Fic: The Oncoming Storm (Slash, AU, Janto 38/40 Act 5/5 Part 2)
Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, angsty, VIOLENCE
Notes For This Chapter: This is all hypothetical at this point as we delve into "The Year That Never Was". There is no proof or canon hints on what may have happened. I may be right, I may be wrong.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38 1/5, Ch 38 2/5, Ch 38 3/5, Ch 38 4/5 1/2, Ch 38 4/5 2/2, Ch 38 5/5 1/2
Master Fic List: here
Act V 2/2
Somewhere in Poland
Three days later…
It was easier to get information when the person thinks you're alone, Gwen thought. A world with billions of people and they could only feel safe now in solitude.
Gwen watched the child scurry away with the last two protein bars clutched with both of her tiny hands. Gwen originally promised only one. No matter. Gwen fingered the key around her neck. It was easy to get last time and knowing those two, she would soon get more soon.
She wiped her sleeve across her brow. She'd wait here inside the gutted out school, catch a few winks and then they'd set out on foot at night. Ten days, she thought to herself. Ten days to find an airstrip in Berlin. It seemed mind reeling. Her feet ached at the thought. They didn't dare steal a vehicle. Authorized people only.
Gwen sat down behind what used to be a great, big teacher's desk. It had been cannibalized; every piece of metal gone and left a desk, dulled from the elements, sitting flat to the ground because someone had taken its legs and drawers. The rest of the school didn't fare much better. Students' desks were stripped as well and the wooden squares that once held up all their books and their elbows were now stacked up at one corner of the building like firewood.
The floors fell victim to Saxon's reign as well; all the marble gutted out, leaving only dirt on the floor. Walls were knocked down to get to the metal and wiring between them and now the school stands as a single large classroom. Even the glass on the window was gone.
The remains of the desk, however, were a relief for her aching back. Gwen leaned against it with a grateful sigh and pulled out her mobile, wrapped in her old t-shirt so it wouldn't get scratched. Gwen had to shut it down yesterday because they couldn't find a working socket to charge her mobile but she still took it out at night to check it when no one was watching.
The display screen was dark and Gwen wiped her thumb across the screen over and over. It was silly, no one called. No one could. Archangel was the only satellite network left and their sources said Saxon's precious satellites only transmitted now and did not receive. No one can call. No one can send a message.
Gwen's eyes burned and she rewrapped the mobile.
"I can't believe you kept that stupid thing."
Gwen had tensed when she heard the crunch of boot to rock. Her gun was already out before a word was uttered but she didn't relax until she saw Owen standing in front of her.
"Here."
A couple of protein bars were dropped onto her lap. Gwen looked up and smiled faintly.
"We thought you probably had none left."
"I didn't," Gwen murmured and tucked them into her rucksack.
"Then stop giving them away to every puppy face you see, you ninny." Owen dropped down besides her.
Gwen rolled her eyes but chose to say nothing as she watched Owen tear into the rest of the protein bar he had saved from this morning.
Gwen scanned the little yard the school once boasted. There used to be a swing set by a tree that stopped bearing fruit. The chains that hung on the frame no longer held any seats, most likely taken as scrap, and swayed in the breeze. Occasionally, she could hear the chains twist around each other and their links rattled like wind chimes. Gwen looked away from it, her throat dry, her eyes burning.
"Where's…" Gwen checked her surroundings again.
Owen paused mid-bite. It wasn't clear if it was to swallow or to find words.
"Needed some fresh air," Owen grunted. "Went for a walk." He finished the last of the bar by tossing in the last morsel into his mouth like popcorn.
"I've got some bread," Gwen murmured. "It's still good."
Owen shrugged. "Save it for later."
Gwen reviewed their conversation in her head. Her brow puckered.
"Fresh air," Gwen repeated. She watched Owen fidget. "Owen, what happened in town?" They had gone in for more supplies and recon.
"Well first off, it isn't much of a town anymore. One piece of-"
"Owen," Gwen pleaded. "I'm really not in the mood for your shit today. Please."
With a sigh, Owen kicked at the ground he was sitting on, gorging the dry earth into a shallow depression with the heel of his boot.
"Saxon's been broadcasting…" Owen grimaced. "Remember when the ship wasn't up there anymore?"
Gwen nodded. She remembered how they had all stared up. She had never felt more alone than when she had realized the Valiant was no longer up there.
Owen carefully stuffed his protein wrapper into the hole he made. He wouldn't look at Gwen as he refilled the opening with dirt.
"They went to Japan," Owen said finally. Still with his head down, Owen looked too focused on covering the wrapper. No evidence behind. They had learned that lesson the hard way when they left Kiev and were chased for nearly a day by Toclafane. The scar by Gwen's left bicep still itched when it got too chilly.
"And?" Gwen prodded.
When Owen finally looked up, his face was expressionless.
"It burned."
Gwen stilled. Her stomach coiled and cramped painfully and it was now colder than before.
"No…"
Owen rose to his feet and stepped on the hole he had made. He raised his foot and lowered it, giving his foot a twist so his heel would ground in the top layer of dirt. Then he raised his foot again. Up. Then down. Up. Down. Up…
"Owen, Owen!" Gwen wrapped her arms around Owen when he began stomping on the same spot with such violence, he nearly fell against the teacher's desk, his mouth clamped shut because they couldn't afford to scream.
"Fucking…" Owen muttered against her right shoulder.
Gwen sniffed but just held tighter when Owen tried to pull away.
