vail-kagami: To Wander, Between the Stars, Part 1b/3 (Jack/Ten) [R]
Title: To Wander, Between the Stars (1b/3)
Author: vail_kagami
Beta:
nightrider101
Challenge: AU
Rating: R (overall)
Spoilers: Series 3 Finale
Warnings: Violence, mentioned rape
Summary: Jack never made that con in 1941. Instead his broken vortex manipulator strands him in the twenty-first century, where he finally meets the Doctor - who's been a prisoner of Torchwood for a long time.
The vague feeling of unease that had crept into Jack during the conversation between John and his prisoner refused to leave him throughout the short guided tour through the facility. Meeting his old friend again, this part of the real word, and having him in a position that allowed access to all sorts of resources he had felt almost euphoric for a moment, like he was only one step away from getting home. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore, and this feeling wasn’t caused only by John’s claim that none of the technology they had here was of any use to them. Something felt wrong about the entire situation and the part his former partner played in it. Surreal. Unsettling.
Now ‘John Hart’ was his biggest chance of getting away from here, and Jack found that he trusted him less than ever.
“So…” The young man who had introduced himself as Ianto Jones, research department, hesitated for a second, clearly unsure if he should continue. “You are a friend of the General, then?”
Jack, lost in thought, needed a second before he understood that the ‘General’ referred to John. It was almost too ridiculous.
On any other day he would have laughed.
“We have a history,” he answered.
“How do you know each other?” Jones asked in his Welsh accent Jack thought was rather sexy. “If it’s okay to ask,” he added hastily. Jack gave him a half smile - this man’s awkward politeness was quite cute.
“We worked together. It’s been a while, though.”
Jones had led him through the halls, given him explanations like a tourist guide but Jack had noticed that there were a lot of areas they had left out. Now they were sitting in a large kitchen that had a number of tables but was currently deserted.
“The man that talked to the alien invaders,” Jack changed the topic. “Who is he?”
“The Doctor?” Jones sounded surprised, as if he’d expected Jack to know. “He’s a prisoner here. He’s usually locked up - unless they need him for something.”
“What did he do? John… The General said he was dangerous.”
The other looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him.
“He’s the reason Torchwood was created: To protect the British Empire from beings like him. I don’t think there was an actual reason for them to… arrest him, apart from the fact that the opportunity presented itself. I can’t say for sure, though. He’s been here since before I joined the organization.”
“Has been your prisoner for a while then,” Jack mused. Jones nodded.
“Forty years, about.”
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“He doesn’t look forty,” he said, though it was hard to tell from memory. In his mind he saw someone who could have been any age between twelve and eighty.
“No - he’s been here for forty years.” The Welshman stood and walked over to the coffee machine. “You want a cup?”
“Torchwood is arresting toddlers?” Jack still tried to keep up with the conversation.
“He’s an alien,” Jones told him, and added one second later: “Torchwood was founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria.”
“Ah.” Now, this actually made sense for a change. Aliens didn’t always have to look… alien. Jack knew that.
They were more fun when they had tentacles though…
“An old alien then,” he concluded.
“A time traveller,” Jones informed him. “I don’t know is exact age.”
Jack hardly registered the second sentence. A time traveller! Suddenly his hope was back: this man travelled in time and he was obviously a genius. Suddenly he had become Jack’s best chance of getting away from here. If he could somehow make him fix his vortex manipulator… It wouldn’t hurt anyone, so there would be no reason for that guy to protest, with his morals that seemed so very strange for a dangerous criminal…
“What did they talk about before they took him away?” Jack wanted to know. “What did ‘fifteen’ mean? Fifteen what?”
Jones looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know. I never get to see him unless he’s allowed in the main area. I don’t know what they are doing to him in his cell or the laboratories.”
“You don’t seem to approve though,” Jack observed.
Jones busied himself with the coffee maker.
