Fic: Valiant 13/38
Title: Valiant Chapter 13/38
Author: MeiLin
Characters/pairing in this chapter: Gwen, Jack, the Master
Rating for this chapter: PG
Summary for this chapter: Gwen tells Jack what happened to the team.
A/N for this chapter: A version of story originally appeared as part of "We'll Meet Again." It has been heavily revised and extended.
Valiant Central Page
It was cold in the Valiant's brig. Gwen Cooper sat on the floor, slumped against the cell wall, her dark hair nearly covering her face. She clutched her blood-soaked jacket around her.
Stretched out on the bunk bolted to the opposite wall lay her boss, Jack Harkness, dead of a bullet to the--well. There were so many bullet holes, who could say.
Jack came to with a sharp intake of breath, for at least the tenth time since the Master's take-over--he was beginning to lose count how many times he'd been killed just for the fun of it. Gwen looked up for a moment, her wide eyes empty and uncomprehending. Jack stared wildly about the cell for a moment, getting his bearings. His eyes focused--and there she was.
"Oh my God. Gwen?" He sat up shakily on the bed. Gwen made no move to help, but stared off into the middle distance, as if the space below the bunk contained the horizon. "Are you hurt?" His strength slowly returning, he slipped off the bunk and crouched on the floor next to her. "Gwen!" He shook her slightly. "Are you hurt!"
Gwen didn't look at him. "No."
Jack began gently peeling the jacket from her, sticky with blood. "If it's not yours, whose blood is this? C'mon honey, talk to me."
"It's Ianto's," she said, almost dreamily. Jack sat down hard, choking back sudden tears. Awareness flickered in the back of Gwen's hazel eyes. "Jack?"
"I'm here. Give me your other arm." Gwen obeyed, moving slowly, and Jack finished removing the jacket and coaxed her onto the bunk beside him.
"They're dead. All of them. They--we went to Pakistan. No one seemed to know what was going on, why we were there, and then..." She wrinkled her brow, trying to think. "There were these globes..."
"I know," murmured Jack. "I'm going to take your shirt off now." Ianto's blood had soaked through the jacket in places. Jack unbuttoned the shirt and eased her arms out of it, leaving her in a silk thermal vest and her bra. In the corner was a small pail of water left for him to drink; he dipped the shirt tail in it and used it to begin wiping the dried blood from her hands and face.
"We ran. And we got separated. Ianto and I came upon some soldiers--they were British, but they shot at us," she marveled. Her voice was dazed, almost a whisper. "We made it to Tatu Village, they cornered us in Tatu. Ianto tried to...they shot him. They couldn't reach us yet, but they shot at us, and Ianto pushed me down and he..." She trailed off. "He bled to death. They let him bleed to death." Jack squeezed his eyes shut, but tears slipped out and down his face. "He always had such pretty rosy cheeks, Ianto. Ashen he was, all ashen. I'm so cold."
Jack put his arms around her and pulled her down to lie next to him on the narrow bed. He pulled his great coat over them for a blanket.
"They sat me in the back of a lorry with them. Owen and Tosh and Ianto. Tosh and Owen were all tangled up. She--" Gwen swallowed hard. "They shot them. The back of Tosh's head was gone. They wouldn't let me close Owen's eyes." A long pause. Her enormous eyes searched his face. "Are you actually here, Jack, or am I imagining you?"
"I'm here, sweetheart," he said, cuddling her closer. "I'm here, Gwen. I won't leave you."
Gwen began to shake uncontrollably. She felt so small in his arms, almost like a child, and he began to rock her gently back and forth, stroking her hair and singing softly to her in his low tenor. He ran through every song he knew that night, down to "Chattanooga Choo-Choo," "Yellow Submarine" and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" before coming back around to his favorite.
"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when," he whispered, cradling her. "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." Exhaustion finally stopped her shaking, and she dropped off into a dead sleep.
Only then did Jack allow himself to really cry, as silently as he could, breathing in the scent of her hair mingled with Ianto's blood.
"Where were you, Jack?"
Jack roused from his light doze. "You're awake." His left arm was falling asleep, and he shifted Gwen's weight a little.
"I asked, where were you." Gwen's voice was flat and her eyes were hard, but she stayed in his arms, glaring up at him. Angry, but an improvement from barely coherent, thought Jack.