"You know they saw it. Saxon probably made them all watch-"
"All right. All right. Sh…" Gwen murmured to Owen's ear. He stood there, in her grasp, his arms stiff against his sides. And Gwen just shed a few tears onto his shoulder.
After a few seconds, they parted. Owen's eyes weren't even red, but his lips were pinched white.
Gwen looked out the window and saw their third pacing across the derelict school. She sighed.
"That's not going to help," Gwen said, nodding towards outside. She tracked the pacing and the slumped posture. She blinked away the lingering moisture from her eyes.
Owen grunted. "I doubt anything will help sitting around here while that bastard kills off this planet piece by piece." Owen gave the spot one final stomp. "Christ, Alex was right. Everything changed this century. We weren't ready."
Gwen turned sharply at Owen. "You say that again and I will knock you on your ass, Owen Harper," Gwen warned.
The returning gleam in Owen's eyes was a relief.
"Yeah?" Owen challenged half-heartedly. "You two girls can't even tackle a rodent together." He shook his head and sat gingerly on the desk. He stared at the ground, took a deep breath, and raised his eyes at her, suddenly serious.
"We need to stop him, Gwen."
Gwen nodded. She looked back over her shoulder.
"You know," Gwen said casually. "I'm not feeling particularly sleepy right now."
Owen stared at her for a beat before he nodded slowly. "I'm feeling a bit chipper myself," Owen drawled. "Must be that big lunch I had."
Gwen studied the daylight shining through the window. "We have a few good hours left," Gwen calculated.
Owen clapped her soundly on the back. "Come on then, before our friend there goes off without us."
Bugger, Owen had a point. Owen was already out the door, steering for their third as Gwen grabbed her pack and scrambled after them.
Valiant
Three days later…
Today, it was the blue striped tie. He liked the blue tie.
Jack stared at the blue tie and the long fingers smoothing it down. He stared at the perfect Half-Windsor knot, the fold in the middle of the silk, and at the elegant hand stroking the sleek fabric.
The manacles on his wrists were pulled high enough that sometimes it felt like he was hanging off them but the one good thing about it was the discomfort was distracting and kept him alert enough to watch the tie.
There was another spark of pain from somewhere along his body and the tie wavered like a mirage. Jack clenched his jaw, refocused and the tie solidified.
A bolt of agony shot up his spine and Jack squeezed his eyes tight. When he opened them, the tie and everything else he was still trying to summon up the courage to look at were gone.
The empty spot of concrete wall by the door hurt to see a lot more than he thought anything could.
"Where did you go, Captain?" the Master asked, his voice low and hypnotic. He came around front, stepping carefully on the tarp laid out under his feet and careful not to soil his shoes. Today it was a blue tarp. Blue, blue, like the veins the Master sliced open, blue like Lucy Saxon's crazed eyes when she visited. Jack swallowed.
It was hard not to react when he felt a hand cupping his face, tilting his gaze up to meet the Master's. Jack stared right through him and said nothing.
The Master sighed, wiping his bloodied screwdriver on Jack's shirt and retrieving his coat draped over a pipe. He didn't want any of his staff here. No one comes here except for the Master and any special guests he wished to gloat to or worse, Lucy.
"Where do you go when I'm here?" the Master murmured as he rolled down his sleeves, slipped on his jacket, tucked in his shirt and readjusted his tie.
"What takes you away from me? From this place?" The Master's eyes shone with anticipation. He drew up close enough to breath on Jack. "Is it the drumming?"
Jack met his gaze. He grinned. "No," he said before he spat out all the blood that had been collecting in his mouth right on the jacket.
Rage contorted the almost docile face and the Master drew a fist and punched Jack just below his diaphragm. It forced his air out, forced him to gasp, open his mouth and the Master grabbed him by two fistfuls of hair and smashed his mouth over his.
It was almost immediate. The draining occurred on contact and Jack could feel something inside him tear like tissue paper, shredding his insides the longer the Master kissed him. There was a growing roar in his ears, his limbs were increasingly numb and he could feel the Master hard against him.
Jack jerked, struggled for purchase on the tarp slick with everything he didn't want to think about. The chains limited how far his upper torso could writhe away from the Master. His legs, on the other hand…
The Master grunted when Jack's knee missed his groin-damn-and contacted his solar plexus with enough force that the startled Master exhaled into his mouth-gross-and fell to the ground with a groan.
Jack spat until it felt like he got everything out. The tearing inside him, the chill that usually followed, abated.
"Seriously, don't they teach you guys in little Time Lord school to just say no?" Jack gasped. Everything was suddenly hazy, cold. He could barely stand.
The Master got back on his feet, his eyes white, his mouth set. With one arm around his middle-Jack hoped to hell that it hurt-Saxon circled him slowly. Jack's back was stiff, never relaxing until the Master was in front of him again.
"I do not need you," the Master hissed. The white faded from his eyes and returned to normal.
Huh. That was new. Usually the Master was rambling about breaking and drumming, blah, blah, blah.
"For a guy who doesn't need me," Jack kept his voice as steady as possible as Saxon drew near again, "you seem to come here a lot."
Fingers carded through his hair; a mockery of the real thing.
"You once told me that you loved me." The Master leered at Jack. "All I did was tear and rip and break, yet you said you loved me."
"I thought I was telling the Doctor," Jack bit out. His insides knotted at the reminder. He refused to look at him though and stared past the Master's shoulder.
"I am the Doctor," the Master hissed.
Jack scoffed. Ouch. It hurt to do that. His throat felt like sores rubbing together.
"You guys need to carry ID cards. It's getting a little annoying everyone running around pretending to be the Do-"
The Master's screwdriver jabbed him in the kidneys, spinning, burning, screeching.
