We Could Be Heroes 28/30
Title: We Could Be Heroes 28/30
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, John/Nick, Gwen/Rhys
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, John Hart and a cast of (probably!) thousands.
Spoilers: Set after Exit Wounds. Sequel to 'Will My Arms Be Strong Enough?'
Rating: Adult - it's going to get very dark in some places.
Warnings: Slash, language, angst, dark themes. Oh, and spoilers for Children of Earth (but don't worry, it goes slightly differently!)
Summary: Jack and Nick find out some of what's happened to John.
Disclaimer: I'm a student. I don't own Torchwood.
The Master List (as it stands) is here: anduria-trianys.livejournal.com/27610.html#cutid1
Chapter 28
The next morning...
“Jack, are you sure about this?” asked Nick as he lay John down in Jack's little bed under the manhole. “I mean, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just -“
But Jack held up a hand to forestall any further protests. “You're scared,” he said. “And that's perfectly understandable. Nick, if I was in your position, I would be worried sick. But I can tell you now, John would not want to be awake for this. You don't feel anything if you have it done to you while you're asleep, but when you're awake...it's extremely painful.” He sighed quietly. “I should know...I've seen it happen.”
A brief silence followed before Jack took a deep breath and picked up a strange needle that seemed to be glowing bright blue. “This is a Memory Collector,” he said slowly. “It goes into John's head, penetrating his skull and deep into his brain to collect the memory, or memories, we want to look at.”
“But how does it know?” asked Nick.
Jack shrugged. “It's just that clever. No one knows how it was made, all we know is what it's used for - hence where it got the name from.”
Nick's lips twitched despite himself. “For people who once had more technology and equipment at their fingertips than even Bill Gates would probably know what to do with, you future guys sure are an unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things. I think the only name that could be worse was in a science fiction series where one of the characters made a device to basically turn vampires back into humans.”
“What'd he call it?”
Despite himself, Nick laughed as he remembered. “He called it...The De-Vamper.”
“What?!”
“I know. The most worrying part was that he probably thought it was a rather good name.”
Jack shook his head. “That is rather worrying. But then again, stupid names can hide a very interesting device.” He looked at the needle for a moment and then without warning, jammed it hard into John's forehead, digging it straight through the skin until only the loop at the top was visible.
“It's okay,” he said quickly, when Nick made a strangled noise of horror. “It's okay.”
“How is it okay?!” Nick almost squealed. “You just jammed that thing through his skull! Look,” and his trembling hands wiped at the blood that was seeping around the needle. “You've hurt him!”
Jack reached over and clasped Nick's hands, rubbing them gently. “Nick, trust me. Everything is going to be all right. I promise; you just need to calm down. I know this looks frightening, but you need to trust me. I've done this before and I swear to you, I won't hurt him.”
“But -“
“It's okay,” Jack repeated. Then, very carefully, he reached over and removed the Memory Collector, gently stroking his fingertips over the wound on John's forehead - except that there was no wound. “You see? It might look horrible, but as long as he's asleep, it won't cause him any pain.”
“What's the next move?” asked Nick.
“This.” Jack picked up a large silver bowl that was completely plain except for some tiny etchings around the rim. “Okay, I know what you're thinking and yes, the inventors of this probably did rip this off from Harry Potter. But this is what we're going to use to find out what happened to John. And once we know that, we can help him.”
“Okay,” said Nick. “How does it work?”
“Like this.” Jack calmly dropped the Collector into the bowl and watched as a dark blue light started spreading through it. “That light is what the memories are made of,” he explained and then took the Collector out of the bowl; it was now transparent. He set it on top of what looked like a long block of silvery metal. “Recharges its batteries, so to speak,” he said. “And now, we enter John's mind - without leaving this room.”
“Jack,” said Nick suddenly. “I'm scared.”
“Of what you're going to see?” Jack nodded. “I can't blame you. We both know that John has been through something horrific. That's why I've only extracted a few memories from him. Anything that goes into that bowl will be shown whether you like it or not. I didn't want to overwhelm you with too much.”
“How many memories are there in that bowl?”
“Three,” answered Jack. “And it looks like one of them's about to start now.” He came over and put his arm around Nick's shoulders. “Nick, listen to me. Any time you want to leave, that's okay. When the memory starts, there's no way of stopping it, but you can go at any time if it gets too much for you.”
“Okay.”
The scene changed before their eyes to a very long room with the walls painted a dull grey and only one tiny window just below the ceiling. The only other light came from the ceiling which was made like a large strip light, but it kept flickering and sparking everywhere. It certainly didn't look safe and Nick wondered how safe the place actually was.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“It looks like one of the fifty-eighth slave dungeons on a ship bound for Judatrul,” answered Jack quietly as he pointed out some inscriptions on the wall. “One of the most dangerous places in the universe. The city is right on the coast where slave ships dock and the slaves are sold to the highest bidder.” He frowned. “What the hell is John doing in a place like this?”
“Where -“ Nick started to say, but he was cut off when another spark from the ceiling highlighted something that turned his stomach.
Thousands of people, men, women and even children, were lying together, packed into tight rows and chained up together, so tightly you could see the tearing of the skin that the manacles were leaving. None of them had proper clothes, instead all they had were ragged tunics and shoes that were falling apart. Somewhere towards the back of the room, a baby cried and the woman, presumably the mother, hastily cradled it closer to her chest to calm it.