“Explain this to me,” Jack asked, after accepting that he wouldn’t get an answer. “He’s a criminal but he’s saving the world. He’s a danger to the planet but he’s been kept alive for forty years. Why not just execute him? It would be much easier.”
The younger man came back to the table with two cups of coffee in his hands.
“I suppose they’re afraid that the world will end if he’s no longer there to save it,” he eventually said.
“That’s not making a lot of sense.” Jack took the cup that was offered to him. “What exactly is so dangerous about him that they need to lock him up for four decades?” The number of years was only slowly beginning to sink into his consciousness. It was just about as long as he’d been alive.
Jones shrugged, but Jack saw him glance around to see if they were still alone before he answered:
“He can save the world with a snap of his fingers. He could just as well destroy it.”
“You mean they’re just paranoid?”
The other didn’t say anything but his expression was answer enough.
For a while neither of them spoke. Jack tried to coffee - it was wonderful. His thoughts, however, kept wandering back to that impossibly skinny alien. The Doctor. (Now, where had he heard that before?)
He could be very handsome if he had a little more meat between his skin and his bones, Jack mused. Maybe that was why he had been fascinated by him the very first moment he had seen him.
That impression had been more likely been created by the attention everyone had focused on him, though, or by the fact that he seemed so frail, so doomed. Jack had always had a weakness for things facing their end.
“He didn’t look very well,” he recalled.
“He was fine,” Jones assured him, but Jack noticed that he didn’t use present tense here. “This was a good day for him. No testing, no drugs.”
“I thought you didn’t know what they do to him,” Jack said, glad that this man seemed willing to trust him and trying to hide that fact that the prisoner’s suffering didn’t interest him half as much as the fact that he could travel through time.
“I don’t, exactly. But my wife is working with the medical staff. You could say she’s his personal nurse. She doesn’t see what they do as well but she sees the effects it has on him.”
He was married then. And seemed like the kind of man who didn’t do open relationships. A pity, really. But Jack had not come here looking for a shag.
“You don’t think he deserves this?”
For the first time Jones was looking him straight in the eyes. “I never got the chance to get to know him very well,” he said. “But I know for sure that he’s not a bad person.”
-
“He’s a psychopathic killer,” the guard that was having his meal on the other table said. “Downright bastard, that one. I don’t know what he’d do if we weren’t watching him but it wouldn’t be good, believe me.”
“How do you know?” Jack asked. Ten minutes ago young Welshman had returned to his work and he’d been left waiting for John alone until the large, bald man came in for a snack.
“Just one week ago he killed Doctor Meyer. The guard that was with them must have looked away for a second and that asshole somehow got his gun and shot him, and the Doc as well. She’d never done him any harm! And there was no point to it either - he knew he could never get out of the building. He didn’t even get out of the room, because the General managed to take him down a second later. He murdered them simply because he could.”
“I see,” said Jack.
-
“He’s a time traveller, that’s right,” John said an hour later, when they were on their way to his office. “Torchwood Two caught him in 1969, just after it had been re-founded. But his time machine has been lost. Apparently Torchwood had hold of it once, before I got here, but now there is no trace of it. And he’s not helping anyone, that selfish bastard. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Mr Jones seems to think he’s not a bad guy,” Jack said vaguely. John snorted.
“Ah, dear Ianto. He has a strange affection for the Doctor, out of some misguided gratitude. I don’t want my people sympathising with my prisoners and would have him removed, but he makes damn good coffee, don’t you think? Besides, he’s nice to look at. As is his wife.”
“And she also likes the Doctor?”
“For the same reasons. On the other hand it’s quite good to have someone care for him who might not kill him the moment I turn my back. Some days he’s really not very popular with the guards.”
“One of them told me about Doctor Meyer.”
“Ah, that. Nice old lady. A shame, really.” The words sounded mocking, coming from John. “I’m having her replaced. A doctor from Torchwood Three is taking her place.”
“How many Torchwoods are there?”
“Four. Well, three now, with the first gone. Also, there are a lot of people working for us without knowing it. You remember Professor Richard Lazarus?”
