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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 "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, Ch 40 3/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act IV:"Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they?" "
"Space lane traffic is advised to stay away from Sol 3, also known as Earth. Pilots are warned that Sol 3 is now entering terminal extinction. Planet Earth is closed."
"Planet Earth is closed."
"Planet Earth is closed."
Valiant
"…safe here…"
He found that he couldn't move yet that didn't alarm him. There were no chains on his wrists, no pipes surrounding him like a cage. The walls around him were snug, soft, warm and diffused with a light that glowed a color he couldn't identify.
The confines breathed with him and absently, he wondered if this was what people meant by being in the womb. Of course it wasn't the womb; it would be just too strange, too weird, too disconcerting although he remembered the species of bird-people who enjoyed an occasional group snuggle naked in a gel tank encased inside a synthetic eggsh—
…
Anyway, this wasn't a womb.
Wherever he was, it was quiet. A good quiet. No voices. No whipping sounds of sharp things whistling in the air. No clanging rattling of his chains as he arched his back in sheer agony. No whine of a laser screwdriver pressed hard to his belly, forcing—Don't think about. Don't. None of that was here with him. He was nestled in a haze of not-pain, floating on a fog of lethargy he couldn't—or didn’t want to—shake.
"…can't hurt you…any more…not here…"
The last thing he remembered was pain. So much pain. Pain that burned ice cold. He constantly came back to his body, bereft, in agony and in despair.
"…think back…find a memory…"
It wasn't clear who or what the voice that surrounded him was. At one point, it sounded deep, then high, then soft. It changed as quickly as a thought.
He remembered brown eyes that held the universe gazing down at him. They had held him as the monsters pounded at his door. Things began to dissolve the longer he kept their stare: the pain in his lower back, the heated line of agony up across his abdomen, the hot coil of torn flesh in places he would never ever think about.
Transfixed, he stared and stared and stared at the universe churning in those brown eyes and felt hands on his face, a voice in his buzzing head. And suddenly everything faded and he began to sink. Mentally, he floundered.
"It's all right," a voice had intoned in his head. "Sleep."
He slept.
And he dreamed.
He dreamt of arms around him, of words rolling and wrapping around him. They held him, shielded him away from some dark thing he could no longer recall.
"…think back…find a memory…remember…"
He…he remembered…
Ianto.
At the name, faint impressions of arms wrapped around him, a body so familiar to him it no longer needed a name settled against him and the tantalizing sense of moist breath peppered along the planes of his now untainted skin.
He remembered. He had promised. And for the first time, he fidgeted against the cottony wrappings around his mind, his body.
"…Wait…be still…he can't find you if you're still…"
He struggled regardless. He couldn't be hiding. He made a promise.
"…He's coming back for you…"
Promise?
He cringed at the plaintive quality of his reply but the voice that wasn't quite a voice just nodded and the memory of Ianto's arms tightened around him. The voice shaped thoughts into words and like a caress, soothed him.
"…He's coming back for you…wait for him…"
So in the depths of his mind, cocooned from the outside, wrapped in ribbons of pain-free sleep, Jack Harkness burrowed deeper into the cradle of gossamer warmth.
And waited.
Somewhere in Britain
Martha welcomed the hard trek as the three of their shoes uniformly crunched up the shore to higher ground. She had turned back towards the water minutes before to watch the raft grow smaller and smaller in the horizon. She thought she saw a faraway shadow wave goodbye but she didn't dare wave back. So Martha just nodded even though she knew none of them would be able to see that.
Davidson and Milligan were observing her with open curiosity as they walked. It was something Martha had encountered many times in her travels as word spread through her, through the resistance and through Torchwood. In fact, some had already heard of her by the time she reached them. Different faces, different voices yet they all carry the same surreptitious glances when she shared shelter with them at night.
It didn't mean she was used to it though.
"What?" Martha snapped breathlessly. "What is it?" She didn't remember the incline ever being this steep. Before the divorce, the family used to all come here in the summer. A hermit crab bit Leo in the foot once. After that Tish never wanted to go into the water.
The two men exchanged a look, like boys caught past curfew.
Milligan cleared his throat. "So what's the plan?"
Right down to business. Good. Maybe it was because she was home, but Martha discovered she had lost the patience she cradled to her across America.
"This Professor Docherty," Martha said briskly. She fought the urge to pant. Now she knew why her old flat mate favored jogging up and down the beach instead of going to a gym. Martha was already sweating despite the night chill.
"I need to see her. Can you get me there?"
Davidson cleared his throat. "She works in a repair shed, Nuclear Plant seven."
"We can get you inside," Milligan added.
Martha gave them a frown. "That reminds me. We? I was under the impression I was going to have one escort not a royal guard."
"Not a royal guard," Davidson corrected. "They didn't have a bearskin cap my size." Davidson flicked a finger towards his hairline and he grinned. He looked remarkably younger when he did. Milligan grunted and shrugged with a wry smile.
Martha smirked. "Fair enough. What's with the double escorts then?"
"Resistance sighted Toclafane patrolling the shoreline later and later," Milligan reported.
Martha eyed the night sky with a frown. "Oh?" The corner of her eye twitched. It didn't help that the Toclafane were nearly the same color as the sky. Impossible to sight.
"Torchwood thought it might be safer with two," Davidson added. He made a sound. "Oh, nearly forgot." He fumbled around in the knapsack hanging off his right shoulder. He pulled out a battered thermos.
"Compliments of Ianto Jones."
Martha found herself grinning broadly as she accepted the thermos and the included note. The dented steel canister was warm, hot even and Martha savored the feeling of the heat nearly scalding her skin. There were too many times when it was the opposite.
