Of Meetings and Reunions - Chapter 7
Alright, chatper 7! Next in my Jack/Jack fic.
Most of this chapter is a dream/flashback taken from when Jack mentions about the time when he and his best friend were captured.
Enjoy!
Of Meetings and Reunions - Ch. 7
Pairing: Jack/Jack
Rating: high T, maybe M
Summary: real!Jack was sent forward in time, where he meets Jack (James) and the Doctor. Why was he sent there?
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Doctor Who, no matter how much I wish I did ;)
Chapter 7: Flashback/Dream Torchwood!Jack = James
James blinked open his eyes, everything around him seemed dark and dim, so that he could barely make out his surroundings. He tried to turn his head to the side but found that he couldn’t, something was holding his head in place.
At first he heard nothing in this darkness, but slowly, subtlety, he could hear faint noises and sounds, as though they were very far off and filtered through. Following the distant sounds, the darkness started to fade to show blurry outlines of people and objects, despite the pictures being unclear, the noise and sounds were becoming more distinct and louder.
James could now here the noises as voices from different people and aliens that he has met. Some he doesn’t recognize and others he remembers from long ago. They all mixed together to form a jumble of voices, getting louder and louder, like a crescendo, before it all went deathly quiet again.
Then, one voice started to talk, and with it, the blurry picture became clearer, till it showed him in the dank, filthy, putrid inside of the bowls of a ship. James’ eyes widened as he saw himself and the very few others still alive, surrounded by a sea of corpses.
“Oh, god, it- it…,”the thought raced through James’ head, he could do nothing but watch as this traumatizing experience was played out in front of him.
(James will be known as Jack for this next part. Just to avoid any confusion)
Jack looked over the small, dank room in which he, his friend and a few others were being kept, the stench of the dead bodies, of people who had been captured with or before them, filling his nostrils and making him nauseous.
He didn’t know how long they had been there, or even what his real name was anymore. Names didn’t matter in this place, this place that was worse than any hell. They were never given any identification other than whatever the creatures decided to call them for that moment.
His friend wasn’t there with him, he had been dragged away for another session. They couldn’t scream anymore, their throats were raw or their vocal cords cut out; the few that were still alive had retreated back into the minds, they blocked out what was happening on the outside. But even that didn’t stop these things, they found a way to torture the victims mentally: by not allowing them to retreat into their minds, by forcing them to stay in the present.
As a door opened, Jack froze, his wide blue eyes filling with fear and dread at the prospect of being the next one to be taken, but when the creature threw his friend back into their cell and closed the door, relief rushed through him, he did not have to experience another session.
His friend moaned, but Jack did not dare to utter one sound, for fear that those things would hear him, he didn’t even dare to twitch one muscle.
“Home…,” his friend moaned pitifully, “sun…wind…” He continued to mutter these things, about their home. It amazed Jack that the other boy could even remember what home was.
The only thing that kept Jack from insanity so far was music, songs that his mother had taught him. He never sang these songs aloud in this place, he only sang them quietly in his head. While he did this his blank blue eyes would stare at nothing, his body gaunt and skeletal, his mind doing its best to cope with what was happening.
Jack did not know how much time passed before the door opened again to admit one of the creatures, who took both his and his friend’s chains, attached to collars, and dragged them out of the room and down a long corridor to a another room, this one bigger than the others that they had been in.
This bigger room was filled with, what Jack knew from experience to be, instruments meant for torture, and nothing else. Jack did not even try to resist when they threw the both of them in there, knowing that it would only make the session worse, and he also didn’t have the strength for it.
The only difference in the routine was that their torturer tied Jack to a metallic ring which held his arms above his head, his feet barley touching the ground, and sending electric shocks at random intervals.
His friend was strapped town to a slab, whose surface was covered in tiny sharp points, designed to create constant pain when a living thing was put on it. The creature went over to the implements and selected a small knife, the edges lined with an acid, which he then took over to the slab and stood so that Jack could see what he was doing.