The name sounded familiar.
“The scientist who jumped to his death last month? The tabloids said he turned into a monster just before that.”
“For once the tabloids were right. Here we are.”
They had reached the office, a large, bright room that lacked any personal touch.
“Who exactly is he? What’s his name?”
“Just ‘the Doctor’. In forty years no one could make him reveal his real name, and believe me, they’ve tried. I have tried.” Jack grimaced, knowing his friend’s less than subtle way of asking. Poor guy, evil or not.
“What species?”
John grinned, suddenly looking like an exited little boy.
“He’s a Time Lord!” he revealed. “And you have no idea how long I wanted to say this to someone who actually understands what it means.”
Jack just stared.
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Telling the truth, me.”
“The Time Lords are a myth. They don’t exist.”
“At least one does.”
Jack was silent for a long moment.
“What are you doing with him?”
“The question is: What can he do for us?” John, sitting on his desk, suddenly leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Jack’s. “I want to go home! You want to go home. He says he can’t help me but I don’t believe him. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
Jack’s heart was pounding and he couldn’t tell if it was the prospect of going home that caused this or John’s request.
“If you couldn’t make him talk then I certainly won’t,” he pointed out. Technically Jack had always been the better interrogator because he focused on getting answers to his questions while John enjoyed the torture leading there a little too much, but the results spoke in John’s favour.
John shook his head.
“He doesn’t like me. You, he doesn’t know. Maybe you can win his trust.”
Jack wasn’t sure about this but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“When can I see him?”
John smirked.
“As soon as he’s regained consciousness,” he promised.
-
The Doctor’s room was guarded by two armed men. John opened the heavily secured door for Jack but stayed out of sight when he stepped inside. The guards also remained outside. The door fell shut and five locks clicked into place. It seemed a bit exaggerated in the face of a man who couldn’t even stand on his own right now.
The room was larger than Jack had expected but it contained nothing but a narrow bed, a chair for visitors to sit on and a sink. No toilet - John had already explained that the Doctor didn’t need one.
The Time Lord, if truly he was one, was sitting on his bed, his long legs drawn to his chest without looking protective. His hands were chained to the wall above his head - they really didn’t give him any chance.
He regarded Jack with calm, resigned eyes as he sat down on the chair. His face was even paler than before but there was no way of telling what had been done to him in the hours since Jack had last seen him. John had only smiled when Jack had asked him, and said they weren’t done yet.
“Hi,” Jack said with the biggest smile he could summon. “I’m Jack. We’ve met before.”
The Doctor said nothing.
“Listen,” Jack’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m here to help you.” This time he got a reaction: a quiet, hoarse laugh.
“I bet,” the Doctor said, his voice sounding completely unlike that of the man who had saved the Earth this morning.
He wouldn’t trust him. Jack had expected that.
“I am, though,” he claimed. “I admit that I’m getting something out of it myself, but you would profit from it as well, I promise. I’m a time traveller,” he continued without giving the alien a chance to answer. “My vortex manipulator broke, and I’ve been stuck here for years.”
He showed the device to the Doctor. “It’s not badly broken but I can’t fix it. I guess you could.”
The alien looked at this little, important piece of future technology though tired, bruised looking eyes - he wouldn’t be able to see the damage from where he was sitting.
“Even if I could, why should I help you? You’re with Torchwood. You wouldn’t do anything good with it.”
“I’m not with anyone,” Jack protested, secretly surprised to discover that the contempt in his voice wasn’t for show. “I just want to go home and never come here again. Help me and I’ll get you out of here! I promise!”
“That technology wouldn’t work in here, it’s blocked,” the Doctor sighed. “You can’t get me out. I wouldn’t advice you to try. Other’s have, over the years. No.” He shook his head, his eyes closed. “They’d kill you.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack said firmly. “Because they wouldn’t even know why they should. First thing I’d do was travel back to 1969 and keep you from getting captured in the first place. You’d never even be here. That would be forty years I’m sure you wouldn’t miss.”