"'Kept a kettle warm,'" Martha read as she hugged the thermos. "'Hope teabags are fine.' Oh, Mr. Jones, I could kiss you."
Milligan breathed out sharply. He gestured towards himself and Davidson. "Look, what's all this for? What's so important about Docherty?"
The smile faded and Martha just pocketed the note. She still held the warm cylinder to her chest. She wished she could chance zipping down her vest to hug the thermos closer to her body.
"Sorry," Martha sighed. She was starting to sound like someone she missed dearly. "The more you know, the more you're at risk."
Unimpressed, Milligan grunted. Davidson shot her an apologetic look.
"There's a lot of people depending on you," Milligan muttered. Whatever good nature that had been on his face had fizzled away. "You're a bit of a legend."
Martha's mouth twisted. It almost sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was. "What does the legend say?"
"That you sailed the Atlantic, walked across America. That you're the only person who got out of Japan alive."
Her stomach did a flip-flop. Martha's jaw clenched. "I wasn't the only one who got out of Japan alive," she said shortly. Crossing the Pacific, however, was a different matter. She could still smell the ships burning as she watched the decoys that guarded her ship sink.
Milligan made a sound that was more a weary grunt. "‘Martha Jones', they say, ‘She's gonna save the world.'" Milligan glanced around him with sad eyes. "Bit late for that."
"No pressure or anything," Davidson muttered to her other ear.
Martha smiled bitterly. "Sure."
Sand became gravel finally and the three, almost in unison, marched towards a worn road. It was eerie how the sky, normally lit from the city, was so dark now. Martha couldn't recall when she had ever seen the stars this bright before.
Martha's eyes widened. A flatbed truck sat there in front of them, its engine idle, waiting. "How come you can drive? Don't you get stopped?" She settled a hand on the bonnet of the cab. Still warm.
"Medical staff," Milligan explained as he shoved his hands in his pockets for his keys. "Used to be in pediatrics back in the old days. But that gives me a license to travel so I can help out at the labor camps."
"Great," Martha muttered. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. "I'm traveling with a doctor." She gave Davidson a wary look.
Davidson raised both hands. "Me? No, no, but Torchwood made my cover: former dentist so I can travel with him." He opened the passenger door and offered Martha a hand.
"Just don't ask me to pull out any teeth," Davidson added as he climbed in behind her. "I don't accept most insurances."
Martha chuckled. "All right, thanks for the warning."
The driver side door creaked open. The truck jostled as Milligan climbed onboard.
Milligan studied her as if he wasn't sure if he wanted her in his vehicle or not. "Story goes, that you're the only person on Earth who can kill him."
Martha bit back a sigh. She just nodded curtly as she sat between the two men.
"I didn't realize you were such a brilliant conversationalist, Milligan," Davidson muttered next to Martha.
Milligan ignored him as he studied Martha. There was hope in his eyes warring with months of witnessing the opposite. "People say you, and you alone, can kill the Master stone dead."
Martha stared at Milligan. There was a time she might have thought him cute, that his dogged determination might have made him that much more attractive. Now, Martha could only feel regret. Who might Milligan have been before Saxon? Or Davidson?
What a fucking waste.
Her hands curled tighter around the thermos and Martha tore her gaze away to look out front. "Let's just drive," she said flatly.
Valiant
The music blaring reminded Francine of the music Leo used to listen to before he married and moved away. She made a face as she set the tray down and set up the two place settings. God, it grated her hearing. It was a garbled mess of metal and shrill screaming about living and dying and heaven. It was piped throughout the ship early morning to announce the Master's arrival and like a starter pistol, the staff scurried to get breakfast and the satellite reports all ready and waiting.
The doors crashed open to announce Saxon.
"Last chance, Doctor!" Saxon declared as he strode in with his wife trailing behind him in a sleek red gown. Lucy stood out like a vivid fresh bloodstain.
Francine grimaced to herself. She backed away from the head of the table with her tray as Saxon approached the front of the bridge.
The Master stopped by the tent with its straw flooring and the large bowl marked 'Dog' that Francine wanted so to kick.
"Hello, hello! Wakey, wakey, Doctor!" Saxon flapped his hand on the newly erected tent. The fragile material flapped madly under the onslaught.
The Master pulled Lucy to his side and she leaned into him as if she wanted to curl around him like a serpent. Her smug face hid itself into Saxon's shoulder and the Master kissed the top of her long golden hair.
"Unseal him," the Master commanded in a low voice. "I'm asking one last time."
Again, as it had been for the past few hours, the reed thin floated out of the tent.
"No."
"Do you actually think hiding him in his own mind would ever stop me?" the Master mused, smiling as if a pet just sat up prettily for him. He stepped away from Lucy to approach the tent.
"The vortex is denied to you now, isn't it?"
Francine winced at the taunt slithering out of the tent. She wondered if the Doctor would sound like that if he could see Saxon pale suddenly with rage.
"That is of little concern," the Master dismissed but Francine could see his hand tremble as Saxon waved it off.
"No vortex, no power. Do you feel like you're growing smaller and smaller again, the universe expanding bigger around you?"
Lucy Saxon fidgeted. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave Saxon's back a wide-eyed look.
"All those answers denied to you once more. How does it feel when it seems like you can do nothing?"
Doctor shut up, Francine pleaded as she stood by the table, her tray left forgotten now. She watched with huge eyes, ice growing in the pit of her stomach as Saxon shook. Even Lucy backed away a step.
Francine couldn't watch as Saxon tugged the old Doctor out of his shelter and dumped him in his wheelchair. With a whoop, Saxon pushed him around the bridge like a child with a toy cart. Round and round, faster and faster. When they finally stopped by one of the viewing windows, Francine could see the Doctor's hands clutching the armrests. Even Lucy Saxon leaned against the wall, breathless.
