Fic: Dancing To His Master's Drums Part Two
Title: Dancing To His Master's Drums Part Two
Author: RubyChan05
Prompt used: "Given how he referred to Jack in The Sound Of Drums, and Last Of The Time Lords, was there a grudging attraction to him in the Master? The Master uses his 'influence' to twist Jack's mind and keeps him in a seeming state of shock to keep him complaint. What can Ten do to protect him?"
"The Master is very persuasive. What can he persuade Jack to do to the Doctor? And what could he never, never persuade him to do?"
"You are a freak. If I knew how to destroy you I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
Rating: Hard R
Spoilers: All DW.
Warnings; None
Summary: During the year-that-never-was it all goes to Hell, and the betrayed becomes the betrayer.
Notes: Also including Master/Jack because the idea of them together ate my brain.
Safe.
That was the first thing Jack thought when he opened his eyes, only taking in the ornate décor in the room with his second glance. If his old teacher at the Time Academy could see him now…then Jack wondered why he was thinking about that, because after all he was safe here, wasn’t he? No need to keep his guard up and stay alert like he had been told to always do.
Shifting slightly, Jack was suddenly aware that he was naked between the sheets of the bed he was lying in, something that would possibly have alarmed him at one time or another, but right now seemed unimportant. Safe. No need to be dressed and ready to escape at the first sign of trouble. He could just lie back. Relax. God knew he hadn’t been able to do that in a while.
There were red marks around his wrists, standing out clearly against newly cleaned skin that seemed suddenly pale after months of being coated in sweat and grime. He’d been washed before being put to bed, that was obvious…wriggling slightly underneath the covers, Jack grinned to himself. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be clean. To feel material sliding past your skin smoothly and luxuriously, without catching on sticky flesh. He felt the mad urge to run his hands over his body just to make sure, but suppressed itas he continued studying his left wrist, sure that something was missing. No matter. He was sure it would come back to him eventually.
Gazing up at the beautiful mural painted onto the domed ceiling, Jack smiled dreamily. The burning planets depicted there looked so pretty next to the glittering stars and moons…and the drumming in his head carried on throughout, dim and distant and comforting.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“He’s gone.” The Doctor’s head jerked up at the harried whisper in his ear, eyes sliding round the room in an instinctual check for the Master’s presence. Finding none, he turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Francine Jones, wondering exactly who Martha’s mother was talking about…part of him torn between dreading and praying that she was talking about the Master.
“That Captain friend of yours…the one he took away. Tish says that when she went to give him his meal he wasn’t in his cell, and the guards told her that she wouldn’t be needed to feed him anymore.” Francine murmured, eyes flicking nervously towards the door. On realising her mistake at viewing the Doctor as a potential threat, Francine had strangely become much more friendly towards him…even sympathetic on those occasions the Master chose to spin him and his wheelchair across the room like some deranged merry-go-round. But more than that, she trusted him now…which would be necessary if what the Doctor was planning for ten months time was to go ahead.
Not that the Doctor was currently thinking about that. Not when what Francine had just told him was echoing through his mind, causing an irrational fear to rise up and take him hostage. Logically, he knew that the Master couldn’t have killed Jack. He was a Fact in time, impossible to kill…a fixed point in the universe. Except that the Master had always had a way of doing the unexpected, hadn’t he, of beating the laws of the universe into submission and doing what he liked. Maybe the Master had been able to do what he himself would never be able to do, had reversed what Rose had done in her so-human act of ignorant caring. Maybe Jack was lying on some pile of corpses down on Earth even now, those blue eyes open and unseeing, that incredible spark of life gone, extinguished forever…
Maybe Francine saw the look of blank terror in his eye. Maybe she just hadn’t finished what she’d been saying. But whatever the reason, her next words both calmed the Doctor and confused him all the more, even as another spark of fear flared into existence deep in the back of his mind.
“They told her that he was being kept in isolation now. Only the Master may see him.”
So Jack wasn’t dead. That, at least, was a comfort. But that still left the all-important questions of why exactly the Master had suddenly moved him into isolation after two months…of what had changed…of why the Master’s fascination with Jack now almost seemed to be bordering on obsessive, if his recent, lengthening absences from the main deck had anything to do with the irrepressible Captain.