He sighed aloud. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I would never have left you all for any other reason in the world, you have to believe that." He kissed the top of her head. "The Doctor came back."
Her eyes softened. "The one you've been looking for--the 'right kind'?--came back?, It wasn't 'doctor' in the abstract, you actually knew this doctor, then."
"Ohhh, yes." They were silent for a moment.
"So he wasn't able to--to help you, I take it."
"No." Jack stared at the ceiling. "There's nothing he can do." She squeezed him gently in sympathy.
"Has there been a coup in the UK, then? What's happening, why were we attacked by our own people like that? Is the Prime Minister still in power?"
"You were set up. Saxon is an alien."
Gwen sat up on one elbow, the great coat covering them slipping from her shoulder. "What?!"
"He's an old enemy of the Doctor, calls himself the Master. Same species as the Doc--Time Lords." Gwen stared at him open-mouthed. He reached up and wryly tapped her chin--"Sweetheart, you're catching flies"--and sobered again. "He's taken the Doctor prisoner. This guy's the real thing--crazy maniac intent on taking over the universe. He's starting here."
Gwen sat up all the way, scrabbling for her shirt. "Then what's the plan? What are we doing?"
He took her hands and held them; she turned to him, so pale her freckles stood out in stark relief. "The Doctor has a plan, but I'm not sure what it is," he said gently. "Martha's out there somewhere working on it. There's nothing we can do except wait."
"Martha Jones?" said Gwen incredulously. "The terrorist Martha Jones? We're leaving this up to a terrorist."
"She's no terrorist, she's a medical student. She's another friend of the Doctor's, and she's the bravest girl I know. Well--" he said, tilting his head and smiling slightly at Gwen--"one of 'em."
Gwen turned even paler. "I'm not brave. I'm not." She gathered her shirt in her hands, connecting the smeared dots of Ianto's blood with a fingertip. "He died protecting me. And I have to sit here and wait for a girl--a medical student no less, no training, no nothing, and a suspected terrorist to boot--to magically save us." She turned wild eyes to Jack. "I held Ianto while he died. His last thoughts were of Lisa--and you." Jack flinched. "They blew Tosh's brains out! She was clinging so hard to Owen when they died that the soldiers couldn't separate them--they were buried in each other's arms."
Her voice rose, more than a touch of hysteria in it. "I watched them record the mass burial of three of my best friends in an unmarked grave with hundreds of others--men, women and children--and here I am, alive in-in an aircraft carrier in the sky! And I don't know why, and I don't know what's happened to Rhys, and you want me to wait?!"
Just then the cell door slammed open and the Prime Minister stuck his head in.
"I'm sorry, is this a bad time? Should I come back later? No," he grinned, "I don't think there's such a thing as a bad time for a visit from me, is there. It's always SO good to see me."
He strolled into the cell, two UNIT commandos at his back and his wife at his side. "HEL-lo, PC Cooper, I'm the Master. Your Master. And you're alive simply because I thought it'd be fun to give the freak here a first-person account of the destruction of Torchwood. Could've been any of you, really. You were just the one who hid best behind the others."
Gwen bit off a moan. Jack tensed, and the commandos raised their machine guns. "Ah-ah, 'Captain,' I don't think she shares your special talent, does she?" tsked the Master. "Stand up, ducks, let's have a look at you." He waved Gwen up from the bunk; she looked to Jack, he gave her a slight nod, and she rose shakily to her feet.
"Look at those eyes, Luce, big as saucers, isn't that the phrase?" The Master whistled. "And the cute little gap between the teeth? Makes you wonder what kissing her is like, doesn't it? Ooh, better--" he leaned toward Jack confidentially and nearly whispered. "I wonder how that feels when she's blowing you." Gwen colored deeply and her breath picked up; Jack merely glared. "Or have you already found that out? Perhaps I should keep her and find out for myself. No smart remarks? We must've hit a nerve, Lucy! Usually I have to kill him to shut him up!" Lucy shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
The Master reached out and tweaked one of Gwen's nipples, stiff from the cold. Before she could stop herself, Gwen's hand shot out, grabbed the Master's thumb and pulled back hard, a move that usually resulted in a shriek of pain from her attacker. But not this time.