Suddenly, the door crashed open and everyone instantly sat up, visibly ignoring the pain that the motion caused them thanks to their chains. A tall man dressed in elaborate robes stepped inside, banging a silver cane loudly on the floor so that the sound echoed around the walls.
“That's the ship's slave master,” said Jack. “He keeps tabs on the slaves - makes sure they're fit for duty. Any that aren't are killed.” He laughed bitterly. “I saw many slave killings in my time - too many.”
The man strode up and down the rows, banging his cane harder and harder as he walked. Occasionally, he barked out a string of harsh words that Nick couldn't understand and, frankly, he didn't want to. Suddenly, without any warning, he stopped and, bending down, he fired two shots from a gun, a motion which was greeted by several screams, including one from Nick.
“Those weren't killing shots, Nick,” said Jack quietly. “These Masters never kill a slave with anything as humane as a gunshot. No, they prefer other ways.”
A moment later, the Master reached out and grabbed someone, pulling him to his feet and speaking coldly to him. Then, he dragged him forwards and further into the light, at which point Jack and Nick both recognised the prisoner.
“John!” cried Nick, rushing forwards to intervene.
“Nick!” Jack grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him back, holding him tightly as he struggled. “Nick, there's nothing you can do. It's a memory - you can't change it. All you can do is watch it and see what happens.” He softened his grip and wrapped his arms around Nick in a gentle hug. “I'm sorry.”
Nick watched as John was dragged from the room by the chain around his neck. It was then that he realised just how bad his partner looked; his face was a mass of bruises and his clothes and hair were matted with congealed blood and he was limping badly. He was also very pale and the sight of his ribs protruding against his tunic made it look like he'd been starved.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, fighting back tears as the two men emerged into the daylight and John's impoverished state became all the more apparent. “What's...” but he trailed off when another man emerged from the shadows of a large and impressive doorway - which presumably led to an equally large house. But the architecture wasn't his current focus. Instead, his attention was drawn to the man who had stepped outside, a look of utter shock on his face.
“Jack, that's you!” he spluttered.
Jack watched, dumbfounded, as his future self stared at John in shock for a second before nodding towards the Master, who promptly turned on his heel and stalked off, making no effort to avoid banging John's hip as he made his way back to the ship.
John was squirming visibly even as he looked up. “Just do whatever it is you have to do,” he said very quietly. “Just do whatever you must, sir.”
Future Jack stood still for several seconds before he moved very slowly towards the beaten man, giving him a kind smile. “I'm going to do what I have to do,” he said slowly. Gently, he reached out and touched John's fingers, stroking them slowly. “It's going to be okay now...”
The memory faded slowly before being replaced by another scene. This time, John was the first thing Nick saw, but his current state ripped shards through his heart. He was curled up in a ball, wrapped in a very thin moth eaten blanket and wearing little more than a pair of dirty shorts and a ripped vest. The room he was in this time was painted entirely white and had a bright bulb in the ceiling.
“It looks worse, in some ways, than that place on the ship,” he croaked to Jack, who nodded.
A loud 'crash' suddenly echoed through the room and several men in dark suits walked inside. All of them had evil smirks on their faces as they converged on John. Then, the man in the lead spoke in a long heavy accent. Again, Nick couldn't understand a word he was saying, but the drawl in his voice made him cringe.
Jack was shaking beside him. “Oh, God, Nick” he croaked. “He said...he taunted him...told him that now the champion sex addict of the universe is now getting a...” his voice cracked, “a reward...”
Nick cringed as he watched an expression of defeat cross John's face as the men moved closer to him. “Go ahead,” he said tonelessly. “Take what it is you want.”
The ringleader smirked horribly and stripped off his jacket, tossing it carelessly across the room, the others following his lead. Then, his smirk becoming a crude leer, he grabbed John's face and kissed him mercilessly before throwing him harshly back down and pinning him to the ground.
That was when it became too much for Nick and he turned away burying his face in Jack's shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to watch, although the evil laughs of the men coupled with their moans and grunts and John's stifled sobs told him enough.
Jack wrapped his arms tightly round his friend and held him, whispering soothing words in his ear as he sought to drown out the sounds from the memory. Oh, God, this isn't fair. Nobody, no matter what they've done in the past, deserves to have this happen to them...
It wasn't until the memory had finished that he gently tilted Nick's head up to look at him. “It's over now,” he said quietly. “That memory's finished. There is still one more, but if you don't want to stay, then -“
“No.” Nick sat up and took several deep breaths as he wiped his eyes quickly. “I said I wanted to know something of what had happened and I'm standing by that.” He put a hand over Jack's. “I'll be fine.”
Slowly, he turned back to look at the scene that the final memory would play for them - and frowned sharply. “That place,” he whispered. “It looks so...familiar; it's like being inside an -“
“Amphitheatre.” Jack's response was almost toneless. “Yeah, it does.”
Nick swallowed hard, his own memories almost overwhelming him. “Oh my God,” he gasped. “It's...it's Segygand, isn't it? The home of the Nova Djinn. That's...that's where I found John.” He shivered and gripped his hands together as he thought of the civilisation he'd unintentionally destroyed.
“And it looks as if you're about to find out what happened to him before you found him,” said Jack grimly as two Djinn soldiers dragged John into the middle of the underground room. They dropped him onto the floor and then, without warning, one of them drew a knife and slit his throat, spilling his blood everywhere.
“No!” shouted Nick - but he was frozen in place by what happened next. The other guard, apparently satisfied that John was dead, took a small device from his pocket and placed it over John's chest. A moment later, and amidst screams of pain, John was screaming as he was brought back to life.
