Lacrimis Morientium 4
Title: Lacrimis Morientium
Part: 4/6
Warnings: Mpreg. Dark and depressing. Character death and very disturbing scenes. May be triggering for anyone with issues relating to infants. No happy ending.
Rating: 18+
Genre: Angst, AU after Parting of The Ways
Spoilers: Parting of the Ways
Characters: Jack, Simm!Master, Doctor, Rose
Pairings: Jack/Simm!Master, Jack/Doctor (implied)
Summary: The Doctor has abandoned Jack on Satellite 5. This has consequences that he did not foresee. Major Jack angst. A dark fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine
AN:
Previous chapter here: http://ohinyan.livejournal.com/29981.html
Chapter 4
Inside the TARDIS, Jack stood in the console room and watched the Master operate the controls to take them into the vortex. He was numb. He had given up hope of ever getting off the Satellite. For centuries his only waking moments had been taken up with dying. He found that, now, he didn't know what to do.
The Master watched his guest standing just inside the door, holding the baby. He looked as if he wasn't planning to move any time soon. He took a good look in the stark lighting of the console room. The man was a mess. He was coated in grime, and blood that had been there for years. He was in desperate need of a bath. As was he, the Master noted, wrinkling his nose.
“I'm going for a bath,” he announced. “You should as well. You're familiar with the TARDIS, I know. She can show you to a room. And don't get any ideas about trying to commandeer the TARDIS. I've made sure that no one but me can control her.” He then disappeared into the corridors.
Jack was left standing alone in the room. For a few moments he did not react, but then he moved over to a wall and laid his hand on it. “Did you abandon me too?” he murmured. “Or was it all him?”
The TARDIS hummed in his mind. It felt sorrowful. “Him then.”
Following a gentle pull in his mind, Jack walked along the corridor. He arrived at a familiar door. A lump formed in his throat. It was his room. Another nudge from the TARDIS, and he opened the door and walked in. It was just as he had left it. All his things, few though they were, were still there; his clothes, a technical manual, a semi-dismantled sonic blaster, and a book that Rose had insisted he read.
He moved over to the bed, and laid the baby down gently. His first instinct was to lay down next to her, but then he remembered he could do other things. Looking down at himself, he realised for the first time that he was disgustingly filthy. But here, he could do something about it. He pushed open the bathroom door, to find a huge bath already filled with water. He was already naked, so he stepped straight in and sank down.
* * * *
Jack kept his composure while he bathed, but, when he walked back into the bedroom, he saw the baby lying on the bed. Why couldn't they have been rescued in time for her! His love and hate welled up, as strong as ever, in his mind. Love for the child that he had known so briefly, and hate for the being who had abandoned them. He clenched his fists, the need for vengeance so strong in him, that all he wanted in that moment was the Doctor here in the room with them. He pounded the wall with his hands, wishing that it was the Doctor that he was beating. When his rage subsided, he found himself leaning against the wall, which was covered in red smears. His hands were a mess. Pulling himself together, he went back into the bathroom and did what he could to sort his hands out. The TARDIS had dealt with the wall by the time he came out.
He dressed in his 1940 clothes, which were hanging in the wardrobe where he had left them. Even his RAF coat was there. The one the Doctor had got for him, because his had been lost when the Chula ship blew up. Straightening his braces, he steeled himself. It was time to go look for his rescuer.
* * * * *
The Master was in the console room when Jack went back there.
The Master looked at him, and appraised his new appearance. Jack was clean, and dressed in clothes that he must have found in the TARDIS; trousers, a blue shirt and braces. His hands looked newly bruised, however. “Better,” he pronounced, referring purely to Jack's new found cleanliness. He was somewhat nonplussed that Jack was still carrying the baby.
“Wouldn't you like to find a place for the baby?” he asked eventually.
“I promised her I wouldn't abandon her,” Jack stated defensively, holding the baby close to his chest.
“And you didn't,” the Master assured him. “You have looked after her for centuries. But don't you think it's time now to find her a place to rest?” The Master knew he wouldn't ordinarily be this patient with a human, but the baby was of Gallefreyan heritage, and thereby worthy of respect.
Jack looked mutinous. But one thing had caught his attention. Centuries, the Master had said. “What year is it?” he demanded.
“200,406,” the Master informed him. “I know, from the scan I did of the baby, that you were there for centuries.”