He moved so fast she couldn't track exactly what he'd done. But before she knew what had happened, she was on her knees before him, one arm pulled up and behind her back, hard, the Master's hand fisted in her hair. "Oh, darling! if I'd known you were this eager, I would have put you up in my suite!" he laughed. He let her go, throwing her to the floor.
"I think it's time for a field trip. I can show you the sights of Cardiff."
The only living things in Cardiff stood on the windswept Roald Dahl Plass, or what was left of it. Smoke filled the air from buildings still burning all around the city. The bay was lowering, a dark, unsettling color. The Torchwood 3 hub, once buried deep underneath the Plass, was a gaping hole.
"The whole city," whispered Gwen. "You killed the whole city...my parents...Rhys..."
"Couldn't have aliens and time travelers skulking about, and I didn't want to bother tracking them all down individually," the Master shrugged. "You can't ever tell who else might've been keeping tabs on what you were doing here, and I couldn't be too careful, could I? I mean, how many gits did you lot let track you down--starting with the Girl Detective here?" He rolled his eyes. "By the time I became Prime Minister, you even had groupies! Rassilon's ball sac, you had to have been THE worst secret organization of all time!" he cried, flinging his arms wide.
Gwen wheeled around, tears running down her face. "You murdered every soul in Cardiff because of us?!"
"Well. If it makes it any easier, it was also really fun," he giggled, throwing a rock into the pit. "Wasn't it, kids?" he shouted.
His escort of silver globes dipped and swooped in the air, echoing "Fun! Fun! Fun!" in their high, childish voices. The Master scrabbled happily through the ruins looking for good throwing rocks, leaving the Toclafane and his soldiers to watch his prisoners.
Gwen faced the bay, trying to control her breathing. The wind whipped her dark hair and dried the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were the color of the water, and her mouth was set in a grim line. She picked up one foot and shook it, then the other.
"Gwen," said Jack, his voice low and urgent. "Don't. I need you to stay." He put an arm around her shoulder.
"I can't. I can't go back up there. I have to do something."
"And what exactly do you think you can do on your own?" he whispered urgently.
"And what exactly do you think will happen to me if I go back with you?" she hissed. "What do I have to live for otherwise if I don't try?"
"I'd--" He stopped before he could say, 'I'd take care of you.' "We'd have each other," he answered lamely, watching the Master throw increasingly large chunks of concrete into what was once his home.
"And I love you, Jack. I do. You have been a friend and a teacher and a brother and--I love you." Her voice broke a little, and she waited to recover, taking his hand in hers. "Know that. We will always have each other. Always. No matter where we are, whether we're together or not, whether--whether I'm alive or not. And I can't go back up there."
Jack kissed her temple and murmured something low into her hair. He pulled back and studied her expressive face, those incredible, sad eyes, the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It was a good thing, he thought, that he couldn't see that goddamn sexy little gap in her teeth or his heart would break.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You could come with me, you know."
"No. I can't leave the Doctor alone with him. That's something *I* have to do." They were silent for a moment, his arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist, leaning into each other.
"Right," said Jack, blowing out a big breath and blinking back tears. He scanned the Plass and went back to looking at the bay. "Manhole into the sewer, no cover, ten meters behind you. I am betting the Weevils are still down there, and they're not likely to be happy about the paradox."
"After all that's happened, I can handle Weevils. And if I can't, it doesn't matter."
"Promise me you'll try. Promise, Gwen." She nodded. "Okay. Be ready."
Jack took his arm from around her shoulders, took up her hand and started moving closer to the manhole. When they were within five meters, Jack suddenly broke free of her and ran straight at the Master, tackling him to the ground. The soldiers took off after him with a shout, and Gwen took her chance, skimming her feet down the sides of the manhole ladder out of sight.
Two of the soldiers made as if to follow while the rest of them peeled Jack off the Master. "Don't bother," he called, dusting off his suit. "Just hold him, would you? Wouldn't do to have him scuttling down there after her." The soldiers dutifully pinned Jack's arms behind him. He knew what was coming next, and he didn't care. Gwen had gotten clear.
The Master walked nonchalantly up to him, straightening his tie and shooting his cuffs. "Well!" he beamed, bouncing slightly on his toes. "That went very well! Oh, don't worry, Jackie," crooned the Master as Jack's face went blank. He chucked Jack under the chin. "She won't get lost. We'll know just where she is. She's still carrying her earpiece. Torchwood issue. GPS system, don't you know."