Jack convulsed in his chains, screaming.
"I. Am. The. Doctor!" the Master roared.
The screwdriver dug deeper into his flesh, never piercing but vibrating until Jack's entire body flared. His skin shrank around him, bones broke and mended and broke again, nerves burned as if needles were slowly replacing his blood.
Somewhere, lost in the agony, Jack stopped screaming. His throat was too swollen to make a sound. As he hung lower, lower in his chains, he could feel his shoulders pop, unable to take the latest abuse.
A fist grabbed his hair and jerked his head back.
"You longed and prayed for your Doctor to come back for you," the Master snarled to his face. "Well, I did, you disgusting freak. I came back for you, bred you to see and hear as I can and you betray me by standing by his side?"
Jack couldn't speak anymore. Kidneys had completely shut down; he could feel organ after organ being poisoned by his own body. He looked at Saxon sideways.
"Call me Doctor," Saxon purred. He stroked Jack's jaw with the screwdriver with a tenderness that would have made Jack laugh if he could.
"Just once," the Master encouraged, "and all this? It'll be gone. Forever and I will fix you, just like I promised. Wouldn't you like that, hm? Did you not want to stay with your Doctor? Did you not wish for the Doctor to stay with you?"
The cool metal body of the screwdriver was soothing again his fevered cheek. Air rattled in his lungs as Jack fought the urge to throw up. He didn't want to drown in his own vomit again.
"Just say it once," the Master cooed as he tapped the screwdriver against Jack's temple. That damn two-four beat that haunted him for so long.
"Say it, my handsome Jack. Say it."
Behind the Master stood Ianto again. He was back this time with a red tie, a cross knot this time, over a simple dark shirt. Jack always said red was his color.
"Say it." The Master shook Jack.
Ianto nodded towards Saxon's back and made a face that just read "What's with him?" He smoothed down his tie, straightened his collar and simply gave the Master's back an eye roll.
Jack laughed. Or at least he tried; he choked.
"What is so funny?" Saxon seethed and he shook Jack again.
Jack gurgled a "Fuck you" but it wasn't as effective when it came out in a spew of bloody bubbles and spit. The Master, however, seemed to get the gist of it and was screaming into Jack's face as his fists clawed vulnerable parts of Jack's body.
Jack kept his eyes on Ianto, which only infuriated Saxon more. Ianto's eyes were suspiciously bright but he never flinched, his gaze fixed on Jack's as if nothing else existed.
Jack embraced the impossible in front of him even as his own body gave up under Saxon's fury. And as darkness flooded back in again, Jack threw out a single thought.
Stay, Jack pleaded in his mind. Stay.
Forever, Ianto's reply was a gentle kiss to his cheek.
And Jack expelled his last breath as Saxon raged. He carried Ianto's steady gaze into the darkness.
Three days later…
Toshiko stood there, staring through the porthole at the tiny people loading a wheelchair up on a small plane. Planes came and went, but this was the first time Saxon had gone anywhere. She set a hand on the porthole glass and gave the plane a farewell as it took off, Toclafane trailing behind it like a swarm of bees.
The snickers when she picked up the tarp tossed to her on the bridge made her mad but rather than glare, Toshiko just folded up the filthy sheet and pressed it to her chest like she would a child. She walked past the amused guards and steered for the general lavatory to clean it off.
The tarp, like the previous one, was filthy and reeked too much of things Toshiko didn't want to identify. Thankfully, the iron tang of dried blood overpowered the rest. It was sad the things one became grateful for.
Toshiko unfurled the tarp, careful to not tear the sheet or touch the blood that was splattered all over it.
As before, Toshiko needed a moment. She kneeled across the outer edge of it as it spread out before her on the bath's tiled floor. She bowed her head, took a deep breath then fixed her eyes on it. There were points when her stomach rebelled, but Toshiko forced herself to look at every line, every squiggle and every stroke of blood. It spoke of what happened to Jack and she would be damned if she would flinch away and let his misery go unacknowledged.
Toshiko settled her hands on it, stared hard at the tarp. When she was sure her eyes had memorized everything, Toshiko very carefully grabbed the sponge floating in a bucket of warm water and squeezed out the liquid down its surface. She didn't dare use the hose.
It didn't matter how much blood was on it, it all washed away with a sweep of the sponge.
With both hands, Toshiko pushed the sponge across the tarp, smearing the plastic with pinkish water until she went over it enough times, that the water cleared. Then she turned it over and cleaned off the bloody boot prints, the red tracks that danced all the way around the material.
Done, Toshiko dried it and folded it carefully to a small pile of plastic again. She held it close to her body. She made sure her face was blank when she walked past the guards and took the lift to the lower levels.
The UNIT guards usually stopped her at the lift but to her surprise, no one greeted her at the lift.
Toshiko stepped out of the lift slowly and checked both ends of the hall.
The Master off flying to wherever he was flying meant more guards upstairs, Toshiko thought as she touched the doors that opened to the engine rooms. They were warm to the touch. Feeling bolder, Toshiko slipped through into the engine levels.
Biting her lower lip, Toshiko took two steps deeper towards the direction of the main engine room. She'd calculated where Jack must be. There had never been a chance to check out her theory.
The tarp crinkled when she hugged it harder. Her heart hammered as she approached the first walkway with a lump in her throat. The last time she had tried, the guards nearly caught her. Toshiko had hidden behind the fuel barrels most of her shift until she could get away. She didn't finish her tasks and went to bed hungry that night.
It could be a test, a trap, Toshiko didn't know, didn't care anymore.