Jack was stunned. He had had no idea that much time had passed. 306 years!
“The TARDIS does not have the same dry conditions as that space station,” the Master pointed out, returning to the subject of the baby. “If you keep her here like this, her body will not remain so well preserved. I know a planet which specialises in arrangements for the dead. We could get a time stasis capsule for her. Then you could take your time deciding where you want to bury her.”
Jack still did not answer.
“Which is your home planet, and what year? We could take her there,” the Master suggested.
“I'm from the Boeshane Peninsula, in the 51st century,” Jack replied, finally. “But there's no one there I'd want to leave her with. The colony was destroyed.”
“What about Earth?”
“No, I have no connections to Earth.”
The Master decided that, perhaps, discussing other matters, while the idea of a stasis capsule filtered through Jack's consciousness, might be a good idea. And there was a lot he wanted to know, starting with how a human ended up with the power of the vortex in them, and unable to die. When he had entered Jack's mind previously, he had not found that information before being sidetracked by the Doctor's memories. “Why don't you stay dead?” he asked bluntly.
Jack laughed bitterly. “If I knew, don't you think I would have done something about it? I have spent years dying, and praying every time that it would be the end.”
“Knowing, and being able to do something about it, don't necessarily follow” the Master pointed out.
“All I know is that I was exterminated by the Daleks, on that Satellite, and I woke up. Then I saw the TARDIS leave without me. The Doctor abandoned me, and in 300 years he never came back.”
That the Master did know. It had been clearly evident in Jack's mind. The idea of a Time Lord abandoning a human did not surprise, or trouble, him, lover or not. But the child was another matter. “Why would the Doctor leave someone who was carrying his child?”
Jack's expression darkened. He had thought about that through the centuries, in his coherent moments. If the Doctor knew he was alive, and had left anyway, would it have made a difference if he had known? And, if it would have, what did that say about his value to the Doctor?
“He didn't know,” Jack replied. “I didn't find out myself until weeks after he'd left me.”
The Master was surprised at that. He had assumed that Jack was a long way along, when he was abandoned, and that the birth had taken place before the Satellite became uninhabitable. But, if what Jack was saying was true, it meant that the baby had survived, and grown, through the cycle of life and death that Jack had been caught in. That was astounding. And truly traumatic, for a human, he decided belatedly. In the circumstances, it was not surprising that the man was on the edge of insanity. Those memories must be part of the black morass that he had skimmed over. He should have realised, he mused. After all, the Doctor would never ask someone carrying his child to undertake a suicide mission, no matter how dire the circumstances.
“Let's take the baby back to your room,” the Master suggested. “Then I want to join your mind again. I need to know exactly what happened to you, and what the Doctor did.”
“Do you think you can help me die?” Jack asked with hope in his eyes. “I've prayed for that for so long. Then I could be with her properly.”
“It might be possible,” the Master agreed, as they walked to Jack's room to leave the baby. “Come with me, and I'll see if I can tell what happened. We'll need to be relaxed, so come to my room.”
Jack followed the Master to his room. It was huge, compared to Jack's, and well appointed. There was a large bed, plush carpets and wall hangings. The Master gestured for Jack to lay on the bed, which he did without hesitation. After all, what did he have to fear. This was not the Doctor. This was the man who had saved him from hell.
Laying beside Jack, the Master laid his fingers on his head. He moved into Jack's mind slowly. This time he would not skim the blackness. He needed to go back to just before the blackness started, and then move forwards.
It took hours, but the Master persevered. He saw everything that happened after Jack set foot on the Satellite. He scoffed at Jack's devotion to the Doctor, that led him to go to what he knew would be his death. He felt Jack die and resurrect, only to discover that the man he loved more than life had abandoned him. And he saw all Jack's attempts to rationalise the abandonment. The Doctor thought he was dead. The Doctor had been kidnapped, or killed, and the TARDIS stolen.
Then came the worst times. Jack had found out he was pregnant, and the air had run out. He died the first time, thinking it was the end, only to be cruelly resurrected to die again endlessly. Even the Master, who was not what anyone would consider sympathetic, could not help a pang of sorrow when Jack performed his own caesarian and touched the baby's mind for the last time. Through Jack, the Master also felt the mind of, what could be, the last Gallifreyan, as they died. By this time Jack's feelings for the Doctor had turned to pure hate.