Jack cocked his head away from the Master's hand. "And just exactly how does letting her go equal some kind of evil genius move on your part, even with a tracking device?"
"Oh! Well, Captain Oblivious, any time a great man--say, me--moves to bring order to a world, there are always a few malcontents who have to form a resistance. What better person to send into that underground than good old PC Cooper! She'll keep that earpiece until she sits on it, and then keep the pieces as a memento. Probably string them on a chain and put them around her neck or something."
He gave Jack's chest a little pat. "We'll wait until she gathers up a group of resistance fighters, give 'em a couple of successes, and sweep them up. If I'm lucky, I'll get her back alive and find out aaall about that gap--and I'm very, very lucky" he said, conspiratorially.
Jack thought for a moment about telling the Master how much he underestimated Gwen--her intelligence, her bravery, her sheer heart, and her implacable anger--but thought better of it. "And so? What if she actually accomplishes something?"
The Master rolled his eyes. "Shyeah! Remember, you reported to me!" he shouted in Jack's face. "How many people did you lot manage to get killed, you Guardians of the Rift, you Defenders of Wales and Saint David?" he said in a Welsh lilt. "With enemies like her, who needs friends! I should have kept all of them alive!"
He began patting down his pockets. "Now where is that--ah! Here it is!" He pulled out a large knife, twirled it once in his hand, and plunged it into Jack's stomach, thrusting in and up. Jack's eyes opened wide, and he staggered in the soldiers' arms. Blood began to appear at the corners of his mouth. He grunted in pain. The Master brought himself up close to Jack's ear.
"And the really fun part, at least for me?" whispered the Master, "is now you don't know. You don't know if she's dead or alive. You don't know how close I am to catching her. You don't know if maybe I have caught her and just haven't told you. You don't know if she's hurt or starving or raped or tortured or driven mad. You don't know, and you can't help her. And that's going to hurt a lot more--" he twisted the knife-- "than even this."
The familiar darkness overcame him. "Don't know where, don't know when..." he sang to himself, "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." The darkness was complete. And for now, Jack welcomed it.
Author: MeiLin
Characters/pairing in this chapter: Gwen, Jack, the Master
Rating for this chapter: PG
Summary for this chapter: Gwen tells Jack what happened to the team.
A/N for this chapter: A version of story originally appeared as part of "We'll Meet Again." It has been heavily revised and extended.
Valiant Central Page
It was cold in the Valiant's brig. Gwen Cooper sat on the floor, slumped against the cell wall, her dark hair nearly covering her face. She clutched her blood-soaked jacket around her.
Stretched out on the bunk bolted to the opposite wall lay her boss, Jack Harkness, dead of a bullet to the--well. There were so many bullet holes, who could say.
Jack came to with a sharp intake of breath, for at least the tenth time since the Master's take-over--he was beginning to lose count how many times he'd been killed just for the fun of it. Gwen looked up for a moment, her wide eyes empty and uncomprehending. Jack stared wildly about the cell for a moment, getting his bearings. His eyes focused--and there she was.
"Oh my God. Gwen?" He sat up shakily on the bed. Gwen made no move to help, but stared off into the middle distance, as if the space below the bunk contained the horizon. "Are you hurt?" His strength slowly returning, he slipped off the bunk and crouched on the floor next to her. "Gwen!" He shook her slightly. "Are you hurt!"
Gwen didn't look at him. "No."
Jack began gently peeling the jacket from her, sticky with blood. "If it's not yours, whose blood is this? C'mon honey, talk to me."
"It's Ianto's," she said, almost dreamily. Jack sat down hard, choking back sudden tears. Awareness flickered in the back of Gwen's hazel eyes. "Jack?"
"I'm here. Give me your other arm." Gwen obeyed, moving slowly, and Jack finished removing the jacket and coaxed her onto the bunk beside him.
"They're dead. All of them. They--we went to Pakistan. No one seemed to know what was going on, why we were there, and then..." She wrinkled her brow, trying to think. "There were these globes..."
"I know," murmured Jack. "I'm going to take your shirt off now." Ianto's blood had soaked through the jacket in places. Jack unbuttoned the shirt and eased her arms out of it, leaving her in a silk thermal vest and her bra. In the corner was a small pail of water left for him to drink; he dipped the shirt tail in it and used it to begin wiping the dried blood from her hands and face.
