Fanfic for New Who: Mistake
Hello, friends and significant others? Before you even think of reading this, read the rating, warnings, and author's notes. Then read them again.
Title: Mistake
Author: Rose Cat
Rating: R, for language, implied torture, and graphic references to drugs being administered by injection
Fandom: (New)Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness
Spoilers: TW 1.06, “Countrycide”
Word Count: 1246
Summary: Jack Harkness used to be pretty good at torture, or so he said.
Disclaimer: Shows and characters are not mine, I’m just playing with them.
Author’s Notes: This is a major departure, in both tone and content, from my previous stories. If you know me in real life, it may shock you. If you decide to read it anyway, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Betaed by my Full Meta Beta, karaokegal , who kept me honest and refused to let me lose my nerve.
“Jack? What the hell are you doing? Jack!”
The Doctor had awakened only moments ago to find himself tied to the bed by his wrists and ankles. He was naked except for his shirt. Instinctively he tried to curl up, to cover himself, but he couldn’t move.
Jack had caught the Doctor off guard shortly after they entered the hotel room. He’d just finished one of his outrageous stories, and the Doctor was still laughing when Jack knocked him unconscious with a well-placed punch to the jaw.
Now Jack was leaning over him, carefully cutting the front of his shirt away. “Jack?” No response. Jack didn’t even look at him. He might as well have been opening a package.
“Cut it out, this isn’t funny -- and when I say cut, you know, I don’t mean it literally -- “ The scissors moved up his chest in quick, measured snips, the blades flashing. “Blimey! Couldn’t you just have undone the buttons? If you wanted --” One sharp tip was inches from his chin. He gasped as he felt the touch of the other, just for a moment, tracing a cool line below his throat. “Are you even listening to me?”
The room was quiet except for the soft buzz of the scissors and his own breathing, shallow and fast. Jack, completely focused on his work, moved on to the sleeves, cutting one expertly from wrist to shoulder, then the other. He still hadn’t said a word.
“Jack! You said you liked this shirt - stop. Please, just stop. You’re scaring me.”
At last Jack answered him. “Good.” He tossed the ruined shirt aside and stepped back. The Doctor stared up at him, momentarily shocked into silence. Jack was regarding him impassively, arms folded.
The Doctor was thinking furiously. Alien replacement? No, he’d know. Possession, then. Or … No. It couldn’t be. It would explain everything, but … no. He couldn’t have messed up that badly, it was impossible - wasn’t it?
He’d never thought he could be afraid of Jack, but suddenly he was. He searched Jack’s face, and what he saw there - and what he didn’t -- frightened him even more.
“Help me! Somebody, help!” Why had he done that? It wasn’t as if anyone could hear him. Jack would have made sure of that. He took a deep breath and tried unsuccessfully to still the shivers that were beginning to shake the bed.
“Oh, come on.” Jack chuckled. “Yelling for help? That is such a cliché. I picked this place for the soundproof walls, you know. It’s good for a lot of noisy…activities.”
Jack’s grin might have been mischievous if not for the emptiness in his eyes. It terrified the Doctor even more than his actions. The bed creaked louder as he yanked at the restraints.
“Why are you doing this? Why?”
“Because of what you did to me. You brought those memories back. It’s your fault.” Jack’s voice was expressionless, almost a monotone.
No.
“Oh, no … But I thought - we discussed it, Jack. I thought you could handle it. I thought you were okay.”
“Well, it looks like you were wrong, doesn’t it? You screwed up, big time.”
“Oh, now, hold on a minute, Jack, you insisted. You begged me to help you remember those missing years.”
Jack grabbed a lamp and hurled it at the wall. He didn’t bother to watch as it shattered. He spun back to look at the Doctor, his eyes wild. “And now I can’t fucking forget them!” He was screaming now. “I can’t sleep. I can’t go near Ianto. I can’t even look at the rest of the team -“
“And I’m responsible. But, Jack, you’re not like that anymore. You never were, not really. Why do you think they took away your memories in the first place? It wasn’t you, it was the drugs -- the drugs and the conditioning. They made a terrible mistake.”
“So did you.”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right. Believe me, I get that. I do. But I can help you, Jack, I know I can.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“ Just give me a chance to make things right. We can talk about this -“
“Too late.” Jack’s voice held no emotion at all. The Doctor tried desperately to catch his eye, but he’d turned away. “Jack? Look at me, Jack,” he commanded. “Look at me. Now.” Jack returned the Doctor’s steely gaze for a moment. Then he shook his head and scoffed. “You can forget that Oncoming Storm crap. It’s not going to work on me.” He kicked aside the remains of the Doctor’s clothing as he moved to the other bed.