Steam obscured everything into an intimidating mess of pipes that snaked out of the fog. Walkways split off in dizzying numbers.
Toshiko took a deep breath, nearly gagging at the oily taste and tried to align herself in the right direction. Her cell was on the other side. Judging by the echo, the cubic mass…
That way.
With a grim smile, Toshiko turned herself like a human compass. Jack was her north.
"Here I come," Toshiko murmured as she took a step.
"And where do you think you're going, girlie?" a voice asked mildly before a hand clamped over her mouth and spun her around.
Sometimes, being left alone was worse. The healing seemed to take longer, things felt more pronounced.
It hurt more to heal.
"It would be easier if you just stopped antagonizing him," was the mild reproach.
Where's the fun in that, Jack scoffed, coughing as he raised his head with some difficulty. A muscle between his shoulder blades burned.
Ianto sat on the horizontal pipes that spanned across the room, legs crossed, his hands on the pipes. This time it was a striped green tie-square knot-and his dark suit.
And a pink shirt.
Ianto arched an eyebrow at Jack. He was not bothered by the occasional puffs of steam blasting through the joints and cutting through him.
"I suppose I should be grateful you didn't imagine me in something more scandalous," Ianto sighed. "Like something with a feather duster perhaps?"
The laugh was lodged in his throat, the same type of laugh that pissed Saxon off enough to send him storming out of his chamber before feeding off him like a parasite.
I'm doing something wrong, Jack thought. He shifted weight to his left foot now when his right went numb. You would think that I would think of something more…age inappropriate.
"Shouldn't that tell you something?" Ianto murmured as he buttoned up his jacket.
"That I'm a fool?" Jack wheezed. His dislocated shoulders burned as more and more of his weight sagged. He bit back the groan and smiled sadly at the mirage hopping off his perch to stand in front of him.
Jack closed his eyes and tried to imagine Ianto breathing gently on his cheek, like Jack used to feel each time he woke up next to Ianto. Warm, barely enough to do anything more than register against his jaw, more soothing than any breeze during Boeshane during peacetime.
"You are many things, Jack Harkness," Ianto said softly as he studied Jack, "but a fool isn't one of them."
There was nothing against his face, nothing warm that told him someone was standing next to him. It was worse than the burning on his lower back.
Jack snorted. "If you think that, then you're the fool." A thought struck him and Jack shook his head, his mouth twisted to a bitter smile.
"What?"
"I just disagreed with myself." Jack couldn't laugh. He tried and ended up coughing. His lungs burned. He should have just goaded Saxon to finish him off. "You're not real, just my ima-imagination and I just disagreed with myself."
"Well." Ianto studied himself before looking up again. "Then I have a grievance with your imagination." He swept a hand across himself. "Really. Pink?"
Oh God, it hurt. It hurt so much to laugh, but it was a price he was willing to pay to laugh because he knew he wouldn't again. Not like this. Not ever again.
But somewhere, the laughter faded and Jack found himself gasping for breath.
"He has a plan," Ianto whispered. "Just remember that. There is a plan." His hand went up and brushed against his face; it felt like sunlight on his cheek.
Jack wanted to close his eyes to savor, but he kept his eyes on Ianto, because Jack didn't know when he would see him again.
"I miss you," Jack whispered. His eyes felt swollen, too hot, but he kept them open to memorize Ianto's face, the strand of short hair above his right brow that never cooperated for Ianto, the pale throat that used to curve and stretch out in offering under Jack. So young. Too young. Jack moaned under his breath as the gash on the back of his thigh stitched together, hot and stinging as skin fought to seal over flesh.
"It wasn't fair to you," Jack gasped. His arms shook. He wanted to touch Ianto, embrace what life truly was, but his arms burned, oh God, burned with even the slightest attempt.
Ianto's mouth twisted. He said nothing. He stood still in front of Jack.
"I'm sorry," Jack said, his voice cracking.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ianto replied. His eyes were bright on his translucent face. "Your words, not mine."
The blood that was trickling down his back had pooled into his boots. His shirt clung to his back. Jack could feel the bones bending and grinding against each other as they tried to heal.
Jack gritted his teeth. He could feel his hip trying to realign. He gasped before he could stop himself.
"Jack."
Ianto sounded like he was far away. An icy flutter stabbed in his chest.
"No…" Jack groaned.
Pelvic bone made a vicious twist as it tried to straighten.
A child's song rang in his ear.
Sticks and stones may break my bones…
Jack groaned as a bone slotted into place.
"Jack?"
Softer, by his ear, Ianto's voice faded in and out like a goodbye.
Jack's eyes snapped open-when had they closed?
Ianto stood there, a hand hovering over his chest, eyes on his face…
Dressed as a UNIT trooper.
Huh…this is new.
"You…" Jack managed as he stared at the cap on Ianto's head, the Kevlar, the black flak jacket. He'd never seen Ianto unshaven before.
"You came back," Jack whispered.
Ianto's eyes crinkled, his face crumbled and a tear crept down his face. Jack didn't know why he was crying.
"Jack," Ianto choked. He settled his hands on Jack's face. They were warm, broad, rough and…and…solid.
Jack was afraid to breathe. "Ianto?" Jack's voice quavered.
"Yes," Ianto repeated with a watery smile. His thumbs rubbed Jack's cheeks in soothing strokes and he pressed his lips to Jack's mouth with a soft, shaky kiss.
"I came back for you."
Chapter 39 "The Year That Never Was 2.0" Act I
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.
Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.