Saxon hunched over the Doctor.
"Nothing? Take a look, old friend. The new Time Lord Empire," the Master breathed as the trio gazed out the window. Francine could see the dots of Toclafane flying by.
"It's good, isn't it? Isn't it good?" Saxon clapped a hand hard on the Doctor's shoulder.
"Anything?" the Master asked but he was ignored. "No? Anything?"
The Doctor was silent, his head fixed towards the window.
"Oh," the Master pretended to bemoan, "but they broke your hearts, didn't they?" Saxon shook his head and gave a dramatic sigh. "Those Toclafane, ever since you worked out what they really are."
Francine stared out the window closest to her and frowned. What was Saxon talking about?
"Lucy despaired too when she realized, didn't you, darling?"
The blood red shadow that stood behind the two men nodded. She hugged herself and said nothing.
"When did you realize, Doctor?" the Master clasped both hands on either side of the Doctor's shoulders.
"When did you first mourn for the Toclafane? When did you wish you could help them? When did you first realize what you left behind in Jack?"
Francine's brow knitted together. The Master sounded almost like he was asleep, entranced as he stared out the window.
"Unseal him, Doctor. Think of what can be done with all that power. It's wasted on an abomination like him."
"You're the abomination," the Doctor snarled. He tried to push the Master's hands away, but Saxon pressed down on his shoulders. The Doctor grunted.
"We could feed on him together," the Master intoned.
Lucy made some sort of strangled noise.
"No." The Doctor sounded horrified.
"Imagine it, Doctor." The Master stared out the window. Francine was frozen by the table, her eyes on the two men by the window.
"Imagine him writhing underneath you as we drain him together, every last drop of him and knowing all that glorious power will be waiting for you again in just a few hours."
"Harry," Lucy whispered. She sounded close to tears.
Saxon ignored her as he continued. "How could you not have tasted it? It bleeds out of him, begging to be taken, to be devoured, to be utilized in rejuvenating the Empire!"
"The Time Lords would have never wanted the Empire like this."
The Master scoffed. "And look how well they fared? Forgotten atoms in space now, save us."
"Master…" the Doctor growled.
"Unseal him!" The wheelchair rattled. "Unseal him and I'll show you. That weariness in your bones will be gone. You'll see. You'll see how we can revive the Empire. You won't have to be alone any more."
Francine shook when the Doctor didn't respond. She looked away, at the table. The empty plates and silverware mocked her. Her reflection warped into hundreds of tiny faces.
"You're old, Doctor. Long before I used Lazarus on you, you felt time stretched thin inside you, didn't you? I can show you how to make it all go away."
Silent, the Doctor stared out the window.
Encouraged, Saxon went on. "Ever infinity, Doctor. We could reshape matter itself. Strip the freak of the vortex; that pitiful little human soul vainly trying to hold on to the vortex, as if such primitive forms can ever understand its majesty. If only you knew how it felt—feeling that spirit bucking under you, trying to fight, but oh, the glory…unseal him, Doctor!"
Francine bit her lower lip.
The Doctor finally turned away from the window and looked up at the Master.
"Do you still hear the drumming?" the Doctor rasped.
The Master snarled wordlessly and he pushed the wheelchair away. It rolled back past Lucy, past Francine before she could catch him and struck a wall.
The Doctor merely cackled.
The Master stalked over and slammed his hands to the wall on either side of the Doctor's head. He smirked.
"They say," the Master drawled, "Martha Jones has come back home."
Francine froze. Martha?
"Now why would she do that?"
The Doctor stopped laughing. He narrowed his eyes. "Leave her alone."
"But you said something to her, didn't you? On the day I took control. What did you tell her?" the Master paused. "Wait, don't tell me. Let's not ruin the surprise." His mouth stretched thinly across his face.
Francine set her hands on the table to brace herself. Everyone around her was paralyzed in his or her tracks.
"I have one thing to say to you," the Doctor whispered. He met the Master's eyes with a defiance that made the Master's smile waver. "You know what it is."
The Master, for some reason, chuckled.
"Actually, I do." Saxon sobered quickly and stepped away from the Doctor. "Do you want me to tell her what it is before I slit her throat on live telly? Or should you?"
The knife was in her hand before Francine realized it. Someone shouted. Lucy shouted, but Francine was already lunging for Saxon with the knife in her fist.
Saxon looked stunned, motionless as Francine charged, screaming. Her arm rose and sailed down towards his face.
Her wrist was caught mid-strike.
Lucy Saxon stood nose to nose with her, face twisted, her delicate hands as red as her dress as she clutched the tip of the blade with both hands.
Saxon stared coolly at her, not even blinking at the knife inches from his left eye or Lucy shaking in front of him.
"Well," Saxon drawled. "That certainly wasn't part of the script."
"Leave Martha alone," Francine cried out. She tried to force her hand down but the guards came up from behind and wrenched her back. The blade scattered to the floor and Lucy pressed her hands to her chest.
Saxon settled a hand on Lucy's back and he tsked at her cut hands.
"Sweet Lucy," Saxon murmured. He kissed her on her right cheek. "Ever loyal, dear Lucy."
Francine kicked towards Saxon as she was dragged away. Damn it! "You leave my daughter alone, Saxon, you miserable monster!"
"Do you see this, Doctor?" Saxon waved towards Francine.
"Is this what you bring to all those lives you cross?" the Master asked as he draped his hand over Lucy's shoulders. His wife sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Saxon pulled out his odd instrument and pointed it towards Francine.
"Master!"
A high-pitched whine sailed across and landed on her foot. Grazed her ankle, really. Francine dropped as fire raced up her leg.