When the Master let go of Jack, he slowly came back to himself. He was feeling a hate and anger towards the Doctor that mirrored Jack's own. He was also feeling Jack's desperation for touch and contact, and he responded with fervour. Within a minute of the Master disconnecting from Jack's mind, they were both naked and entwined. As they kissed the Master re-initiated the mind to mind contact, this time with a completely different motive. He did not search through any of Jack's memories, but channelled the physical sensations that he was feeling into Jack's mind. Jack reciprocated, in the same way that he had learned with the Doctor.
This time their coupling was not frantic, and uncontrolled, but slow and sensual. The feelings each fed to the other multiplied together, to increase the sensations geometrically. Jack was well versed in Time Lord sexual physiology, and held nothing of his expertise back. They were both approaching the edge when the Master felt the time lines surround and cocoon them, and the energy swirl between them. It was glorious. With minds joined they were both swept up in it, the Master holding back his orgasm as long as he could, to prolong the experience. When Jack reached orgasm he could hold back no longer, and came harder than he had ever done before. They collapsed together on the bed, the time lines fading away gradually. Exhausted, they both fell into sleep.
* * * * *
When the Master woke, Jack was asleep next to him. It was practically unheard of for the Master to do this; to sleep with a lover after sex. And most definitely unheard of, with a non-Gallifreyan. But he had to admit that this had been the best sex of his life, not excluding the Doctor. It had become clear that it was Jack who caused the extraordinary effects that they experienced during sex, and was nothing to do with their previous proximity to the rift. He had theorised that the rift itself had caused it, before.
The Master looked at Jack carefully. For a human, he was extremely good looking. And he was unique: imbued with the vortex, undying, and spectacular in bed. The Doctor was crazy to have turned his back on this man. The vortex within him might be unnatural, and disconcerting when first encountered, but it enhanced so much that the minor discomfort was more than outweighed.
There were two routes he could go. He could imprison the human, enslaving him, and forcing him to his will. There was no doubt that he could do that. The human's psyche was already badly damaged. It would not take much to break him. Or he could treat him as a lover, in fact genuinely become his lover, with all that that would entail. It had been centuries since the Master had done that, and he had never done so with a member of a lesser species. Was this mere human worthy of him?
Next chapter here: http://ohinyan.livejournal.com/30862.html
Part: 4/6
Warnings: Mpreg. Dark and depressing. Character death and very disturbing scenes. May be triggering for anyone with issues relating to infants. No happy ending.
Rating: 18+
Genre: Angst, AU after Parting of The Ways
Spoilers: Parting of the Ways
Characters: Jack, Simm!Master, Doctor, Rose
Pairings: Jack/Simm!Master, Jack/Doctor (implied)
Summary: The Doctor has abandoned Jack on Satellite 5. This has consequences that he did not foresee. Major Jack angst. A dark fic.
Disclaimer: Not mine
AN:
Previous chapter here: http://ohinyan.livejournal.com/29981.html
Chapter 4
Inside the TARDIS, Jack stood in the console room and watched the Master operate the controls to take them into the vortex. He was numb. He had given up hope of ever getting off the Satellite. For centuries his only waking moments had been taken up with dying. He found that, now, he didn't know what to do.
The Master watched his guest standing just inside the door, holding the baby. He looked as if he wasn't planning to move any time soon. He took a good look in the stark lighting of the console room. The man was a mess. He was coated in grime, and blood that had been there for years. He was in desperate need of a bath. As was he, the Master noted, wrinkling his nose.
“I'm going for a bath,” he announced. “You should as well. You're familiar with the TARDIS, I know. She can show you to a room. And don't get any ideas about trying to commandeer the TARDIS. I've made sure that no one but me can control her.” He then disappeared into the corridors.
Jack was left standing alone in the room. For a few moments he did not react, but then he moved over to a wall and laid his hand on it. “Did you abandon me too?” he murmured. “Or was it all him?”
The TARDIS hummed in his mind. It felt sorrowful. “Him then.”
Following a gentle pull in his mind, Jack walked along the corridor. He arrived at a familiar door. A lump formed in his throat. It was his room. Another nudge from the TARDIS, and he opened the door and walked in. It was just as he had left it. All his things, few though they were, were still there; his clothes, a technical manual, a semi-dismantled sonic blaster, and a book that Rose had insisted he read.