Warning For This Chapter: strong language, angsty, VIOLENCE
Notes For This Chapter: This is all hypothetical at this point as we delve into "The Year That Never Was". There is no proof or canon hints on what may have happened. I may be right, I may be wrong.
Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6, Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34, Ch 35, Ch 36 Ch 37, Ch 38 1/5, Ch 38 2/5, Ch 38 3/5, Ch 38 4/5 1/2, Ch 38 4/5 2/2, Ch 38 5/5 1/2
Master Fic List: here
Act V 2/2
Somewhere in Poland
Three days later…
It was easier to get information when the person thinks you're alone, Gwen thought. A world with billions of people and they could only feel safe now in solitude.
Gwen watched the child scurry away with the last two protein bars clutched with both of her tiny hands. Gwen originally promised only one. No matter. Gwen fingered the key around her neck. It was easy to get last time and knowing those two, she would soon get more soon.
She wiped her sleeve across her brow. She'd wait here inside the gutted out school, catch a few winks and then they'd set out on foot at night. Ten days, she thought to herself. Ten days to find an airstrip in Berlin. It seemed mind reeling. Her feet ached at the thought. They didn't dare steal a vehicle. Authorized people only.
Gwen sat down behind what used to be a great, big teacher's desk. It had been cannibalized; every piece of metal gone and left a desk, dulled from the elements, sitting flat to the ground because someone had taken its legs and drawers. The rest of the school didn't fare much better. Students' desks were stripped as well and the wooden squares that once held up all their books and their elbows were now stacked up at one corner of the building like firewood.
The floors fell victim to Saxon's reign as well; all the marble gutted out, leaving only dirt on the floor. Walls were knocked down to get to the metal and wiring between them and now the school stands as a single large classroom. Even the glass on the window was gone.
The remains of the desk, however, were a relief for her aching back. Gwen leaned against it with a grateful sigh and pulled out her mobile, wrapped in her old t-shirt so it wouldn't get scratched. Gwen had to shut it down yesterday because they couldn't find a working socket to charge her mobile but she still took it out at night to check it when no one was watching.
The display screen was dark and Gwen wiped her thumb across the screen over and over. It was silly, no one called. No one could. Archangel was the only satellite network left and their sources said Saxon's precious satellites only transmitted now and did not receive. No one can call. No one can send a message.
Gwen's eyes burned and she rewrapped the mobile.
"I can't believe you kept that stupid thing."
Gwen had tensed when she heard the crunch of boot to rock. Her gun was already out before a word was uttered but she didn't relax until she saw Owen standing in front of her.
"Here."
A couple of protein bars were dropped onto her lap. Gwen looked up and smiled faintly.
"We thought you probably had none left."
"I didn't," Gwen murmured and tucked them into her rucksack.
"Then stop giving them away to every puppy face you see, you ninny." Owen dropped down besides her.
Gwen rolled her eyes but chose to say nothing as she watched Owen tear into the rest of the protein bar he had saved from this morning.
Gwen scanned the little yard the school once boasted. There used to be a swing set by a tree that stopped bearing fruit. The chains that hung on the frame no longer held any seats, most likely taken as scrap, and swayed in the breeze. Occasionally, she could hear the chains twist around each other and their links rattled like wind chimes. Gwen looked away from it, her throat dry, her eyes burning.
"Where's…" Gwen checked her surroundings again.
Owen paused mid-bite. It wasn't clear if it was to swallow or to find words.
"Needed some fresh air," Owen grunted. "Went for a walk." He finished the last of the bar by tossing in the last morsel into his mouth like popcorn.
"I've got some bread," Gwen murmured. "It's still good."
Owen shrugged. "Save it for later."
Gwen reviewed their conversation in her head. Her brow puckered.
"Fresh air," Gwen repeated. She watched Owen fidget. "Owen, what happened in town?" They had gone in for more supplies and recon.
"Well first off, it isn't much of a town anymore. One piece of-"
"Owen," Gwen pleaded. "I'm really not in the mood for your shit today. Please."
With a sigh, Owen kicked at the ground he was sitting on, gorging the dry earth into a shallow depression with the heel of his boot.
"Saxon's been broadcasting…" Owen grimaced. "Remember when the ship wasn't up there anymore?"
Gwen nodded. She remembered how they had all stared up. She had never felt more alone than when she had realized the Valiant was no longer up there.
Owen carefully stuffed his protein wrapper into the hole he made. He wouldn't look at Gwen as he refilled the opening with dirt.
"They went to Japan," Owen said finally. Still with his head down, Owen looked too focused on covering the wrapper. No evidence behind. They had learned that lesson the hard way when they left Kiev and were chased for nearly a day by Toclafane. The scar by Gwen's left bicep still itched when it got too chilly.
"And?" Gwen prodded.
When Owen finally looked up, his face was expressionless.
"It burned."
Gwen stilled. Her stomach coiled and cramped painfully and it was now colder than before.
"No…"
Owen rose to his feet and stepped on the hole he had made. He raised his foot and lowered it, giving his foot a twist so his heel would ground in the top layer of dirt. Then he raised his foot again. Up. Then down. Up. Down. Up…
"Owen, Owen!" Gwen wrapped her arms around Owen when he began stomping on the same spot with such violence, he nearly fell against the teacher's desk, his mouth clamped shut because they couldn't afford to scream.
"Fucking…" Owen muttered against her right shoulder.
Gwen sniffed but just held tighter when Owen tried to pull away.
"You know they saw it. Saxon probably made them all watch-"
"All right. All right. Sh…" Gwen murmured to Owen's ear. He stood there, in her grasp, his arms stiff against his sides. And Gwen just shed a few tears onto his shoulder.