Of course, the Master had always been fascinated with the Time Vortex. It had driven him mad as a child, staring into its depths, and now that he was older…now that he was Master of all he saw, it was still there, gazing back at him every time he looked into Jack’s eyes. Rose’s choice had pushed the power of the Vortex into that 51st century human, and the Doctor knew that the Master must be delighted with that, knew that deep down he desperately wanted to harness that power for himself, to control it and finally be able to proclaim himself as Master of all Time and Space.
The Doctor had run from Jack, just as he had done as a child staring into the Vortex. As a coward. The Master chose to actively seek that power as his own. And the Doctor had no idea what that would mean for Jack.
“Right. That’s fine…a little setback, but we’ll manage.” He whispered brightly to Francine, pulling himself out of his thoughts, tumultuous as they were. “I’m sure Jack will find a way to get himself here when the time comes. That man never lacked guts, that’s for sure.”
Francine smiled, smoothing a wrinkle out of the Doctor’s suit jacket.
“He gave Martha a way out. I’ll never be able to repay him for that, even if I live as long as you say he’s going to. He could have escaped, but he gave her that chance instead…and I’ll never forget it.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack didn’t know how long he’d been here, just lying in bed like this. It felt like a long time, but could have been mere minutes for all he knew…there were no clocks here, except for the curious statue on the shelf that looked like it might have been a clock had it had hands and numbers on it somewhere. He wondered what was meant to happen now. Surely it was wrong to just be lazing here, taking advantage of whoever had moved him here? But at the same time, he had the feeling that someone was coming to see him soon. If only he knew the time…
Time.
He paused, frowning. Time…something about that word called to him, urging him to remember something important. It hovered there, on the edge of the happy cloud that seemed to be settled around his memories for the moment. But what…? Was he missing a meeting? A programme? Jack just couldn’t understand what it was that was steadily starting to fill him with a sense of uneasiness at his current situation. The drums were fading now, leaving behind emptiness, an emptiness that was beginning to be filled with questions and a feeling that something was very, very wrong.
He had to get dressed. He had to find his clothes and get out of here, find some answers. He had to find someone who could tell him what was going on. If not here, then somewhere else…maybe there was of phone lying around, maybe he could ct the Agency. Something like a blue box flashed into his mind for a second, before vanishing away into the ether again, leaving him with a terrible icy pit of fear in his stomach.
He’d been compromised. Agent Connor had always warned him that there were objects and people out there that could do strange things to your mind. He had to get back to the Agency…except that no, he couldn’t return until someone had checked him over, determined that he was no risk to base security. For all he knew, he had been brainwashed into killing the Commissioner the next time they met, or even made into some sort of bomb…
Spying the pile of clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair, Jack made a grab for them, humming in approval as he realised that there was underwear here too…these clothes were obviously meant for him, had possibly been taken when the mystery person undressed him. Except that although he knew he could be a bit slutty at times, there was no way he would have worn a shirt like this…it looked to be two sizes too small for him, and there were some interesting open areas around where his bellybutton and collarbone would be. The leather trousers, perhaps, but never the shirt.
Ditching all the clothes except for the underwear, Jack threw open the wardrobe, sighing in relief as he found much more sensible outfits, even if they were distributed amongst sets of flashier ones. Throwing on a t-shirt and stepping into a pair of navy trousers, he slipped on a blue shirt and pulled the braces up over his shoulders. Grabbing a pair of boots from the bottom of the wardrobe he hesitated, fingers brushing against the thick fabric of a military greatcoat. Perhaps not overly practical for battle, but still…something called him to it, and it was that that made him hurriedly pull it on. Anything that even hinted at being familiar at the moment was definitely a bonus. Now if only his mystery kidnapper had left his Vortex Manipulator lying around…
Jerking to a stop, Jack froze, eyes opening impossibly wide. But he wouldn’t find it, would he? He’d given it to Martha, given her a chance to escape, to get to safety, because he’d known that was what the Doctor would want him to do…
The Doctor.
Now he knew what he’d been missing! Why he’d seen that blue box, why Time had seemed so important…he didn’t know how he’d done it, but the Master had made him forget all about the Doctor and their travels, about Rose and Martha…even his beloved team back at base. His lip curled.
