FIC: Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones, India (Part I)
Title: Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones, India (Part I)
Author: blue_fjords
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Donna, Martha, John Smith, Master Harold Saxon, Lucy Saxon, Jack/Ianto, Tosh/Donna
Rating: PG-13 this part, NC-17 overall
Word Length: 7,000 this part; 22,700 overall
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Well. It's been a long time coming. This is a continuation of my romance novel AU, which started here with Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: Kenya back in December of 2008 (yikes!) and continued with Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: Ghana, until we got to Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: India (Prologue - Ghana) in November of 2009. I am a slow writer, what can I say! Due to my slowness, you will find the character of John Smith is probably nothing like Eleven, as I created him long before Eleven was even cast, poor chap. So he's pretty much an OC, with shades of different Doctors. And, well, human, as this is an AU. Everybody's human! Many, many thanks to adjovi for the beta, and to my peeps for putting up w/ me complaining about writer's block etc. during the writing of this thing. Also, I have never been to India. Google goes there frequently, though. Finally, this story has an epilogue, but it does not end on a cliffhanger. There are a few loose ends I want to tie up (Donna! Gwen & Rhys! Boating!), hopefully in the upcoming week. Thanks for your patience.
Part I
The airport was a riot of color; saris and sherwanis and business suits and t-shirts reflecting the entire spectrum of a rainbow. Jack peered through the crowds, searching for a tall redhead. Donna would not be hard to spot, if he could see her through the sheer press of so many people. He would never be able to hear her. He had an ear for languages, and he detected at least four Indian dialects around him. He knew a smattering of Hindi, but it wasn’t as widely used in this part of India. He let the noise wash over him; voices, animals, traffic from the street, and concentrated on using his eyes, instead. His could feel his stomach rumble, and he sniffed appreciatively. Cutting through the smell of so many bodies and traffic exhaust was the distinctive scent of coconut and what he guessed was some pachadi.
A pale hand tugged on his elbow and he turned into an embrace from Donna. He laughed as he squeezed her close to him. “Donna Noble! It’s been too long since I’ve seen your enchanting smile!”
She gave him a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “Sweet talking will get you everywhere! You have your bags? All set? Brilliant! Onward to lunch.”
Jack laughed again and offered his arm. Donna took it, and one of his bags, and steered them towards an exit. Jack admired her blue jewel-toned sari as they made it out onto the street and towards a line of cars with drivers.
“You’ve gone native, Donna! Looking good!”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shrugged slightly. “Tosh likes them. Though I draw the line at head coverings.”
Their driver hurried forward to help with the bags and Jack and Donna slid into the back seat. “We’ll have to go by the hotel first,” Donna told him, “or else Tosh would get jealous that you got me all to yourself.”
Jack grinned and settled back into his seat as the driver started the car and they began the slow process of making their way to their hotel. Tosh and Donna were based in Mumbai, and had arrived in Kochi just the day before. Jack regaled Donna with tales from Ghana as he watched the sights go by. Kochi was a port city, and the airport was located a few miles to the north of the city proper. The Arabian Sea sparkled on their right as they headed into Kochi, high rises and slums beginning to block the sight of the sea, and the myriad fishing boats and ferries. The streets began to grow more and more crowded, rickshaws battling taxis, buses, and other vehicles. Jack pointed out a pack of wild dogs, and Donna told him about a spay/neuter clinic the city was trying to get off the ground to curtail the problem; Mumbai was doing the same thing.
They finally pulled up in front of their hotel. Jack admired the architecture as he helped the driver with the bags and Donna handed over the fare. It was a kind of golden color, and the outside looked like colonialism had met traditional Indian architecture and fallen in love. The lobby was all dark wood accents and tiled mosaics and Dr. Toshiko Sato hurrying towards them. Jack enveloped her in a huge bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She laughed in protest, but put up with it. Jack knew he was the only one who could get away with such a public display of affection for her, and he made the most of it, kissing her forehead once he placed her back on her feet.
“Donna mentioned something about lunch,” he announced, still gripping her shoulders.
“Across the street. Go put your bags away; then we’ll eat.” She handed him his room key and gently shooed him down the corridor on the left. All of the rooms looked out into a lovely inner courtyard garden with fountain. Jack eyed a secluded corner as he walked by. There were little table and benches in the courtyard, and he indulged a daydream of sharing breakfast with Ianto there, hidden from view by the greenery. The benches were fairly wide, he could straddle Ianto and spend hours with him making out like teenagers…he bumped smack into another guest and took a step back, dropping his bags to rub his forehead. The other man had a hard head. The other man was…
“Smith? John Smith?” Jack asked, incredulous.
“Ah, yes?” Smith answered, gingerly patting at his face, as if to ascertain nothing was broken. That done, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled uncertainly at Jack.
“I’d recognize you anywhere! I know a couple of your, uh, brothers!” Jack flashed him a full-on grin, and Smith’s forehead smoothed.
“Jack Harkness! Of the Ghana clinic, and other varied adventures! Of course!” He seized Jack’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
“What brings you to Kochi?” Jack asked. “Are any of the others with you?”
“Eh? No, just me. Looking into some opportunities.” He finally dropped Jack’s hand to wave his own vaguely in the air. Jack got the distinct impression that these ‘opportunities’ were a bit of a mystery even to Smith. “John’s still in Thailand with that Smith woman - um, different Smith - and John and John are dude-ranching in Wyoming. John’s going to join them when his soap opera goes on hiatus. John’s teaching chemistry and underwater basket-weaving at uni over in, oh, Oregon? California? Idaho? Whichever of those makes sense. John, John and John have opened a Greek restaurant in Melbourne, and John’s starting training to be a paratrooper, and John is, of course, living in Dubai and working with me in my little, ah, business.”
Jack took the recital in stride. He’d worked with two John Smiths in the past and found the experiences endlessly fascinating. What luck to meet their youngest brother! “I’d love to hear more. Listen, what are you doing for lunch?”
***
Lunch turned out to be a rather protracted affair. Tosh and Donna were thrilled to meet John Smith, as they had also both worked with one or two of the Smiths in the past. They had just transferred to the Tyler Foundation’s office in Mumbai and would be working with John Smith (the tenth of that name) once again. As they all passed around the thoran, pachadi and rice, they also swapped stories. John Smith regaled them with a tale of mistaken identity in the Smith household that left them all in paroxysms of laughter. Tosh told of a memorable emergency surgery she had been roped into assisting, despite her doctorate being a PhD instead of an MD, by the ninth Smith. They’d turned into vets for the day and patched up a pet potbelly pig. “She can’t eat bacon anymore now,” Donna stage-whispered to Jack. Tosh had to admit it was true.
The talk eventually turned to the reason for Jack, and eventually Ianto, to be in India: Rahul’s farm and its potential suitability as a clinic. Tosh felt it was a little far from the city, which led into discussing a possible triage clinic in the city proper, and transportation out to the donated clinic.
“That will run up the tab considerably,” Jack said, frowning down at Donna’s napkin, where she’d been listing costs.
“Mmm, I have a possible solution,” Tosh said, taking a sip of her water and swallowing. “Have any of you heard of Harold Saxon? From what I can tell, he’s a rich landowner and businessman in this area. He left a message in Mumbai the day we left - he’d like to arrange a meeting to see about making a sizable donation.”
“Oh, really?” Jack asked. “Saxon, you said? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.” He shrugged. “Though I can’t say as I know any rich businessmen … in this area,” he amended. He had a few exes that he’d consider rich.
“Saxon, Saxon, Saxon,” Smith mused, tapping his chin. “You know, it sounds vaguely familiar. Any relation to that chap what ran for Parliament awhile back?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Tosh replied, and pulled a scrap of paper from her bag. They all bent their heads to look at it, though Donna had seen it before. Harold Saxon - multi-million pound donation? - plantation five km west of Rahul’s site - meet this week? - 555-12-3456
“I did a search for him. He owns a factory that manufactures different components of iPods and the like, and has invested in several different technology companies,” Tosh said. “What do you think, Jack? I thought the three of us could pay him a visit after we toured Rahul’s location, since they’re so close.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack replied. “Then I can get all the business out of the way before Ianto gets here. I’m all for mixing business with pleasure, but if I can get it sorted before he shows up, all the better.”
***
The jeep died six kilometers after leaving Rahul’s farm. Commentary on the way the day was going, Jack thought, but wisely kept the thought to himself. Tosh’s mouth was set in a grim line. Jack eyed her as they tramped along the side of the road. Tosh was one of the nicest people he knew, but she did not suffer fools gladly. And they had dealt with their fair share of fools thus far that day.