When the Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him Jack saw betrayal and disappointment in his gaze, and he realised that the Time Lord had, for one moment, been willing to trust him.
Jack also discovered that somehow, despite the life he’d lived, he was still able to feel shame.
The Time Lord’s voice was even quieter than before.
“I was with a friend when I was taken by Torchwood. She’s from this time but without me she was stuck in the past without a chance to get back. If she’s still alive she’s an old woman now. A brilliant girl she was, and I took her life from her, the life she should have lived. If I got out of here I still wouldn’t go back and pick her up then, no matter how much I wanted to. Because it doesn’t work that way.” He sighed. “She’s out there somewhere. It’s set. Can’t be changed once it happened. And you know that.” He looked at the wrist device, briefly. “That thing belongs to a time agent. Like the one John Hart has stored somewhere. How stupid, exactly, do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Jack said. “But I’m desperate. Forgive me. I still promise I’ll help you. I’ll get you of here the one way it’s possible.” He left the chair, sat beside the prisoner on the bed. Opened the often-broken covering of his device and showed it to the other again, letting him have a closer look.
“Please,” he said, making his voice sound urgent. “I need to know if you can fix that. As soon as possible - I could bring you any tool you need, but it should happen today, for your sake.” As he leaned closer the Doctor shifted his weight, trying to make it look like he wasn’t moving away from him. Jack didn’t allow himself to think about what he was doing.
Apart from his face and hands every part of the man’s body was covered. Impossible to tell what was hidden beneath those clothes, but Jack could guess. The Doctor was pretty, in a frail, vulnerable way, and knowing John Hart Jack had no doubt that he’d been the victim of sexual abuse. Now the question was if John was the only one - he had never had a problem with sharing.
Maybe that was what he had meant when he’d said he’d ask the guys from level three to stay longer tonight. Jack suppressed a shudder. Signs of sympathy wouldn’t help here. Instead he lifted his hand and gently touched the Time Lord’s cheek, finding his answer in the way he felt him tremble ever so slightly, in the vague fear in his eyes. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t move or speak at all and Jack couldn’t help admiring him a little as he desperately pretended not to be broken.
That didn’t stop him from leaning even closer and breathing his words into the Doctor’s face.
“They are coming for you tonight. John said he wasn’t finished with you yet and you know what that means, don’t you? You need to help me so I can get you out of here before they come.”
“And how would you do that?” Jack felt the movement of the Doctor’s jaw under his palm.
“I’ll kill you,” he promised. “Before they get here. No one will hut you ever again.”
Something flickered in the other’s eyes and Jack couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement.
“What makes you think I want to die?”
Jack finally withdrew his hand from the alien’s face. “It’s the only way for you to escape. You know it’s true. There’s no way to get out of here - they’ll keep you locked in forever, generation after generation, to torture and abuse. Please, let me spare you that. It’s the only freedom you’ll ever get.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I don’t want to die. Not here, not like this. I have never wanted to live this much!”
Jack didn’t know why his words were like a punch in the face.
“Why? Why do this to yourself?”
For a moment the Doctor looked though him, and in his eyes Jack could see eternity.
“I’ve lived among the stars, and I’ll get there again. No matter how long it takes. I don’t care what happens after that, but this is not how I want to end.” Suddenly his focus was on Jack again. “Like you, I want to go home.”
There was nothing Jack could say in return. He’d been stuck on Earth for a couple of years, his movements restricted to one planet, and it had been driving him crazy. This man, offspring of the universe, had been held captive for four decades, in rooms like this, without ever seeing the sky, and the sun, and the stars. Treated with a hate he most likely didn’t deserve, experimented on, used and abused in every possible way.
And he wanted to live.
The doors opened one minute later. Jack left without another word.