After a few seconds, they parted. Owen's eyes weren't even red, but his lips were pinched white.
Gwen looked out the window and saw their third pacing across the derelict school. She sighed.
"That's not going to help," Gwen said, nodding towards outside. She tracked the pacing and the slumped posture. She blinked away the lingering moisture from her eyes.
Owen grunted. "I doubt anything will help sitting around here while that bastard kills off this planet piece by piece." Owen gave the spot one final stomp. "Christ, Alex was right. Everything changed this century. We weren't ready."
Gwen turned sharply at Owen. "You say that again and I will knock you on your ass, Owen Harper," Gwen warned.
The returning gleam in Owen's eyes was a relief.
"Yeah?" Owen challenged half-heartedly. "You two girls can't even tackle a rodent together." He shook his head and sat gingerly on the desk. He stared at the ground, took a deep breath, and raised his eyes at her, suddenly serious.
"We need to stop him, Gwen."
Gwen nodded. She looked back over her shoulder.
"You know," Gwen said casually. "I'm not feeling particularly sleepy right now."
Owen stared at her for a beat before he nodded slowly. "I'm feeling a bit chipper myself," Owen drawled. "Must be that big lunch I had."
Gwen studied the daylight shining through the window. "We have a few good hours left," Gwen calculated.
Owen clapped her soundly on the back. "Come on then, before our friend there goes off without us."
Bugger, Owen had a point. Owen was already out the door, steering for their third as Gwen grabbed her pack and scrambled after them.
Valiant
Three days later…
Today, it was the blue striped tie. He liked the blue tie.
Jack stared at the blue tie and the long fingers smoothing it down. He stared at the perfect Half-Windsor knot, the fold in the middle of the silk, and at the elegant hand stroking the sleek fabric.
The manacles on his wrists were pulled high enough that sometimes it felt like he was hanging off them but the one good thing about it was the discomfort was distracting and kept him alert enough to watch the tie.
There was another spark of pain from somewhere along his body and the tie wavered like a mirage. Jack clenched his jaw, refocused and the tie solidified.
A bolt of agony shot up his spine and Jack squeezed his eyes tight. When he opened them, the tie and everything else he was still trying to summon up the courage to look at were gone.
The empty spot of concrete wall by the door hurt to see a lot more than he thought anything could.
"Where did you go, Captain?" the Master asked, his voice low and hypnotic. He came around front, stepping carefully on the tarp laid out under his feet and careful not to soil his shoes. Today it was a blue tarp. Blue, blue, like the veins the Master sliced open, blue like Lucy Saxon's crazed eyes when she visited. Jack swallowed.
It was hard not to react when he felt a hand cupping his face, tilting his gaze up to meet the Master's. Jack stared right through him and said nothing.
The Master sighed, wiping his bloodied screwdriver on Jack's shirt and retrieving his coat draped over a pipe. He didn't want any of his staff here. No one comes here except for the Master and any special guests he wished to gloat to or worse, Lucy.
"Where do you go when I'm here?" the Master murmured as he rolled down his sleeves, slipped on his jacket, tucked in his shirt and readjusted his tie.
"What takes you away from me? From this place?" The Master's eyes shone with anticipation. He drew up close enough to breath on Jack. "Is it the drumming?"
Jack met his gaze. He grinned. "No," he said before he spat out all the blood that had been collecting in his mouth right on the jacket.
Rage contorted the almost docile face and the Master drew a fist and punched Jack just below his diaphragm. It forced his air out, forced him to gasp, open his mouth and the Master grabbed him by two fistfuls of hair and smashed his mouth over his.
It was almost immediate. The draining occurred on contact and Jack could feel something inside him tear like tissue paper, shredding his insides the longer the Master kissed him. There was a growing roar in his ears, his limbs were increasingly numb and he could feel the Master hard against him.
Jack jerked, struggled for purchase on the tarp slick with everything he didn't want to think about. The chains limited how far his upper torso could writhe away from the Master. His legs, on the other hand…
The Master grunted when Jack's knee missed his groin-damn-and contacted his solar plexus with enough force that the startled Master exhaled into his mouth-gross-and fell to the ground with a groan.
Jack spat until it felt like he got everything out. The tearing inside him, the chill that usually followed, abated.
"Seriously, don't they teach you guys in little Time Lord school to just say no?" Jack gasped. Everything was suddenly hazy, cold. He could barely stand.
The Master got back on his feet, his eyes white, his mouth set. With one arm around his middle-Jack hoped to hell that it hurt-Saxon circled him slowly. Jack's back was stiff, never relaxing until the Master was in front of him again.
"I do not need you," the Master hissed. The white faded from his eyes and returned to normal.
Huh. That was new. Usually the Master was rambling about breaking and drumming, blah, blah, blah.
"For a guy who doesn't need me," Jack kept his voice as steady as possible as Saxon drew near again, "you seem to come here a lot."
Fingers carded through his hair; a mockery of the real thing.
"You once told me that you loved me." The Master leered at Jack. "All I did was tear and rip and break, yet you said you loved me."
"I thought I was telling the Doctor," Jack bit out. His insides knotted at the reminder. He refused to look at him though and stared past the Master's shoulder.
"I am the Doctor," the Master hissed.
Jack scoffed. Ouch. It hurt to do that. His throat felt like sores rubbing together.
"You guys need to carry ID cards. It's getting a little annoying everyone running around pretending to be the Do-"
The Master's screwdriver jabbed him in the kidneys, spinning, burning, screeching.