“No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. Please, if you’d only listen -”
“Why should I trust you? I learned a long time ago not to trust anyone.”
Jack unzipped a duffel bag and removed something that he placed on the bedside table. The Doctor twisted in his bonds to get a better look.
“What is that? What are you doing? Jack? Answer me.”
Jack held up the vial so the Doctor could see. “The new injectable form of Retcon. You’re not the only one who can mess with people’s minds, you know.” Jack’s manner was casual and his voice clinical as he filled a syringe. “You can be more selective with the memories you take. More precise.” He laid down the syringe and picked up another vial. “See? One for you and one for me. Different strengths, for --”
“Jack.” The Doctor’s voice shook. “Stop. Stop and listen to yourself, do you hear what you’re saying? How can you do this?”
“It’s easy…once you get used to it.” He finished filling the second syringe and laid it carefully next to the first. “Don’t want to get these mixed up -“
“This isn’t you! Jack, you know me. We’re friends. Don’t you remember? You would never -“
“He wouldn’t.” Jack had returned to the duffel bag. He was removing various items and arranging them on the other bed. The Doctor heard the clink of metal against metal. He struggled harder although he knew it was useless.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your Jack back to comfort you. He might even cry for you. That’s one thing I was never capable of. Maybe those two years will stay buried this time.” Jack sighed. “As for you, well, you’ll remember everything that happened to you here. All of it. Just not who or why.”
Jack strode purposefully towards the bed on which the Doctor lay. He was holding the Doctor’s tie, folding and twisting it. With a sudden shock the Doctor realised he was making it into a gag.
“Oh, now, hold on. You can’t -“
“You’re done talking.”
The Doctor’s mind was racing, searching for a way out. He couldn’t lose his voice now, it was his last defence, his last chance to --
“Wait. Wait. Jack, I’m sorry, just -- just don’t -“
Jack had reached his side.
“Don’t - don’t do this - no, no, please don’t - please, forgive me, I -- “
“Save it.”
“No! No - Jack -- don’t -- NO!”
The Doctor squirmed desperately, but fear was draining his strength. His screams were cut off as Jack forced the gag into his mouth and tied it securely.
He flinched, whimpering, as Jack bent over him, something gleaming in his hand.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done, this time. Starting now.”
Crossposted to dwfiction , jack_in_cuffs , galactic_conman ,torch_wood , and doctorwho . I apologize in advance if it swamps your flist :(
Title: Mistake
Author: Rose Cat
Rating: R, for language, implied torture, and graphic references to drugs being administered by injection
Fandom: (New)Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Captain Jack Harkness
Spoilers: TW 1.06, “Countrycide”
Word Count: 1246
Summary: Jack Harkness used to be pretty good at torture, or so he said.
Disclaimer: Shows and characters are not mine, I’m just playing with them.
Author’s Notes: This is a major departure, in both tone and content, from my previous stories. If you know me in real life, it may shock you. If you decide to read it anyway, don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Betaed by my Full Meta Beta, karaokegal , who kept me honest and refused to let me lose my nerve.
“Jack? What the hell are you doing? Jack!”
The Doctor had awakened only moments ago to find himself tied to the bed by his wrists and ankles. He was naked except for his shirt. Instinctively he tried to curl up, to cover himself, but he couldn’t move.
Jack had caught the Doctor off guard shortly after they entered the hotel room. He’d just finished one of his outrageous stories, and the Doctor was still laughing when Jack knocked him unconscious with a well-placed punch to the jaw.
Now Jack was leaning over him, carefully cutting the front of his shirt away. “Jack?” No response. Jack didn’t even look at him. He might as well have been opening a package.
“Cut it out, this isn’t funny -- and when I say cut, you know, I don’t mean it literally -- “ The scissors moved up his chest in quick, measured snips, the blades flashing. “Blimey! Couldn’t you just have undone the buttons? If you wanted --” One sharp tip was inches from his chin. He gasped as he felt the touch of the other, just for a moment, tracing a cool line below his throat. “Are you even listening to me?”
The room was quiet except for the soft buzz of the scissors and his own breathing, shallow and fast. Jack, completely focused on his work, moved on to the sleeves, cutting one expertly from wrist to shoulder, then the other. He still hadn’t said a word.
“Jack! You said you liked this shirt - stop. Please, just stop. You’re scaring me.”
At last Jack answered him. “Good.” He tossed the ruined shirt aside and stepped back. The Doctor stared up at him, momentarily shocked into silence. Jack was regarding him impassively, arms folded.
The Doctor was thinking furiously. Alien replacement? No, he’d know. Possession, then. Or … No. It couldn’t be. It would explain everything, but … no. He couldn’t have messed up that badly, it was impossible - wasn’t it?