Perhaps worst of all, he could guess pretty well exactly what the Master had been trying to condition him into. And whilst Jack Harkness was a lot of things, he definitely was not some sort of submissive bed slave. Even when he did play sub, he was always in control some way or another. Never totally helpless - people like that never lasted long in the world, he knew.
Scanning the room for anything that even remotely looked like it could be used as a weapon, Jack cursed under his breath. Ornate and decorated as the room was, there was nothing that he could use. Even the lamp on the bedside table was oddly shaped and cumbersome, too heavy to be used effectively. It made sense; after all, this room had obviously been set aside for him to use as the Master’s pet; it would have been ridiculous to allow him access to anything that could possibly have been used to hurt the Master. Unless…
Moving swiftly round the room, Jack tapped lightly on the walls, giving a quiet cry of victory as a dull, echoing sound marked a particular section as hollow. Smoothing his hands over the tasteful wallpaper quickly found a small metal circle hidden beneath, and Jack breathed in deeply before pressing down on it lightly, applying more pressure when nothing happened.
There was the sound of a lock clicking open, and part of the wall swung open, a peculiar hissing sound echoing round the room as the mechanism released air. Gazing into the hidden cabinet, Jack grinned and pulled out a Webley Mark IV pistol, smile only widening when he flipped open the chamber to see that it was loaded. Just like he’d thought…the Master had been arrogant enough to assume that his memory-wiping would have worked. He’d probably been planning to give Jack his gun back after he was sure of Jack’s loyalties…maybe even use him as some sort of bodyguard as well as a willing body.
Well, at least he was armed now. That had to count for something. And now to go get the Doctor…and the Jones’. Couldn’t forget the Jones’. Martha would never forgive him.
“Well well. Looks like I am losing my touch, hmm?”
Jack whirled round, bringing up the Webley in his usual two-handed grip as he stared at the Master in shock. The Time Lord smiled benevolently at him, raising his hands above his head to show that he was defenceless. If the Master had ever been that.
“And to think, I was sure I’d confused that lovely mind of yours enough to do what I wished with it. Obviously you’re made of sterner stuff than I thought, Mr Harkness.” The Master chuckled, shaking his head in defeat. “But at least it was entertaining whilst it lasted…to have the Doctor’s Captain huddled in my arms, sobbing his heart out…if only I’d thought to have recorded it. Why, that may have been the perfect thing to finally break the Doctor!”
Jack moved forward sharply, finger tightening on the trigger as he glared furiously at the Master.
“Leave the Doctor out of this!” He snarled. The Master blinked, then tipped his head back in a fit of laughter. Jack winced, his insides twisting at the insanity he heard in the other man’s voice.
“Ah…now I can see where the problem lies! How touching, that you’re so in love with the Doctor that you can’t bear to forget him, even if those memories cause you pain!” The Master sneered. “What has he got, I wonder, that makes all his companions fall so hopelessly in love with him?”
Jack flinched, his grip on the Webley faltering ever so slightly. The Master pouted mockingly before breaking out into another bout of laughter.
“You’re surprised I know? You forget, I saw inside your mind. Not to mention you’re so obvious that absolutely anyone could see…well, anyone who wasn’t a 900 year old Time Lord still obsessing over a blonde bimbo…what was her name again? Rose? You should be proud - as far as I know, you’re the first of his male companions to fall so hard for him. Unless you count the crush that Adric boy had on him so many years ago…”
“Has any of this got an actual point? Cause you see, I already know all this. I know that he would never look that way at me, and I’m fine with it. And right now, there’s nothing more I’d like than to march you down to the Main Deck and have you put the Doctor right again.” Jack breathed.
The Master just smirked, and the next thing Jack knew he was defenceless, Webley lying on the floor beyond reach and his hand stinging from the force that had knocked it from his grasp. The tangy smell of burnt metal drifted up to him.
“Jack, Jack, Jack.” The Master sighed, lowering the Laser Screwdriver he’d pulled from nowhere. “When will you learn? You can’t defeat a God.” Striding over to the wary Captain, the Master stopped just in front of him, still grinning that lunatic grin of his.