Part 1a <-> Part 2
Author: vail_kagami
Beta:
nightrider101
Challenge: AU
Rating: R (overall)
Spoilers: Series 3 Finale
Warnings: Violence, mentioned rape
Summary: Jack never made that con in 1941. Instead his broken vortex manipulator strands him in the twenty-first century, where he finally meets the Doctor - who's been a prisoner of Torchwood for a long time.
The vague feeling of unease that had crept into Jack during the conversation between John and his prisoner refused to leave him throughout the short guided tour through the facility. Meeting his old friend again, this part of the real word, and having him in a position that allowed access to all sorts of resources he had felt almost euphoric for a moment, like he was only one step away from getting home. Now he wasn’t so sure anymore, and this feeling wasn’t caused only by John’s claim that none of the technology they had here was of any use to them. Something felt wrong about the entire situation and the part his former partner played in it. Surreal. Unsettling.
Now ‘John Hart’ was his biggest chance of getting away from here, and Jack found that he trusted him less than ever.
“So…” The young man who had introduced himself as Ianto Jones, research department, hesitated for a second, clearly unsure if he should continue. “You are a friend of the General, then?”
Jack, lost in thought, needed a second before he understood that the ‘General’ referred to John. It was almost too ridiculous.
On any other day he would have laughed.
“We have a history,” he answered.
“How do you know each other?” Jones asked in his Welsh accent Jack thought was rather sexy. “If it’s okay to ask,” he added hastily. Jack gave him a half smile - this man’s awkward politeness was quite cute.
“We worked together. It’s been a while, though.”
Jones had led him through the halls, given him explanations like a tourist guide but Jack had noticed that there were a lot of areas they had left out. Now they were sitting in a large kitchen that had a number of tables but was currently deserted.
“The man that talked to the alien invaders,” Jack changed the topic. “Who is he?”
“The Doctor?” Jones sounded surprised, as if he’d expected Jack to know. “He’s a prisoner here. He’s usually locked up - unless they need him for something.”
“What did he do? John… The General said he was dangerous.”
The other looked at his hands, folded on the table in front of him.
“He’s the reason Torchwood was created: To protect the British Empire from beings like him. I don’t think there was an actual reason for them to… arrest him, apart from the fact that the opportunity presented itself. I can’t say for sure, though. He’s been here since before I joined the organization.”
“Has been your prisoner for a while then,” Jack mused. Jones nodded.
“Forty years, about.”
Jack raised his eyebrows.
“He doesn’t look forty,” he said, though it was hard to tell from memory. In his mind he saw someone who could have been any age between twelve and eighty.
“No - he’s been here for forty years.” The Welshman stood and walked over to the coffee machine. “You want a cup?”
“Torchwood is arresting toddlers?” Jack still tried to keep up with the conversation.
“He’s an alien,” Jones told him, and added one second later: “Torchwood was founded in 1879 by Queen Victoria.”
“Ah.” Now, this actually made sense for a change. Aliens didn’t always have to look… alien. Jack knew that.
They were more fun when they had tentacles though…
“An old alien then,” he concluded.
“A time traveller,” Jones informed him. “I don’t know is exact age.”
Jack hardly registered the second sentence. A time traveller! Suddenly his hope was back: this man travelled in time and he was obviously a genius. Suddenly he had become Jack’s best chance of getting away from here. If he could somehow make him fix his vortex manipulator… It wouldn’t hurt anyone, so there would be no reason for that guy to protest, with his morals that seemed so very strange for a dangerous criminal…
“What did they talk about before they took him away?” Jack wanted to know. “What did ‘fifteen’ mean? Fifteen what?”
Jones looked uncomfortable.
“I don’t know. I never get to see him unless he’s allowed in the main area. I don’t know what they are doing to him in his cell or the laboratories.”
“You don’t seem to approve though,” Jack observed.
Jones busied himself with the coffee maker.
“Explain this to me,” Jack asked, after accepting that he wouldn’t get an answer. “He’s a criminal but he’s saving the world. He’s a danger to the planet but he’s been kept alive for forty years. Why not just execute him? It would be much easier.”