"We ran. And we got separated. Ianto and I came upon some soldiers--they were British, but they shot at us," she marveled. Her voice was dazed, almost a whisper. "We made it to Tatu Village, they cornered us in Tatu. Ianto tried to...they shot him. They couldn't reach us yet, but they shot at us, and Ianto pushed me down and he..." She trailed off. "He bled to death. They let him bleed to death." Jack squeezed his eyes shut, but tears slipped out and down his face. "He always had such pretty rosy cheeks, Ianto. Ashen he was, all ashen. I'm so cold."
Jack put his arms around her and pulled her down to lie next to him on the narrow bed. He pulled his great coat over them for a blanket.
"They sat me in the back of a lorry with them. Owen and Tosh and Ianto. Tosh and Owen were all tangled up. She--" Gwen swallowed hard. "They shot them. The back of Tosh's head was gone. They wouldn't let me close Owen's eyes." A long pause. Her enormous eyes searched his face. "Are you actually here, Jack, or am I imagining you?"
"I'm here, sweetheart," he said, cuddling her closer. "I'm here, Gwen. I won't leave you."
Gwen began to shake uncontrollably. She felt so small in his arms, almost like a child, and he began to rock her gently back and forth, stroking her hair and singing softly to her in his low tenor. He ran through every song he knew that night, down to "Chattanooga Choo-Choo," "Yellow Submarine" and "It's a Long Way to Tipperary" before coming back around to his favorite.
"We'll meet again, don't know where, don't know when," he whispered, cradling her. "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." Exhaustion finally stopped her shaking, and she dropped off into a dead sleep.
Only then did Jack allow himself to really cry, as silently as he could, breathing in the scent of her hair mingled with Ianto's blood.
"Where were you, Jack?"
Jack roused from his light doze. "You're awake." His left arm was falling asleep, and he shifted Gwen's weight a little.
"I asked, where were you." Gwen's voice was flat and her eyes were hard, but she stayed in his arms, glaring up at him. Angry, but an improvement from barely coherent, thought Jack.
He sighed aloud. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I would never have left you all for any other reason in the world, you have to believe that." He kissed the top of her head. "The Doctor came back."
Her eyes softened. "The one you've been looking for--the 'right kind'?--came back?, It wasn't 'doctor' in the abstract, you actually knew this doctor, then."
"Ohhh, yes." They were silent for a moment.
"So he wasn't able to--to help you, I take it."
"No." Jack stared at the ceiling. "There's nothing he can do." She squeezed him gently in sympathy.
"Has there been a coup in the UK, then? What's happening, why were we attacked by our own people like that? Is the Prime Minister still in power?"
"You were set up. Saxon is an alien."
Gwen sat up on one elbow, the great coat covering them slipping from her shoulder. "What?!"
"He's an old enemy of the Doctor, calls himself the Master. Same species as the Doc--Time Lords." Gwen stared at him open-mouthed. He reached up and wryly tapped her chin--"Sweetheart, you're catching flies"--and sobered again. "He's taken the Doctor prisoner. This guy's the real thing--crazy maniac intent on taking over the universe. He's starting here."
Gwen sat up all the way, scrabbling for her shirt. "Then what's the plan? What are we doing?"
He took her hands and held them; she turned to him, so pale her freckles stood out in stark relief. "The Doctor has a plan, but I'm not sure what it is," he said gently. "Martha's out there somewhere working on it. There's nothing we can do except wait."
"Martha Jones?" said Gwen incredulously. "The terrorist Martha Jones? We're leaving this up to a terrorist."
"She's no terrorist, she's a medical student. She's another friend of the Doctor's, and she's the bravest girl I know. Well--" he said, tilting his head and smiling slightly at Gwen--"one of 'em."
Gwen turned even paler. "I'm not brave. I'm not." She gathered her shirt in her hands, connecting the smeared dots of Ianto's blood with a fingertip. "He died protecting me. And I have to sit here and wait for a girl--a medical student no less, no training, no nothing, and a suspected terrorist to boot--to magically save us." She turned wild eyes to Jack. "I held Ianto while he died. His last thoughts were of Lisa--and you." Jack flinched. "They blew Tosh's brains out! She was clinging so hard to Owen when they died that the soldiers couldn't separate them--they were buried in each other's arms."
