Seti_DRD: Before The Dawn (Ten/Jack, Martha) [PG]
Title: Before The Dawn
Author: seti_DRD
Summary: Nobody left to be saved, nobody left to save him
Characters: Jack/Ten, Martha
Challenge: Plague
Spoilers: Set after Last of the Time Lords, but only vague mentions
Rating/Warnings: PG, mentions of death.
Word count: 1110
Notes: Betaed by the wonderful xwingace. After enjoying the fics of this comm so much I felt it was time to give something back, so I hope you like it.
Jack clawed and kicked at the impassive stone, the complete darkness fuelling the terror which slowly rose inside his heart. Sweat burned in his unseeing eyes, his hands finding nothing but rock, no weak spot, no escape from his dark prison.
Buried alive, now that was a new one, even for him. He didn't like waking in graves very much. He must've collapsed from the Kaphian Fever and immediately been incarcerated in one of the small and desperate aliens' mountain graves to stop the disease from spreading. Obviously, they hadn't counted on his quite unique survival skills, he laughed, shifting dead bodies out of his way. The lonely sound was muffled by the rock, echoing back to his ears as a quiet sob.
He'd never considered being claustrophobic, but then the disease did a lot of things to the mind before it killed its host. He really didn't look forward to reinfection, but then dying again and again in this sinister prison was almost a given judging by the disease's half-life on clothes, skin and dead flesh. And there was certainly enough of that around.
He laughed again, trying very hard not to hyperventilate - he'd need all his breath for escape.
The Doctor's frantic search for a cure had yielded no results yet when he'd left with the Kaphian rescue team, and maybe it never would. And now he was trapped between thousands of the Fever's victims, with no way out.
Would the Doctor and Martha ever find him here? He doubted it, certain that most of the natives outside the containment zone were dead by now. Nobody left to be saved, nobody left to save him. Just an entire mountain city of dead, and no one who could hear him.
Nevertheless, he screamed as he continued to claw at the naked stone walls.
---
One trip, the Doctor cursed inwardly, he'd offered them one trip to relax after their Year of Hell, and he'd thrown them right into terror once more.
He strode through the medical facility, ignoring a small droid cautioning him to stay inside the Quarantined Zone and nearly kicking it away when it repeated its warning. It was not himself he was concerned for; the disease wasn't smart enough to infiltrate his immune system.
But he still worried. Jack was late.
The human had wanted two hours to find more survivors after rumors had reached them of people still alive higher up in the city. He'd been adamant to help the quickly assembled search party, his military training of more use out there than in a research lab. And really, a fatal disease was nothing that could stop him, was it? The Doctor cursed as he remembered Jack's wistful smile.
He'd let him go, not just because he was right, but because the Captain was a constant distraction, his factness like a jarring sound in the back of his head, making it that much harder to concentrate on the search for a cure.
That had been 24 hours ago. One trip, the Doctor cursed again, stepping through the last containment field and out into the unprotected city, trying to sense the factness the immortal radiated so strongly. The feeling was disconcertingly weak.
The cure was ready, medics already spreading through the quiet streets, but like the Kaphians the Doctor was scared of what he would find out there. Would there even be anyone left to give the cure to? Could anyone be saved?
Cursing his luck, he prayed to deities he didn't believe in, begging for his friend to be all right. The human had suffered enough for several lifetimes already.
The sense of fact increased, as did his sense of dread when he caught a whiff of what he might find there. He broke into a run.
---
Martha found them during one of her inoculation trips, hours after the Doctor'd disappeared without a word.
She'd understood nevertheless, the haunted look in his eyes when the Kaphians failed to contact Jack's search party all the explanation she'd needed. She was still surprised that it had taken him more than half an hour of pacing and rechecking the cure before he’d finally fled from the lab.
She pondered if an immortal actually needed saving, but tore her mind away from that question to concentrate on the job. They'd found some survivors, naturally immune to the Fever or smart enough to stay away from the infected.
They'd instinctively acted correctly. Trying to keep the disease from spreading, they'd taken the dead and the dying to their crypts in the many cliffs of the beautiful stone city. It'd helped that the Kaphian religion apparently demanded burial as soon as possible after death.
The little grey aliens were squeamish to disturb these places of death. They understood that sonic sterilization was necessary to prevent another outbreak (or even worse, mutation), however, and slowly overcame the dread of their forefathers. The dead would understand, they mumbled, careful not to disturb the older crypts and concentrating on those only recently lasered into the limestone.
There were so many dead, she thought, once again hoping that the cure was permanent. She still hadn't found a trace of her friends. If the Time Lord hadn't returned, it most certainly meant trouble for the Captain.
She shuddered, rubbing her inoculation mark unconsciously before entering each new grave. They couldn't save many, yet she checked every survivor, hoping to see that familiar grin.
When she finally found the Doctor, she nearly didn't recognize the other man he was talking to so calmly.
The man sat in front of the stone entrance to another labyrinth of graves, his greatcoat shabby with blood and filth, his face buried in hands still torn and dirty.
He looked up when she approached, his face paler than she ever imagined it could be. She'd seen him dead with more colour.
The Doctor's hand was on his neck, and Jack almost managed a smile when he spotted her. She felt like weeping at the sight. She began to run without conscious thought, the memories of hundreds of pitch black holes full of bodies haunting her thoughts. Jack seemed surprised by her hug, his arms slow (still too weak, she realized) to return it.
He smelled of death, and it made her heart ache and tears threatening to fall.
"There, there," he whispered hoarsely, shaking slightly as the Doctor joined their embrace in an awkward three-way hug. "It's all right now," he croaked, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You found me," he smiled, but she knew what he meant, as he leaned into their hug once more.