"Say you're sorry," Saxon asked in a bored voice.
Francine glowered up at him.
"Maybe if we bring pretty Tish in here as well, you'll be sorry."
Francine caught the Doctor shaking his head at her behind Saxon. She gritted her teeth and bowed her head.
"Sorry," Francine bit out. She blinked rapidly at the marble floor. "Sorry."
The Master harrumphed. "I'd always wondered if you were sorry you tried or sorry you failed, Francine Jones."
Francine didn't know what Saxon was talking about. She kept her head down, her fists to her chest to try and will the tears brimming in her eyes not to spill.
"Master, leave her alone."
"Fine," the Master sighed. He sounded bored. "I'm feeling a bit benevolent. One more time, Doctor. Unseal him."
The Doctor clamped his mouth shut but he cast a look over to Francine.
The Master snorted. "Her? Not worth torturing any of them to convince you. They're too fragile to last five minutes. Waste of the help. No…you will agree because of what I can show you, Doctor."
"I have no interest in the vortex," the Doctor muttered, but Francine saw his shoulders relaxing at the Master's remark. Francine swallowed as well. The guards needed to physically haul her up because her legs was all of the sudden too wobbly.
"He'll come out anyway," the Master decided. "He'll come out."
"Not for you."
Saxon's nostrils flared but then as quick as an eye blink, his face morphed to something akin to pleasant, like a stranger greeting someone on the street, except his eyes were feral.
"Perhaps you're right," the Master purred. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and sneered. "It is morning now. Many will be awake now. All those hopeful faces." He reached back a hand and Lucy Saxon grabbed it with such quick eagerness, it was pathetic to witness.
The Master looked at the guards holding Francine.
"Lock the whole Jones lot up. Set up monitors in their cell and the captain's as well." The Master clapped his hands together and Lucy hurried over to pull out his chair for him to sit.
Saxon swiveled in his chair until he faced the upper bridge deck.
"Let's make an announcement to my people. A broadcast from their Master! Hm…Twenty? No, no, better make it twenty one hundred. This will definitely be post watershed content." Saxon spun back to face the Doctor.
"You may be right," Saxon announced. "He won't come out for me." He folded his hands together in mock prayer and touched his smiling mouth with his clasped hands.
"But maybe for you, Doctor."
Torchwood, Cardiff
"My people. Salutations on this, the eve of war. Lovely woman. But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there.
Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope.” The Master walks to stand beside the Doctor.
“But I ask you…how much hope has this man got? Say hello, Gandalf. Except he's not that old but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted, little apes. What if it showed? What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?
Older and older and older.
Down you go, Doctor. Down, down, down you go. Doctor.
Received and understood, Miss Jones?"
Gwen stared at the laptop, at the large-eyed creature shakily coming out of the mound of pinstripe wool. It suddenly seemed colder in the Hub. The dark was suffocating. Seeing the Doctor in his wheelchair was a shock already, but this?
"Nine hundred? Shit," Owen breathed from behind her. He huddled closed to her to gawk at the laptop. "Shit."
"God," Ianto murmured. He covered his mouth with a cupped hand.
Gwen could only stare as the transmission flickered and died.
What were they going to do now?
Act V
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 "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, Ch 40 3/11
Master Fic List: here
Chapter 40 "The Last of the Time Lords"
Act IV:"Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they?" "
"Space lane traffic is advised to stay away from Sol 3, also known as Earth. Pilots are warned that Sol 3 is now entering terminal extinction. Planet Earth is closed."
"Planet Earth is closed."
"Planet Earth is closed."
Valiant
"…safe here…"
He found that he couldn't move yet that didn't alarm him. There were no chains on his wrists, no pipes surrounding him like a cage. The walls around him were snug, soft, warm and diffused with a light that glowed a color he couldn't identify.
The confines breathed with him and absently, he wondered if this was what people meant by being in the womb. Of course it wasn't the womb; it would be just too strange, too weird, too disconcerting although he remembered the species of bird-people who enjoyed an occasional group snuggle naked in a gel tank encased inside a synthetic eggsh—
…
Anyway, this wasn't a womb.
Wherever he was, it was quiet. A good quiet. No voices. No whipping sounds of sharp things whistling in the air. No clanging rattling of his chains as he arched his back in sheer agony. No whine of a laser screwdriver pressed hard to his belly, forcing—Don't think about. Don't. None of that was here with him. He was nestled in a haze of not-pain, floating on a fog of lethargy he couldn't—or didn’t want to—shake.
"…can't hurt you…any more…not here…"
The last thing he remembered was pain. So much pain. Pain that burned ice cold. He constantly came back to his body, bereft, in agony and in despair.
"…think back…find a memory…"
It wasn't clear who or what the voice that surrounded him was. At one point, it sounded deep, then high, then soft. It changed as quickly as a thought.
He remembered brown eyes that held the universe gazing down at him. They had held him as the monsters pounded at his door. Things began to dissolve the longer he kept their stare: the pain in his lower back, the heated line of agony up across his abdomen, the hot coil of torn flesh in places he would never ever think about.
Transfixed, he stared and stared and stared at the universe churning in those brown eyes and felt hands on his face, a voice in his buzzing head. And suddenly everything faded and he began to sink. Mentally, he floundered.
"It's all right," a voice had intoned in his head. "Sleep."
He slept.
And he dreamed.
He dreamt of arms around him, of words rolling and wrapping around him. They held him, shielded him away from some dark thing he could no longer recall.
"…think back…find a memory…remember…"
He…he remembered…
Ianto.