Her voice rose, more than a touch of hysteria in it. "I watched them record the mass burial of three of my best friends in an unmarked grave with hundreds of others--men, women and children--and here I am, alive in-in an aircraft carrier in the sky! And I don't know why, and I don't know what's happened to Rhys, and you want me to wait?!"
Just then the cell door slammed open and the Prime Minister stuck his head in.
"I'm sorry, is this a bad time? Should I come back later? No," he grinned, "I don't think there's such a thing as a bad time for a visit from me, is there. It's always SO good to see me."
He strolled into the cell, two UNIT commandos at his back and his wife at his side. "HEL-lo, PC Cooper, I'm the Master. Your Master. And you're alive simply because I thought it'd be fun to give the freak here a first-person account of the destruction of Torchwood. Could've been any of you, really. You were just the one who hid best behind the others."
Gwen bit off a moan. Jack tensed, and the commandos raised their machine guns. "Ah-ah, 'Captain,' I don't think she shares your special talent, does she?" tsked the Master. "Stand up, ducks, let's have a look at you." He waved Gwen up from the bunk; she looked to Jack, he gave her a slight nod, and she rose shakily to her feet.
"Look at those eyes, Luce, big as saucers, isn't that the phrase?" The Master whistled. "And the cute little gap between the teeth? Makes you wonder what kissing her is like, doesn't it? Ooh, better--" he leaned toward Jack confidentially and nearly whispered. "I wonder how that feels when she's blowing you." Gwen colored deeply and her breath picked up; Jack merely glared. "Or have you already found that out? Perhaps I should keep her and find out for myself. No smart remarks? We must've hit a nerve, Lucy! Usually I have to kill him to shut him up!" Lucy shifted uneasily from foot to foot.
The Master reached out and tweaked one of Gwen's nipples, stiff from the cold. Before she could stop herself, Gwen's hand shot out, grabbed the Master's thumb and pulled back hard, a move that usually resulted in a shriek of pain from her attacker. But not this time.
He moved so fast she couldn't track exactly what he'd done. But before she knew what had happened, she was on her knees before him, one arm pulled up and behind her back, hard, the Master's hand fisted in her hair. "Oh, darling! if I'd known you were this eager, I would have put you up in my suite!" he laughed. He let her go, throwing her to the floor.
"I think it's time for a field trip. I can show you the sights of Cardiff."
The only living things in Cardiff stood on the windswept Roald Dahl Plass, or what was left of it. Smoke filled the air from buildings still burning all around the city. The bay was lowering, a dark, unsettling color. The Torchwood 3 hub, once buried deep underneath the Plass, was a gaping hole.
"The whole city," whispered Gwen. "You killed the whole city...my parents...Rhys..."
"Couldn't have aliens and time travelers skulking about, and I didn't want to bother tracking them all down individually," the Master shrugged. "You can't ever tell who else might've been keeping tabs on what you were doing here, and I couldn't be too careful, could I? I mean, how many gits did you lot let track you down--starting with the Girl Detective here?" He rolled his eyes. "By the time I became Prime Minister, you even had groupies! Rassilon's ball sac, you had to have been THE worst secret organization of all time!" he cried, flinging his arms wide.
Gwen wheeled around, tears running down her face. "You murdered every soul in Cardiff because of us?!"
"Well. If it makes it any easier, it was also really fun," he giggled, throwing a rock into the pit. "Wasn't it, kids?" he shouted.
His escort of silver globes dipped and swooped in the air, echoing "Fun! Fun! Fun!" in their high, childish voices. The Master scrabbled happily through the ruins looking for good throwing rocks, leaving the Toclafane and his soldiers to watch his prisoners.
Gwen faced the bay, trying to control her breathing. The wind whipped her dark hair and dried the tears from her cheeks. Her eyes were the color of the water, and her mouth was set in a grim line. She picked up one foot and shook it, then the other.
"Gwen," said Jack, his voice low and urgent. "Don't. I need you to stay." He put an arm around her shoulder.
"I can't. I can't go back up there. I have to do something."
"And what exactly do you think you can do on your own?" he whispered urgently.
"And what exactly do you think will happen to me if I go back with you?" she hissed. "What do I have to live for otherwise if I don't try?"
"I'd--" He stopped before he could say, 'I'd take care of you.' "We'd have each other," he answered lamely, watching the Master throw increasingly large chunks of concrete into what was once his home.