It started early in the morning, with a mix-up on the car reservation. Donna had requested a jeep after perusing the map of the area around Rahul’s place, and also a driver, as the map was none-too-detailed. Unfortunately, their driver had left on another mission before they got there and none of the air-conditioned jeeps were available. So Donna had driven and Tosh had navigated. Tosh had also got them spectacularly lost. Upon finding the potential site, one hour late, they had all three unanimously agreed that it was completely unsuitable for a clinic.
Jack was already daydreaming of the rest of his India trip turning completely into a romantic vacation. Half of his mind was filled with the image of Ianto in a red sherwani. Dream Ianto broke off pieces of naan, dipped them into palek, and placed them delicately on his tongue. Then he fed pieces to Dream Jack. As far as daydreams went, it was rather tame. Jack mentally took out the food and added his fingers unbuttoning the sherwani and his tongue running over each inch of Ianto’s exposed skin. He tried mightily to concentrate the other half of his mind on the navigation duties he’d taken from Tosh, and noted right away that Saxon’s place was actually ten kilometers away, not five. And then they hit a rock and got a flat and Jack had to put his daydream on hold.
There were, of course, no spare tires.
Tosh grabbed her pack and immediately set off for Saxon’s place. Jack exchanged glances with Donna, before they both sighed, grabbed extra water, and hurried to catch up. The road got narrower and narrower as they continued, before suddenly the trees on the left side were cut back to reveal a spectacular view of the sea, several kilometers in the distance. Jack squinted into the setting sun. He could just make out sails on the horizon, the ship outlined in a hazy red nimbus by the sinking fireball. The waves reflected back thousands of tiny points of light, and he swayed for a moment as his body instinctively remembered the feel of a ship beneath his feet, even though it had been almost twenty years. When Ianto arrived, he was definitely going to have to take him out on the ocean. Just the two of them on that great expanse of blue.
“Oi! Jack!” Donna poked him in the side. “Quit dragging your feet or the Ice Queen will leave us in her dust! Besides, the sooner we get there, the sooner Saxon can feed us.”
Jack quickened his pace and slung a companionable arm over Donna’s shoulders. “Let it not be said that Jack Harkness stood between you and Indian spices.”
Donna snorted and slipped a hand around his waist. “Didn’t think I’d have to convince you. I think Tosh will grind her teeth to nubs before we get there,” she continued, not bothering to lower her voice.
Tosh didn’t reply, but Jack could see her jaw working, grinding. He hurried to change the subject. As much as he liked to banter with Donna, he preferred it when Tosh’s ire was not directed at him.
“The way this day is going, I bet Saxon lives in a hut by the water and dinner will consist of rice and beans,” Jack said. “I mean, how many multi-millionaires call the Foundation up out of the blue and offer this much money?”
Tosh frowned. “We’re getting to be well-known now, Jack. And besides, we were already over here for Rahul’s clinic; what’s the harm in a visit? The worst he could do is not give us any money, which is just maintaining the status quo.”
Jack opened his mouth to reply, and felt his jaw drop open. On either side of him, Tosh and Donna came to a complete stop. They had reached the top of a rise and spread out in front of them was the plantation of one Mr. Harold Saxon, Esquire. It took up the entire valley, acres and acres of -
“Poppies! I haven’t gone mad, have I?” Donna exclaimed.
Tosh stared, dumbfounded. “How on Earth . . . ?”
“He could have a perfectly reasonable explanation. We need the poppies for morphine - maybe he’s a supplier for a justifiable medical manufacturer,” Jack said. Tosh rounded on him.
“I looked into him myself last night, Jack. He has nothing to do with medicine, and his property here is listed as a nature reserve, not for agriculture.”
Jack frowned. “It’s possible he’s lax on his permits?”
“Which does not bode well for working with him,” Tosh replied. “Okay,” she continued, taking a breath. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll act like everything is on the up-and-up, and - no offense to you two - but I think I should be the one to subtly bring up in conversation the, ah, purpose of the poppies.”
Jack glanced at Donna over Tosh’s head. Tosh’s frostiness was melting with the introduction of a problem she could potentially solve, and he was fine with letting her run with it. Donna nodded at him wordlessly.
“Sounds good, Tosh. We’ll back you up,” he said. They started down the other side of the rise.
It was a ten minute walk through the poppy fields to get to the buildings that made up Saxon’s compound. Jack kept thinking he saw people watching them, but whenever he tried to focus on them, they disappeared. They passed two structures that looked like barracks, a large garage with multiple doors and a small building that could conceivably be an office, before coming to an enormous mansion, built in the Tudor style. Two men in uniform walked out of the mansion and approached them.
“Master Saxon is expecting you,” the shorter one said, and held out his arm, indicating that they should follow them up the steps into the mansion. Jack raised his eyebrows at the title, but Tosh took a breath and fell in step just behind their escorts.
“Master?” he whispered to Donna.
“Quiet you, or you’ll be calling him ‘Lord and Master,’” she whispered back. Jack grinned tightly and took in their surroundings through hooded eyes. The mansion was populated by servants in black dresses and white aprons, or the black uniforms their two male guards wore. Every surface gleamed and spoke to gaudy excess and a ‘bigger is better’ mentality. A trickle of unease wormed its way down his back. All of the servants were Indian. Master Saxon was British. Relax, Jack, of course he would employ Indians in India. Still, his shoulders twitched, and he vowed not to play out the imperialistic fantasy. He would not be calling Saxon ‘Master.’
Their escorts led them up the marble central staircase and down a hall with an abundance of brightly polished wooden fixtures. They stopped outside a large wooden door. The taller guard adjusted his uniform shirt before knocking rather diffidently. Another servant opened the door and poked her head out. She scrutinized the three visitors before ducking back in and shutting the door in their faces. Jack glanced at Tosh. She looked rather taken aback. Donna just looked annoyed.
The door opened a moment later and the same servant gestured them inside. Tosh led the way into a cavernous office with the most massive desk Jack had ever seen situated squarely in the back. The walls were dotted with lighted alcoves showcasing a large collection of drums from all over the world. Jack recognized one that was popular in Ghana, three more that looked like they hailed from the American Southwest, and so many others. As they drew closer to the desk, the equally massive leather chair, which had been facing the windows and a view of the sea, slowly swung around.
Harold Saxon looked like an average man, of well-proportioned features, indeterminate age and open countenance. He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers idly on his armrest as he gazed at his visitors. Jack felt his eyes on him, a curious look, and he resisted the urge to look down and check his clothes. They were sweaty from their walk; nothing he could do about that.
“Mr. Saxon. Thank you so much for seeing us,” Tosh said into the silence. “I’m Dr. Toshiko Sato, Head of the Tyler Foundation’s Asia Office. This is my assistant, Ms. Donna Noble,” and she briefly touched Donna’s arm, “and this is Dr. Jack Harkness, one of our most respected doctors.”
Jack could feel the weight of Saxon’s stare on him. “I know who you are, Dr. Harkness. I am … glad … you were able to make it.”
Jack felt Tosh stiffen beside him as Saxon blatantly ignored her introduction. “We were most intrigued by your message, Mr. Saxon,” Tosh began again. “The Tyler Foundation - ”
“Oh, yes, the Tyler Foundation. Always quick with the helping hand.” Saxon steepled his fingers and essayed them with a smile that reminded Jack of nothing so much as a lizard in the sun. Jack darted a surreptitious glance out of the corner of his eye at the door. It was blocked by the two guards. “Be careful, or someone could think you sanctimonious.”
“I assure you -” Tosh tried.
“Tell me, Dr. Harkness, how are you enjoying your stay in India thus far?” Saxon interrupted her, still staring at Jack. Wanker. Crazy wanker.
“Jack thinks the hospitality leaves a bit to be desired here,” Donna said before Jack could even open his mouth. His lips twitched, and he started to come up with an equally flippant reply, but he was looking right at Saxon and for just the briefest of moments, something profoundly ugly and mean flitted across Saxon’s face, before the bland mask was back in place.
“India has been a very nice break,” Jack said carefully, sweating slightly as he attempted to keep his answer diplomatic, “and I look forward to it getting even better,” he said, thinking of Ianto’s impending arrival. “I think it’d be great if the Tyler Foundation could expand its aid here.”
Tosh nodded and began to speak once more, but Saxon cut her off yet again. “No,” he said, rising and crossing to the front of his desk. “I’m afraid I may have misled you, just slightly, to get you here.”
Jack frowned. Tosh shifted from foot to foot next to him, and on her other side, Donna looked ready to throttle Saxon. Jack wanted nothing less than to join her. “What did you bring us here for, Saxon?” he asked bluntly.