Jack convulsed in his chains, screaming.
"I. Am. The. Doctor!" the Master roared.
The screwdriver dug deeper into his flesh, never piercing but vibrating until Jack's entire body flared. His skin shrank around him, bones broke and mended and broke again, nerves burned as if needles were slowly replacing his blood.
Somewhere, lost in the agony, Jack stopped screaming. His throat was too swollen to make a sound. As he hung lower, lower in his chains, he could feel his shoulders pop, unable to take the latest abuse.
A fist grabbed his hair and jerked his head back.
"You longed and prayed for your Doctor to come back for you," the Master snarled to his face. "Well, I did, you disgusting freak. I came back for you, bred you to see and hear as I can and you betray me by standing by his side?"
Jack couldn't speak anymore. Kidneys had completely shut down; he could feel organ after organ being poisoned by his own body. He looked at Saxon sideways.
"Call me Doctor," Saxon purred. He stroked Jack's jaw with the screwdriver with a tenderness that would have made Jack laugh if he could.
"Just once," the Master encouraged, "and all this? It'll be gone. Forever and I will fix you, just like I promised. Wouldn't you like that, hm? Did you not want to stay with your Doctor? Did you not wish for the Doctor to stay with you?"
The cool metal body of the screwdriver was soothing again his fevered cheek. Air rattled in his lungs as Jack fought the urge to throw up. He didn't want to drown in his own vomit again.
"Just say it once," the Master cooed as he tapped the screwdriver against Jack's temple. That damn two-four beat that haunted him for so long.
"Say it, my handsome Jack. Say it."
Behind the Master stood Ianto again. He was back this time with a red tie, a cross knot this time, over a simple dark shirt. Jack always said red was his color.
"Say it." The Master shook Jack.
Ianto nodded towards Saxon's back and made a face that just read "What's with him?" He smoothed down his tie, straightened his collar and simply gave the Master's back an eye roll.
Jack laughed. Or at least he tried; he choked.
"What is so funny?" Saxon seethed and he shook Jack again.
Jack gurgled a "Fuck you" but it wasn't as effective when it came out in a spew of bloody bubbles and spit. The Master, however, seemed to get the gist of it and was screaming into Jack's face as his fists clawed vulnerable parts of Jack's body.
Jack kept his eyes on Ianto, which only infuriated Saxon more. Ianto's eyes were suspiciously bright but he never flinched, his gaze fixed on Jack's as if nothing else existed.
Jack embraced the impossible in front of him even as his own body gave up under Saxon's fury. And as darkness flooded back in again, Jack threw out a single thought.
Stay, Jack pleaded in his mind. Stay.
Forever, Ianto's reply was a gentle kiss to his cheek.
And Jack expelled his last breath as Saxon raged. He carried Ianto's steady gaze into the darkness.
Three days later…
Toshiko stood there, staring through the porthole at the tiny people loading a wheelchair up on a small plane. Planes came and went, but this was the first time Saxon had gone anywhere. She set a hand on the porthole glass and gave the plane a farewell as it took off, Toclafane trailing behind it like a swarm of bees.
The snickers when she picked up the tarp tossed to her on the bridge made her mad but rather than glare, Toshiko just folded up the filthy sheet and pressed it to her chest like she would a child. She walked past the amused guards and steered for the general lavatory to clean it off.
The tarp, like the previous one, was filthy and reeked too much of things Toshiko didn't want to identify. Thankfully, the iron tang of dried blood overpowered the rest. It was sad the things one became grateful for.
Toshiko unfurled the tarp, careful to not tear the sheet or touch the blood that was splattered all over it.
As before, Toshiko needed a moment. She kneeled across the outer edge of it as it spread out before her on the bath's tiled floor. She bowed her head, took a deep breath then fixed her eyes on it. There were points when her stomach rebelled, but Toshiko forced herself to look at every line, every squiggle and every stroke of blood. It spoke of what happened to Jack and she would be damned if she would flinch away and let his misery go unacknowledged.
Toshiko settled her hands on it, stared hard at the tarp. When she was sure her eyes had memorized everything, Toshiko very carefully grabbed the sponge floating in a bucket of warm water and squeezed out the liquid down its surface. She didn't dare use the hose.
It didn't matter how much blood was on it, it all washed away with a sweep of the sponge.
With both hands, Toshiko pushed the sponge across the tarp, smearing the plastic with pinkish water until she went over it enough times, that the water cleared. Then she turned it over and cleaned off the bloody boot prints, the red tracks that danced all the way around the material.
Done, Toshiko dried it and folded it carefully to a small pile of plastic again. She held it close to her body. She made sure her face was blank when she walked past the guards and took the lift to the lower levels.
The UNIT guards usually stopped her at the lift but to her surprise, no one greeted her at the lift.
Toshiko stepped out of the lift slowly and checked both ends of the hall.
The Master off flying to wherever he was flying meant more guards upstairs, Toshiko thought as she touched the doors that opened to the engine rooms. They were warm to the touch. Feeling bolder, Toshiko slipped through into the engine levels.
Biting her lower lip, Toshiko took two steps deeper towards the direction of the main engine room. She'd calculated where Jack must be. There had never been a chance to check out her theory.
The tarp crinkled when she hugged it harder. Her heart hammered as she approached the first walkway with a lump in her throat. The last time she had tried, the guards nearly caught her. Toshiko had hidden behind the fuel barrels most of her shift until she could get away. She didn't finish her tasks and went to bed hungry that night.
It could be a test, a trap, Toshiko didn't know, didn't care anymore.