"And I love you, Jack. I do. You have been a friend and a teacher and a brother and--I love you." Her voice broke a little, and she waited to recover, taking his hand in hers. "Know that. We will always have each other. Always. No matter where we are, whether we're together or not, whether--whether I'm alive or not. And I can't go back up there."
Jack kissed her temple and murmured something low into her hair. He pulled back and studied her expressive face, those incredible, sad eyes, the freckles across the bridge of her nose. It was a good thing, he thought, that he couldn't see that goddamn sexy little gap in her teeth or his heart would break.
She leaned her head against his shoulder. "You could come with me, you know."
"No. I can't leave the Doctor alone with him. That's something *I* have to do." They were silent for a moment, his arm around her shoulder, her arm around his waist, leaning into each other.
"Right," said Jack, blowing out a big breath and blinking back tears. He scanned the Plass and went back to looking at the bay. "Manhole into the sewer, no cover, ten meters behind you. I am betting the Weevils are still down there, and they're not likely to be happy about the paradox."
"After all that's happened, I can handle Weevils. And if I can't, it doesn't matter."
"Promise me you'll try. Promise, Gwen." She nodded. "Okay. Be ready."
Jack took his arm from around her shoulders, took up her hand and started moving closer to the manhole. When they were within five meters, Jack suddenly broke free of her and ran straight at the Master, tackling him to the ground. The soldiers took off after him with a shout, and Gwen took her chance, skimming her feet down the sides of the manhole ladder out of sight.
Two of the soldiers made as if to follow while the rest of them peeled Jack off the Master. "Don't bother," he called, dusting off his suit. "Just hold him, would you? Wouldn't do to have him scuttling down there after her." The soldiers dutifully pinned Jack's arms behind him. He knew what was coming next, and he didn't care. Gwen had gotten clear.
The Master walked nonchalantly up to him, straightening his tie and shooting his cuffs. "Well!" he beamed, bouncing slightly on his toes. "That went very well! Oh, don't worry, Jackie," crooned the Master as Jack's face went blank. He chucked Jack under the chin. "She won't get lost. We'll know just where she is. She's still carrying her earpiece. Torchwood issue. GPS system, don't you know."
Jack cocked his head away from the Master's hand. "And just exactly how does letting her go equal some kind of evil genius move on your part, even with a tracking device?"
"Oh! Well, Captain Oblivious, any time a great man--say, me--moves to bring order to a world, there are always a few malcontents who have to form a resistance. What better person to send into that underground than good old PC Cooper! She'll keep that earpiece until she sits on it, and then keep the pieces as a memento. Probably string them on a chain and put them around her neck or something."
He gave Jack's chest a little pat. "We'll wait until she gathers up a group of resistance fighters, give 'em a couple of successes, and sweep them up. If I'm lucky, I'll get her back alive and find out aaall about that gap--and I'm very, very lucky" he said, conspiratorially.
Jack thought for a moment about telling the Master how much he underestimated Gwen--her intelligence, her bravery, her sheer heart, and her implacable anger--but thought better of it. "And so? What if she actually accomplishes something?"
The Master rolled his eyes. "Shyeah! Remember, you reported to me!" he shouted in Jack's face. "How many people did you lot manage to get killed, you Guardians of the Rift, you Defenders of Wales and Saint David?" he said in a Welsh lilt. "With enemies like her, who needs friends! I should have kept all of them alive!"
He began patting down his pockets. "Now where is that--ah! Here it is!" He pulled out a large knife, twirled it once in his hand, and plunged it into Jack's stomach, thrusting in and up. Jack's eyes opened wide, and he staggered in the soldiers' arms. Blood began to appear at the corners of his mouth. He grunted in pain. The Master brought himself up close to Jack's ear.
"And the really fun part, at least for me?" whispered the Master, "is now you don't know. You don't know if she's dead or alive. You don't know how close I am to catching her. You don't know if maybe I have caught her and just haven't told you. You don't know if she's hurt or starving or raped or tortured or driven mad. You don't know, and you can't help her. And that's going to hurt a lot more--" he twisted the knife-- "than even this."
The familiar darkness overcame him. "Don't know where, don't know when..." he sang to himself, "But I know we'll meet again, some sunny day..." The darkness was complete. And for now, Jack welcomed it.