Saxon smiled then, and Jack had to stiffen his knees to avoid taking an involuntary step back. It was the reptilian grin again, smug and condescending. “Perhaps I am sick. I need healing, medicines. In fact, I would go so far as to say, what I need right now is a doctor.”
***
Jack straightened from his crouch and cracked his muscles. Sallow skin, rapid breathing, bloodshot eyes, extreme physical weakness. Jack frowned. And the distinct smell of almonds, where there are no almonds. He’d seen addiction to opium before, but this was more than just that. Saxon had misled them yet again. Saxon needs a doctor, all right, just not my kind of doctor.
After their ‘meeting’ with Saxon, Jack, Tosh and Donna had been led through a maze of corridors in the mansion to a dusty wing by several of the armed guards and the servant who had let them into the study. She didn’t speak much, alternating between casting frightened looks at the guards and scowling at them, but she did inform Jack, Tosh and Donna that she was taking them to a very special patient. Jack tried to memorize the layout of the place, but it was completely helter-skelter. Like Saxon’s mind. They were only taken on inner corridors, with no windows to the outside world.
The question of why Saxon really needed a doctor was answered in the first room they came across. Not a room with patients, but a laboratory, and one they needed gas masks to traverse. It was not in use anymore, but their guards were taking no chances. And when they reached the suite’s bedroom, they could see why.
A woman lay in the bed, and she was dying. Whatever Harold Saxon had been working on in the laboratory, it was not helping her. In fact, Jack thought as he gently swept sweaty hair off her forehead, he’d made things worse.
“Isn’t opium addiction supposed to dull your senses?” Donna murmured to him. The servant had left them at the door, and the guards didn’t like for them to talk, so she hid the movement of her lips behind her hand as she scratched her nose.
“It is,” Jack confirmed. He was allowed to speak in a normal speaking-voice, as the guards thought the doctor should be telling the other two what to do. “I think we can safely draw the conclusion from that abandoned laboratory we passed that Saxon tried curing her of the addiction. But it looks to me that he got her mind back without solving the initial problem.”
Their patient made a gurgling noise in the back of her throat and glared at them. Her eyes were slightly clouded with pain, but not the haze of opium, and the anger in them was clearly directed at Jack and Donna.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Jack asked, cocking his head. “Who are you?”
“He loves me . . . besssssst,” she whispered in a scratchy rasp. “Fools. . .”
Donna started to speak, but Jack laid a hand on her shoulder in caution. “You mean Saxon?” he asked. “I hate to break it to you, but he’s gone round the bend.”
She shot him a look so full of hatred he thought he would burn up on the spot. “Leave me,” she hissed, and had to swallow before continuing, “in peace! ‘Smine.”
A new guard appeared between the two posted in the doorway. “Master. Now,” he grunted out.
Jack turned away from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m busy. Medicines and healing, remember that?”
The guard frowned. “Master. Now,” he said again.
Jack sighed. That was probably the extent of the man’s English, and Jack didn’t know any Malayalam, or enough to communicate, at any rate. “Donna,” he said, turning back to her. “Could you try to make her a bit more comfortable? I’ll be right back.” She nodded, a little doubtfully, and the patient began muttering invectives under her breath.
Jack shot Tosh a reassuring look as he followed the guard out of the bedroom. Tosh sat in the far corner, making an inventory of available medicinal stock. The slight shake of her head to his nod told him there wasn’t much there.
Jack’s guard led him back through the mansion’s confusing passageways, and up the stairs and down the corridor to the massive office once more. Saxon was watching a program on his computer when they entered. His giggles echoed strangely in the too-large room.
“What do you want now, Saxon?” Jack interrupted him, reaching for a bravado he didn’t feel. “You do realize I’m trying to do my job here, and you’re interfering?”
Saxon quieted abruptly, but his eyes glinted with a malicious twinkle as he flipped his laptop around to show Jack the program. “Teletubbies! Can you imagine being that addicted to television that you have to carry it around with you as part of your actual body? What genius came up with this?”
Jack raised his eyebrow.
“Not in the mood for small talk, are we, Dr. Harkness?” Saxon tittered. “Very well then. Report on your patient.”
“She’s addicted to opium, but you knew that already,” Jack said bluntly. “What did you add to the mix? I’ve seen the effects of opium before, and it’s not quite like this. You’re not a doctor. You shouldn’t have tried to give her anything.”
“Why, Dr. Harkness, one could infer from your tone that you don’t care for me or how I run my estate.”
Jack had to remind himself that they were at Saxon’s mercy, and took a breath before replying. “You asked for my medical opinion. I’m a doctor and I gave it to you, in layman’s terms.”
“A doctor. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?”
There was that word again. Jack gritted his teeth and asked, ”Why are you holding us here? If you wanted a doctor, couldn’t you have hired one?”
“Oh, why indeed. No importance to you.” Saxon giggled again. “Pay me no mind. Jelly baby?”
Jack shook his head. “No importance?! Sorry, pal, but it’s of the highest import to us. And no, I don’t want your candy. I had a tasty granola bar earlier.” His stomach rumbled loudly.
“Suit yourself.” Saxon bit the head off a baby and chewed gracelessly. “So how are you treating her, then?”
Jack blinked. Oh. Treating the woman. “You know I have nothing to reverse the effects, and I won’t, unless you give me some supplies or tell me what you gave her as a ‘cure’.”
“There you go again, so quick to judge. Hasty, hasty, Dr. Harkness. What makes you think I did anything to her? Isn’t she virtually useless now? I would think a competitor would have more to gain from decimating my wife.” Saxon leaned back in his massive chair and blinked at Jack, attempting a guileless look. Jack’s jaw dropped open.
“Your wife?! You let . . . and then you . . .”
“Lucy was perfectly able to make up her own mind,” Saxon said, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I didn’t get her to do anything she didn’t already want to do.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Ianto had a dozen different meanings behind his eyeroll, but Jack had only perfected the ‘gimme a break.’ At least it was suitable. “Cut the crap, Saxon. You want to tell yourself that? Fine. But you also want her healthy. Well, I want to heal her. Our goals are both a healthy Lucy. So why don’t you tell me about your experiments with her . . . cure?”
Saxon slammed his fist down on his desk, hard. “My experiments, is it? Like I’m some sort of mad scientist? Do you know what it is I do all day, Harkness?” He stood up abruptly and strode over to the wide window behind his desk and yanked open the curtains. “I run the future of global communications. The future! Archangel is going to change the world. Want to know how?”
Jack felt like he was suffering from whiplash. What did ‘Archangel’ have to do with Lucy Saxon’s opium addiction? The cold fingers of unease that’d been tickling his neck since he’d met Saxon became a tight fist around Jack’s throat. He couldn’t speak, but Saxon didn’t wait for an answer.
“It will be irresistible. Cheap, fast communication lines throughout the world. The easy solution. Dare I say, and I do, like an opiate. The poppies? They’re for fun. They’re a red herring, Harkness. The truly addictive drug here is Archangel. That’s the big picture.” He pointed out the window, and Jack followed the sweep of his finger. “You see that bird there? It’s gathering twigs for a nest. It relies on its nest. It expects the nest to be there when it returns. But what would happen if I were to smash that nest? Chaos!” His eyes flashed with his own inflated view of his brilliance. Jack took a step back.
“What are you talking about, you megalomaniacal freak?”
“I’m the freak? I am just trying to teach humanity a lesson. The human race - they’re the greatest monsters of them all. Imagine it, Harkness - everyone, everywhere, relying on Archangel for communication, news, entertainment - and then one day, it collapses. Can you imagine the chaos? Can you imagine the decimation?”
Jack stared at him. Saxon’s eyes were shining, and a thin string of drool dangled from his lower lip. Jack wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk from his little face, but he had no sooner taken one step forward when two guards moved up on either side of him. Saxon giggled and gestured to the guards, and Jack felt two ironclad grips seize him.
“You’re standing a little close, even for me,” Jack told them. He flexed his muscles, and felt a corresponding tightening of grip from his captors. Their combined strength was greater than his own, he knew it. He glared across at Saxon and summoned his best ‘cartoon hero.’ “No one’s going to fall for your plan, you realize that, yeah?”
“Of course they will! You see, Harkness, people believe what they want to believe. And they want to believe in the convenience of something like Archangel. Don’t you? Wouldn’t you like, right this minute, to be able to contact anyone on the planet? To access satellite footage of any one place?”
Ianto. Jack kept his face impassive.
“No?” Saxon looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. “Well, just to be sure, I’ve taken the liberty of sending a team to your hotel, to see if you left any . . . items . . . there.”
“You bastard.” The outburst slipped past all his internal controls, and Jack tried desperately to deflect. “You were never going to let us leave here alive, were you? Do you even care about a cure for your wife?”