He moved over to the bed, and laid the baby down gently. His first instinct was to lay down next to her, but then he remembered he could do other things. Looking down at himself, he realised for the first time that he was disgustingly filthy. But here, he could do something about it. He pushed open the bathroom door, to find a huge bath already filled with water. He was already naked, so he stepped straight in and sank down.
* * * *
Jack kept his composure while he bathed, but, when he walked back into the bedroom, he saw the baby lying on the bed. Why couldn't they have been rescued in time for her! His love and hate welled up, as strong as ever, in his mind. Love for the child that he had known so briefly, and hate for the being who had abandoned them. He clenched his fists, the need for vengeance so strong in him, that all he wanted in that moment was the Doctor here in the room with them. He pounded the wall with his hands, wishing that it was the Doctor that he was beating. When his rage subsided, he found himself leaning against the wall, which was covered in red smears. His hands were a mess. Pulling himself together, he went back into the bathroom and did what he could to sort his hands out. The TARDIS had dealt with the wall by the time he came out.
He dressed in his 1940 clothes, which were hanging in the wardrobe where he had left them. Even his RAF coat was there. The one the Doctor had got for him, because his had been lost when the Chula ship blew up. Straightening his braces, he steeled himself. It was time to go look for his rescuer.
* * * * *
The Master was in the console room when Jack went back there.
The Master looked at him, and appraised his new appearance. Jack was clean, and dressed in clothes that he must have found in the TARDIS; trousers, a blue shirt and braces. His hands looked newly bruised, however. “Better,” he pronounced, referring purely to Jack's new found cleanliness. He was somewhat nonplussed that Jack was still carrying the baby.
“Wouldn't you like to find a place for the baby?” he asked eventually.
“I promised her I wouldn't abandon her,” Jack stated defensively, holding the baby close to his chest.
“And you didn't,” the Master assured him. “You have looked after her for centuries. But don't you think it's time now to find her a place to rest?” The Master knew he wouldn't ordinarily be this patient with a human, but the baby was of Gallefreyan heritage, and thereby worthy of respect.
Jack looked mutinous. But one thing had caught his attention. Centuries, the Master had said. “What year is it?” he demanded.
“200,406,” the Master informed him. “I know, from the scan I did of the baby, that you were there for centuries.”
Jack was stunned. He had had no idea that much time had passed. 306 years!
“The TARDIS does not have the same dry conditions as that space station,” the Master pointed out, returning to the subject of the baby. “If you keep her here like this, her body will not remain so well preserved. I know a planet which specialises in arrangements for the dead. We could get a time stasis capsule for her. Then you could take your time deciding where you want to bury her.”
Jack still did not answer.
“Which is your home planet, and what year? We could take her there,” the Master suggested.
“I'm from the Boeshane Peninsula, in the 51st century,” Jack replied, finally. “But there's no one there I'd want to leave her with. The colony was destroyed.”
“What about Earth?”
“No, I have no connections to Earth.”
The Master decided that, perhaps, discussing other matters, while the idea of a stasis capsule filtered through Jack's consciousness, might be a good idea. And there was a lot he wanted to know, starting with how a human ended up with the power of the vortex in them, and unable to die. When he had entered Jack's mind previously, he had not found that information before being sidetracked by the Doctor's memories. “Why don't you stay dead?” he asked bluntly.
Jack laughed bitterly. “If I knew, don't you think I would have done something about it? I have spent years dying, and praying every time that it would be the end.”
“Knowing, and being able to do something about it, don't necessarily follow” the Master pointed out.
“All I know is that I was exterminated by the Daleks, on that Satellite, and I woke up. Then I saw the TARDIS leave without me. The Doctor abandoned me, and in 300 years he never came back.”
That the Master did know. It had been clearly evident in Jack's mind. The idea of a Time Lord abandoning a human did not surprise, or trouble, him, lover or not. But the child was another matter. “Why would the Doctor leave someone who was carrying his child?”
Jack's expression darkened. He had thought about that through the centuries, in his coherent moments. If the Doctor knew he was alive, and had left anyway, would it have made a difference if he had known? And, if it would have, what did that say about his value to the Doctor?
“He didn't know,” Jack replied. “I didn't find out myself until weeks after he'd left me.”