At the name, faint impressions of arms wrapped around him, a body so familiar to him it no longer needed a name settled against him and the tantalizing sense of moist breath peppered along the planes of his now untainted skin.
He remembered. He had promised. And for the first time, he fidgeted against the cottony wrappings around his mind, his body.
"…Wait…be still…he can't find you if you're still…"
He struggled regardless. He couldn't be hiding. He made a promise.
"…He's coming back for you…"
Promise?
He cringed at the plaintive quality of his reply but the voice that wasn't quite a voice just nodded and the memory of Ianto's arms tightened around him. The voice shaped thoughts into words and like a caress, soothed him.
"…He's coming back for you…wait for him…"
So in the depths of his mind, cocooned from the outside, wrapped in ribbons of pain-free sleep, Jack Harkness burrowed deeper into the cradle of gossamer warmth.
And waited.
Somewhere in Britain
Martha welcomed the hard trek as the three of their shoes uniformly crunched up the shore to higher ground. She had turned back towards the water minutes before to watch the raft grow smaller and smaller in the horizon. She thought she saw a faraway shadow wave goodbye but she didn't dare wave back. So Martha just nodded even though she knew none of them would be able to see that.
Davidson and Milligan were observing her with open curiosity as they walked. It was something Martha had encountered many times in her travels as word spread through her, through the resistance and through Torchwood. In fact, some had already heard of her by the time she reached them. Different faces, different voices yet they all carry the same surreptitious glances when she shared shelter with them at night.
It didn't mean she was used to it though.
"What?" Martha snapped breathlessly. "What is it?" She didn't remember the incline ever being this steep. Before the divorce, the family used to all come here in the summer. A hermit crab bit Leo in the foot once. After that Tish never wanted to go into the water.
The two men exchanged a look, like boys caught past curfew.
Milligan cleared his throat. "So what's the plan?"
Right down to business. Good. Maybe it was because she was home, but Martha discovered she had lost the patience she cradled to her across America.
"This Professor Docherty," Martha said briskly. She fought the urge to pant. Now she knew why her old flat mate favored jogging up and down the beach instead of going to a gym. Martha was already sweating despite the night chill.
"I need to see her. Can you get me there?"
Davidson cleared his throat. "She works in a repair shed, Nuclear Plant seven."
"We can get you inside," Milligan added.
Martha gave them a frown. "That reminds me. We? I was under the impression I was going to have one escort not a royal guard."
"Not a royal guard," Davidson corrected. "They didn't have a bearskin cap my size." Davidson flicked a finger towards his hairline and he grinned. He looked remarkably younger when he did. Milligan grunted and shrugged with a wry smile.
Martha smirked. "Fair enough. What's with the double escorts then?"
"Resistance sighted Toclafane patrolling the shoreline later and later," Milligan reported.
Martha eyed the night sky with a frown. "Oh?" The corner of her eye twitched. It didn't help that the Toclafane were nearly the same color as the sky. Impossible to sight.
"Torchwood thought it might be safer with two," Davidson added. He made a sound. "Oh, nearly forgot." He fumbled around in the knapsack hanging off his right shoulder. He pulled out a battered thermos.
"Compliments of Ianto Jones."
Martha found herself grinning broadly as she accepted the thermos and the included note. The dented steel canister was warm, hot even and Martha savored the feeling of the heat nearly scalding her skin. There were too many times when it was the opposite.
"'Kept a kettle warm,'" Martha read as she hugged the thermos. "'Hope teabags are fine.' Oh, Mr. Jones, I could kiss you."
Milligan breathed out sharply. He gestured towards himself and Davidson. "Look, what's all this for? What's so important about Docherty?"
The smile faded and Martha just pocketed the note. She still held the warm cylinder to her chest. She wished she could chance zipping down her vest to hug the thermos closer to her body.
"Sorry," Martha sighed. She was starting to sound like someone she missed dearly. "The more you know, the more you're at risk."
Unimpressed, Milligan grunted. Davidson shot her an apologetic look.
"There's a lot of people depending on you," Milligan muttered. Whatever good nature that had been on his face had fizzled away. "You're a bit of a legend."
Martha's mouth twisted. It almost sounded like an accusation. Maybe it was. "What does the legend say?"
"That you sailed the Atlantic, walked across America. That you're the only person who got out of Japan alive."
Her stomach did a flip-flop. Martha's jaw clenched. "I wasn't the only one who got out of Japan alive," she said shortly. Crossing the Pacific, however, was a different matter. She could still smell the ships burning as she watched the decoys that guarded her ship sink.
Milligan made a sound that was more a weary grunt. "‘Martha Jones', they say, ‘She's gonna save the world.'" Milligan glanced around him with sad eyes. "Bit late for that."
"No pressure or anything," Davidson muttered to her other ear.
Martha smiled bitterly. "Sure."
Sand became gravel finally and the three, almost in unison, marched towards a worn road. It was eerie how the sky, normally lit from the city, was so dark now. Martha couldn't recall when she had ever seen the stars this bright before.
Martha's eyes widened. A flatbed truck sat there in front of them, its engine idle, waiting. "How come you can drive? Don't you get stopped?" She settled a hand on the bonnet of the cab. Still warm.
"Medical staff," Milligan explained as he shoved his hands in his pockets for his keys. "Used to be in pediatrics back in the old days. But that gives me a license to travel so I can help out at the labor camps."
"Great," Martha muttered. The corner of her mouth tugged upwards. "I'm traveling with a doctor." She gave Davidson a wary look.
Davidson raised both hands. "Me? No, no, but Torchwood made my cover: former dentist so I can travel with him." He opened the passenger door and offered Martha a hand.
"Just don't ask me to pull out any teeth," Davidson added as he climbed in behind her. "I don't accept most insurances."