“I have a certain intellectual curiosity, yes, Harkness, and a certain . . . fondness for Lucy. And as to your first question . . .” He took a step forward. “Of course not.”
***
Jack tossed and turned on his cot that night. He felt lucky to even have a cot, and a glorified closet in Lucy Saxon’s suite to spend the night. The guards had been none-too-gentle on his return to the sick suite, roughly shoving him into his closet and locking him in. They were much more hesitant to manhandle Tosh and Donna, but they were still forced into another cell-like room next to his. It was not at all conducive to helping their patient. Jack could hear Lucy Saxon through his door, shifting restlessly in her bed and mewling softly.
Worries pressed in on him from every side. Tosh coughed in the room next door, and another joined the list. It was surely only a matter of time before Saxon decided Tosh and Donna - and Jack himself, if he couldn’t come up with some way to help Lucy - were dead weight. Their only option was to escape. Jack punched at his thin pillow and tried to run through all the possible exits for the plantation. There were too many guards. They’d have to come up with a distraction.
Jack had managed a whispered conversation with Tosh and Donna through their doors right after the guards left them. They were horrified at Saxon’s plans for Archangel, but Lucy was dying. They needed a plan NOW. Donna thought that instigating a riot and getting the workers on their side should be their course of action. Tosh wanted to bring Lucy Saxon with them, as she felt that Saxon had deliberately poisoned the woman and therefore Lucy had to know something about his mad Archangel plan. Lucy herself made not a peep throughout their discussion, unconscious for at least that part of the night. If Donna craned her neck, she could see Lucy, and she informed Jack that Mrs. Saxon was drooling into her pillow.
Jack yawned and shifted around once more. He wasn’t sure Lucy would tell them anything about Saxon, even if she could. She seemed completely under the man’s spell. Jack was most concerned with getting the three of them out. They could bring back help, but only if they were free to do so. They needed a distraction. What could they use as a diversion? His eyelids drooped closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued with tantalizing images of Ianto that changed to nightmare scenarios. Ianto on his knees, sucking the head of Jack’s cock, fingers splayed on Jack’s hips became Ianto on his knees, kicked by Saxon’s guards, fingers snapped by a heavy boot. Ianto riding Jack’s cock, head thrown back and moans rumbling up his throat became Ianto, beaten and bloody, head thrown back in a wordless scream. Ianto sleeping peacefully beside him became Ianto lying lifeless on the ground. Jack jerked awake, trembling, and sprung from his cot.
They had to get away from Saxon. He had to prevent Saxon from ever coming across Ianto. Jack paced his small cell, hands balled into fists. There was a way, there had to be a way. He paused and looked out his tiny window, high in the wall. Moonlight streamed in, leaving a light patch on the floor. Somewhere, Ianto was contemplating that same moon, and worrying and wondering. Somewhere safe, Jack devoutly hoped. He’d failed at protecting Ianto once before. He could not do it again.
He eventually stopped pacing and clenching his fists and tried once more for sleep. His scattered dreams featured Ianto again, but no sex and violence. Ianto in the kitchen, turning to him and saying he was learning how to make coq au vin with cherries and beer in place of the chicken and cognac. Ianto inventorying medical supplies, telling him they were out of raisins and fabric softener. Ianto sitting beside him, not saying anything as he formed a cat’s cradle between his hands. Ianto stepping onto a raft made of popsicle sticks and calling over his shoulder to Jack, “Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.”
***
The next morning dawned hot and hazy, with a breeze off the water to make it at least slightly manageable. Saxon appeared uninterested in Evil Overlord chats, and Jack, Tosh and Donna were all put to work in one of the barracks, to offer impromptu doctor appointments for Saxon’s workers, servants and guards. Jack seethed helplessly at the lack of supplies available to help them. Tosh’s inventory from the day before had turned up a canister of tongue depressors, two boxes of plasters, and three bottles of unlabelled pills, mostly empty. All three of them were used to making supplies stretch, but this was ridiculous.
All Tyler Foundation staff went through training to cope with the stress of being in a situation like this, and Jack wrapped himself firmly in his emotional buffer. Seated at the table beside him, Jack could tell that Tosh was using the same technique, keeping her gaze steady and understanding for her current patient. Donna was not doing as good a job of it. Every move telegraphed her fury at the situation. They had to get out of there soon, or Donna’s heart was going to break wide open.
Jack worried over the problem all morning. Using one of Saxon’s boats was a tempting prospect, but he had no idea if any of the workers would want to escape with them, or could help him sail a boat - the language barrier was proving a large obstacle in gauging any prospects for allies. Escaping overland and disappearing into the trees had its merits, but help was far away. And then there was the question of a distraction. He had no solid ideas, and Saxon’s team was closer and closer to discovering Ianto back in Kochi - he was scheduled to arrive in just a few hours.
Saxon requested his presence again at noon. Jack really didn’t want to leave Tosh and Donna, but the large guards with guns didn’t care about his preferences. Tosh gave him a distracted half-smile as he left, and his spirits rose considerably. She had a look on her face that she wore as a mask when the wheels were turning in her clever brain. With any luck, she’d have a plan when he got back.
Instead of taking him back to the office, Saxon’s guards led him back to Lucy’s suite.
“You haven’t made any improvements!” Saxon raged at him the moment he set foot in the room.
“You mean with the canister of tongue depressors?” Jack snapped back. “You want some help for her, you have to give us something to work with here!”
Saxon looked off-balance for just a moment, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, despite their talk from the previous night. “No excuses, Harkness,” he hissed, collecting himself and pulling himself up to his full height. “You call yourself a doctor? You figure this out.”
He swept past Jack with an imperious wave to his guards. The door locked behind him. Jack stared at it for a moment, reeling. How did a man like that ever get to be the CEO of a lemonade stand, let alone build the largest communications network the world has ever seen?
“Your husband is mad,” Jack directed at Lucy’s prone figure. He did a double-take when she began to laugh, a gargly, wheezy chuckle with little mirth. He crossed the room and looked down at her. Her eyes burned with pain and anger.
“My (wheeze) hus-band (gargle, spit) ‘s goin (gurgle, gurgle) kill you.” Her mouth formed a lop-sided grin, drool leaking from the left corner of her lips.
“You and me both, Mrs. Saxon,” Jack said, and gently wiped away the drool with a clean cloth. “Only I intend to survive.”
***
They were locked in together for over 24 hours.
To his surprise, Lucy appeared to grow stronger, as if she was feeding off her hatred for him. He did a complete search of all the rooms in the suite in the first hour, and repeated it again about ten hours later. Lucy just watched him, croaking with malicious laughter. He couldn’t help but pity her, even as he wished she would just shut up.
There were only four rooms in the suite, and only one door out to the rest of the mansion; the bedroom door that opened out into the laboratory-like space Saxon had used for his experiments. One of the other rooms was a bathroom, and the other two were the little closet-like cells Jack, and Tosh and Donna, had slept in that first night. There was hardly any furniture left in the rooms, and absolutely nothing sharp or heavy. A small cabinet nailed to the floor contained boxes of crackers and biscuits, but that was it for food.
He tried talking to Lucy, but she only spoke to him when he was not talking to her.
“How long have you been married?” he asked. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
“Did you tell your husband you wanted to be his guinea pig?” he asked another time, and she chuckled her wheezy, croaking laugh.
“Do you know your husband wants to destroy the world with his Archangel system?” he asked conversationally. That got him another creaky threat that her husband would kill him. “I’m getting tired of that threat,” he told her, and went into the bathroom and turned on the water to drown out her gurgling.
He couldn’t stay away for long. She was in so much pain, and utterly insane. He longed to be able to help her somehow, but even the unlabelled bottles of pills were now denied to him. The guards had brought them out for the makeshift doctor’s clinic he’d held with Tosh and Donna.
He worried incessantly about his companions, and about Ianto. He paced an endless loop around the suite. At first he thought he’d be able to see Tosh and Donna at night, when they were brought to their cell in the suite. But no guard came that night, not even when he pounded at the door for a straight hour.
He slept for a couple of hours in the early morning. He dreamed of Ianto, but differently from the previous night. He dreamed of himself and Ianto as old men, pushing a shopping cart in a Tesco’s and debating about fiber supplements and Viagra. He woke up feeling almost refreshed, despite the little sleep he’d had.
Sometime in the late afternoon a key turned in the lock. Jack exchanged a look with Lucy. “You (gargle) die . . . now,” she hissed.
He looked back at the door as it swung open.
