stop the cycle, set me free ( capnhotness )
( clock is ticking while I'm killing time, spinning all around, nothing else they can do to turn it back )
It's a heavy thing to suggest, that one might actually find time to be bored during the end of the world, but the Doctor has somehow managed just that extreme an accomplishment. If anything, the Master seems to be avoiding him. The ( Read more... )
Jack had asked himself the same question - boiler room, what the hell? - when he had been escorted down several days ago, wondering at the tactical advantage (or, really, disadvantage) of such a seemingly out of place aspect of design. While bored, waiting for the Master to pencil him into his busy taking-over-the-world schedule, Jack attempted to follow the pipes nearest to where he had been chained - a dank sort of corner, really, with not much to look at but pipes and the odd shades cast by the dark purple lighting playing across the steam - but to very little avail. Inexplicable Boiler Room, he'd eventually named the place, but the humor of the thing only lasted a few more hours ... until his slotted time with the Master.
Now, Jack doesn't particularly care for naming rooms without purpose or pondering form without function, as he's far too busy dripping blood in a unique little pattern on the steel plating of the floor and counting his breaths to the sick sort of metronome of the droplets. The hum of the engines drowns out the arrival of the lift - usually he'd be listening very hard for that, tensing involuntarily after the third or so interrogation session with the Master - and the subsequent sounds of the Time Lord talking to himself. Jack's full attention is on the floor, his weight heavy against the slack chains that, despite holding his arms above in him in a horribly uncomfortable position, have allowed him to sink gratefully to his knees. Really, if it weren't for the fact that every nerve ending in his body was alight with some form of pain or another, he'd probably be sleeping. For appearances sake, he seems to be.
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The Doctor is distracted enough by the presence of the boiler room that he spends a good few moments examining it once he exits the lift. The Gallifreyan inspiration of the airship's build is much less obvious in such a rudimentary and decidedly human-constructed place as this, so very out of place in the elegant design of the rest. The Doctor can't fathom what the logic might be in the Master choosing to include it ... unless there's technology at work that he'd disguised back in his days as Harry Saxon by tossing in a boiler room so that anyone without an engineering mind might assume that's how the airship functions. There are many possibilities ...
Eventually, however, the Doctor remembers what it is he was trying to do, and reorients his attention on the small psychic net he's been casting out since leaving the bridge, searching for Jack's presence. The furthest corner of the ship seems like an obvious place for a prisoner ... and, admittedly, the Master seems to be carrying things to a level of rather classic villainy. Relief floods the Time Lord as he catches upon the faintest hint of something, and he follows it, the feeling intensifying -
Until he comes upon Jack, hanging there from the amalgamation of pipes. The Doctor's throat constricts and he can't stop himself from rushing forward, despite the caution that good sense might suggest he err on the side of. He sinks down to kneel in front of the Captain, and reaches gingerly out to touch his hand to his jaw, fingertips drifting lower to check for a pulse. Jack can't endure a lasting death, he knows that as well as anyone, but that doesn't mean he can't repeat the action multiple times before returning from it.
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"Nngh - " Maybe he'd drifted off, hadn't been paying attention to the sound of rushing footsteps or the play of shadow across the floor, but Jack only notices the presence of another when a hand touches his jaw and fingertips press against the pulse point at his neck. He jerks away, as if that's a natural reaction, and takes a somewhat frantic breath of air before he composes himself, shrugs off the annoying rush of fear, and actually looks up. Someone, apparently, tipped the world on its head and for a series of moments he's utterly confused at the fact that he's face-to-face with the Doctor.
"What ... what're you doing here?" Jack tries to ask, past the rough feeling of his throat, and realizes the last time he had any water was in Ears' cell. And he can't for the life of him fathom how long ago that actually was, having no method by which to measure the passing of days. (No sunlight, no clocks, no guard change.) "If this is a rescue," he goes for the more humorous approach, "you're sure taking your sweet time with it."
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For the Doctor, they might as well be back in that cell so many weeks ago, discussing tactics, with Jack selflessly offering himself up as bait to distract the Master from harming the Doctor. His hearts skip a beat at the thought, even as he tentatively reaches forward and tries again at touching the Captain, trying to comfort or soothing or something that he can do. His expression is immeasurably regretful, of his own inability or of Jack's blind, simple faith in him, even the Doctor isn't really certain.
"It's not a rescue," he replies quietly, although he nevertheless does look up to examine the chains, trying to determine if there's anything he can possibly do to pick the locks. There's nothing that the Doctor can do to help Jack actually escape, as such an attempt would only serve to make things worse, after the temporary relief of it. "I'm ... I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I didn't forget, I just - I couldn't find you."
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Although it's difficult to convey with the way his bruised face wants to only work itself into an inelegant grimace, Jack is relieved to see that, for the most part, at least one part of their plan was going off without a hitch. The Doctor looks ... a lot better than Jack feels. Which says more than enough about both of their current states, doesn't it? Except for the regretful expression, which Jack can only attempt to do away with by trying on an only somewhat ill-fitting smile, careful and reassuring despite the swollen lip. He doesn't regret this part of the plan, not for a single second, and he only wishes the Doctor wouldn't look at him like that. It's a good plan, in the way that it's kind of the only plan, but it's still a good plan.