The Master was surprised at that. He had assumed that Jack was a long way along, when he was abandoned, and that the birth had taken place before the Satellite became uninhabitable. But, if what Jack was saying was true, it meant that the baby had survived, and grown, through the cycle of life and death that Jack had been caught in. That was astounding. And truly traumatic, for a human, he decided belatedly. In the circumstances, it was not surprising that the man was on the edge of insanity. Those memories must be part of the black morass that he had skimmed over. He should have realised, he mused. After all, the Doctor would never ask someone carrying his child to undertake a suicide mission, no matter how dire the circumstances.
“Let's take the baby back to your room,” the Master suggested. “Then I want to join your mind again. I need to know exactly what happened to you, and what the Doctor did.”
“Do you think you can help me die?” Jack asked with hope in his eyes. “I've prayed for that for so long. Then I could be with her properly.”
“It might be possible,” the Master agreed, as they walked to Jack's room to leave the baby. “Come with me, and I'll see if I can tell what happened. We'll need to be relaxed, so come to my room.”
Jack followed the Master to his room. It was huge, compared to Jack's, and well appointed. There was a large bed, plush carpets and wall hangings. The Master gestured for Jack to lay on the bed, which he did without hesitation. After all, what did he have to fear. This was not the Doctor. This was the man who had saved him from hell.
Laying beside Jack, the Master laid his fingers on his head. He moved into Jack's mind slowly. This time he would not skim the blackness. He needed to go back to just before the blackness started, and then move forwards.
It took hours, but the Master persevered. He saw everything that happened after Jack set foot on the Satellite. He scoffed at Jack's devotion to the Doctor, that led him to go to what he knew would be his death. He felt Jack die and resurrect, only to discover that the man he loved more than life had abandoned him. And he saw all Jack's attempts to rationalise the abandonment. The Doctor thought he was dead. The Doctor had been kidnapped, or killed, and the TARDIS stolen.
Then came the worst times. Jack had found out he was pregnant, and the air had run out. He died the first time, thinking it was the end, only to be cruelly resurrected to die again endlessly. Even the Master, who was not what anyone would consider sympathetic, could not help a pang of sorrow when Jack performed his own caesarian and touched the baby's mind for the last time. Through Jack, the Master also felt the mind of, what could be, the last Gallifreyan, as they died. By this time Jack's feelings for the Doctor had turned to pure hate.
When the Master let go of Jack, he slowly came back to himself. He was feeling a hate and anger towards the Doctor that mirrored Jack's own. He was also feeling Jack's desperation for touch and contact, and he responded with fervour. Within a minute of the Master disconnecting from Jack's mind, they were both naked and entwined. As they kissed the Master re-initiated the mind to mind contact, this time with a completely different motive. He did not search through any of Jack's memories, but channelled the physical sensations that he was feeling into Jack's mind. Jack reciprocated, in the same way that he had learned with the Doctor.
This time their coupling was not frantic, and uncontrolled, but slow and sensual. The feelings each fed to the other multiplied together, to increase the sensations geometrically. Jack was well versed in Time Lord sexual physiology, and held nothing of his expertise back. They were both approaching the edge when the Master felt the time lines surround and cocoon them, and the energy swirl between them. It was glorious. With minds joined they were both swept up in it, the Master holding back his orgasm as long as he could, to prolong the experience. When Jack reached orgasm he could hold back no longer, and came harder than he had ever done before. They collapsed together on the bed, the time lines fading away gradually. Exhausted, they both fell into sleep.
* * * * *
When the Master woke, Jack was asleep next to him. It was practically unheard of for the Master to do this; to sleep with a lover after sex. And most definitely unheard of, with a non-Gallifreyan. But he had to admit that this had been the best sex of his life, not excluding the Doctor. It had become clear that it was Jack who caused the extraordinary effects that they experienced during sex, and was nothing to do with their previous proximity to the rift. He had theorised that the rift itself had caused it, before.
The Master looked at Jack carefully. For a human, he was extremely good looking. And he was unique: imbued with the vortex, undying, and spectacular in bed. The Doctor was crazy to have turned his back on this man. The vortex within him might be unnatural, and disconcerting when first encountered, but it enhanced so much that the minor discomfort was more than outweighed.
There were two routes he could go. He could imprison the human, enslaving him, and forcing him to his will. There was no doubt that he could do that. The human's psyche was already badly damaged. It would not take much to break him. Or he could treat him as a lover, in fact genuinely become his lover, with all that that would entail. It had been centuries since the Master had done that, and he had never done so with a member of a lesser species. Was this mere human worthy of him?
Next chapter here: http://ohinyan.livejournal.com/30862.html