Continue to Part II
Author: blue_fjords
Characters/Pairings: Jack, Ianto, Tosh, Donna, Martha, John Smith, Master Harold Saxon, Lucy Saxon, Jack/Ianto, Tosh/Donna
Rating: PG-13 this part, NC-17 overall
Word Length: 7,000 this part; 22,700 overall
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
A/N: Well. It's been a long time coming. This is a continuation of my romance novel AU, which started here with Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: Kenya back in December of 2008 (yikes!) and continued with Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: Ghana, until we got to Dr. Harkness & Nurse Jones: India (Prologue - Ghana) in November of 2009. I am a slow writer, what can I say! Due to my slowness, you will find the character of John Smith is probably nothing like Eleven, as I created him long before Eleven was even cast, poor chap. So he's pretty much an OC, with shades of different Doctors. And, well, human, as this is an AU. Everybody's human! Many, many thanks to adjovi for the beta, and to my peeps for putting up w/ me complaining about writer's block etc. during the writing of this thing. Also, I have never been to India. Google goes there frequently, though. Finally, this story has an epilogue, but it does not end on a cliffhanger. There are a few loose ends I want to tie up (Donna! Gwen & Rhys! Boating!), hopefully in the upcoming week. Thanks for your patience.
Part I
The airport was a riot of color; saris and sherwanis and business suits and t-shirts reflecting the entire spectrum of a rainbow. Jack peered through the crowds, searching for a tall redhead. Donna would not be hard to spot, if he could see her through the sheer press of so many people. He would never be able to hear her. He had an ear for languages, and he detected at least four Indian dialects around him. He knew a smattering of Hindi, but it wasn’t as widely used in this part of India. He let the noise wash over him; voices, animals, traffic from the street, and concentrated on using his eyes, instead. His could feel his stomach rumble, and he sniffed appreciatively. Cutting through the smell of so many bodies and traffic exhaust was the distinctive scent of coconut and what he guessed was some pachadi.
A pale hand tugged on his elbow and he turned into an embrace from Donna. He laughed as he squeezed her close to him. “Donna Noble! It’s been too long since I’ve seen your enchanting smile!”
She gave him a loud, smacking kiss on his cheek. “Sweet talking will get you everywhere! You have your bags? All set? Brilliant! Onward to lunch.”
Jack laughed again and offered his arm. Donna took it, and one of his bags, and steered them towards an exit. Jack admired her blue jewel-toned sari as they made it out onto the street and towards a line of cars with drivers.
“You’ve gone native, Donna! Looking good!”
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and shrugged slightly. “Tosh likes them. Though I draw the line at head coverings.”
Their driver hurried forward to help with the bags and Jack and Donna slid into the back seat. “We’ll have to go by the hotel first,” Donna told him, “or else Tosh would get jealous that you got me all to yourself.”
Jack grinned and settled back into his seat as the driver started the car and they began the slow process of making their way to their hotel. Tosh and Donna were based in Mumbai, and had arrived in Kochi just the day before. Jack regaled Donna with tales from Ghana as he watched the sights go by. Kochi was a port city, and the airport was located a few miles to the north of the city proper. The Arabian Sea sparkled on their right as they headed into Kochi, high rises and slums beginning to block the sight of the sea, and the myriad fishing boats and ferries. The streets began to grow more and more crowded, rickshaws battling taxis, buses, and other vehicles. Jack pointed out a pack of wild dogs, and Donna told him about a spay/neuter clinic the city was trying to get off the ground to curtail the problem; Mumbai was doing the same thing.
They finally pulled up in front of their hotel. Jack admired the architecture as he helped the driver with the bags and Donna handed over the fare. It was a kind of golden color, and the outside looked like colonialism had met traditional Indian architecture and fallen in love. The lobby was all dark wood accents and tiled mosaics and Dr. Toshiko Sato hurrying towards them. Jack enveloped her in a huge bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She laughed in protest, but put up with it. Jack knew he was the only one who could get away with such a public display of affection for her, and he made the most of it, kissing her forehead once he placed her back on her feet.
“Donna mentioned something about lunch,” he announced, still gripping her shoulders.
“Across the street. Go put your bags away; then we’ll eat.” She handed him his room key and gently shooed him down the corridor on the left. All of the rooms looked out into a lovely inner courtyard garden with fountain. Jack eyed a secluded corner as he walked by. There were little table and benches in the courtyard, and he indulged a daydream of sharing breakfast with Ianto there, hidden from view by the greenery. The benches were fairly wide, he could straddle Ianto and spend hours with him making out like teenagers…he bumped smack into another guest and took a step back, dropping his bags to rub his forehead. The other man had a hard head. The other man was…
“Smith? John Smith?” Jack asked, incredulous.
“Ah, yes?” Smith answered, gingerly patting at his face, as if to ascertain nothing was broken. That done, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and smiled uncertainly at Jack.
“I’d recognize you anywhere! I know a couple of your, uh, brothers!” Jack flashed him a full-on grin, and Smith’s forehead smoothed.
“Jack Harkness! Of the Ghana clinic, and other varied adventures! Of course!” He seized Jack’s hand and pumped it enthusiastically.
“What brings you to Kochi?” Jack asked. “Are any of the others with you?”
“Eh? No, just me. Looking into some opportunities.” He finally dropped Jack’s hand to wave his own vaguely in the air. Jack got the distinct impression that these ‘opportunities’ were a bit of a mystery even to Smith. “John’s still in Thailand with that Smith woman - um, different Smith - and John and John are dude-ranching in Wyoming. John’s going to join them when his soap opera goes on hiatus. John’s teaching chemistry and underwater basket-weaving at uni over in, oh, Oregon? California? Idaho? Whichever of those makes sense. John, John and John have opened a Greek restaurant in Melbourne, and John’s starting training to be a paratrooper, and John is, of course, living in Dubai and working with me in my little, ah, business.”
Jack took the recital in stride. He’d worked with two John Smiths in the past and found the experiences endlessly fascinating. What luck to meet their youngest brother! “I’d love to hear more. Listen, what are you doing for lunch?”
***
Lunch turned out to be a rather protracted affair. Tosh and Donna were thrilled to meet John Smith, as they had also both worked with one or two of the Smiths in the past. They had just transferred to the Tyler Foundation’s office in Mumbai and would be working with John Smith (the tenth of that name) once again. As they all passed around the thoran, pachadi and rice, they also swapped stories. John Smith regaled them with a tale of mistaken identity in the Smith household that left them all in paroxysms of laughter. Tosh told of a memorable emergency surgery she had been roped into assisting, despite her doctorate being a PhD instead of an MD, by the ninth Smith. They’d turned into vets for the day and patched up a pet potbelly pig. “She can’t eat bacon anymore now,” Donna stage-whispered to Jack. Tosh had to admit it was true.
The talk eventually turned to the reason for Jack, and eventually Ianto, to be in India: Rahul’s farm and its potential suitability as a clinic. Tosh felt it was a little far from the city, which led into discussing a possible triage clinic in the city proper, and transportation out to the donated clinic.
“That will run up the tab considerably,” Jack said, frowning down at Donna’s napkin, where she’d been listing costs.
“Mmm, I have a possible solution,” Tosh said, taking a sip of her water and swallowing. “Have any of you heard of Harold Saxon? From what I can tell, he’s a rich landowner and businessman in this area. He left a message in Mumbai the day we left - he’d like to arrange a meeting to see about making a sizable donation.”
“Oh, really?” Jack asked. “Saxon, you said? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of him.” He shrugged. “Though I can’t say as I know any rich businessmen … in this area,” he amended. He had a few exes that he’d consider rich.
“Saxon, Saxon, Saxon,” Smith mused, tapping his chin. “You know, it sounds vaguely familiar. Any relation to that chap what ran for Parliament awhile back?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Tosh replied, and pulled a scrap of paper from her bag. They all bent their heads to look at it, though Donna had seen it before. Harold Saxon - multi-million pound donation? - plantation five km west of Rahul’s site - meet this week? - 555-12-3456
“I did a search for him. He owns a factory that manufactures different components of iPods and the like, and has invested in several different technology companies,” Tosh said. “What do you think, Jack? I thought the three of us could pay him a visit after we toured Rahul’s location, since they’re so close.”
“Sounds good to me,” Jack replied. “Then I can get all the business out of the way before Ianto gets here. I’m all for mixing business with pleasure, but if I can get it sorted before he shows up, all the better.”
***
The jeep died six kilometers after leaving Rahul’s farm. Commentary on the way the day was going, Jack thought, but wisely kept the thought to himself. Tosh’s mouth was set in a grim line. Jack eyed her as they tramped along the side of the road. Tosh was one of the nicest people he knew, but she did not suffer fools gladly. And they had dealt with their fair share of fools thus far that day.