Steam obscured everything into an intimidating mess of pipes that snaked out of the fog. Walkways split off in dizzying numbers.
Toshiko took a deep breath, nearly gagging at the oily taste and tried to align herself in the right direction. Her cell was on the other side. Judging by the echo, the cubic mass…
That way.
With a grim smile, Toshiko turned herself like a human compass. Jack was her north.
"Here I come," Toshiko murmured as she took a step.
"And where do you think you're going, girlie?" a voice asked mildly before a hand clamped over her mouth and spun her around.
Sometimes, being left alone was worse. The healing seemed to take longer, things felt more pronounced.
It hurt more to heal.
"It would be easier if you just stopped antagonizing him," was the mild reproach.
Where's the fun in that, Jack scoffed, coughing as he raised his head with some difficulty. A muscle between his shoulder blades burned.
Ianto sat on the horizontal pipes that spanned across the room, legs crossed, his hands on the pipes. This time it was a striped green tie-square knot-and his dark suit.
And a pink shirt.
Ianto arched an eyebrow at Jack. He was not bothered by the occasional puffs of steam blasting through the joints and cutting through him.
"I suppose I should be grateful you didn't imagine me in something more scandalous," Ianto sighed. "Like something with a feather duster perhaps?"
The laugh was lodged in his throat, the same type of laugh that pissed Saxon off enough to send him storming out of his chamber before feeding off him like a parasite.
I'm doing something wrong, Jack thought. He shifted weight to his left foot now when his right went numb. You would think that I would think of something more…age inappropriate.
"Shouldn't that tell you something?" Ianto murmured as he buttoned up his jacket.
"That I'm a fool?" Jack wheezed. His dislocated shoulders burned as more and more of his weight sagged. He bit back the groan and smiled sadly at the mirage hopping off his perch to stand in front of him.
Jack closed his eyes and tried to imagine Ianto breathing gently on his cheek, like Jack used to feel each time he woke up next to Ianto. Warm, barely enough to do anything more than register against his jaw, more soothing than any breeze during Boeshane during peacetime.
"You are many things, Jack Harkness," Ianto said softly as he studied Jack, "but a fool isn't one of them."
There was nothing against his face, nothing warm that told him someone was standing next to him. It was worse than the burning on his lower back.
Jack snorted. "If you think that, then you're the fool." A thought struck him and Jack shook his head, his mouth twisted to a bitter smile.
"What?"
"I just disagreed with myself." Jack couldn't laugh. He tried and ended up coughing. His lungs burned. He should have just goaded Saxon to finish him off. "You're not real, just my ima-imagination and I just disagreed with myself."
"Well." Ianto studied himself before looking up again. "Then I have a grievance with your imagination." He swept a hand across himself. "Really. Pink?"
Oh God, it hurt. It hurt so much to laugh, but it was a price he was willing to pay to laugh because he knew he wouldn't again. Not like this. Not ever again.
But somewhere, the laughter faded and Jack found himself gasping for breath.
"He has a plan," Ianto whispered. "Just remember that. There is a plan." His hand went up and brushed against his face; it felt like sunlight on his cheek.
Jack wanted to close his eyes to savor, but he kept his eyes on Ianto, because Jack didn't know when he would see him again.
"I miss you," Jack whispered. His eyes felt swollen, too hot, but he kept them open to memorize Ianto's face, the strand of short hair above his right brow that never cooperated for Ianto, the pale throat that used to curve and stretch out in offering under Jack. So young. Too young. Jack moaned under his breath as the gash on the back of his thigh stitched together, hot and stinging as skin fought to seal over flesh.
"It wasn't fair to you," Jack gasped. His arms shook. He wanted to touch Ianto, embrace what life truly was, but his arms burned, oh God, burned with even the slightest attempt.
Ianto's mouth twisted. He said nothing. He stood still in front of Jack.
"I'm sorry," Jack said, his voice cracking.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Ianto replied. His eyes were bright on his translucent face. "Your words, not mine."
The blood that was trickling down his back had pooled into his boots. His shirt clung to his back. Jack could feel the bones bending and grinding against each other as they tried to heal.
Jack gritted his teeth. He could feel his hip trying to realign. He gasped before he could stop himself.
"Jack."
Ianto sounded like he was far away. An icy flutter stabbed in his chest.
"No…" Jack groaned.
Pelvic bone made a vicious twist as it tried to straighten.
A child's song rang in his ear.
Sticks and stones may break my bones…
Jack groaned as a bone slotted into place.
"Jack?"
Softer, by his ear, Ianto's voice faded in and out like a goodbye.
Jack's eyes snapped open-when had they closed?
Ianto stood there, a hand hovering over his chest, eyes on his face…
Dressed as a UNIT trooper.
Huh…this is new.
"You…" Jack managed as he stared at the cap on Ianto's head, the Kevlar, the black flak jacket. He'd never seen Ianto unshaven before.
"You came back," Jack whispered.
Ianto's eyes crinkled, his face crumbled and a tear crept down his face. Jack didn't know why he was crying.
"Jack," Ianto choked. He settled his hands on Jack's face. They were warm, broad, rough and…and…solid.
Jack was afraid to breathe. "Ianto?" Jack's voice quavered.
"Yes," Ianto repeated with a watery smile. His thumbs rubbed Jack's cheeks in soothing strokes and he pressed his lips to Jack's mouth with a soft, shaky kiss.
"I came back for you."
Chapter 39 "The Year That Never Was 2.0" Act I
Additional Notes: Many thanks to soullessminion for betaing this chapter. And trtmx for her magic trick that saved my sanity! LOL.