Jack looked sick. “Forced resurrection,” he said, gripping the bed stand “Torture in it's most terrible form. That's what the Djinn specialise in, Nick. They take your greatest weakness and use it to torture you until you break.” He shuddered violently as John was killed and forced back to life again and again.
Nick looked away slightly, remembering what John had said to him on the ship back to Amion. He had been enslaved by the Djinn before I found him...he knew what they would do to those slaves if they were left there alive. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, once again trying to blot out the sound of John's ragged gasps. He said I saved them from a terrible fate...
He was distracted from any further thoughts, however, when Jack patted him on the shoulder. “It's over now,” he said quietly. “It's done. That was the last memory I extracted from him. He will still remember everything, but at least we can now begin to at least try and help him through it.”
“That...that first memory must have been why he trusted you,” said Nick. He was forcing himself to focus on the positive sides, but he was still deeply shaken by what he had seen. “You...you must have been the first person who had been kind to him in...” he shut his eyes. “Thank you.”
“I'm just glad I could help,” said Jack quietly. “We don't know what else he's been through on his travels and like you, I don't think I want to know. But at least we know that he had one moment of refuge.” Slowly, he started packing the equipment away.
“Jack?” ventured Nick suddenly. “What...what was it that Orion threatened to shoot you with yesterday? I'm guessing it wasn't something that would just kill you.”
Jack let out a bark of laughter that wasn't at all amused. “Those things don't kill you at all,” he said bitterly. “They're bullets designed to keep you alive, but trapped in your worst nightmares for hours on end. You see the worst things that have happened to you in the past and your greatest fears for the future playing right before your eyes. And you're powerless to stop them.”
“How...how did he get hold of them?” The thought that such a thing could even exist made Nick's insides freeze in horror.
“They're old torture devices from the Time Agency,” said Jack, averting his eyes. “And they were extremely effective. Believe me, Nick, torture does not always just mean physical pain.”
Neither of the two men spoke for a little while after that heavy statement sunk in. Then Jack coughed. “I got your message, by the way - about Ianto and...and the 456.”
It took Nick a moment to drag himself away from his thoughts of a torture device that seemed even more inhumane than knives and punches, and to remember what he had done after that nightmare. “Oh, you did,” he said quietly. “Good - when did you get it?” For a moment, he wondered why Jack hadn't told him about it straight away; surely he would have known that he would be worried about his cousin, even if the dream had been just that. But he was shocked by Jack's reply.
“I only got it yesterday, actually.” The older man gave a small laugh. “It arrived shortly after you left to catch up with your relatives.”
“Wow.” Nick whistled. “When I sent it, I suspected the timing might be a bit off, but I didn't think it would take get through this late. Then again, I didn't expect to not get home until two and a half years after I left.”
“Nick,” Jack sighed, “you and I both know how dangerous it is to work for Torchwood. You weren't even involved in the organisation when you saw first hand how dangerous it can be.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, shifting uncomfortably. “After the Daleks stole the earth...I tried to convince Ianto to leave, because I was scared that he'd be in too much danger. He didn't react too well.”
“I know,” said Jack. “And while I don't blame you in the slightest for being worried about him - Nick, I want you to know that I would never intentionally send anyone, not even a Torchwood operative, into so much danger. To do that would be literally sending them into the jaws of certain death.” He sighed. “And I've done that enough in the past - ironically, one of the worst being the last time that the 456 came to Earth.”
Nick blinked. “They've been here before?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “They came here nearly fifty years ago, before I took charge of Torchwood.” He rubbed his face. “I did something terrible, Nick; something I regret to this day...and something which entirely justifies the reputation I had in some people's eyes as a monster.”
“I don't believe that,” said Nick immediately. “You're not a monster, Jack. I know I once said that you were, but that was wrong and stupid of me. I know you've done unscrupulous things in the past, but I also know that you had reasons.”
Jack smiled sadly. “You wouldn't say that if you knew what I did,” he said. “I sacrificed twelve children to the 456 in exchange for a cure.”
“A cure for what?”
Jack paused. “I think the best explanation I could use would be that it was a new strain of Indonesian flu. They claimed that if it was released, the virus would kill twenty-five million people - probably more.”
Nick inhaled sharply. “And you gave up twelve children?” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” sighed Jack. “And one of them survived. I can only guess that the 456 rejected him, because there was something different about him. But he survived while his friends were...” but he couldn't get the words out. “I killed them, Nick,” he finally choked out. “I killed those children as surely as if I had shot bullets into their bodies.”
“No!” said Nick firmly, grasping Jack's hands. “Listen to me; you did not kill those children. If anyone did, it was the 456; you were only the middle-man, the messenger, if you will. And it's always been said that you shouldn't shoot the messenger.” He paused. “I won't deny that I hate the thought of innocent children dying like that, but I would also say that the thought of innocent people dying at Canary Wharf makes me sick to my stomach, even though there's nothing I can do about it now.”
“What are you saying?” asked Jack, unable to look at his friend.
“I'm saying that you had no choice,” said Nick quietly. “Just like you didn't have a choice with what happened with Jasmine.”
“It's nothing like what happened with Jasmine,” said Jack. “Nick, some the things I did back then...you wouldn't even recognise me.”