Martha chuckled. "All right, thanks for the warning."
The driver side door creaked open. The truck jostled as Milligan climbed onboard.
Milligan studied her as if he wasn't sure if he wanted her in his vehicle or not. "Story goes, that you're the only person on Earth who can kill him."
Martha bit back a sigh. She just nodded curtly as she sat between the two men.
"I didn't realize you were such a brilliant conversationalist, Milligan," Davidson muttered next to Martha.
Milligan ignored him as he studied Martha. There was hope in his eyes warring with months of witnessing the opposite. "People say you, and you alone, can kill the Master stone dead."
Martha stared at Milligan. There was a time she might have thought him cute, that his dogged determination might have made him that much more attractive. Now, Martha could only feel regret. Who might Milligan have been before Saxon? Or Davidson?
What a fucking waste.
Her hands curled tighter around the thermos and Martha tore her gaze away to look out front. "Let's just drive," she said flatly.
Valiant
The music blaring reminded Francine of the music Leo used to listen to before he married and moved away. She made a face as she set the tray down and set up the two place settings. God, it grated her hearing. It was a garbled mess of metal and shrill screaming about living and dying and heaven. It was piped throughout the ship early morning to announce the Master's arrival and like a starter pistol, the staff scurried to get breakfast and the satellite reports all ready and waiting.
The doors crashed open to announce Saxon.
"Last chance, Doctor!" Saxon declared as he strode in with his wife trailing behind him in a sleek red gown. Lucy stood out like a vivid fresh bloodstain.
Francine grimaced to herself. She backed away from the head of the table with her tray as Saxon approached the front of the bridge.
The Master stopped by the tent with its straw flooring and the large bowl marked 'Dog' that Francine wanted so to kick.
"Hello, hello! Wakey, wakey, Doctor!" Saxon flapped his hand on the newly erected tent. The fragile material flapped madly under the onslaught.
The Master pulled Lucy to his side and she leaned into him as if she wanted to curl around him like a serpent. Her smug face hid itself into Saxon's shoulder and the Master kissed the top of her long golden hair.
"Unseal him," the Master commanded in a low voice. "I'm asking one last time."
Again, as it had been for the past few hours, the reed thin floated out of the tent.
"No."
"Do you actually think hiding him in his own mind would ever stop me?" the Master mused, smiling as if a pet just sat up prettily for him. He stepped away from Lucy to approach the tent.
"The vortex is denied to you now, isn't it?"
Francine winced at the taunt slithering out of the tent. She wondered if the Doctor would sound like that if he could see Saxon pale suddenly with rage.
"That is of little concern," the Master dismissed but Francine could see his hand tremble as Saxon waved it off.
"No vortex, no power. Do you feel like you're growing smaller and smaller again, the universe expanding bigger around you?"
Lucy Saxon fidgeted. She wrapped her arms around herself and gave Saxon's back a wide-eyed look.
"All those answers denied to you once more. How does it feel when it seems like you can do nothing?"
Doctor shut up, Francine pleaded as she stood by the table, her tray left forgotten now. She watched with huge eyes, ice growing in the pit of her stomach as Saxon shook. Even Lucy backed away a step.
Francine couldn't watch as Saxon tugged the old Doctor out of his shelter and dumped him in his wheelchair. With a whoop, Saxon pushed him around the bridge like a child with a toy cart. Round and round, faster and faster. When they finally stopped by one of the viewing windows, Francine could see the Doctor's hands clutching the armrests. Even Lucy Saxon leaned against the wall, breathless.
Saxon hunched over the Doctor.
"Nothing? Take a look, old friend. The new Time Lord Empire," the Master breathed as the trio gazed out the window. Francine could see the dots of Toclafane flying by.
"It's good, isn't it? Isn't it good?" Saxon clapped a hand hard on the Doctor's shoulder.
"Anything?" the Master asked but he was ignored. "No? Anything?"
The Doctor was silent, his head fixed towards the window.
"Oh," the Master pretended to bemoan, "but they broke your hearts, didn't they?" Saxon shook his head and gave a dramatic sigh. "Those Toclafane, ever since you worked out what they really are."
Francine stared out the window closest to her and frowned. What was Saxon talking about?
"Lucy despaired too when she realized, didn't you, darling?"
The blood red shadow that stood behind the two men nodded. She hugged herself and said nothing.
"When did you realize, Doctor?" the Master clasped both hands on either side of the Doctor's shoulders.
"When did you first mourn for the Toclafane? When did you wish you could help them? When did you first realize what you left behind in Jack?"
Francine's brow knitted together. The Master sounded almost like he was asleep, entranced as he stared out the window.
"Unseal him, Doctor. Think of what can be done with all that power. It's wasted on an abomination like him."
"You're the abomination," the Doctor snarled. He tried to push the Master's hands away, but Saxon pressed down on his shoulders. The Doctor grunted.
"We could feed on him together," the Master intoned.
Lucy made some sort of strangled noise.
"No." The Doctor sounded horrified.
"Imagine it, Doctor." The Master stared out the window. Francine was frozen by the table, her eyes on the two men by the window.
"Imagine him writhing underneath you as we drain him together, every last drop of him and knowing all that glorious power will be waiting for you again in just a few hours."
"Harry," Lucy whispered. She sounded close to tears.
Saxon ignored her as he continued. "How could you not have tasted it? It bleeds out of him, begging to be taken, to be devoured, to be utilized in rejuvenating the Empire!"
"The Time Lords would have never wanted the Empire like this."
The Master scoffed. "And look how well they fared? Forgotten atoms in space now, save us."
"Master…" the Doctor growled.