"Damn," he mutters, leaning into the not-so-startling touch that the Doctor renews. It is comforting, more comforting than Jack can possibly convey, because it must be days since anyone touched him, since he shared a cell with Ears, and before that it was weeks. He almost feels like he's starving to death, only he's hungry for physical contact beyond ... the decidedly violent sort the Master amply provides. "It's okay, I didn't expect you to come at all." Honestly, he didn't and he's still marveling at the idea of it. "How ... ?" Jack asks a little inarticulately.
The chains look relatively simple, joined to heavy steel shackles around both of Jack's wrists and disappearing upwards into the network of piping and shadows that comprise the ceiling above, but if they were all that simple, wouldn't he have broken free of them by now?
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Trying very hard not to make things worse than they already are, the Doctor carefully schools his expression back into something less ... distraught, but the upset is still clear in the sheen of tears cast across his eyes. He draws in an unsteady breath, fingertips mapping the mottled landscape of bruises and abrasions across skin, his hearts sinking just a little with acknowledgment of each.
"I managed to ... slip out," the Doctor replies ambiguously, wishing that he'd had enough foresight to think to bring something. Food, water, a proper lock pick. He's here, finally found Jack after weeks, and he can hardly offer any real comfort. "He's been ignoring me lately. I've had - almost free roam of the ship. Certain places I'm not allowed to go." He doesn't bother explaining the dynamics of how it all works, not wanting Jack to know about all the pain he's experienced. The last thing the Doctor wants to do is make the Captain's martyrdom a useless one.
He's almost afraid to ask, but the question comes out, shakily, "Is this where you've been the whole time?"
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It ... doesn't really make sense to him, honestly. He can't seem to fathom why the Doctor would have such relatively easy freedom - almost free roam of the ship! - while he and the other prisoners are kept under strict lock-and-key. But his brain feels heavy in his skull, too heavy to think logically about the situation and come to a conclusion that makes sense, and he's too tired to ask for a proper explanation. He trusts the Doctor, perhaps too much, and if he isn't getting the whole story, which seems to be the case, then he must not be getting it for a damn good reason.
"No," Jack answers after a thoughtful pause, during which he attempts to school his voice into something steady enough to reassure the Doctor's shaky tone. "No, I was ... in a cell by myself for a while, then in with - with your alternate." He won't talk about spending weeks dying over and over, like the Master had been testing the resilience of the universe in light of the brand new fact Rose Tyler made, because that isn't conducive to reassuring the Doctor the way he'd like to. "You okay, Doc?" He leans into the touch just a little more, trying to take the desperate edge off the way his voice worked around the question, but he does need to know honestly.
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His alternate ... the Doctor wants to ask more about that little matter, actually, among so many other things, but now hardly seems like the time. Now that he has been fortunate enough to actually find Jack, he hates to waste the opportunity. He has no guarantees that the Captain will still be here the next time he returns, and fewer still that the Master won't find out (if he isn't already on the way to disrupt it), and take extra special care to keep it from happening again.
At the question, the Doctor offers a surprisingly bright, reassuring smile. "I'm fantastic -" He pauses, with an offhanded tilt of his head. "Well, you know, aside from this whole end of the world thing. But it'll be all right." The cheer in his seamless lie can only go so far, and he trails off after a moment, not wanting to carry on the facade long enough for Jack to see through it. He needs the Captain to believe his sacrifice is worth it. And it is, even if it's so ... senseless. The Master is, somehow, hurting the Doctor more in this way than with the limitation device.
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Jack wouldn't have believed it initially - that the Master could conceivably hurt the Doctor through him - given the latter's aloof and almost heartless reaction to his presence (when compared to their former relationship standing). But ... after their brief time together in the cell the day the world ended? Grudgingly, the Captain has to admit that perhaps his plan of action - this whole distracting the Master by being a particularly tough nut to crack, metaphorically speaking, thing - probably isn't the wisest, particularly if he wants to spare the Doctor's feelings. It's too late to turn back now, even if he wanted to.
"Fantastic," he repeats a little breathlessly, amusement in his voice. Now he's pretty damn sure the Doctor is lying, but it's a nice lie and he would've liked to have held onto it ... only it seems to slip away from him like so much water through his fingers. "You're pretty good at this lying thing, Doc. 'Specially with this new regeneration." Jack almost laughs, but it turns into a wince and he only manages a bit of a grin instead. "It's the freckles, they kind of throw a guy off guard. Don't expect to be lied to so much by a cute guy with cute freckles, you know?"
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The Doctor wants to protest that, to deny that he's lying and insist it's the truth, but once called out, he can't take it any further. "I'm sorry," he apologizes, his voice more serious now. "I don't mean to lie to you, Jack." Except that the truth would hurt too much. Just the same as why he could never actually, directly, tell Rose why they couldn't simply go back for Captain Jack, and had always evaded the subject whenever she asked.