“But luckily for you, I’m rather partial to that face of yours.” He whispered, before gripping Jack’s head tightly between his hands and forcing himself into his mind once more.
This time, the Master didn’t bother slowly examining each memory as he had before, simply barrelling through Jack’s thoughts with hardly a care. He knew where he was going this time, after all. And Jack was screaming, screaming like he hadn’t done since Abaddon had feasted upon his life energy, and surely someone must have heard him by now, must be wondering what was going on, why someone was screaming like this…
Except that there was no one on this ship apart from the Doctor and the Jones’ that would care, was there? All the rest were too hypnotised by the Master…or too scared of him. Just the Doctor and…
“You really think the Doctor cares for you in any way? That he even thinks of you as human now that you’re a Fact?” The Master’s voice whispered tauntingly inside his head, and Jack cried out, jerking, as an invisible hand grabbed at his memories of the Doctor, pulling them up and picking them apart.
“You are nothing to him now, Jack Harkness…he ran from you like a coward, leaving you on a station full of corpses you had once called allies. He didn’t know your Vortex Manipulator worked when he left, did he? He just left you, knowing that you could be stuck there forever. Away from him.”
“That’s…not…true…” Jack hissed, nostrils flaring as he fought desperately against the Master’s mental grip. The Master chuckled, deep inside him.
“Now Captain, we both know that it is. Why, I can see right here that you’ve thought it yourself on many a dark and lonely night, when you lie on that rickety bunk underneath your little headquarters and wonder just why he left you in this sorry state without even saying goodbye.”
“So? Doubts. Insomnia can get to you at the best of times. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“But whatever happened to ‘Never doubted him, never will’, hmm? I’ll tell you - you realised it for yourself, didn’t you, Jack? This Doctor…so hard underneath his smiles, so ruthless. You’re nothing more than an inconvenience for him now, something to avoid until a tool is needed, until he needs someone who can’t die. And even then, he won’t show a shred of gratitude, will he?”
“Stop it.” Jack whispered, temples throbbing under the onslaught of the Master’s attack. The pain was no longer intense enough to have him screaming, but the sound of drums thundered in the background, their quick, vibrant tempo beginning to capture him, pull him into the mad dance the Master was leading.
And what made it all worse was that what the Master was saying was true, that it resonated inside Jack. These were thoughts he had had himself, but pushed deep down inside himself in a fit of denial. The Doctor was his hero, his role model…he couldn’t be this heartless…unless it was to him. Because he was Wrong, wasn’t he?
“But you’re not Wrong, my handsome Captain. The Doctor’s just prejudiced, instinctively fighting against what he cannot understand. I, I can see your true potential, and I embrace it. I won’t turn against you like he has.”
“Turn…against me?” Jack murmured weakly, eyelids fluttering as he strove to stay conscious.
“Yes, my dear Jack. What do you think he really wants to do? What do you imagine he’s really thinking underneath all those genial smiles and all that laughter?”
An image of the Doctor swam before Jack’s eyes, and the ex-conman flinched back at the cold look in the Time Lord’s eyes, recognising it distantly as the stare the Doctor normally reserved for the most evil of his enemies, the look he gave terrible creatures like the Daleks.
“You are a freak. If I knew how to destroy you, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.” The Doctor hissed, gripping his Sonic Screwdriver so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You shouldn’t exist…it would have been better if you just stayed dead.”
The strength in Jack’s legs suddenly disappeared, and he distantly felt them give way beneath him, leaving him in an ungainly heap on the floor. The Master followed him down, ever graceful, his hands never losing contact with Jack’s head.
“You see, Jack? The Doctor has done nothing but let you down, again and again. Me? I’ll never let you go.”
Jack knelt there, breathing harshly, his own knuckles white as he gripped at the hem of his greatcoat. The Master slowly released him from his grasp, pulling back to sit on his haunches, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face. For a moment, Jack stayed silent and still, as though what he’d seen and heard had transformed him into some bizarre statue. But then he shifted slightly, lifting his head to lock eyes with the Master. And what the Master saw there made him smile.
Part One
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
Comments are love!