The younger man came back to the table with two cups of coffee in his hands.
“I suppose they’re afraid that the world will end if he’s no longer there to save it,” he eventually said.
“That’s not making a lot of sense.” Jack took the cup that was offered to him. “What exactly is so dangerous about him that they need to lock him up for four decades?” The number of years was only slowly beginning to sink into his consciousness. It was just about as long as he’d been alive.
Jones shrugged, but Jack saw him glance around to see if they were still alone before he answered:
“He can save the world with a snap of his fingers. He could just as well destroy it.”
“You mean they’re just paranoid?”
The other didn’t say anything but his expression was answer enough.
For a while neither of them spoke. Jack tried to coffee - it was wonderful. His thoughts, however, kept wandering back to that impossibly skinny alien. The Doctor. (Now, where had he heard that before?)
He could be very handsome if he had a little more meat between his skin and his bones, Jack mused. Maybe that was why he had been fascinated by him the very first moment he had seen him.
That impression had been more likely been created by the attention everyone had focused on him, though, or by the fact that he seemed so frail, so doomed. Jack had always had a weakness for things facing their end.
“He didn’t look very well,” he recalled.
“He was fine,” Jones assured him, but Jack noticed that he didn’t use present tense here. “This was a good day for him. No testing, no drugs.”
“I thought you didn’t know what they do to him,” Jack said, glad that this man seemed willing to trust him and trying to hide that fact that the prisoner’s suffering didn’t interest him half as much as the fact that he could travel through time.
“I don’t, exactly. But my wife is working with the medical staff. You could say she’s his personal nurse. She doesn’t see what they do as well but she sees the effects it has on him.”
He was married then. And seemed like the kind of man who didn’t do open relationships. A pity, really. But Jack had not come here looking for a shag.
“You don’t think he deserves this?”
For the first time Jones was looking him straight in the eyes. “I never got the chance to get to know him very well,” he said. “But I know for sure that he’s not a bad person.”
-
“He’s a psychopathic killer,” the guard that was having his meal on the other table said. “Downright bastard, that one. I don’t know what he’d do if we weren’t watching him but it wouldn’t be good, believe me.”
“How do you know?” Jack asked. Ten minutes ago young Welshman had returned to his work and he’d been left waiting for John alone until the large, bald man came in for a snack.
“Just one week ago he killed Doctor Meyer. The guard that was with them must have looked away for a second and that asshole somehow got his gun and shot him, and the Doc as well. She’d never done him any harm! And there was no point to it either - he knew he could never get out of the building. He didn’t even get out of the room, because the General managed to take him down a second later. He murdered them simply because he could.”
“I see,” said Jack.
-
“He’s a time traveller, that’s right,” John said an hour later, when they were on their way to his office. “Torchwood Two caught him in 1969, just after it had been re-founded. But his time machine has been lost. Apparently Torchwood had hold of it once, before I got here, but now there is no trace of it. And he’s not helping anyone, that selfish bastard. Don’t get your hopes up.”
“Mr Jones seems to think he’s not a bad guy,” Jack said vaguely. John snorted.
“Ah, dear Ianto. He has a strange affection for the Doctor, out of some misguided gratitude. I don’t want my people sympathising with my prisoners and would have him removed, but he makes damn good coffee, don’t you think? Besides, he’s nice to look at. As is his wife.”
“And she also likes the Doctor?”
“For the same reasons. On the other hand it’s quite good to have someone care for him who might not kill him the moment I turn my back. Some days he’s really not very popular with the guards.”
“One of them told me about Doctor Meyer.”
“Ah, that. Nice old lady. A shame, really.” The words sounded mocking, coming from John. “I’m having her replaced. A doctor from Torchwood Three is taking her place.”
“How many Torchwoods are there?”
“Four. Well, three now, with the first gone. Also, there are a lot of people working for us without knowing it. You remember Professor Richard Lazarus?”
The name sounded familiar.
“The scientist who jumped to his death last month? The tabloids said he turned into a monster just before that.”