It started early in the morning, with a mix-up on the car reservation. Donna had requested a jeep after perusing the map of the area around Rahul’s place, and also a driver, as the map was none-too-detailed. Unfortunately, their driver had left on another mission before they got there and none of the air-conditioned jeeps were available. So Donna had driven and Tosh had navigated. Tosh had also got them spectacularly lost. Upon finding the potential site, one hour late, they had all three unanimously agreed that it was completely unsuitable for a clinic.
Jack was already daydreaming of the rest of his India trip turning completely into a romantic vacation. Half of his mind was filled with the image of Ianto in a red sherwani. Dream Ianto broke off pieces of naan, dipped them into palek, and placed them delicately on his tongue. Then he fed pieces to Dream Jack. As far as daydreams went, it was rather tame. Jack mentally took out the food and added his fingers unbuttoning the sherwani and his tongue running over each inch of Ianto’s exposed skin. He tried mightily to concentrate the other half of his mind on the navigation duties he’d taken from Tosh, and noted right away that Saxon’s place was actually ten kilometers away, not five. And then they hit a rock and got a flat and Jack had to put his daydream on hold.
There were, of course, no spare tires.
Tosh grabbed her pack and immediately set off for Saxon’s place. Jack exchanged glances with Donna, before they both sighed, grabbed extra water, and hurried to catch up. The road got narrower and narrower as they continued, before suddenly the trees on the left side were cut back to reveal a spectacular view of the sea, several kilometers in the distance. Jack squinted into the setting sun. He could just make out sails on the horizon, the ship outlined in a hazy red nimbus by the sinking fireball. The waves reflected back thousands of tiny points of light, and he swayed for a moment as his body instinctively remembered the feel of a ship beneath his feet, even though it had been almost twenty years. When Ianto arrived, he was definitely going to have to take him out on the ocean. Just the two of them on that great expanse of blue.
“Oi! Jack!” Donna poked him in the side. “Quit dragging your feet or the Ice Queen will leave us in her dust! Besides, the sooner we get there, the sooner Saxon can feed us.”
Jack quickened his pace and slung a companionable arm over Donna’s shoulders. “Let it not be said that Jack Harkness stood between you and Indian spices.”
Donna snorted and slipped a hand around his waist. “Didn’t think I’d have to convince you. I think Tosh will grind her teeth to nubs before we get there,” she continued, not bothering to lower her voice.
Tosh didn’t reply, but Jack could see her jaw working, grinding. He hurried to change the subject. As much as he liked to banter with Donna, he preferred it when Tosh’s ire was not directed at him.
“The way this day is going, I bet Saxon lives in a hut by the water and dinner will consist of rice and beans,” Jack said. “I mean, how many multi-millionaires call the Foundation up out of the blue and offer this much money?”
Tosh frowned. “We’re getting to be well-known now, Jack. And besides, we were already over here for Rahul’s clinic; what’s the harm in a visit? The worst he could do is not give us any money, which is just maintaining the status quo.”
Jack opened his mouth to reply, and felt his jaw drop open. On either side of him, Tosh and Donna came to a complete stop. They had reached the top of a rise and spread out in front of them was the plantation of one Mr. Harold Saxon, Esquire. It took up the entire valley, acres and acres of -
“Poppies! I haven’t gone mad, have I?” Donna exclaimed.
Tosh stared, dumbfounded. “How on Earth . . . ?”
“He could have a perfectly reasonable explanation. We need the poppies for morphine - maybe he’s a supplier for a justifiable medical manufacturer,” Jack said. Tosh rounded on him.
“I looked into him myself last night, Jack. He has nothing to do with medicine, and his property here is listed as a nature reserve, not for agriculture.”
Jack frowned. “It’s possible he’s lax on his permits?”
“Which does not bode well for working with him,” Tosh replied. “Okay,” she continued, taking a breath. “Here’s what we’ll do. We’ll act like everything is on the up-and-up, and - no offense to you two - but I think I should be the one to subtly bring up in conversation the, ah, purpose of the poppies.”
Jack glanced at Donna over Tosh’s head. Tosh’s frostiness was melting with the introduction of a problem she could potentially solve, and he was fine with letting her run with it. Donna nodded at him wordlessly.
“Sounds good, Tosh. We’ll back you up,” he said. They started down the other side of the rise.
It was a ten minute walk through the poppy fields to get to the buildings that made up Saxon’s compound. Jack kept thinking he saw people watching them, but whenever he tried to focus on them, they disappeared. They passed two structures that looked like barracks, a large garage with multiple doors and a small building that could conceivably be an office, before coming to an enormous mansion, built in the Tudor style. Two men in uniform walked out of the mansion and approached them.
“Master Saxon is expecting you,” the shorter one said, and held out his arm, indicating that they should follow them up the steps into the mansion. Jack raised his eyebrows at the title, but Tosh took a breath and fell in step just behind their escorts.
“Master?” he whispered to Donna.
“Quiet you, or you’ll be calling him ‘Lord and Master,’” she whispered back. Jack grinned tightly and took in their surroundings through hooded eyes. The mansion was populated by servants in black dresses and white aprons, or the black uniforms their two male guards wore. Every surface gleamed and spoke to gaudy excess and a ‘bigger is better’ mentality. A trickle of unease wormed its way down his back. All of the servants were Indian. Master Saxon was British. Relax, Jack, of course he would employ Indians in India. Still, his shoulders twitched, and he vowed not to play out the imperialistic fantasy. He would not be calling Saxon ‘Master.’
Their escorts led them up the marble central staircase and down a hall with an abundance of brightly polished wooden fixtures. They stopped outside a large wooden door. The taller guard adjusted his uniform shirt before knocking rather diffidently. Another servant opened the door and poked her head out. She scrutinized the three visitors before ducking back in and shutting the door in their faces. Jack glanced at Tosh. She looked rather taken aback. Donna just looked annoyed.
The door opened a moment later and the same servant gestured them inside. Tosh led the way into a cavernous office with the most massive desk Jack had ever seen situated squarely in the back. The walls were dotted with lighted alcoves showcasing a large collection of drums from all over the world. Jack recognized one that was popular in Ghana, three more that looked like they hailed from the American Southwest, and so many others. As they drew closer to the desk, the equally massive leather chair, which had been facing the windows and a view of the sea, slowly swung around.
Harold Saxon looked like an average man, of well-proportioned features, indeterminate age and open countenance. He leaned back in his chair and drummed his fingers idly on his armrest as he gazed at his visitors. Jack felt his eyes on him, a curious look, and he resisted the urge to look down and check his clothes. They were sweaty from their walk; nothing he could do about that.
“Mr. Saxon. Thank you so much for seeing us,” Tosh said into the silence. “I’m Dr. Toshiko Sato, Head of the Tyler Foundation’s Asia Office. This is my assistant, Ms. Donna Noble,” and she briefly touched Donna’s arm, “and this is Dr. Jack Harkness, one of our most respected doctors.”
Jack could feel the weight of Saxon’s stare on him. “I know who you are, Dr. Harkness. I am … glad … you were able to make it.”
Jack felt Tosh stiffen beside him as Saxon blatantly ignored her introduction. “We were most intrigued by your message, Mr. Saxon,” Tosh began again. “The Tyler Foundation - ”
“Oh, yes, the Tyler Foundation. Always quick with the helping hand.” Saxon steepled his fingers and essayed them with a smile that reminded Jack of nothing so much as a lizard in the sun. Jack darted a surreptitious glance out of the corner of his eye at the door. It was blocked by the two guards. “Be careful, or someone could think you sanctimonious.”
“I assure you -” Tosh tried.
“Tell me, Dr. Harkness, how are you enjoying your stay in India thus far?” Saxon interrupted her, still staring at Jack. Wanker. Crazy wanker.
“Jack thinks the hospitality leaves a bit to be desired here,” Donna said before Jack could even open his mouth. His lips twitched, and he started to come up with an equally flippant reply, but he was looking right at Saxon and for just the briefest of moments, something profoundly ugly and mean flitted across Saxon’s face, before the bland mask was back in place.
“India has been a very nice break,” Jack said carefully, sweating slightly as he attempted to keep his answer diplomatic, “and I look forward to it getting even better,” he said, thinking of Ianto’s impending arrival. “I think it’d be great if the Tyler Foundation could expand its aid here.”
Tosh nodded and began to speak once more, but Saxon cut her off yet again. “No,” he said, rising and crossing to the front of his desk. “I’m afraid I may have misled you, just slightly, to get you here.”
Jack frowned. Tosh shifted from foot to foot next to him, and on her other side, Donna looked ready to throttle Saxon. Jack wanted nothing less than to join her. “What did you bring us here for, Saxon?” he asked bluntly.
