
"I don't want you to go." Ianto's voice cracked at the end.
Jack's arms went around Ianto, his cool fingers kneading his back.
"I'm not looking forward to it either," Jack admitted quietly into Ianto's ear. His embrace tightened. "But, Ianto—"
"Be there when I come for you," Ianto whispered. "We'll be coming up there with Martha. Be there."
The fingers on his back curled around the back of his neck.
"Ianto," Jack gently reminded him, "I can't die."
"I'm not talking about that, you daft sod," Ianto choked out.
Jack's eyes crinkled. "Yeah."
"Promise me, damn it."
"So bossy." Jack rubbed a cool knuckle across Ianto's lower lip.
"Promise," Ianto repeated.
"I promise." Jack rubbed his head over Ianto's heart. "Close your eyes."
"Why?"
"Because I hate goodbyes."
Ianto nodded and rested his chin on Jack's head.
"See you later," Ianto whispered.
Jack patted Ianto's mouth with the tips of his fingers.
Ianto closed his eyes and took a shuddering breath. He looped his arms over Jack's shoulders. He felt Jack relax further into his hold.
"Jack, I lo—"
"Oi."
Ianto's eyes flew open. It was dark again, too dark, but what ripped his insides apart was the fact that he was lying flat on his back, his arms folded in front of him. Empty.
"Jack?" No, no, no. He wasn't ready. Please, not yet.
"No, mate."
The sputtering blue light from a kerosene lamp flickered on, revealing Owen's pinched face frowning down at him.
Ianto stared up at Owen until the light became too much.
"The light," Ianto muttered as tears brimmed and spilled down his face. Ianto looked away as the light was set down on the ground away from him. In the cloak of dim shadows, Ianto wiped a sleeve across his eyes.
"What happened?" Ianto's throat felt raw as if he had been talking for hours.
"What happened was you chose to piss me off after I just said I didn't need my stethoscope by passing out in front of the bloody Rift manipulator," Owen growled. He grumbled to himself as he fumbled for Ianto's wrist.
"I passed out?" Ianto repeated. He grimaced as Owen's two fingers dug into the inside of his wrist for his pulse.
"Christ, you're ice cold and yes, you passed out. Like a girl, you did. Swooned like one out of those serials you'd probably watch. Face down on the ground. Can't even faint properly. Got your limbs all tangled up in the stupid cables like a spider web. Scared the shit out of PC Andy. He screamed like a girl. Thought for sure he was going to bring the whole fucking lot of Toclafane on us." Owen grunted. "Milligan was no help either. Did you know he was a bloody pediatrician? Not one bit of kit on him. Unbelievable."
Ianto blinked at Owen's dark shape sitting on the bed. "How long I was out?"
"Like I have a watch on me," Owen shot back. He nudged Ianto to turn his head. His fingers probed Ianto's skull. "A couple of hours. Nearly dawn here."
Ianto endured Owen ordering him to squeeze his hands, raise his legs and track his finger under the light from the open hatchway. Ianto did everything without protest, his mind still trying to remember every detail of before. It still felt like he was holding Jack at times.
A tap on his cheek drew his attention back to Owen.
"Only reason why Gwen didn't panic was because it looked like you were just sleeping," Owen told him, quieter now. "Were you?"
Ianto swallowed but the lump in his throat wouldn't go away. "I think so."
"You think?" Owen turned his head, his back to Ianto. He scratched the goatee.
"You were calling out a name before," Owen said quietly, the irritation in his voice gone. "Uh…Did you—"
"Yes." Ianto pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. His head hurt. His throat hurt. His heart hurt. "Yes. I saw Jack."
The bunk creaked as Owen twisted back around. "What he say?"
Bitterness soured Ianto's throat. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
The confusion hung heavy in the air, but Owen said nothing.
Ianto sniffed. He didn't pull his hands away.
"H-he said absolutely nothing. Just…he just couldn't be there anymore." It was getting hard to breathe. The lump in his throat kept pushing to come out. Ianto sniffed again. He dug the heels of his hands deeper into his burning eyes.
"He…I…there was nothing that needed—that could be done. Nothing."
Owen was quiet, just sitting on the edge of the bunk.
"Light still bothering you?" Owen finally said.
Ianto gulped, sniffled and then nodded. "Yeah," he managed hoarsely.
The light by the ground to his right was doused.
Ianto hastily wiped his sleeve across his eyes again. And again. For some reason, his sleeve was only getting wetter.
"I better let them know you're up. Three girls up there, fretting. I'm surrounded by a lot of ninnies, I am." Owen rose to his feet.
"Owen," Ianto croaked.