Author: RubyChan05
Prompt used: "Given how he referred to Jack in The Sound Of Drums, and Last Of The Time Lords, was there a grudging attraction to him in the Master? The Master uses his 'influence' to twist Jack's mind and keeps him in a seeming state of shock to keep him complaint. What can Ten do to protect him?"
"The Master is very persuasive. What can he persuade Jack to do to the Doctor? And what could he never, never persuade him to do?"
"You are a freak. If I knew how to destroy you I wouldn't hesitate for a moment."
Rating: Hard R
Spoilers: All DW.
Warnings; None
Summary: During the year-that-never-was it all goes to Hell, and the betrayed becomes the betrayer.
Notes: Also including Master/Jack because the idea of them together ate my brain.
Safe.
That was the first thing Jack thought when he opened his eyes, only taking in the ornate décor in the room with his second glance. If his old teacher at the Time Academy could see him now…then Jack wondered why he was thinking about that, because after all he was safe here, wasn’t he? No need to keep his guard up and stay alert like he had been told to always do.
Shifting slightly, Jack was suddenly aware that he was naked between the sheets of the bed he was lying in, something that would possibly have alarmed him at one time or another, but right now seemed unimportant. Safe. No need to be dressed and ready to escape at the first sign of trouble. He could just lie back. Relax. God knew he hadn’t been able to do that in a while.
There were red marks around his wrists, standing out clearly against newly cleaned skin that seemed suddenly pale after months of being coated in sweat and grime. He’d been washed before being put to bed, that was obvious…wriggling slightly underneath the covers, Jack grinned to himself. He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be clean. To feel material sliding past your skin smoothly and luxuriously, without catching on sticky flesh. He felt the mad urge to run his hands over his body just to make sure, but suppressed itas he continued studying his left wrist, sure that something was missing. No matter. He was sure it would come back to him eventually.
Gazing up at the beautiful mural painted onto the domed ceiling, Jack smiled dreamily. The burning planets depicted there looked so pretty next to the glittering stars and moons…and the drumming in his head carried on throughout, dim and distant and comforting.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
“He’s gone.” The Doctor’s head jerked up at the harried whisper in his ear, eyes sliding round the room in an instinctual check for the Master’s presence. Finding none, he turned his head and raised an eyebrow at Francine Jones, wondering exactly who Martha’s mother was talking about…part of him torn between dreading and praying that she was talking about the Master.
“That Captain friend of yours…the one he took away. Tish says that when she went to give him his meal he wasn’t in his cell, and the guards told her that she wouldn’t be needed to feed him anymore.” Francine murmured, eyes flicking nervously towards the door. On realising her mistake at viewing the Doctor as a potential threat, Francine had strangely become much more friendly towards him…even sympathetic on those occasions the Master chose to spin him and his wheelchair across the room like some deranged merry-go-round. But more than that, she trusted him now…which would be necessary if what the Doctor was planning for ten months time was to go ahead.
Not that the Doctor was currently thinking about that. Not when what Francine had just told him was echoing through his mind, causing an irrational fear to rise up and take him hostage. Logically, he knew that the Master couldn’t have killed Jack. He was a Fact in time, impossible to kill…a fixed point in the universe. Except that the Master had always had a way of doing the unexpected, hadn’t he, of beating the laws of the universe into submission and doing what he liked. Maybe the Master had been able to do what he himself would never be able to do, had reversed what Rose had done in her so-human act of ignorant caring. Maybe Jack was lying on some pile of corpses down on Earth even now, those blue eyes open and unseeing, that incredible spark of life gone, extinguished forever…
Maybe Francine saw the look of blank terror in his eye. Maybe she just hadn’t finished what she’d been saying. But whatever the reason, her next words both calmed the Doctor and confused him all the more, even as another spark of fear flared into existence deep in the back of his mind.
“They told her that he was being kept in isolation now. Only the Master may see him.”
So Jack wasn’t dead. That, at least, was a comfort. But that still left the all-important questions of why exactly the Master had suddenly moved him into isolation after two months…of what had changed…of why the Master’s fascination with Jack now almost seemed to be bordering on obsessive, if his recent, lengthening absences from the main deck had anything to do with the irrepressible Captain.
