For oncoming_storms 77.4 Communicating without speech
Jack mouths something, two short words, and John’s only response is to roll his eyes. He frowns and decides to move closer, intent on causing him a bit of bodily harm. Three steps in and he feels his forehead smack against an unseen but entirely solid barrier, presumably made by the same technology that turned the room into a vacuum moments before. The only reason they’re still alive is the masks they were each ordered to take along with them on the mission, and for which Jack is entirely grateful for.
It took him seven seconds from the moment the air left the room to pull it out of his pocket and get the thing running. Seven seconds without air, opening his mouth and forcing his diaphragm to contract. Seven seconds of being unable to make his lungs expand because there was no oxygen to pull in. Though he’d never admit it to anyone, the feeling that had welled up inside him then was one of pure panic, desperation to live and draw just one more breath. His first thought when he had slipped the mask on was that he never wanted to die of suffocation.
He doesn’t need to look up to know John is laughing, he can practically hear the mocking tone in that huge grin of his. His own response is a lewd gesture which, under different circumstances, would spell a wonderfully hedonistic night for both. As it is, the other man should be smart enough to be thankful for the barrier. Jack’s lips twitch up in a snarl, but any intimidation he might have garnered from the gesture is lost thanks to the very thing that is allowing him to breathe. The mask is just about the size of his cupped hand, made of a clear material. It’s edges are made to adhere easily to the skin, creating a miniature vacuum into which oxygen can be pumped from an adjacent chamber, this one no bigger than his thumb. The mechanism there functions through a series of chemical reactions which form a balance of oxygen and carbon dioxide molecules as a byproduct. But in order for energy to be released, it must be expended first and there in the masks limit lies. If they don’t find a way out within a couple of hours, the masks will become as useless to them as their voices are now.
Jack is already beginning to grow bored of this, and from the looks of it he’s not the only one. John has taken to pounding his fists against the barrier, screaming at the top of his lungs some highly graphic thread or other. This makes Jack frown, and he curls his own hand into a fist. He slams it once against the barrier, falling an inch short of John’s face. He gives him a look, making a slashing motion across his throat, and that’s all it takes to make the other fall silent. He doesn’t need John keeling over before him simply because he’s too stupid to waste more oxygen than necessary. Satisfied, he nods his head up and gestures at his side of the room, tracing a small circle with his forefinger. He receives a nod in return before turning and making his way around the room, trusting that John will inspect his own side as closely as possible.
It takes them both four hours before they finally find it; a small dent on each of the opposite walls, easy enough to miss if you don’t know what you’re looking for or, in their case, aren’t stubborn enough to drag your fingers over every inch of space. All Jack has to do is hold up three fingers for John to see; they each dig a fingernail into their corresponding dent within milliseconds of each other, and the hiss of the air entering the room is matched by the soft whine of their masks finally running out of air to pump.
“What’d I always tell you? Partners in every way.”
Jack’s fist connects squarely with his partner’s cheek, the smack of flesh against flesh reverberating inside their would-be funeral box. “Next time, you do as I tell you. I should have let you screamed your oxygen supply away.”
John’s only response is to give him a lopsided grin. “And here I thought you cared.”
Even as Jack leans in to kiss him, he can’t help but wonder if it’d be better for everyone down the line if one day he just let John scream his life away.
Character: Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Word Count: 757
Prompt: Write a story where the major characters can't communicate using speech.