Saxon smiled then, and Jack had to stiffen his knees to avoid taking an involuntary step back. It was the reptilian grin again, smug and condescending. “Perhaps I am sick. I need healing, medicines. In fact, I would go so far as to say, what I need right now is a doctor.”
***
Jack straightened from his crouch and cracked his muscles. Sallow skin, rapid breathing, bloodshot eyes, extreme physical weakness. Jack frowned. And the distinct smell of almonds, where there are no almonds. He’d seen addiction to opium before, but this was more than just that. Saxon had misled them yet again. Saxon needs a doctor, all right, just not my kind of doctor.
After their ‘meeting’ with Saxon, Jack, Tosh and Donna had been led through a maze of corridors in the mansion to a dusty wing by several of the armed guards and the servant who had let them into the study. She didn’t speak much, alternating between casting frightened looks at the guards and scowling at them, but she did inform Jack, Tosh and Donna that she was taking them to a very special patient. Jack tried to memorize the layout of the place, but it was completely helter-skelter. Like Saxon’s mind. They were only taken on inner corridors, with no windows to the outside world.
The question of why Saxon really needed a doctor was answered in the first room they came across. Not a room with patients, but a laboratory, and one they needed gas masks to traverse. It was not in use anymore, but their guards were taking no chances. And when they reached the suite’s bedroom, they could see why.
A woman lay in the bed, and she was dying. Whatever Harold Saxon had been working on in the laboratory, it was not helping her. In fact, Jack thought as he gently swept sweaty hair off her forehead, he’d made things worse.
“Isn’t opium addiction supposed to dull your senses?” Donna murmured to him. The servant had left them at the door, and the guards didn’t like for them to talk, so she hid the movement of her lips behind her hand as she scratched her nose.
“It is,” Jack confirmed. He was allowed to speak in a normal speaking-voice, as the guards thought the doctor should be telling the other two what to do. “I think we can safely draw the conclusion from that abandoned laboratory we passed that Saxon tried curing her of the addiction. But it looks to me that he got her mind back without solving the initial problem.”
Their patient made a gurgling noise in the back of her throat and glared at them. Her eyes were slightly clouded with pain, but not the haze of opium, and the anger in them was clearly directed at Jack and Donna.
“I’m right, aren’t I?” Jack asked, cocking his head. “Who are you?”
“He loves me . . . besssssst,” she whispered in a scratchy rasp. “Fools. . .”
Donna started to speak, but Jack laid a hand on her shoulder in caution. “You mean Saxon?” he asked. “I hate to break it to you, but he’s gone round the bend.”
She shot him a look so full of hatred he thought he would burn up on the spot. “Leave me,” she hissed, and had to swallow before continuing, “in peace! ‘Smine.”
A new guard appeared between the two posted in the doorway. “Master. Now,” he grunted out.
Jack turned away from the bed and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m busy. Medicines and healing, remember that?”
The guard frowned. “Master. Now,” he said again.
Jack sighed. That was probably the extent of the man’s English, and Jack didn’t know any Malayalam, or enough to communicate, at any rate. “Donna,” he said, turning back to her. “Could you try to make her a bit more comfortable? I’ll be right back.” She nodded, a little doubtfully, and the patient began muttering invectives under her breath.
Jack shot Tosh a reassuring look as he followed the guard out of the bedroom. Tosh sat in the far corner, making an inventory of available medicinal stock. The slight shake of her head to his nod told him there wasn’t much there.
Jack’s guard led him back through the mansion’s confusing passageways, and up the stairs and down the corridor to the massive office once more. Saxon was watching a program on his computer when they entered. His giggles echoed strangely in the too-large room.
“What do you want now, Saxon?” Jack interrupted him, reaching for a bravado he didn’t feel. “You do realize I’m trying to do my job here, and you’re interfering?”
Saxon quieted abruptly, but his eyes glinted with a malicious twinkle as he flipped his laptop around to show Jack the program. “Teletubbies! Can you imagine being that addicted to television that you have to carry it around with you as part of your actual body? What genius came up with this?”
Jack raised his eyebrow.
“Not in the mood for small talk, are we, Dr. Harkness?” Saxon tittered. “Very well then. Report on your patient.”
“She’s addicted to opium, but you knew that already,” Jack said bluntly. “What did you add to the mix? I’ve seen the effects of opium before, and it’s not quite like this. You’re not a doctor. You shouldn’t have tried to give her anything.”
“Why, Dr. Harkness, one could infer from your tone that you don’t care for me or how I run my estate.”
Jack had to remind himself that they were at Saxon’s mercy, and took a breath before replying. “You asked for my medical opinion. I’m a doctor and I gave it to you, in layman’s terms.”
“A doctor. The man who makes people better. How sanctimonious is that?”
There was that word again. Jack gritted his teeth and asked, ”Why are you holding us here? If you wanted a doctor, couldn’t you have hired one?”
“Oh, why indeed. No importance to you.” Saxon giggled again. “Pay me no mind. Jelly baby?”
Jack shook his head. “No importance?! Sorry, pal, but it’s of the highest import to us. And no, I don’t want your candy. I had a tasty granola bar earlier.” His stomach rumbled loudly.
“Suit yourself.” Saxon bit the head off a baby and chewed gracelessly. “So how are you treating her, then?”
Jack blinked. Oh. Treating the woman. “You know I have nothing to reverse the effects, and I won’t, unless you give me some supplies or tell me what you gave her as a ‘cure’.”
“There you go again, so quick to judge. Hasty, hasty, Dr. Harkness. What makes you think I did anything to her? Isn’t she virtually useless now? I would think a competitor would have more to gain from decimating my wife.” Saxon leaned back in his massive chair and blinked at Jack, attempting a guileless look. Jack’s jaw dropped open.
“Your wife?! You let . . . and then you . . .”
“Lucy was perfectly able to make up her own mind,” Saxon said, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I didn’t get her to do anything she didn’t already want to do.”
Jack rolled his eyes. Ianto had a dozen different meanings behind his eyeroll, but Jack had only perfected the ‘gimme a break.’ At least it was suitable. “Cut the crap, Saxon. You want to tell yourself that? Fine. But you also want her healthy. Well, I want to heal her. Our goals are both a healthy Lucy. So why don’t you tell me about your experiments with her . . . cure?”
Saxon slammed his fist down on his desk, hard. “My experiments, is it? Like I’m some sort of mad scientist? Do you know what it is I do all day, Harkness?” He stood up abruptly and strode over to the wide window behind his desk and yanked open the curtains. “I run the future of global communications. The future! Archangel is going to change the world. Want to know how?”
Jack felt like he was suffering from whiplash. What did ‘Archangel’ have to do with Lucy Saxon’s opium addiction? The cold fingers of unease that’d been tickling his neck since he’d met Saxon became a tight fist around Jack’s throat. He couldn’t speak, but Saxon didn’t wait for an answer.
“It will be irresistible. Cheap, fast communication lines throughout the world. The easy solution. Dare I say, and I do, like an opiate. The poppies? They’re for fun. They’re a red herring, Harkness. The truly addictive drug here is Archangel. That’s the big picture.” He pointed out the window, and Jack followed the sweep of his finger. “You see that bird there? It’s gathering twigs for a nest. It relies on its nest. It expects the nest to be there when it returns. But what would happen if I were to smash that nest? Chaos!” His eyes flashed with his own inflated view of his brilliance. Jack took a step back.
“What are you talking about, you megalomaniacal freak?”
“I’m the freak? I am just trying to teach humanity a lesson. The human race - they’re the greatest monsters of them all. Imagine it, Harkness - everyone, everywhere, relying on Archangel for communication, news, entertainment - and then one day, it collapses. Can you imagine the chaos? Can you imagine the decimation?”
Jack stared at him. Saxon’s eyes were shining, and a thin string of drool dangled from his lower lip. Jack wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk from his little face, but he had no sooner taken one step forward when two guards moved up on either side of him. Saxon giggled and gestured to the guards, and Jack felt two ironclad grips seize him.
“You’re standing a little close, even for me,” Jack told them. He flexed his muscles, and felt a corresponding tightening of grip from his captors. Their combined strength was greater than his own, he knew it. He glared across at Saxon and summoned his best ‘cartoon hero.’ “No one’s going to fall for your plan, you realize that, yeah?”
“Of course they will! You see, Harkness, people believe what they want to believe. And they want to believe in the convenience of something like Archangel. Don’t you? Wouldn’t you like, right this minute, to be able to contact anyone on the planet? To access satellite footage of any one place?”
Ianto. Jack kept his face impassive.
“No?” Saxon looked at him out of the corners of his eyes. “Well, just to be sure, I’ve taken the liberty of sending a team to your hotel, to see if you left any . . . items . . . there.”