He gave a-- smile-- full of joy at what he was doing, before taking the knife and bringing it to the other boy’s eyelid, cutting it away, at a maddeningly slow and pain filled pace. The torture continued in this vein for some time, cutting off the eyelids and cutting out the irises of the eyes. Jack friend could only whimper at the phantom pain that he was feeling as he watched, having no strength left to scream.
The older Jack strained against his invisible bonds, wanting desperately to help his younger self and his friend.
“Stop! Let me go, please, stop, I have to-let me-please! I need to… I…stop…please…,”Jack trailed off brokenly, the memories overwhelming him, the tears streaming down his face.
Before him, his younger self was watching as his best friend was slowly and painfully killed, since he was too weak to provide any more “entertainment” for the captors. His friends blood mixing with the old blood that dried on the floor and the walls. Even Jack’s wounds had reopened since the torturer would get bored and have “fun” with Jack for a bit.
Finally, finally, Jack’s friend was put out of his misery, when his body could no longer sustain itself from the blood loss. After that a few of the, what seemed to be higher ranking, creatures came in and they talked in their guttural tongue. They appeared to have reached some sort of decision for they turned back to the younger Jack and approached him.
(Jack will now be going back to being James (Torchwood!Jack))
James shot up from his prone position, tears drying on his face from his nightmare, on the dirty floor of what appeared to be a room in the lower levels of a building.
There was dust everywhere, and the air was thick and stale, but what struck James was not the darkness or the stale air, it was the tools and implements hanging and leaning against two of the walls that made hi freeze.
His face lost what little color it had after the nightmarish memory, and he started to tremble, as some the of those tools were used by those things. He quickly looked around to see if there was a door that he could escape through, finding none he looked all over the room, avoiding the walls with the implements.
James stood as far away from the torture devices as he could get, trying to distract himself by thinking of a way to get himself out of the room he was in.
He stood stock still when he heard a minute sound of something heading toward room he was trapped in. He hid in the darkest corner of the room, but still having a good vantage point, as the previously hidden door began to open and James tensed for whatever would come through that opening.
Review please!! Criticism is appreciated!
Most of this chapter is a dream/flashback taken from when Jack mentions about the time when he and his best friend were captured.
Enjoy!
Of Meetings and Reunions - Ch. 7
Pairing: Jack/Jack
Rating: high T, maybe M
Summary: real!Jack was sent forward in time, where he meets Jack (James) and the Doctor. Why was he sent there?
Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood or Doctor Who, no matter how much I wish I did ;)
Chapter 7: Flashback/Dream Torchwood!Jack = James
James blinked open his eyes, everything around him seemed dark and dim, so that he could barely make out his surroundings. He tried to turn his head to the side but found that he couldn’t, something was holding his head in place.
At first he heard nothing in this darkness, but slowly, subtlety, he could hear faint noises and sounds, as though they were very far off and filtered through. Following the distant sounds, the darkness started to fade to show blurry outlines of people and objects, despite the pictures being unclear, the noise and sounds were becoming more distinct and louder.
James could now here the noises as voices from different people and aliens that he has met. Some he doesn’t recognize and others he remembers from long ago. They all mixed together to form a jumble of voices, getting louder and louder, like a crescendo, before it all went deathly quiet again.
Then, one voice started to talk, and with it, the blurry picture became clearer, till it showed him in the dank, filthy, putrid inside of the bowls of a ship. James’ eyes widened as he saw himself and the very few others still alive, surrounded by a sea of corpses.
“Oh, god, it- it…,”the thought raced through James’ head, he could do nothing but watch as this traumatizing experience was played out in front of him.
(James will be known as Jack for this next part. Just to avoid any confusion)
Jack looked over the small, dank room in which he, his friend and a few others were being kept, the stench of the dead bodies, of people who had been captured with or before them, filling his nostrils and making him nauseous.
He didn’t know how long they had been there, or even what his real name was anymore. Names didn’t matter in this place, this place that was worse than any hell. They were never given any identification other than whatever the creatures decided to call them for that moment.