Owen stopped with one foot on the bottom rung.
Ianto smiled, brittle and painful on his face.
"Do you honestly need a stethoscope to know if we're alive and breathing?"
Owen grumbled and he climbed the ladder up loudly. "Piss off, Ms. Jones. Bring that light back up when you're ready."
Ianto nodded to himself. He could hear Owen talking to the others. Their voices were low although Gwen's did go up a little before the three men shushed her. Ianto chuckled or coughed. It sounded like both.
In the dark, Ianto heard the hollow echo of Jack's voice. Somehow, he knew Jack was still out there. Still cold.
"I promise."
Ianto sniffled and sat up. "See you later," Ianto whispered.
After a deep breath, Ianto steeled himself, grabbed the lamp on the floor and climbed up the ladder.
Valiant
Francine held the tent folded up to her chest when the doors flew open again. Saxon sailed through them, two of his guards trailing behind him, dragging…
Francine gasped as the limp form of Jack Harkness was dragged, facedown, across the bridge. His head hung low, his shirt and trousers crusted with blood. One of the maids recoiled. One of the guards looked ill.
"I believe you two have already met," Saxon declared as he straightened out his sleeves. He snapped his fingers impatiently and a subdued Lucy Saxon, her face bruised, her lip cut, hurried forward to slip his suit jacket over his shoulders.
The guards dumped Jack Harkness unceremoniously by the Doctor's feet. The captain groaned. He was, somehow, still alive.
"What have you done?" the Doctor rasped. His spotted hands shook as he settled them on Jack's shoulders.
Saxon crouched down in front of him.
"What haven't I done?" Saxon sneered. He leapt up and back when Jack weakly swiped at his legs. His arm missed and flopped to the floor.
"Easy, captain," the Doctor rasped, his hands cupped over the matted hair.
"D-doctor," Jack croaked as he lifted his head. "'ancy meeting you 'ere."
For some reason, Jack's response enraged Saxon. His face purpled and Lucy cringed.
"Look at him," Saxon hissed. His finger cut the air towards the Doctor like a saber. "Look at him! Old, withered, useless. And you still call him Doctor?"
Jack flipped himself around and Francine closed her eyes briefly. The front of his shirt and his t-shirt were brown with blood. Jack's chest heaved as he propped himself up on his elbows.
"I d-don't see anyone el'e 'ere who f-fits the d-description," Jack gasped, but his eyes, while glazed, were resolute.
The Master's fists shook by his side.
"H-harry," Lucy murmured. Her hand reached for his arm.
The Master spun around. His eyes were cool, the snarl that twisted his face smoothed out to something colder. "You lost the right to speak, dear, sweet Lucy. Do not test my affections for you at this time."
Lucy blanched. She nodded and stepped back.
"Look at him, Time Lord," Saxon demanded. "Look at her." He yanked Lucy back against him, crushing her to his side. "Look at them all. Weak human minds; falling for the charms of the Doctor. You are infallible in their eyes, even now, in your pathetic state."
The Doctor never removed his hands from Jack's shoulders. Francine thought she saw the corner of his right eye twitch.
"You call me a villain, but you," Saxon waved at the Doctor and pushed Lucy away. "You are worse. You let them blindly fall into rank, armed with nothing but their fragile human bodies, charging blinded by their faith in their beloved Doctor!"
Saxon spun around and he crooked a finger at his wife. "Look at him, my dear. This is who you follow?"
"I was tricked," Lucy muttered, resentfully. She glowered at the Doctor under her lashes.
Saxon pretended to gasp, his hands to his chest. He pivoted around.
"Do you hear that? Tricked! How apt of a word! Tricked!" Saxon clapped his hands as he barked out, "Look at him, my captain. He can barely stand. He failed to save you. He failed to come back for you! Does he even deserve your loyalty?"
Jack said nothing.
Francine glanced back at Jack and tensed. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or scared to see Jack slumped back against the Doctor's lap, his head lolled to the side. From where she stood, she could see Jack's eyes, half-mast, dull, his face slack.
"What have you done?" the Master hissed, his arms lowering to his sides.
The Doctor pulled his hands away from Jack's temples. He just stared up at Saxon, his mouth set.
"What have you done?" Saxon signaled the guards to haul Jack up to his feet and he gripped the captain's chin with a curled claw-like grip. He turned Jack's head left then right. He slapped one cheek hard enough that made Francine flinch.
"You can't reach him." The Doctor wore a little smile that made Francine shiver. "He is beyond you now, even in death."
"You sealed him." The Master grasped Jack's head with both hands now and stared intently at the slitted eyes. "You sealed him!"