He’d never thought he could be afraid of Jack, but suddenly he was. He searched Jack’s face, and what he saw there - and what he didn’t -- frightened him even more.
“Help me! Somebody, help!” Why had he done that? It wasn’t as if anyone could hear him. Jack would have made sure of that. He took a deep breath and tried unsuccessfully to still the shivers that were beginning to shake the bed.
“Oh, come on.” Jack chuckled. “Yelling for help? That is such a cliché. I picked this place for the soundproof walls, you know. It’s good for a lot of noisy…activities.”
Jack’s grin might have been mischievous if not for the emptiness in his eyes. It terrified the Doctor even more than his actions. The bed creaked louder as he yanked at the restraints.
“Why are you doing this? Why?”
“Because of what you did to me. You brought those memories back. It’s your fault.” Jack’s voice was expressionless, almost a monotone.
No.
“Oh, no … But I thought - we discussed it, Jack. I thought you could handle it. I thought you were okay.”
“Well, it looks like you were wrong, doesn’t it? You screwed up, big time.”
“Oh, now, hold on a minute, Jack, you insisted. You begged me to help you remember those missing years.”
Jack grabbed a lamp and hurled it at the wall. He didn’t bother to watch as it shattered. He spun back to look at the Doctor, his eyes wild. “And now I can’t fucking forget them!” He was screaming now. “I can’t sleep. I can’t go near Ianto. I can’t even look at the rest of the team -“
“And I’m responsible. But, Jack, you’re not like that anymore. You never were, not really. Why do you think they took away your memories in the first place? It wasn’t you, it was the drugs -- the drugs and the conditioning. They made a terrible mistake.”
“So did you.”
“Yes, you’re absolutely right. Believe me, I get that. I do. But I can help you, Jack, I know I can.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“ Just give me a chance to make things right. We can talk about this -“
“Too late.” Jack’s voice held no emotion at all. The Doctor tried desperately to catch his eye, but he’d turned away. “Jack? Look at me, Jack,” he commanded. “Look at me. Now.” Jack returned the Doctor’s steely gaze for a moment. Then he shook his head and scoffed. “You can forget that Oncoming Storm crap. It’s not going to work on me.” He kicked aside the remains of the Doctor’s clothing as he moved to the other bed.
“No, no, you’re right. I’m sorry. Please, if you’d only listen -”
“Why should I trust you? I learned a long time ago not to trust anyone.”
Jack unzipped a duffel bag and removed something that he placed on the bedside table. The Doctor twisted in his bonds to get a better look.
“What is that? What are you doing? Jack? Answer me.”
Jack held up the vial so the Doctor could see. “The new injectable form of Retcon. You’re not the only one who can mess with people’s minds, you know.” Jack’s manner was casual and his voice clinical as he filled a syringe. “You can be more selective with the memories you take. More precise.” He laid down the syringe and picked up another vial. “See? One for you and one for me. Different strengths, for --”
“Jack.” The Doctor’s voice shook. “Stop. Stop and listen to yourself, do you hear what you’re saying? How can you do this?”
“It’s easy…once you get used to it.” He finished filling the second syringe and laid it carefully next to the first. “Don’t want to get these mixed up -“
“This isn’t you! Jack, you know me. We’re friends. Don’t you remember? You would never -“
“He wouldn’t.” Jack had returned to the duffel bag. He was removing various items and arranging them on the other bed. The Doctor heard the clink of metal against metal. He struggled harder although he knew it was useless.
“Don’t worry, you’ll get your Jack back to comfort you. He might even cry for you. That’s one thing I was never capable of. Maybe those two years will stay buried this time.” Jack sighed. “As for you, well, you’ll remember everything that happened to you here. All of it. Just not who or why.”
Jack strode purposefully towards the bed on which the Doctor lay. He was holding the Doctor’s tie, folding and twisting it. With a sudden shock the Doctor realised he was making it into a gag.
“Oh, now, hold on. You can’t -“
“You’re done talking.”
The Doctor’s mind was racing, searching for a way out. He couldn’t lose his voice now, it was his last defence, his last chance to --
“Wait. Wait. Jack, I’m sorry, just -- just don’t -“
Jack had reached his side.
“Don’t - don’t do this - no, no, please don’t - please, forgive me, I -- “
“Save it.”
“No! No - Jack -- don’t -- NO!”
The Doctor squirmed desperately, but fear was draining his strength. His screams were cut off as Jack forced the gag into his mouth and tied it securely.
He flinched, whimpering, as Jack bent over him, something gleaming in his hand.
“You’re going to pay for what you’ve done, this time. Starting now.”
Crossposted to dwfiction , jack_in_cuffs , galactic_conman ,torch_wood , and doctorwho . I apologize in advance if it swamps your flist :(