"Unseal him!" The wheelchair rattled. "Unseal him and I'll show you. That weariness in your bones will be gone. You'll see. You'll see how we can revive the Empire. You won't have to be alone any more."
Francine shook when the Doctor didn't respond. She looked away, at the table. The empty plates and silverware mocked her. Her reflection warped into hundreds of tiny faces.
"You're old, Doctor. Long before I used Lazarus on you, you felt time stretched thin inside you, didn't you? I can show you how to make it all go away."
Silent, the Doctor stared out the window.
Encouraged, Saxon went on. "Ever infinity, Doctor. We could reshape matter itself. Strip the freak of the vortex; that pitiful little human soul vainly trying to hold on to the vortex, as if such primitive forms can ever understand its majesty. If only you knew how it felt—feeling that spirit bucking under you, trying to fight, but oh, the glory…unseal him, Doctor!"
Francine bit her lower lip.
The Doctor finally turned away from the window and looked up at the Master.
"Do you still hear the drumming?" the Doctor rasped.
The Master snarled wordlessly and he pushed the wheelchair away. It rolled back past Lucy, past Francine before she could catch him and struck a wall.
The Doctor merely cackled.
The Master stalked over and slammed his hands to the wall on either side of the Doctor's head. He smirked.
"They say," the Master drawled, "Martha Jones has come back home."
Francine froze. Martha?
"Now why would she do that?"
The Doctor stopped laughing. He narrowed his eyes. "Leave her alone."
"But you said something to her, didn't you? On the day I took control. What did you tell her?" the Master paused. "Wait, don't tell me. Let's not ruin the surprise." His mouth stretched thinly across his face.
Francine set her hands on the table to brace herself. Everyone around her was paralyzed in his or her tracks.
"I have one thing to say to you," the Doctor whispered. He met the Master's eyes with a defiance that made the Master's smile waver. "You know what it is."
The Master, for some reason, chuckled.
"Actually, I do." Saxon sobered quickly and stepped away from the Doctor. "Do you want me to tell her what it is before I slit her throat on live telly? Or should you?"
The knife was in her hand before Francine realized it. Someone shouted. Lucy shouted, but Francine was already lunging for Saxon with the knife in her fist.
Saxon looked stunned, motionless as Francine charged, screaming. Her arm rose and sailed down towards his face.
Her wrist was caught mid-strike.
Lucy Saxon stood nose to nose with her, face twisted, her delicate hands as red as her dress as she clutched the tip of the blade with both hands.
Saxon stared coolly at her, not even blinking at the knife inches from his left eye or Lucy shaking in front of him.
"Well," Saxon drawled. "That certainly wasn't part of the script."
"Leave Martha alone," Francine cried out. She tried to force her hand down but the guards came up from behind and wrenched her back. The blade scattered to the floor and Lucy pressed her hands to her chest.
Saxon settled a hand on Lucy's back and he tsked at her cut hands.
"Sweet Lucy," Saxon murmured. He kissed her on her right cheek. "Ever loyal, dear Lucy."
Francine kicked towards Saxon as she was dragged away. Damn it! "You leave my daughter alone, Saxon, you miserable monster!"
"Do you see this, Doctor?" Saxon waved towards Francine.
"Is this what you bring to all those lives you cross?" the Master asked as he draped his hand over Lucy's shoulders. His wife sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. Saxon pulled out his odd instrument and pointed it towards Francine.
"Master!"
A high-pitched whine sailed across and landed on her foot. Grazed her ankle, really. Francine dropped as fire raced up her leg.
"Say you're sorry," Saxon asked in a bored voice.
Francine glowered up at him.
"Maybe if we bring pretty Tish in here as well, you'll be sorry."
Francine caught the Doctor shaking his head at her behind Saxon. She gritted her teeth and bowed her head.
"Sorry," Francine bit out. She blinked rapidly at the marble floor. "Sorry."
The Master harrumphed. "I'd always wondered if you were sorry you tried or sorry you failed, Francine Jones."
Francine didn't know what Saxon was talking about. She kept her head down, her fists to her chest to try and will the tears brimming in her eyes not to spill.
"Master, leave her alone."
"Fine," the Master sighed. He sounded bored. "I'm feeling a bit benevolent. One more time, Doctor. Unseal him."
The Doctor clamped his mouth shut but he cast a look over to Francine.
The Master snorted. "Her? Not worth torturing any of them to convince you. They're too fragile to last five minutes. Waste of the help. No…you will agree because of what I can show you, Doctor."
"I have no interest in the vortex," the Doctor muttered, but Francine saw his shoulders relaxing at the Master's remark. Francine swallowed as well. The guards needed to physically haul her up because her legs was all of the sudden too wobbly.
"He'll come out anyway," the Master decided. "He'll come out."
"Not for you."
Saxon's nostrils flared but then as quick as an eye blink, his face morphed to something akin to pleasant, like a stranger greeting someone on the street, except his eyes were feral.
"Perhaps you're right," the Master purred. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb and sneered. "It is morning now. Many will be awake now. All those hopeful faces." He reached back a hand and Lucy Saxon grabbed it with such quick eagerness, it was pathetic to witness.
The Master looked at the guards holding Francine.
"Lock the whole Jones lot up. Set up monitors in their cell and the captain's as well." The Master clapped his hands together and Lucy hurried over to pull out his chair for him to sit.
Saxon swiveled in his chair until he faced the upper bridge deck.
"Let's make an announcement to my people. A broadcast from their Master! Hm…Twenty? No, no, better make it twenty one hundred. This will definitely be post watershed content." Saxon spun back to face the Doctor.
"You may be right," Saxon announced. "He won't come out for me." He folded his hands together in mock prayer and touched his smiling mouth with his clasped hands.