The Doctor made an odd, rough sounding laugh. He shrugged one shoulder.
"Bring him back!" the Master snarled.
The Doctor just rasped another laugh.
Francine caught Lucy's tiny smile behind the hands she clasped over her mouth in posed shock.
"I order you to bring him back!" Saxon roared.
"Order?" Another papery, scratchy bark. "Your name may be Master, but it doesn't demand obedience from me. And since when did I ever follow orders?"
"Bring. Him. Back."
The Doctor never flinched. To his credit, he never even blinked. He smiled like a grandfather in a park and simply said, "No."
Francine fought the urge to smile as well. She hid hers behind the tent blanket she'd folded up. Saxon ranted some more, waved his fists, but the Doctor merely smiled at him with the kind of indulgent look a teacher would give a pupil.
When Saxon's tirade died down, he dismissed Lucy, dismissed Jack and stood by the Doctor on the floor.
"I will not be denied," Saxon seethed.
The Doctor cocked his head. "Odd. I think you just were."
"You will release him or I—"
"You'll what? What could you possibly do to him now? Anything, anything else you do to him, he will merely sink deeper and deeper into the haven I provided him." The Doctor's eyes gleamed. "Then he'll be beyond even me."
Saxon scoffed. He crouched down by the Doctor's ear, whispered something and rocked back on his heels with a smirk. The Doctor stared at him.
Then, as hard as he could, he slapped Saxon.
The guards left on the bridge exploded into action around the pair. Saxon raised a hand, halting them, the other hand on his cheek. He chuckled as he rose back to his feet.
"Master," the Doctor hissed as he held his hand, surely broken by the way the wrist started to swell, "I will stop you."
Eyes as dark as the night sky skewered Saxon. Francine's arms pimpled into goose bumps. She swallowed.
The Master's chuckles died down a little, his voice caught as he stared back. Then a shadow cast over his face.
"Not unless I stop you first," Saxon hissed. "It's my turn to dictate the terms." Saxon spread his arms open as his voice rose.
"Revenge!" Saxon boomed. "Best served hot. And this time…" His sneer spread from ear to ear. "It's a message for Miss Jones."
Francine's mouth ran dry.
"Let's see if they will all fall for your charms now…Doctor."
Somewhere Along the Shores of Britain
It was cold, exhausting really, to cling to the rope that lined the raft. The inflatable boat bounced as waves crested, white froth spilling into the tiny vessel.
"Nearly there," someone murmured from the vicinity of the motor.
Martha Jones merely nodded. Too used to traveling alone for so long, it was hard to remember how to carry on a conversation again on the rare periods of company.
"If there's no one there," a soft voice to her left whispered by her ear. "We'll turn back."
One wave nearly upturned the raft. Martha curled her fingers tighter on the rope.
"No," Martha said, her mouth grim. "It's not like I've never been alone before."
"Jack would kill me if I just left you there."
Martha glanced over her shoulder at the bright blue eyes hidden under a messy fringe of hair and a black wool cap.
"No he wouldn't. He likes you," Martha smirked. She turned back towards the shore she could see expanding across the midnight horizon.
"I see the signal," someone in the back of the raft reported.
Sure enough, a tiny light, the lantern they agreed on, swayed left then right before it blinked, then swayed once more.
"That's it," Martha sighed. She blinked rapidly.
"Good luck."
There were claps on her back, whispered well wishes, as Martha stepped out of the raft and into the cold water. Icy water lapped her calves.
Martha sloshed up a step then turned back to grin at blue eyes again.
"Better get back alive to him, Daniel, or Jack will have such a fit."
There was a sloppy salute, a chuckle from someone else and Martha waded up the last few inches to shore as the raft softly puttered away behind her.
Martha wanted to weep when her borrowed boots met hard sand but she just steeled herself and trotted up to the two men waiting for her.
There was a bit of hesitation when she saw it was two men, not one as she had discussed with Torchwood, but when they did nothing, Martha stiffened her back as she approached.
"What's your names, then?" Martha asked curtly.
The one with dark eyes and a scruffy beard spoke up first.
"Tom Milligan."
The other, thinner and paler, cleared his throat. "Andy Davidson, ma'am. The famous Martha Jones, I take it?"
Martha grimaced. "Just Martha, please."
Milligan nodded. "All right, Just Martha. How long since you were last in Britain?"
Martha took a deep breath of salty air and felt a knot in her gut unclench.
"Three hundred sixty five days," Martha sighed. She stared beyond them at a sky once lit with tall buildings and buzzing with life.
"It's been a long year."
She was finally home.
Act IV
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: 2008-12-21 05:23 am (UTC)