Nick winced inwardly at those words. “And if you saw some of the things I did at the Agency, I don't think you'd have recognised me any more,” he said quietly. “But all those things are in our pasts now. And what you've just told me is very much like what happened with Jasmine. I've read the files and I know that if you hadn't let her go, none of us would be here today.” He paused to think. “And while those twelve children may not have wanted to go - may not have known what was happening - if you hadn't done it, more than twenty-five million people would have died.” He sighed quietly. “I don't know all the ins and outs of it, but if you hadn't given those children up, they might have died from the virus anyway.”
Jack looked up in surprise at those words. He could honestly say he had never thought of it like that. “I know you're right, Nick,” he admitted. “But when I realised that the 456 had come back and when I heard that they had demanded ten per cent of the children of this world, I promised myself that it wouldn't let it happen again.” He waited for Nick to speak, but when he didn't, he continued, “I went into Thames House in London and confronted them myself.”
“How?” Nick looked worried.
To his surprise, Jack laughed. “With this.” He held up his arm so Nick could see his vortex manipulator. “John found a way to fix it so I could teleport - and that's exactly what I did. I teleported into the tank where it was being held and blew it up.”
“You did what?!” spluttered Nick. “Jack, that's dangerous! Just because you're immortal, it doesn't mean you're dispensable!”
“I'm more dispensable than most, Nick,” said Jack quietly.
“Bullshit!” stormed Nick. “Just because you can heal yourself and resurrect yourself, it doesn't mean you have to be used as cannon fodder!” His eyes trailed over to John, who was still asleep. “Would you feel the same way about him too?”
The minute he said those words, he wished he could take them back. Jack had turned as white as a sheet and closed his eyes, bending his head in pain. Swallowing hard, Nick came over and sat down beside him.
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he said, calming down and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. “I didn't mean that. I just don't want you to think that you're less important than the rest of us. Because you aren't. You're just as important as all of us here.”
Jack smiled weakly. “I know what you meant, Nick,” he said. “And, just so you know, I didn't go in there with the intention to kill myself. I left an active bomb in the tank and teleported myself out before it blew up - taking the 456 with it.” He laughed ruefully. “I didn't particularly fancy blowing myself up again - coming back from that is extremely unpleasant.”
Nick chose to ignore that comment. “So, you defeated the 456 and no one got hurt,” he said.
“Well, a couple of people were killed, but by and large, no, no one got hurt,” said Jack. “And I also got a medical liaison officer out of it as well - no, not Dan,” he added as Nick looked confused. “A young man who changed sides and helped me out of a rather sticky situation. He's quite good-looking as well.”
“What's his name?”
“Patanjali. Dr. Rupesh Patanjali.”
Nick's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding me!” he spluttered. “Dan and I went to medical school with him!”
Jack's mouth dropped open. “Now you're kidding me! What is it with doctors who studied in Manchester coming to Wales and working for Torchwood?”
“I don't know, but there must be something in the water up there!” Nick chuckled. “And you're right, he is good-looking; he always was, really.” He decided not to mention that one time when his old friend had jokingly suggested a threesome; it might give Jack ideas, especially if he knew that both he and Dan had actually seriously considered it. “But yeah, he's a good doctor.”
“Yeah, he is.” Jack turned and smiled at him. “And so are you - but, more importantly, you're also a good friend, Nick. I don't know what I did to deserve your friendship, but I'm so glad to have it.” He reached out a trembling hand and touched Nick's cheek with it. “Thank you for being there for me, even when you might not have realised it.”
Nick squeezed Jack's hand. “You've been there for me as well, Jack,” he said hoarsely. “And I know you will be for a long time.” He smiled again and then reached over and enveloped Jack in a friendly hug, patting him on the back as he did so. “You do mean a lot to me,” he said, absently resting his head on Jack's shoulder. “I really hope you know that.”
They sat like that for a while until a soft moan distracted Jack enough to make him turn. Looking around, he saw that John's eyes were opening and he was looking around in confusion.
“Where...where am I?” he whispered. He blinked when he saw the two men. “Jack? Nick? Is that you?”
“Yes,” said Nick quickly, jumping out of Jack's arms. “It's me, John - do you remember me?”
“No,” said John sadly. “I mean...I know that I know you and I know that I trust you, but...” he shook his head. “You said that you're my partner, but...I just can't remember...”
Jack sighed. “Nick,” he said gently, noticing that his friend was starting to get upset, “why don't you wait outside? Ianto's on the board walk; you can go and catch up with him.” He dropped his voice and whispered in Nick's ear, “I want to try a piece of technology that I think can help John, but it would be better for both of you if you weren't here.”
“Okay,” said Nick. With a last look at John, he quietly made his way up the ladder and out of Jack's office, barely registering himself wiping his eyes as he did so.
Jack smiled down at his former partner and showed him a strange silver contraption that looked like an oversized pair of metal headphones. “I know that this looks very strange,” he said, “but if I can use it right, then it can clear any mental damage and give you your old memories back.”
John looked interested. “There's technology that can do that?” he gasped. “How...?”
“That doesn't matter,” said Jack. “What matters is that I can help you remember - if it's what you want. Is it?”
“Just tell me one thing first,” said John, sitting upright. “Me and Nick - he said that he's my partner and my lover?” Jack nodded. “Well, just tell me...before all this happened - were we happy together?”
Jack didn't even have to think about it. “Yes,” he said, reaching over and stroking John's hand. “You were the happiest I've ever seen you.”
***
Next Time: Will John get his memories back?
Oh, and a bonus point to anyone who gets the Sanctuary reference!
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, John/Nick, Gwen/Rhys
Characters: Jack, Ianto, Gwen, Rhys, John Hart and a cast of (probably!) thousands.