Now, he feels almost guilty, as he moves closer, settling as comfortably as possible on his knees across from Jack. "I need to ..." the Doctor trails off, indicating with his hands settling on either side of the Captain's face. "I don't know how much time I have. While I'm here, I just need to check." He frowns, cutting himself off and forcing the words to be ambiguous, because they're probably being recorded. "I know you wouldn't willingly give anything away, but ..." Well, the Master is powerful. The Doctor is reminded of that every time he steps out of bounds and is crumpled with pain.
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"It's all right," Jack responds automatically, then seems to catch himself up sort with a sharp in-take of breath. "Actually," he corrects, "it's not, but I don't - I'm not worried, is what I mean. I trust you even when you're lying." And that, he thinks ridiculously, sums up his relationship with the Doctor perfectly. Hadn't that been the situation on Game Station, anyway?
Another breath, this time deeper and obviously used to steady himself, pulls at his lungs between an automatic response (that he ends up stifling) and the one he actually gives thoughtful pause and consideration to. He needs to stop spouting off the first thing that comes to mind, he knows, but it's difficult after so many weeks of never getting an opportunity to talk and the last few days of repeating, over and over, the only simple information he's willing to give the Master. It's dangerous, too dangerous, to just let his mouth run away with him. "I understand." It's such a ridiculously short response compared to what he wants to say, to everything running through his head, but it's necessary.
Jack fights indecision (and a little hint of fear) before deciding on closing his eyes and allowing the Doctor to, as he said, 'check.' For some reason, the Master hasn't attempted to breach the telepathic barriers the Doctor erected so many weeks prior, but they seem somewhat weakened - like a slow leak in a tire - by the lowering of all his defenses with Ears some days before.
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The last thing, the very last thing, that the Doctor wants to do is hurt Jack further, and the hesitation in the response gives him pause. But it really is necessary, or else he would not ask. It would be disastrous upon them all for the Master to discover all the vast knowledge floating about in the head of Captain Jack Harkness. He certainly must know more than any human currently existing on Earth in this universe.
The Doctor closes his eyes and his expression slackens into something peaceful and almost blank, brows knit ever so slightly in concentration. Getting inside Jack's head is considerably easier than it was the time before, although there are proverbial footprints that have been tread since then as well. Alarm prickles at first, questioning whether the Master has tried to pry around in Jack's mind, but it seems too ... clumsy.
Needs a bit of work, the Doctor comments lightly, as he begins the task of putting everything back into place. Then the tone of his 'voice' becomes subtler, more serious. Thank you for fighting so hard.
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Probably, he admits, pointedly without the reluctance he's outwardly shown. His mind, of course, is a bubble of questions and comments and apologies that he tries to suppress for the sake of allowing the Doctor to work in peace. It's only with the change in the Doctor's 'tone' that Jack relaxes a little more, doesn't fight the current of his own mind, and answers with an honest rush of emotion. Anytime. It's simple, almost daftly so, but the emotional aspect of the answer not conveyed in words is ... love.
Beyond the feeling of the Doctor inside his head, in the murky surroundings Jack is no longer paying attention to (and he really, really should be), there's a very light footstep accompanied by a very subtle change in the way the odd purple lighting throws shadows across the hallway just beyond the alcove where the pipes converge and the Captain is chained.
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Oh, come now, you don't need to hide anything from me, the Doctor responds to Jack's attempts at suppression, but just the same there is the clear understanding conveyed that if there's anything he doesn't want the Doctor to see, Jack has but to shut it away. The Time Lord won't go prying about where he isn't welcome ... but then, Jack should know that intimately as well.
The Doctor falls silent physically and mentally as he sets about his work, and has just finished his fortification of the barriers when the Master's presence, as much as the sound of the footsteps, reach his ears. He lets out a slow breath, hardly eager to let Jack know what's coming. Jack. I just want you to remember ... no matter what, I love you, and you're fantastic. All right?
Then, as calmly and easily as pulling a proverbial plug, he does just that. There's a twinge of guilt, of intrusion, as he does it, overstepping his bounds. But the Doctor doesn't do it with regret, not at all.
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The Master, observing silently from the shadows cast across the series of pipes serving as the alcove doorway, leans up from his casual pose and takes a step forward the moment the fact goes limp against his chains. "Doctor," the Time Lord murmurs, punctuating what serves as a greeting with a chiding click of his tongue. Another step closer and the Doctor will no doubt feel the almost casual wash of relief that accompanies the Master's presence, that annoying and persistent background itch he's been gifted with subsiding entirely.
"As much freedom as you can be trusted with and this is what you choose to do with it? How very disappointing."
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Leaving the Captain slack in his chains - as uncomfortable as it may be, at least it's safer than letting him stay awake; or at least, he'll justify it as such - the Doctor gets to his feet and turns to face the Master, his expression unreadable. He lingers in silence, waiting for the other Time Lord to speak - then, inexplicably, the customary manic grin cuts across his face.
"Well!" the Doctor exclaims, distantly annoyed at the relief he feels at the Master's presence. "So you finally came out to play. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were avoiding me."
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