Of course, the Master had always been fascinated with the Time Vortex. It had driven him mad as a child, staring into its depths, and now that he was older…now that he was Master of all he saw, it was still there, gazing back at him every time he looked into Jack’s eyes. Rose’s choice had pushed the power of the Vortex into that 51st century human, and the Doctor knew that the Master must be delighted with that, knew that deep down he desperately wanted to harness that power for himself, to control it and finally be able to proclaim himself as Master of all Time and Space.
The Doctor had run from Jack, just as he had done as a child staring into the Vortex. As a coward. The Master chose to actively seek that power as his own. And the Doctor had no idea what that would mean for Jack.
“Right. That’s fine…a little setback, but we’ll manage.” He whispered brightly to Francine, pulling himself out of his thoughts, tumultuous as they were. “I’m sure Jack will find a way to get himself here when the time comes. That man never lacked guts, that’s for sure.”
Francine smiled, smoothing a wrinkle out of the Doctor’s suit jacket.
“He gave Martha a way out. I’ll never be able to repay him for that, even if I live as long as you say he’s going to. He could have escaped, but he gave her that chance instead…and I’ll never forget it.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Jack didn’t know how long he’d been here, just lying in bed like this. It felt like a long time, but could have been mere minutes for all he knew…there were no clocks here, except for the curious statue on the shelf that looked like it might have been a clock had it had hands and numbers on it somewhere. He wondered what was meant to happen now. Surely it was wrong to just be lazing here, taking advantage of whoever had moved him here? But at the same time, he had the feeling that someone was coming to see him soon. If only he knew the time…
Time.
He paused, frowning. Time…something about that word called to him, urging him to remember something important. It hovered there, on the edge of the happy cloud that seemed to be settled around his memories for the moment. But what…? Was he missing a meeting? A programme? Jack just couldn’t understand what it was that was steadily starting to fill him with a sense of uneasiness at his current situation. The drums were fading now, leaving behind emptiness, an emptiness that was beginning to be filled with questions and a feeling that something was very, very wrong.
He had to get dressed. He had to find his clothes and get out of here, find some answers. He had to find someone who could tell him what was going on. If not here, then somewhere else…maybe there was of phone lying around, maybe he could ct the Agency. Something like a blue box flashed into his mind for a second, before vanishing away into the ether again, leaving him with a terrible icy pit of fear in his stomach.
He’d been compromised. Agent Connor had always warned him that there were objects and people out there that could do strange things to your mind. He had to get back to the Agency…except that no, he couldn’t return until someone had checked him over, determined that he was no risk to base security. For all he knew, he had been brainwashed into killing the Commissioner the next time they met, or even made into some sort of bomb…
Spying the pile of clothes folded neatly on a nearby chair, Jack made a grab for them, humming in approval as he realised that there was underwear here too…these clothes were obviously meant for him, had possibly been taken when the mystery person undressed him. Except that although he knew he could be a bit slutty at times, there was no way he would have worn a shirt like this…it looked to be two sizes too small for him, and there were some interesting open areas around where his bellybutton and collarbone would be. The leather trousers, perhaps, but never the shirt.
Ditching all the clothes except for the underwear, Jack threw open the wardrobe, sighing in relief as he found much more sensible outfits, even if they were distributed amongst sets of flashier ones. Throwing on a t-shirt and stepping into a pair of navy trousers, he slipped on a blue shirt and pulled the braces up over his shoulders. Grabbing a pair of boots from the bottom of the wardrobe he hesitated, fingers brushing against the thick fabric of a military greatcoat. Perhaps not overly practical for battle, but still…something called him to it, and it was that that made him hurriedly pull it on. Anything that even hinted at being familiar at the moment was definitely a bonus. Now if only his mystery kidnapper had left his Vortex Manipulator lying around…
Jerking to a stop, Jack froze, eyes opening impossibly wide. But he wouldn’t find it, would he? He’d given it to Martha, given her a chance to escape, to get to safety, because he’d known that was what the Doctor would want him to do…
The Doctor.
Now he knew what he’d been missing! Why he’d seen that blue box, why Time had seemed so important…he didn’t know how he’d done it, but the Master had made him forget all about the Doctor and their travels, about Rose and Martha…even his beloved team back at base. His lip curled.