Spoilers: Set after Exit Wounds. Sequel to 'Will My Arms Be Strong Enough?'
Rating: Adult - it's going to get very dark in some places.
Warnings: Slash, language, angst, dark themes. Oh, and spoilers for Children of Earth (but don't worry, it goes slightly differently!)
Summary: Jack and Nick find out some of what's happened to John.
Disclaimer: I'm a student. I don't own Torchwood.
The Master List (as it stands) is here: anduria-trianys.livejournal.com/27610.html#cutid1
Chapter 28
The next morning...
“Jack, are you sure about this?” asked Nick as he lay John down in Jack's little bed under the manhole. “I mean, it's not that I don't trust you, it's just -“
But Jack held up a hand to forestall any further protests. “You're scared,” he said. “And that's perfectly understandable. Nick, if I was in your position, I would be worried sick. But I can tell you now, John would not want to be awake for this. You don't feel anything if you have it done to you while you're asleep, but when you're awake...it's extremely painful.” He sighed quietly. “I should know...I've seen it happen.”
A brief silence followed before Jack took a deep breath and picked up a strange needle that seemed to be glowing bright blue. “This is a Memory Collector,” he said slowly. “It goes into John's head, penetrating his skull and deep into his brain to collect the memory, or memories, we want to look at.”
“But how does it know?” asked Nick.
Jack shrugged. “It's just that clever. No one knows how it was made, all we know is what it's used for - hence where it got the name from.”
Nick's lips twitched despite himself. “For people who once had more technology and equipment at their fingertips than even Bill Gates would probably know what to do with, you future guys sure are an unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things. I think the only name that could be worse was in a science fiction series where one of the characters made a device to basically turn vampires back into humans.”
“What'd he call it?”
Despite himself, Nick laughed as he remembered. “He called it...The De-Vamper.”
“What?!”
“I know. The most worrying part was that he probably thought it was a rather good name.”
Jack shook his head. “That is rather worrying. But then again, stupid names can hide a very interesting device.” He looked at the needle for a moment and then without warning, jammed it hard into John's forehead, digging it straight through the skin until only the loop at the top was visible.
“It's okay,” he said quickly, when Nick made a strangled noise of horror. “It's okay.”
“How is it okay?!” Nick almost squealed. “You just jammed that thing through his skull! Look,” and his trembling hands wiped at the blood that was seeping around the needle. “You've hurt him!”
Jack reached over and clasped Nick's hands, rubbing them gently. “Nick, trust me. Everything is going to be all right. I promise; you just need to calm down. I know this looks frightening, but you need to trust me. I've done this before and I swear to you, I won't hurt him.”
“But -“
“It's okay,” Jack repeated. Then, very carefully, he reached over and removed the Memory Collector, gently stroking his fingertips over the wound on John's forehead - except that there was no wound. “You see? It might look horrible, but as long as he's asleep, it won't cause him any pain.”
“What's the next move?” asked Nick.
“This.” Jack picked up a large silver bowl that was completely plain except for some tiny etchings around the rim. “Okay, I know what you're thinking and yes, the inventors of this probably did rip this off from Harry Potter. But this is what we're going to use to find out what happened to John. And once we know that, we can help him.”
“Okay,” said Nick. “How does it work?”
“Like this.” Jack calmly dropped the Collector into the bowl and watched as a dark blue light started spreading through it. “That light is what the memories are made of,” he explained and then took the Collector out of the bowl; it was now transparent. He set it on top of what looked like a long block of silvery metal. “Recharges its batteries, so to speak,” he said. “And now, we enter John's mind - without leaving this room.”
“Jack,” said Nick suddenly. “I'm scared.”
“Of what you're going to see?” Jack nodded. “I can't blame you. We both know that John has been through something horrific. That's why I've only extracted a few memories from him. Anything that goes into that bowl will be shown whether you like it or not. I didn't want to overwhelm you with too much.”
“How many memories are there in that bowl?”
“Three,” answered Jack. “And it looks like one of them's about to start now.” He came over and put his arm around Nick's shoulders. “Nick, listen to me. Any time you want to leave, that's okay. When the memory starts, there's no way of stopping it, but you can go at any time if it gets too much for you.”
“Okay.”
The scene changed before their eyes to a very long room with the walls painted a dull grey and only one tiny window just below the ceiling. The only other light came from the ceiling which was made like a large strip light, but it kept flickering and sparking everywhere. It certainly didn't look safe and Nick wondered how safe the place actually was.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“It looks like one of the fifty-eighth slave dungeons on a ship bound for Judatrul,” answered Jack quietly as he pointed out some inscriptions on the wall. “One of the most dangerous places in the universe. The city is right on the coast where slave ships dock and the slaves are sold to the highest bidder.” He frowned. “What the hell is John doing in a place like this?”
“Where -“ Nick started to say, but he was cut off when another spark from the ceiling highlighted something that turned his stomach.
Thousands of people, men, women and even children, were lying together, packed into tight rows and chained up together, so tightly you could see the tearing of the skin that the manacles were leaving. None of them had proper clothes, instead all they had were ragged tunics and shoes that were falling apart. Somewhere towards the back of the room, a baby cried and the woman, presumably the mother, hastily cradled it closer to her chest to calm it.
Suddenly, the door crashed open and everyone instantly sat up, visibly ignoring the pain that the motion caused them thanks to their chains. A tall man dressed in elaborate robes stepped inside, banging a silver cane loudly on the floor so that the sound echoed around the walls.