They'd saved him.
Author: seti_DRD
Summary: Nobody left to be saved, nobody left to save him
Characters: Jack/Ten, Martha
Challenge: Plague
Spoilers: Set after Last of the Time Lords, but only vague mentions
Rating/Warnings: PG, mentions of death.
Word count: 1110
Notes: Betaed by the wonderful xwingace. After enjoying the fics of this comm so much I felt it was time to give something back, so I hope you like it.
Jack clawed and kicked at the impassive stone, the complete darkness fuelling the terror which slowly rose inside his heart. Sweat burned in his unseeing eyes, his hands finding nothing but rock, no weak spot, no escape from his dark prison.
Buried alive, now that was a new one, even for him. He didn't like waking in graves very much. He must've collapsed from the Kaphian Fever and immediately been incarcerated in one of the small and desperate aliens' mountain graves to stop the disease from spreading. Obviously, they hadn't counted on his quite unique survival skills, he laughed, shifting dead bodies out of his way. The lonely sound was muffled by the rock, echoing back to his ears as a quiet sob.
He'd never considered being claustrophobic, but then the disease did a lot of things to the mind before it killed its host. He really didn't look forward to reinfection, but then dying again and again in this sinister prison was almost a given judging by the disease's half-life on clothes, skin and dead flesh. And there was certainly enough of that around.
He laughed again, trying very hard not to hyperventilate - he'd need all his breath for escape.
The Doctor's frantic search for a cure had yielded no results yet when he'd left with the Kaphian rescue team, and maybe it never would. And now he was trapped between thousands of the Fever's victims, with no way out.
Would the Doctor and Martha ever find him here? He doubted it, certain that most of the natives outside the containment zone were dead by now. Nobody left to be saved, nobody left to save him. Just an entire mountain city of dead, and no one who could hear him.
Nevertheless, he screamed as he continued to claw at the naked stone walls.
---
One trip, the Doctor cursed inwardly, he'd offered them one trip to relax after their Year of Hell, and he'd thrown them right into terror once more.
He strode through the medical facility, ignoring a small droid cautioning him to stay inside the Quarantined Zone and nearly kicking it away when it repeated its warning. It was not himself he was concerned for; the disease wasn't smart enough to infiltrate his immune system.
But he still worried. Jack was late.
The human had wanted two hours to find more survivors after rumors had reached them of people still alive higher up in the city. He'd been adamant to help the quickly assembled search party, his military training of more use out there than in a research lab. And really, a fatal disease was nothing that could stop him, was it? The Doctor cursed as he remembered Jack's wistful smile.
He'd let him go, not just because he was right, but because the Captain was a constant distraction, his factness like a jarring sound in the back of his head, making it that much harder to concentrate on the search for a cure.
That had been 24 hours ago. One trip, the Doctor cursed again, stepping through the last containment field and out into the unprotected city, trying to sense the factness the immortal radiated so strongly. The feeling was disconcertingly weak.
The cure was ready, medics already spreading through the quiet streets, but like the Kaphians the Doctor was scared of what he would find out there. Would there even be anyone left to give the cure to? Could anyone be saved?
Cursing his luck, he prayed to deities he didn't believe in, begging for his friend to be all right. The human had suffered enough for several lifetimes already.
The sense of fact increased, as did his sense of dread when he caught a whiff of what he might find there. He broke into a run.
---
Martha found them during one of her inoculation trips, hours after the Doctor'd disappeared without a word.
She'd understood nevertheless, the haunted look in his eyes when the Kaphians failed to contact Jack's search party all the explanation she'd needed. She was still surprised that it had taken him more than half an hour of pacing and rechecking the cure before he’d finally fled from the lab.
She pondered if an immortal actually needed saving, but tore her mind away from that question to concentrate on the job. They'd found some survivors, naturally immune to the Fever or smart enough to stay away from the infected.
They'd instinctively acted correctly. Trying to keep the disease from spreading, they'd taken the dead and the dying to their crypts in the many cliffs of the beautiful stone city. It'd helped that the Kaphian religion apparently demanded burial as soon as possible after death.
The little grey aliens were squeamish to disturb these places of death. They understood that sonic sterilization was necessary to prevent another outbreak (or even worse, mutation), however, and slowly overcame the dread of their forefathers. The dead would understand, they mumbled, careful not to disturb the older crypts and concentrating on those only recently lasered into the limestone.
There were so many dead, she thought, once again hoping that the cure was permanent. She still hadn't found a trace of her friends. If the Time Lord hadn't returned, it most certainly meant trouble for the Captain.
She shuddered, rubbing her inoculation mark unconsciously before entering each new grave. They couldn't save many, yet she checked every survivor, hoping to see that familiar grin.
When she finally found the Doctor, she nearly didn't recognize the other man he was talking to so calmly.
The man sat in front of the stone entrance to another labyrinth of graves, his greatcoat shabby with blood and filth, his face buried in hands still torn and dirty.
He looked up when she approached, his face paler than she ever imagined it could be. She'd seen him dead with more colour.
The Doctor's hand was on his neck, and Jack almost managed a smile when he spotted her. She felt like weeping at the sight. She began to run without conscious thought, the memories of hundreds of pitch black holes full of bodies haunting her thoughts. Jack seemed surprised by her hug, his arms slow (still too weak, she realized) to return it.
He smelled of death, and it made her heart ache and tears threatening to fall.
"There, there," he whispered hoarsely, shaking slightly as the Doctor joined their embrace in an awkward three-way hug. "It's all right now," he croaked, wiping a tear from her cheek. "You found me," he smiled, but she knew what he meant, as he leaned into their hug once more.
They'd saved him.