"But maybe for you, Doctor."
Torchwood, Cardiff
"My people. Salutations on this, the eve of war. Lovely woman. But I know there's all sorts of whispers down there.
Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope.” The Master walks to stand beside the Doctor.
“But I ask you…how much hope has this man got? Say hello, Gandalf. Except he's not that old but he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted, little apes. What if it showed? What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate? All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor. What if we could see them?
Older and older and older.
Down you go, Doctor. Down, down, down you go. Doctor.
Received and understood, Miss Jones?"
Gwen stared at the laptop, at the large-eyed creature shakily coming out of the mound of pinstripe wool. It suddenly seemed colder in the Hub. The dark was suffocating. Seeing the Doctor in his wheelchair was a shock already, but this?
"Nine hundred? Shit," Owen breathed from behind her. He huddled closed to her to gawk at the laptop. "Shit."
"God," Ianto murmured. He covered his mouth with a cupped hand.
Gwen could only stare as the transmission flickered and died.
What were they going to do now?
Act V
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: 2008-12-22 12:45 am (UTC)I really would like the Doctor to be truly tempted by something - hard to know what would do it. He's so "infallible" in his do-good-ed-ness (not a word).
I really like how you write Martha, btw. Just for the record.
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:50 am (UTC)Thsank you. Martha proved to be a surprising challenge.
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:07 am (UTC)I- Eep!- cannot wait for the next update, am glad the Master isn't hurting Jack anymore, and really, really empathize with Francine. Also, Tosh has been missing for a while now- I wonder what she's up to?
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:51 am (UTC)Oh, she's around. It was hard to write everyone into the act. :)
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:17 am (UTC)This was lovely, but I can't help but wonder how they'll ever fix this....
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:56 am (UTC)Oh there are times I want to just go with the episode but alas, I HAD to write an AU. It'll be sorted...
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Date: 2008-12-22 01:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 01:57 am (UTC)Would a sequel mid Feb help?
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Date: 2008-12-22 03:30 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 02:02 am (UTC)It was hard to write the Jones family but Francine was a bit of a lure because yeah, there's so much about her the show didn't explore.
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Date: 2008-12-22 03:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 08:16 pm (UTC)It occurred to me down the road that there was no place for Andy to be in Team Torchwood. He would never survive up on the Valiant. Sooo...;)
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Date: 2008-12-22 03:09 am (UTC)Sorry I'm late; the French Channel got me.
Spiffy as ever. Better comment to follow sometime after Christmas -frenticly edits file-
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Date: 2008-12-22 08:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 03:40 am (UTC)*sighs* 'Yes Jack.'
'You gave Martha a hot thermos of your tea magic.'
'Yes Jack, I did.'
'I thought I was the only one that got your tea magic. Yet, Martha got some.'
'Jack, I gave Martha a hot thermos of tea. There wasn't any coffee so it was tea. As in the beverage tea made with tea bags.'
'Oh, tea. That type of tea. Not the other type of Ianto tea.'
'Yea, that type of tea. Like as there is your Weevil Hunting then there's your *Weevil Hunting*. This is plain tea, nothing like *tea*. You are the only one that gets *tea*.
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Date: 2008-12-22 08:17 pm (UTC)Does Jack take it with any sugar? -snicker-
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Date: 2008-12-23 03:17 am (UTC)still cursing the snow there? me too.
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Date: 2008-12-22 03:58 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 08:19 pm (UTC)Yea, the Master had it all planned out but he didn't take into account very human emotions.
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Date: 2008-12-22 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 08:21 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 04:46 am (UTC)oh that was lovely!
can't wait for more!
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Date: 2008-12-22 08:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 06:10 am (UTC)I love the Doctor taunting the Master by denying him Jack but gods what on earth did the Master think The Doctor was going to say when he tried to use the sickening lure of feeding off Jack. If nothing else it shows how far off the Master is in understanding the Doctor.
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Date: 2008-12-22 08:25 pm (UTC)Like a denied addict, the Master is getting desperate and unfocused.
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Date: 2008-12-23 10:50 am (UTC)Not that the Doctor has fared any better really. Nor Lucy for that matter. I think she's as much a victim of all this but she's so far into his madness now it's become her own.
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Date: 2008-12-22 07:41 am (UTC)I'm conflicted between wanting to know what happens next and not wanting this to end :(
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Date: 2008-12-22 08:27 pm (UTC)Sigh, yeah, there's a bit of reluctance in me in finishing it at 40 + epilogue.
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Date: 2008-12-22 07:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 08:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-22 09:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-12-28 01:34 am (UTC)YYAAAAAAAAYY I'm up to date =]
But... oh lord, I can't believe there's no more to nicely flick to! Grrrrrrrrrr >=[
Looking forward to the update and THANKYOU for keeping Jack that little bit safer =] Much appreciated!
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Date: 2008-12-29 12:45 am (UTC)I'm hoping to start osting again on Tuesday. Typing up the ending as we speak.
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Date: 2008-12-29 12:10 am (UTC)I just read all of that in a week. (Except Xmas Eve, Day, and Boxing Day)
This is fantastic :]
I'm really enjoying this.
I've loved every moment.
My lil cousin got this Doctor Who game for Xmas, it has a Sonic Screwdriver, Laser Screwdriver and a Toclafane.
I already had my mind on this fic, but when I saw he got that, and he asked me to play with it with him. I totally refused to even hold the Laser Screwdriver. Lol, he's only 7.
That's strange a 15 year old playing a Doctor/Master game with a lil 7 year old.
Sorry I do tend to ramble on alot.
I'm so looking forward to next update XD
Hannah x
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Date: 2008-12-29 12:47 am (UTC)