“That's the ship's slave master,” said Jack. “He keeps tabs on the slaves - makes sure they're fit for duty. Any that aren't are killed.” He laughed bitterly. “I saw many slave killings in my time - too many.”
The man strode up and down the rows, banging his cane harder and harder as he walked. Occasionally, he barked out a string of harsh words that Nick couldn't understand and, frankly, he didn't want to. Suddenly, without any warning, he stopped and, bending down, he fired two shots from a gun, a motion which was greeted by several screams, including one from Nick.
“Those weren't killing shots, Nick,” said Jack quietly. “These Masters never kill a slave with anything as humane as a gunshot. No, they prefer other ways.”
A moment later, the Master reached out and grabbed someone, pulling him to his feet and speaking coldly to him. Then, he dragged him forwards and further into the light, at which point Jack and Nick both recognised the prisoner.
“John!” cried Nick, rushing forwards to intervene.
“Nick!” Jack grabbed his friend's arm and pulled him back, holding him tightly as he struggled. “Nick, there's nothing you can do. It's a memory - you can't change it. All you can do is watch it and see what happens.” He softened his grip and wrapped his arms around Nick in a gentle hug. “I'm sorry.”
Nick watched as John was dragged from the room by the chain around his neck. It was then that he realised just how bad his partner looked; his face was a mass of bruises and his clothes and hair were matted with congealed blood and he was limping badly. He was also very pale and the sight of his ribs protruding against his tunic made it look like he'd been starved.
“Oh my God,” he whispered, fighting back tears as the two men emerged into the daylight and John's impoverished state became all the more apparent. “What's...” but he trailed off when another man emerged from the shadows of a large and impressive doorway - which presumably led to an equally large house. But the architecture wasn't his current focus. Instead, his attention was drawn to the man who had stepped outside, a look of utter shock on his face.
“Jack, that's you!” he spluttered.
Jack watched, dumbfounded, as his future self stared at John in shock for a second before nodding towards the Master, who promptly turned on his heel and stalked off, making no effort to avoid banging John's hip as he made his way back to the ship.
John was squirming visibly even as he looked up. “Just do whatever it is you have to do,” he said very quietly. “Just do whatever you must, sir.”
Future Jack stood still for several seconds before he moved very slowly towards the beaten man, giving him a kind smile. “I'm going to do what I have to do,” he said slowly. Gently, he reached out and touched John's fingers, stroking them slowly. “It's going to be okay now...”
The memory faded slowly before being replaced by another scene. This time, John was the first thing Nick saw, but his current state ripped shards through his heart. He was curled up in a ball, wrapped in a very thin moth eaten blanket and wearing little more than a pair of dirty shorts and a ripped vest. The room he was in this time was painted entirely white and had a bright bulb in the ceiling.
“It looks worse, in some ways, than that place on the ship,” he croaked to Jack, who nodded.
A loud 'crash' suddenly echoed through the room and several men in dark suits walked inside. All of them had evil smirks on their faces as they converged on John. Then, the man in the lead spoke in a long heavy accent. Again, Nick couldn't understand a word he was saying, but the drawl in his voice made him cringe.
Jack was shaking beside him. “Oh, God, Nick” he croaked. “He said...he taunted him...told him that now the champion sex addict of the universe is now getting a...” his voice cracked, “a reward...”
Nick cringed as he watched an expression of defeat cross John's face as the men moved closer to him. “Go ahead,” he said tonelessly. “Take what it is you want.”
The ringleader smirked horribly and stripped off his jacket, tossing it carelessly across the room, the others following his lead. Then, his smirk becoming a crude leer, he grabbed John's face and kissed him mercilessly before throwing him harshly back down and pinning him to the ground.
That was when it became too much for Nick and he turned away burying his face in Jack's shoulder. He couldn't bring himself to watch, although the evil laughs of the men coupled with their moans and grunts and John's stifled sobs told him enough.
Jack wrapped his arms tightly round his friend and held him, whispering soothing words in his ear as he sought to drown out the sounds from the memory. Oh, God, this isn't fair. Nobody, no matter what they've done in the past, deserves to have this happen to them...
It wasn't until the memory had finished that he gently tilted Nick's head up to look at him. “It's over now,” he said quietly. “That memory's finished. There is still one more, but if you don't want to stay, then -“
“No.” Nick sat up and took several deep breaths as he wiped his eyes quickly. “I said I wanted to know something of what had happened and I'm standing by that.” He put a hand over Jack's. “I'll be fine.”
Slowly, he turned back to look at the scene that the final memory would play for them - and frowned sharply. “That place,” he whispered. “It looks so...familiar; it's like being inside an -“
“Amphitheatre.” Jack's response was almost toneless. “Yeah, it does.”
Nick swallowed hard, his own memories almost overwhelming him. “Oh my God,” he gasped. “It's...it's Segygand, isn't it? The home of the Nova Djinn. That's...that's where I found John.” He shivered and gripped his hands together as he thought of the civilisation he'd unintentionally destroyed.
“And it looks as if you're about to find out what happened to him before you found him,” said Jack grimly as two Djinn soldiers dragged John into the middle of the underground room. They dropped him onto the floor and then, without warning, one of them drew a knife and slit his throat, spilling his blood everywhere.
“No!” shouted Nick - but he was frozen in place by what happened next. The other guard, apparently satisfied that John was dead, took a small device from his pocket and placed it over John's chest. A moment later, and amidst screams of pain, John was screaming as he was brought back to life.