“For once the tabloids were right. Here we are.”
They had reached the office, a large, bright room that lacked any personal touch.
“Who exactly is he? What’s his name?”
“Just ‘the Doctor’. In forty years no one could make him reveal his real name, and believe me, they’ve tried. I have tried.” Jack grimaced, knowing his friend’s less than subtle way of asking. Poor guy, evil or not.
“What species?”
John grinned, suddenly looking like an exited little boy.
“He’s a Time Lord!” he revealed. “And you have no idea how long I wanted to say this to someone who actually understands what it means.”
Jack just stared.
“You’re kidding!”
“No. Telling the truth, me.”
“The Time Lords are a myth. They don’t exist.”
“At least one does.”
Jack was silent for a long moment.
“What are you doing with him?”
“The question is: What can he do for us?” John, sitting on his desk, suddenly leaned forward until his nose was almost touching Jack’s. “I want to go home! You want to go home. He says he can’t help me but I don’t believe him. Maybe you can talk some sense into him.”
Jack’s heart was pounding and he couldn’t tell if it was the prospect of going home that caused this or John’s request.
“If you couldn’t make him talk then I certainly won’t,” he pointed out. Technically Jack had always been the better interrogator because he focused on getting answers to his questions while John enjoyed the torture leading there a little too much, but the results spoke in John’s favour.
John shook his head.
“He doesn’t like me. You, he doesn’t know. Maybe you can win his trust.”
Jack wasn’t sure about this but it couldn’t hurt to try.
“When can I see him?”
John smirked.
“As soon as he’s regained consciousness,” he promised.
-
The Doctor’s room was guarded by two armed men. John opened the heavily secured door for Jack but stayed out of sight when he stepped inside. The guards also remained outside. The door fell shut and five locks clicked into place. It seemed a bit exaggerated in the face of a man who couldn’t even stand on his own right now.
The room was larger than Jack had expected but it contained nothing but a narrow bed, a chair for visitors to sit on and a sink. No toilet - John had already explained that the Doctor didn’t need one.
The Time Lord, if truly he was one, was sitting on his bed, his long legs drawn to his chest without looking protective. His hands were chained to the wall above his head - they really didn’t give him any chance.
He regarded Jack with calm, resigned eyes as he sat down on the chair. His face was even paler than before but there was no way of telling what had been done to him in the hours since Jack had last seen him. John had only smiled when Jack had asked him, and said they weren’t done yet.
“Hi,” Jack said with the biggest smile he could summon. “I’m Jack. We’ve met before.”
The Doctor said nothing.
“Listen,” Jack’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m here to help you.” This time he got a reaction: a quiet, hoarse laugh.
“I bet,” the Doctor said, his voice sounding completely unlike that of the man who had saved the Earth this morning.
He wouldn’t trust him. Jack had expected that.
“I am, though,” he claimed. “I admit that I’m getting something out of it myself, but you would profit from it as well, I promise. I’m a time traveller,” he continued without giving the alien a chance to answer. “My vortex manipulator broke, and I’ve been stuck here for years.”
He showed the device to the Doctor. “It’s not badly broken but I can’t fix it. I guess you could.”
The alien looked at this little, important piece of future technology though tired, bruised looking eyes - he wouldn’t be able to see the damage from where he was sitting.
“Even if I could, why should I help you? You’re with Torchwood. You wouldn’t do anything good with it.”
“I’m not with anyone,” Jack protested, secretly surprised to discover that the contempt in his voice wasn’t for show. “I just want to go home and never come here again. Help me and I’ll get you out of here! I promise!”
“That technology wouldn’t work in here, it’s blocked,” the Doctor sighed. “You can’t get me out. I wouldn’t advice you to try. Other’s have, over the years. No.” He shook his head, his eyes closed. “They’d kill you.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” Jack said firmly. “Because they wouldn’t even know why they should. First thing I’d do was travel back to 1969 and keep you from getting captured in the first place. You’d never even be here. That would be forty years I’m sure you wouldn’t miss.”