“You bastard.” The outburst slipped past all his internal controls, and Jack tried desperately to deflect. “You were never going to let us leave here alive, were you? Do you even care about a cure for your wife?”
“I have a certain intellectual curiosity, yes, Harkness, and a certain . . . fondness for Lucy. And as to your first question . . .” He took a step forward. “Of course not.”
***
Jack tossed and turned on his cot that night. He felt lucky to even have a cot, and a glorified closet in Lucy Saxon’s suite to spend the night. The guards had been none-too-gentle on his return to the sick suite, roughly shoving him into his closet and locking him in. They were much more hesitant to manhandle Tosh and Donna, but they were still forced into another cell-like room next to his. It was not at all conducive to helping their patient. Jack could hear Lucy Saxon through his door, shifting restlessly in her bed and mewling softly.
Worries pressed in on him from every side. Tosh coughed in the room next door, and another joined the list. It was surely only a matter of time before Saxon decided Tosh and Donna - and Jack himself, if he couldn’t come up with some way to help Lucy - were dead weight. Their only option was to escape. Jack punched at his thin pillow and tried to run through all the possible exits for the plantation. There were too many guards. They’d have to come up with a distraction.
Jack had managed a whispered conversation with Tosh and Donna through their doors right after the guards left them. They were horrified at Saxon’s plans for Archangel, but Lucy was dying. They needed a plan NOW. Donna thought that instigating a riot and getting the workers on their side should be their course of action. Tosh wanted to bring Lucy Saxon with them, as she felt that Saxon had deliberately poisoned the woman and therefore Lucy had to know something about his mad Archangel plan. Lucy herself made not a peep throughout their discussion, unconscious for at least that part of the night. If Donna craned her neck, she could see Lucy, and she informed Jack that Mrs. Saxon was drooling into her pillow.
Jack yawned and shifted around once more. He wasn’t sure Lucy would tell them anything about Saxon, even if she could. She seemed completely under the man’s spell. Jack was most concerned with getting the three of them out. They could bring back help, but only if they were free to do so. They needed a distraction. What could they use as a diversion? His eyelids drooped closed and he fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were plagued with tantalizing images of Ianto that changed to nightmare scenarios. Ianto on his knees, sucking the head of Jack’s cock, fingers splayed on Jack’s hips became Ianto on his knees, kicked by Saxon’s guards, fingers snapped by a heavy boot. Ianto riding Jack’s cock, head thrown back and moans rumbling up his throat became Ianto, beaten and bloody, head thrown back in a wordless scream. Ianto sleeping peacefully beside him became Ianto lying lifeless on the ground. Jack jerked awake, trembling, and sprung from his cot.
They had to get away from Saxon. He had to prevent Saxon from ever coming across Ianto. Jack paced his small cell, hands balled into fists. There was a way, there had to be a way. He paused and looked out his tiny window, high in the wall. Moonlight streamed in, leaving a light patch on the floor. Somewhere, Ianto was contemplating that same moon, and worrying and wondering. Somewhere safe, Jack devoutly hoped. He’d failed at protecting Ianto once before. He could not do it again.
He eventually stopped pacing and clenching his fists and tried once more for sleep. His scattered dreams featured Ianto again, but no sex and violence. Ianto in the kitchen, turning to him and saying he was learning how to make coq au vin with cherries and beer in place of the chicken and cognac. Ianto inventorying medical supplies, telling him they were out of raisins and fabric softener. Ianto sitting beside him, not saying anything as he formed a cat’s cradle between his hands. Ianto stepping onto a raft made of popsicle sticks and calling over his shoulder to Jack, “Hurry. Hurry. Hurry.”
***
The next morning dawned hot and hazy, with a breeze off the water to make it at least slightly manageable. Saxon appeared uninterested in Evil Overlord chats, and Jack, Tosh and Donna were all put to work in one of the barracks, to offer impromptu doctor appointments for Saxon’s workers, servants and guards. Jack seethed helplessly at the lack of supplies available to help them. Tosh’s inventory from the day before had turned up a canister of tongue depressors, two boxes of plasters, and three bottles of unlabelled pills, mostly empty. All three of them were used to making supplies stretch, but this was ridiculous.
All Tyler Foundation staff went through training to cope with the stress of being in a situation like this, and Jack wrapped himself firmly in his emotional buffer. Seated at the table beside him, Jack could tell that Tosh was using the same technique, keeping her gaze steady and understanding for her current patient. Donna was not doing as good a job of it. Every move telegraphed her fury at the situation. They had to get out of there soon, or Donna’s heart was going to break wide open.
Jack worried over the problem all morning. Using one of Saxon’s boats was a tempting prospect, but he had no idea if any of the workers would want to escape with them, or could help him sail a boat - the language barrier was proving a large obstacle in gauging any prospects for allies. Escaping overland and disappearing into the trees had its merits, but help was far away. And then there was the question of a distraction. He had no solid ideas, and Saxon’s team was closer and closer to discovering Ianto back in Kochi - he was scheduled to arrive in just a few hours.
Saxon requested his presence again at noon. Jack really didn’t want to leave Tosh and Donna, but the large guards with guns didn’t care about his preferences. Tosh gave him a distracted half-smile as he left, and his spirits rose considerably. She had a look on her face that she wore as a mask when the wheels were turning in her clever brain. With any luck, she’d have a plan when he got back.
Instead of taking him back to the office, Saxon’s guards led him back to Lucy’s suite.
“You haven’t made any improvements!” Saxon raged at him the moment he set foot in the room.
“You mean with the canister of tongue depressors?” Jack snapped back. “You want some help for her, you have to give us something to work with here!”
Saxon looked off-balance for just a moment, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him, despite their talk from the previous night. “No excuses, Harkness,” he hissed, collecting himself and pulling himself up to his full height. “You call yourself a doctor? You figure this out.”
He swept past Jack with an imperious wave to his guards. The door locked behind him. Jack stared at it for a moment, reeling. How did a man like that ever get to be the CEO of a lemonade stand, let alone build the largest communications network the world has ever seen?
“Your husband is mad,” Jack directed at Lucy’s prone figure. He did a double-take when she began to laugh, a gargly, wheezy chuckle with little mirth. He crossed the room and looked down at her. Her eyes burned with pain and anger.
“My (wheeze) hus-band (gargle, spit) ‘s goin (gurgle, gurgle) kill you.” Her mouth formed a lop-sided grin, drool leaking from the left corner of her lips.
“You and me both, Mrs. Saxon,” Jack said, and gently wiped away the drool with a clean cloth. “Only I intend to survive.”
***
They were locked in together for over 24 hours.
To his surprise, Lucy appeared to grow stronger, as if she was feeding off her hatred for him. He did a complete search of all the rooms in the suite in the first hour, and repeated it again about ten hours later. Lucy just watched him, croaking with malicious laughter. He couldn’t help but pity her, even as he wished she would just shut up.
There were only four rooms in the suite, and only one door out to the rest of the mansion; the bedroom door that opened out into the laboratory-like space Saxon had used for his experiments. One of the other rooms was a bathroom, and the other two were the little closet-like cells Jack, and Tosh and Donna, had slept in that first night. There was hardly any furniture left in the rooms, and absolutely nothing sharp or heavy. A small cabinet nailed to the floor contained boxes of crackers and biscuits, but that was it for food.
He tried talking to Lucy, but she only spoke to him when he was not talking to her.
“How long have you been married?” he asked. She closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep.
“Did you tell your husband you wanted to be his guinea pig?” he asked another time, and she chuckled her wheezy, croaking laugh.
“Do you know your husband wants to destroy the world with his Archangel system?” he asked conversationally. That got him another creaky threat that her husband would kill him. “I’m getting tired of that threat,” he told her, and went into the bathroom and turned on the water to drown out her gurgling.
He couldn’t stay away for long. She was in so much pain, and utterly insane. He longed to be able to help her somehow, but even the unlabelled bottles of pills were now denied to him. The guards had brought them out for the makeshift doctor’s clinic he’d held with Tosh and Donna.
He worried incessantly about his companions, and about Ianto. He paced an endless loop around the suite. At first he thought he’d be able to see Tosh and Donna at night, when they were brought to their cell in the suite. But no guard came that night, not even when he pounded at the door for a straight hour.
He slept for a couple of hours in the early morning. He dreamed of Ianto, but differently from the previous night. He dreamed of himself and Ianto as old men, pushing a shopping cart in a Tesco’s and debating about fiber supplements and Viagra. He woke up feeling almost refreshed, despite the little sleep he’d had.
Sometime in the late afternoon a key turned in the lock. Jack exchanged a look with Lucy. “You (gargle) die . . . now,” she hissed.
He looked back at the door as it swung open.
Continue to Part II