Jack looked sick. “Forced resurrection,” he said, gripping the bed stand “Torture in it's most terrible form. That's what the Djinn specialise in, Nick. They take your greatest weakness and use it to torture you until you break.” He shuddered violently as John was killed and forced back to life again and again.
Nick looked away slightly, remembering what John had said to him on the ship back to Amion. He had been enslaved by the Djinn before I found him...he knew what they would do to those slaves if they were left there alive. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hand, once again trying to blot out the sound of John's ragged gasps. He said I saved them from a terrible fate...
He was distracted from any further thoughts, however, when Jack patted him on the shoulder. “It's over now,” he said quietly. “It's done. That was the last memory I extracted from him. He will still remember everything, but at least we can now begin to at least try and help him through it.”
“That...that first memory must have been why he trusted you,” said Nick. He was forcing himself to focus on the positive sides, but he was still deeply shaken by what he had seen. “You...you must have been the first person who had been kind to him in...” he shut his eyes. “Thank you.”
“I'm just glad I could help,” said Jack quietly. “We don't know what else he's been through on his travels and like you, I don't think I want to know. But at least we know that he had one moment of refuge.” Slowly, he started packing the equipment away.
“Jack?” ventured Nick suddenly. “What...what was it that Orion threatened to shoot you with yesterday? I'm guessing it wasn't something that would just kill you.”
Jack let out a bark of laughter that wasn't at all amused. “Those things don't kill you at all,” he said bitterly. “They're bullets designed to keep you alive, but trapped in your worst nightmares for hours on end. You see the worst things that have happened to you in the past and your greatest fears for the future playing right before your eyes. And you're powerless to stop them.”
“How...how did he get hold of them?” The thought that such a thing could even exist made Nick's insides freeze in horror.
“They're old torture devices from the Time Agency,” said Jack, averting his eyes. “And they were extremely effective. Believe me, Nick, torture does not always just mean physical pain.”
Neither of the two men spoke for a little while after that heavy statement sunk in. Then Jack coughed. “I got your message, by the way - about Ianto and...and the 456.”
It took Nick a moment to drag himself away from his thoughts of a torture device that seemed even more inhumane than knives and punches, and to remember what he had done after that nightmare. “Oh, you did,” he said quietly. “Good - when did you get it?” For a moment, he wondered why Jack hadn't told him about it straight away; surely he would have known that he would be worried about his cousin, even if the dream had been just that. But he was shocked by Jack's reply.
“I only got it yesterday, actually.” The older man gave a small laugh. “It arrived shortly after you left to catch up with your relatives.”
“Wow.” Nick whistled. “When I sent it, I suspected the timing might be a bit off, but I didn't think it would take get through this late. Then again, I didn't expect to not get home until two and a half years after I left.”
“Nick,” Jack sighed, “you and I both know how dangerous it is to work for Torchwood. You weren't even involved in the organisation when you saw first hand how dangerous it can be.”
“Yeah,” said Nick, shifting uncomfortably. “After the Daleks stole the earth...I tried to convince Ianto to leave, because I was scared that he'd be in too much danger. He didn't react too well.”
“I know,” said Jack. “And while I don't blame you in the slightest for being worried about him - Nick, I want you to know that I would never intentionally send anyone, not even a Torchwood operative, into so much danger. To do that would be literally sending them into the jaws of certain death.” He sighed. “And I've done that enough in the past - ironically, one of the worst being the last time that the 456 came to Earth.”
Nick blinked. “They've been here before?”
“Yes,” said Jack. “They came here nearly fifty years ago, before I took charge of Torchwood.” He rubbed his face. “I did something terrible, Nick; something I regret to this day...and something which entirely justifies the reputation I had in some people's eyes as a monster.”
“I don't believe that,” said Nick immediately. “You're not a monster, Jack. I know I once said that you were, but that was wrong and stupid of me. I know you've done unscrupulous things in the past, but I also know that you had reasons.”
Jack smiled sadly. “You wouldn't say that if you knew what I did,” he said. “I sacrificed twelve children to the 456 in exchange for a cure.”
“A cure for what?”
Jack paused. “I think the best explanation I could use would be that it was a new strain of Indonesian flu. They claimed that if it was released, the virus would kill twenty-five million people - probably more.”
Nick inhaled sharply. “And you gave up twelve children?” he said quietly.
“Yeah,” sighed Jack. “And one of them survived. I can only guess that the 456 rejected him, because there was something different about him. But he survived while his friends were...” but he couldn't get the words out. “I killed them, Nick,” he finally choked out. “I killed those children as surely as if I had shot bullets into their bodies.”
“No!” said Nick firmly, grasping Jack's hands. “Listen to me; you did not kill those children. If anyone did, it was the 456; you were only the middle-man, the messenger, if you will. And it's always been said that you shouldn't shoot the messenger.” He paused. “I won't deny that I hate the thought of innocent children dying like that, but I would also say that the thought of innocent people dying at Canary Wharf makes me sick to my stomach, even though there's nothing I can do about it now.”
“What are you saying?” asked Jack, unable to look at his friend.
“I'm saying that you had no choice,” said Nick quietly. “Just like you didn't have a choice with what happened with Jasmine.”
“It's nothing like what happened with Jasmine,” said Jack. “Nick, some the things I did back then...you wouldn't even recognise me.”