Perhaps worst of all, he could guess pretty well exactly what the Master had been trying to condition him into. And whilst Jack Harkness was a lot of things, he definitely was not some sort of submissive bed slave. Even when he did play sub, he was always in control some way or another. Never totally helpless - people like that never lasted long in the world, he knew.
Scanning the room for anything that even remotely looked like it could be used as a weapon, Jack cursed under his breath. Ornate and decorated as the room was, there was nothing that he could use. Even the lamp on the bedside table was oddly shaped and cumbersome, too heavy to be used effectively. It made sense; after all, this room had obviously been set aside for him to use as the Master’s pet; it would have been ridiculous to allow him access to anything that could possibly have been used to hurt the Master. Unless…
Moving swiftly round the room, Jack tapped lightly on the walls, giving a quiet cry of victory as a dull, echoing sound marked a particular section as hollow. Smoothing his hands over the tasteful wallpaper quickly found a small metal circle hidden beneath, and Jack breathed in deeply before pressing down on it lightly, applying more pressure when nothing happened.
There was the sound of a lock clicking open, and part of the wall swung open, a peculiar hissing sound echoing round the room as the mechanism released air. Gazing into the hidden cabinet, Jack grinned and pulled out a Webley Mark IV pistol, smile only widening when he flipped open the chamber to see that it was loaded. Just like he’d thought…the Master had been arrogant enough to assume that his memory-wiping would have worked. He’d probably been planning to give Jack his gun back after he was sure of Jack’s loyalties…maybe even use him as some sort of bodyguard as well as a willing body.
Well, at least he was armed now. That had to count for something. And now to go get the Doctor…and the Jones’. Couldn’t forget the Jones’. Martha would never forgive him.
“Well well. Looks like I am losing my touch, hmm?”
Jack whirled round, bringing up the Webley in his usual two-handed grip as he stared at the Master in shock. The Time Lord smiled benevolently at him, raising his hands above his head to show that he was defenceless. If the Master had ever been that.
“And to think, I was sure I’d confused that lovely mind of yours enough to do what I wished with it. Obviously you’re made of sterner stuff than I thought, Mr Harkness.” The Master chuckled, shaking his head in defeat. “But at least it was entertaining whilst it lasted…to have the Doctor’s Captain huddled in my arms, sobbing his heart out…if only I’d thought to have recorded it. Why, that may have been the perfect thing to finally break the Doctor!”
Jack moved forward sharply, finger tightening on the trigger as he glared furiously at the Master.
“Leave the Doctor out of this!” He snarled. The Master blinked, then tipped his head back in a fit of laughter. Jack winced, his insides twisting at the insanity he heard in the other man’s voice.
“Ah…now I can see where the problem lies! How touching, that you’re so in love with the Doctor that you can’t bear to forget him, even if those memories cause you pain!” The Master sneered. “What has he got, I wonder, that makes all his companions fall so hopelessly in love with him?”
Jack flinched, his grip on the Webley faltering ever so slightly. The Master pouted mockingly before breaking out into another bout of laughter.
“You’re surprised I know? You forget, I saw inside your mind. Not to mention you’re so obvious that absolutely anyone could see…well, anyone who wasn’t a 900 year old Time Lord still obsessing over a blonde bimbo…what was her name again? Rose? You should be proud - as far as I know, you’re the first of his male companions to fall so hard for him. Unless you count the crush that Adric boy had on him so many years ago…”
“Has any of this got an actual point? Cause you see, I already know all this. I know that he would never look that way at me, and I’m fine with it. And right now, there’s nothing more I’d like than to march you down to the Main Deck and have you put the Doctor right again.” Jack breathed.
The Master just smirked, and the next thing Jack knew he was defenceless, Webley lying on the floor beyond reach and his hand stinging from the force that had knocked it from his grasp. The tangy smell of burnt metal drifted up to him.
“Jack, Jack, Jack.” The Master sighed, lowering the Laser Screwdriver he’d pulled from nowhere. “When will you learn? You can’t defeat a God.” Striding over to the wary Captain, the Master stopped just in front of him, still grinning that lunatic grin of his.