His friend wasn’t there with him, he had been dragged away for another session. They couldn’t scream anymore, their throats were raw or their vocal cords cut out; the few that were still alive had retreated back into the minds, they blocked out what was happening on the outside. But even that didn’t stop these things, they found a way to torture the victims mentally: by not allowing them to retreat into their minds, by forcing them to stay in the present.
As a door opened, Jack froze, his wide blue eyes filling with fear and dread at the prospect of being the next one to be taken, but when the creature threw his friend back into their cell and closed the door, relief rushed through him, he did not have to experience another session.
His friend moaned, but Jack did not dare to utter one sound, for fear that those things would hear him, he didn’t even dare to twitch one muscle.
“Home…,” his friend moaned pitifully, “sun…wind…” He continued to mutter these things, about their home. It amazed Jack that the other boy could even remember what home was.
The only thing that kept Jack from insanity so far was music, songs that his mother had taught him. He never sang these songs aloud in this place, he only sang them quietly in his head. While he did this his blank blue eyes would stare at nothing, his body gaunt and skeletal, his mind doing its best to cope with what was happening.
Jack did not know how much time passed before the door opened again to admit one of the creatures, who took both his and his friend’s chains, attached to collars, and dragged them out of the room and down a long corridor to a another room, this one bigger than the others that they had been in.
This bigger room was filled with, what Jack knew from experience to be, instruments meant for torture, and nothing else. Jack did not even try to resist when they threw the both of them in there, knowing that it would only make the session worse, and he also didn’t have the strength for it.
The only difference in the routine was that their torturer tied Jack to a metallic ring which held his arms above his head, his feet barley touching the ground, and sending electric shocks at random intervals.
His friend was strapped town to a slab, whose surface was covered in tiny sharp points, designed to create constant pain when a living thing was put on it. The creature went over to the implements and selected a small knife, the edges lined with an acid, which he then took over to the slab and stood so that Jack could see what he was doing.
He gave a-- smile-- full of joy at what he was doing, before taking the knife and bringing it to the other boy’s eyelid, cutting it away, at a maddeningly slow and pain filled pace. The torture continued in this vein for some time, cutting off the eyelids and cutting out the irises of the eyes. Jack friend could only whimper at the phantom pain that he was feeling as he watched, having no strength left to scream.
The older Jack strained against his invisible bonds, wanting desperately to help his younger self and his friend.
“Stop! Let me go, please, stop, I have to-let me-please! I need to… I…stop…please…,”Jack trailed off brokenly, the memories overwhelming him, the tears streaming down his face.
Before him, his younger self was watching as his best friend was slowly and painfully killed, since he was too weak to provide any more “entertainment” for the captors. His friends blood mixing with the old blood that dried on the floor and the walls. Even Jack’s wounds had reopened since the torturer would get bored and have “fun” with Jack for a bit.
Finally, finally, Jack’s friend was put out of his misery, when his body could no longer sustain itself from the blood loss. After that a few of the, what seemed to be higher ranking, creatures came in and they talked in their guttural tongue. They appeared to have reached some sort of decision for they turned back to the younger Jack and approached him.
(Jack will now be going back to being James (Torchwood!Jack))
James shot up from his prone position, tears drying on his face from his nightmare, on the dirty floor of what appeared to be a room in the lower levels of a building.
There was dust everywhere, and the air was thick and stale, but what struck James was not the darkness or the stale air, it was the tools and implements hanging and leaning against two of the walls that made hi freeze.
His face lost what little color it had after the nightmarish memory, and he started to tremble, as some the of those tools were used by those things. He quickly looked around to see if there was a door that he could escape through, finding none he looked all over the room, avoiding the walls with the implements.
James stood as far away from the torture devices as he could get, trying to distract himself by thinking of a way to get himself out of the room he was in.
He stood stock still when he heard a minute sound of something heading toward room he was trapped in. He hid in the darkest corner of the room, but still having a good vantage point, as the previously hidden door began to open and James tensed for whatever would come through that opening.
Review please!! Criticism is appreciated!