Nick winced inwardly at those words. “And if you saw some of the things I did at the Agency, I don't think you'd have recognised me any more,” he said quietly. “But all those things are in our pasts now. And what you've just told me is very much like what happened with Jasmine. I've read the files and I know that if you hadn't let her go, none of us would be here today.” He paused to think. “And while those twelve children may not have wanted to go - may not have known what was happening - if you hadn't done it, more than twenty-five million people would have died.” He sighed quietly. “I don't know all the ins and outs of it, but if you hadn't given those children up, they might have died from the virus anyway.”
Jack looked up in surprise at those words. He could honestly say he had never thought of it like that. “I know you're right, Nick,” he admitted. “But when I realised that the 456 had come back and when I heard that they had demanded ten per cent of the children of this world, I promised myself that it wouldn't let it happen again.” He waited for Nick to speak, but when he didn't, he continued, “I went into Thames House in London and confronted them myself.”
“How?” Nick looked worried.
To his surprise, Jack laughed. “With this.” He held up his arm so Nick could see his vortex manipulator. “John found a way to fix it so I could teleport - and that's exactly what I did. I teleported into the tank where it was being held and blew it up.”
“You did what?!” spluttered Nick. “Jack, that's dangerous! Just because you're immortal, it doesn't mean you're dispensable!”
“I'm more dispensable than most, Nick,” said Jack quietly.
“Bullshit!” stormed Nick. “Just because you can heal yourself and resurrect yourself, it doesn't mean you have to be used as cannon fodder!” His eyes trailed over to John, who was still asleep. “Would you feel the same way about him too?”
The minute he said those words, he wished he could take them back. Jack had turned as white as a sheet and closed his eyes, bending his head in pain. Swallowing hard, Nick came over and sat down beside him.
“I'm sorry, Jack,” he said, calming down and putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. “I didn't mean that. I just don't want you to think that you're less important than the rest of us. Because you aren't. You're just as important as all of us here.”
Jack smiled weakly. “I know what you meant, Nick,” he said. “And, just so you know, I didn't go in there with the intention to kill myself. I left an active bomb in the tank and teleported myself out before it blew up - taking the 456 with it.” He laughed ruefully. “I didn't particularly fancy blowing myself up again - coming back from that is extremely unpleasant.”
Nick chose to ignore that comment. “So, you defeated the 456 and no one got hurt,” he said.
“Well, a couple of people were killed, but by and large, no, no one got hurt,” said Jack. “And I also got a medical liaison officer out of it as well - no, not Dan,” he added as Nick looked confused. “A young man who changed sides and helped me out of a rather sticky situation. He's quite good-looking as well.”
“What's his name?”
“Patanjali. Dr. Rupesh Patanjali.”
Nick's mouth dropped open. “You're kidding me!” he spluttered. “Dan and I went to medical school with him!”
Jack's mouth dropped open. “Now you're kidding me! What is it with doctors who studied in Manchester coming to Wales and working for Torchwood?”
“I don't know, but there must be something in the water up there!” Nick chuckled. “And you're right, he is good-looking; he always was, really.” He decided not to mention that one time when his old friend had jokingly suggested a threesome; it might give Jack ideas, especially if he knew that both he and Dan had actually seriously considered it. “But yeah, he's a good doctor.”
“Yeah, he is.” Jack turned and smiled at him. “And so are you - but, more importantly, you're also a good friend, Nick. I don't know what I did to deserve your friendship, but I'm so glad to have it.” He reached out a trembling hand and touched Nick's cheek with it. “Thank you for being there for me, even when you might not have realised it.”
Nick squeezed Jack's hand. “You've been there for me as well, Jack,” he said hoarsely. “And I know you will be for a long time.” He smiled again and then reached over and enveloped Jack in a friendly hug, patting him on the back as he did so. “You do mean a lot to me,” he said, absently resting his head on Jack's shoulder. “I really hope you know that.”
They sat like that for a while until a soft moan distracted Jack enough to make him turn. Looking around, he saw that John's eyes were opening and he was looking around in confusion.
“Where...where am I?” he whispered. He blinked when he saw the two men. “Jack? Nick? Is that you?”
“Yes,” said Nick quickly, jumping out of Jack's arms. “It's me, John - do you remember me?”
“No,” said John sadly. “I mean...I know that I know you and I know that I trust you, but...” he shook his head. “You said that you're my partner, but...I just can't remember...”
Jack sighed. “Nick,” he said gently, noticing that his friend was starting to get upset, “why don't you wait outside? Ianto's on the board walk; you can go and catch up with him.” He dropped his voice and whispered in Nick's ear, “I want to try a piece of technology that I think can help John, but it would be better for both of you if you weren't here.”
“Okay,” said Nick. With a last look at John, he quietly made his way up the ladder and out of Jack's office, barely registering himself wiping his eyes as he did so.
Jack smiled down at his former partner and showed him a strange silver contraption that looked like an oversized pair of metal headphones. “I know that this looks very strange,” he said, “but if I can use it right, then it can clear any mental damage and give you your old memories back.”
John looked interested. “There's technology that can do that?” he gasped. “How...?”
“That doesn't matter,” said Jack. “What matters is that I can help you remember - if it's what you want. Is it?”
“Just tell me one thing first,” said John, sitting upright. “Me and Nick - he said that he's my partner and my lover?” Jack nodded. “Well, just tell me...before all this happened - were we happy together?”
Jack didn't even have to think about it. “Yes,” he said, reaching over and stroking John's hand. “You were the happiest I've ever seen you.”
***
Next Time: Will John get his memories back?
Oh, and a bonus point to anyone who gets the Sanctuary reference!