“But luckily for you, I’m rather partial to that face of yours.” He whispered, before gripping Jack’s head tightly between his hands and forcing himself into his mind once more.
This time, the Master didn’t bother slowly examining each memory as he had before, simply barrelling through Jack’s thoughts with hardly a care. He knew where he was going this time, after all. And Jack was screaming, screaming like he hadn’t done since Abaddon had feasted upon his life energy, and surely someone must have heard him by now, must be wondering what was going on, why someone was screaming like this…
Except that there was no one on this ship apart from the Doctor and the Jones’ that would care, was there? All the rest were too hypnotised by the Master…or too scared of him. Just the Doctor and…
“You really think the Doctor cares for you in any way? That he even thinks of you as human now that you’re a Fact?” The Master’s voice whispered tauntingly inside his head, and Jack cried out, jerking, as an invisible hand grabbed at his memories of the Doctor, pulling them up and picking them apart.
“You are nothing to him now, Jack Harkness…he ran from you like a coward, leaving you on a station full of corpses you had once called allies. He didn’t know your Vortex Manipulator worked when he left, did he? He just left you, knowing that you could be stuck there forever. Away from him.”
“That’s…not…true…” Jack hissed, nostrils flaring as he fought desperately against the Master’s mental grip. The Master chuckled, deep inside him.
“Now Captain, we both know that it is. Why, I can see right here that you’ve thought it yourself on many a dark and lonely night, when you lie on that rickety bunk underneath your little headquarters and wonder just why he left you in this sorry state without even saying goodbye.”
“So? Doubts. Insomnia can get to you at the best of times. Doesn’t mean anything.”
“But whatever happened to ‘Never doubted him, never will’, hmm? I’ll tell you - you realised it for yourself, didn’t you, Jack? This Doctor…so hard underneath his smiles, so ruthless. You’re nothing more than an inconvenience for him now, something to avoid until a tool is needed, until he needs someone who can’t die. And even then, he won’t show a shred of gratitude, will he?”
“Stop it.” Jack whispered, temples throbbing under the onslaught of the Master’s attack. The pain was no longer intense enough to have him screaming, but the sound of drums thundered in the background, their quick, vibrant tempo beginning to capture him, pull him into the mad dance the Master was leading.
And what made it all worse was that what the Master was saying was true, that it resonated inside Jack. These were thoughts he had had himself, but pushed deep down inside himself in a fit of denial. The Doctor was his hero, his role model…he couldn’t be this heartless…unless it was to him. Because he was Wrong, wasn’t he?
“But you’re not Wrong, my handsome Captain. The Doctor’s just prejudiced, instinctively fighting against what he cannot understand. I, I can see your true potential, and I embrace it. I won’t turn against you like he has.”
“Turn…against me?” Jack murmured weakly, eyelids fluttering as he strove to stay conscious.
“Yes, my dear Jack. What do you think he really wants to do? What do you imagine he’s really thinking underneath all those genial smiles and all that laughter?”
An image of the Doctor swam before Jack’s eyes, and the ex-conman flinched back at the cold look in the Time Lord’s eyes, recognising it distantly as the stare the Doctor normally reserved for the most evil of his enemies, the look he gave terrible creatures like the Daleks.
“You are a freak. If I knew how to destroy you, I wouldn’t hesitate for a moment.” The Doctor hissed, gripping his Sonic Screwdriver so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You shouldn’t exist…it would have been better if you just stayed dead.”
The strength in Jack’s legs suddenly disappeared, and he distantly felt them give way beneath him, leaving him in an ungainly heap on the floor. The Master followed him down, ever graceful, his hands never losing contact with Jack’s head.
“You see, Jack? The Doctor has done nothing but let you down, again and again. Me? I’ll never let you go.”
Jack knelt there, breathing harshly, his own knuckles white as he gripped at the hem of his greatcoat. The Master slowly released him from his grasp, pulling back to sit on his haunches, his eyes never leaving Jack’s face. For a moment, Jack stayed silent and still, as though what he’d seen and heard had transformed him into some bizarre statue. But then he shifted slightly, lifting his head to lock eyes with the Master. And what the Master saw there made him smile.
Part One
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
Part Six
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