When the Doctor opened his eyes and looked at him Jack saw betrayal and disappointment in his gaze, and he realised that the Time Lord had, for one moment, been willing to trust him.
Jack also discovered that somehow, despite the life he’d lived, he was still able to feel shame.
The Time Lord’s voice was even quieter than before.
“I was with a friend when I was taken by Torchwood. She’s from this time but without me she was stuck in the past without a chance to get back. If she’s still alive she’s an old woman now. A brilliant girl she was, and I took her life from her, the life she should have lived. If I got out of here I still wouldn’t go back and pick her up then, no matter how much I wanted to. Because it doesn’t work that way.” He sighed. “She’s out there somewhere. It’s set. Can’t be changed once it happened. And you know that.” He looked at the wrist device, briefly. “That thing belongs to a time agent. Like the one John Hart has stored somewhere. How stupid, exactly, do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” Jack said. “But I’m desperate. Forgive me. I still promise I’ll help you. I’ll get you of here the one way it’s possible.” He left the chair, sat beside the prisoner on the bed. Opened the often-broken covering of his device and showed it to the other again, letting him have a closer look.
“Please,” he said, making his voice sound urgent. “I need to know if you can fix that. As soon as possible - I could bring you any tool you need, but it should happen today, for your sake.” As he leaned closer the Doctor shifted his weight, trying to make it look like he wasn’t moving away from him. Jack didn’t allow himself to think about what he was doing.
Apart from his face and hands every part of the man’s body was covered. Impossible to tell what was hidden beneath those clothes, but Jack could guess. The Doctor was pretty, in a frail, vulnerable way, and knowing John Hart Jack had no doubt that he’d been the victim of sexual abuse. Now the question was if John was the only one - he had never had a problem with sharing.
Maybe that was what he had meant when he’d said he’d ask the guys from level three to stay longer tonight. Jack suppressed a shudder. Signs of sympathy wouldn’t help here. Instead he lifted his hand and gently touched the Time Lord’s cheek, finding his answer in the way he felt him tremble ever so slightly, in the vague fear in his eyes. But he didn’t flinch, didn’t move or speak at all and Jack couldn’t help admiring him a little as he desperately pretended not to be broken.
That didn’t stop him from leaning even closer and breathing his words into the Doctor’s face.
“They are coming for you tonight. John said he wasn’t finished with you yet and you know what that means, don’t you? You need to help me so I can get you out of here before they come.”
“And how would you do that?” Jack felt the movement of the Doctor’s jaw under his palm.
“I’ll kill you,” he promised. “Before they get here. No one will hut you ever again.”
Something flickered in the other’s eyes and Jack couldn’t tell if it was surprise or amusement.
“What makes you think I want to die?”
Jack finally withdrew his hand from the alien’s face. “It’s the only way for you to escape. You know it’s true. There’s no way to get out of here - they’ll keep you locked in forever, generation after generation, to torture and abuse. Please, let me spare you that. It’s the only freedom you’ll ever get.”
The Doctor shook his head. “I don’t want to die. Not here, not like this. I have never wanted to live this much!”
Jack didn’t know why his words were like a punch in the face.
“Why? Why do this to yourself?”
For a moment the Doctor looked though him, and in his eyes Jack could see eternity.
“I’ve lived among the stars, and I’ll get there again. No matter how long it takes. I don’t care what happens after that, but this is not how I want to end.” Suddenly his focus was on Jack again. “Like you, I want to go home.”
There was nothing Jack could say in return. He’d been stuck on Earth for a couple of years, his movements restricted to one planet, and it had been driving him crazy. This man, offspring of the universe, had been held captive for four decades, in rooms like this, without ever seeing the sky, and the sun, and the stars. Treated with a hate he most likely didn’t deserve, experimented on, used and abused in every possible way.
And he wanted to live.
The doors opened one minute later. Jack left without another word.
Part 1a <-> Part 2