Cursed like cursed things.
When; Early Saturday Morning
Rating; R - For Graphic violence
Characters; The Doctor sciencegeekchic and Captain Jack Harkness handsomejack
Summary; In which a year they'd like to forget, is relived
Log;
Jack had been more than ready to meet the Doctor down by the clock that evening. He'd even attempted to be good company, though he figured his old friend could tell something was up, still the Doctor was good about not pushing, definitely a man who believe 'all things in good time'.
The sandwiches had been good and the ticking of the clock was strangely soothing and though Jack had no intentions to fall asleep down here, he found his eyes closing briefly.
At least, he thought it was brief, he didn't realize he'd dozed off till he started to dream...till he started to remember.
The Year That Never Was.
Only it had been.
Jack hung between two concrete support beams, the chains around his wrists bolted into the walls. He'd managed to escape every cell and room he'd been locked up in, making a game out of it till the last time, the Master had changed up his tactics and ordered Jack strung up.
"After all, don't expect the Geneva convention matters much anymore, since there's no Geneva left!"
Head down, Jack was trying his best to rest. It was almost impossible in his current state but he was making the effort. It would be time soon. Time for another round of games with the Master. The Master liked to call it 'games' but Jack didn't hesitate to call it what it really was; torture.
By now, he'd lost count of how many times he'd died by the Master's hands, not to mention the number of times the guards had killed him when he'd escaped. At least those deaths were quick, multiple gunshot wounds, merciful. The Master on the other hand ...
He just kept escalating. He'd started with the basics, fingernails, water torture, death by a thousand cuts, amatur hour. Jack had scoffed at him, laughed in his face till the Master had become enraged and turned the power of his sonic screwdriver on him. The only thing Jack regretted in those moments was the fact that all the torture, all his deaths, took place in front of the Doctor.
Jack knew the Master was doing it on purpose. Getting the most bang for his buck so to speak. Causing Jack physical pain, while simultaneously inflicting untold emotional and mental anguish on the Doctor. Jack hated, hated being used in such a way, felt guilty every single time it happened and he couldn't help wondering if the Doctor was mad at him for not having been able to flee with Martha.
He didn't know but in these quiet moments, between one session and the next, the worry ate at him.
The Doctor felt so old it seemed as if his bones would turn to dust. He didn't have any right to complain though, not when he was forced to watch what was happening to Jack. The Doctor didn't think he could ever again complain about pain after watching this. Especially knowing it was all his fault.
If Jack hadn't been his friend, then none of this would be happening to the good Captain. The Master had nothing against Jack anymore than he had something against the rest of the universe. But the Doctor, that was a different story. He doubted there was anything in the entire galaxy that the Master hated as much as the Doctor. And his adversary knew just where to hurt him, too. Physical pain was something the Doctor could have dealt with. But the emotional effects of watching someone else suffer because of him was almost too much.
The Doctor had been through more than the Master could imagine since their last meeting though and as badly as it hurt him to see this happen to Jack, he could deal with it. More than anything what he wanted was to help Jack. It was the least he could do for his friend. The Time Lord refused to shut his eyes to what the man was going through, he wouldn't cheapen what Jack was going through like that. What he would do though was use his telepathy to help Jack deal with it all. Being the one responsible for the genocide of your entire race helped you learn to deal with anguish, and that's what the Doctor did every chance he could.
The Doctor's calm acceptance only seemed to enrage the Master further and the broken Time Lord spent hours plotting out his next round of torture for the immortal he kept like a pet in the bowels of the ship.
Smiling nastily, the Master ordered for Jack to be brought up, his lanky limbs all a twitter with a sort of dance to the drums locked in his head. He darted around the room, chattering to the Doctor about something utterly inconsequential as he oversaw the placement of the table he used to restrain Jack upon.
Soon enough the bedraggled figure of the immortal was drawn through the doors, held up by guards on either side, his expression as ever, hopeful that this time he'd come through the door and the Doctor would be restored, that the man he held complete faith in, would have managed to turn the tables. Through all the pain and the suffering, Jack couldn't give up the hope that the Doctor would figure out what to do.
But not yet.
Jack dropped his head, carefully hiding his distress at seeing the Time Lord still trapped in a cage like an aged rat. It infuriated the young immortal because his belief in the Doctor was so absolute that to see him humiliated in such a way made Jack sick. Riding the wave of rage, harnessing it to fuel his own lagging strength for the pain to come, Jack looked back up and smiled at the Master in a cocky manner.
"What, no candle lit dinner?"
At first the Master had punished Jack for his mouthiness but now the psychopathic genius had decided it was beneath his notice and he simply flicked his fingers towards the table, indicating that Jack was to be strapped down.
Oh goody.
"You know what I liked best about Earth, Doctor?" The Master asked as he skipped between the large board room table and the gilded cage. "Christmas. Oh but it's such a wonderful time of year isn't it? The smell of pine, the little toy soldiers, the presents, the alien invasions."
The Master paused and grinned.
"Just a shindig of a good time! But the presents ... oh the presents, Doctor!" The Master bounced in place, pausing in the act of putting on some strange sort of gloves. "I love the presents! Not for ripping them open, like an impatient child but the slow, careful unwrapping. The teasing reveal of what's underneath all that pretty paper."
Walking over to where Jack was now strapped down to the table, the Master smiled at the Doctor as he stroked his gloves fingers through Jack's dirty chestnut hair.
"Pretty, pretty wrapping paper, what do you hide underneath?"
Jack, had a really bad feeling about this and he turned his head towards the Doctor, giving the Time Lord a quick, easy sort of smile. Trying desperately to show the Doctor that it was okay, that he'd be okay, that the Doctor wasn't to worry...
Then the Master started. Slowly and carefully, cutting into Jack's flesh and then peeling it back from muscle and bone. The Master had already skinned Jack alive once, using sharp blades and he'd claimed annoyance at how quickly Jack had died. It seemed he'd adjusted his approach for this new game and the Master was using his hands to literally tear skin off muscle and then muscle of bone.
It was slow, Jack's overactive immune system fighting back against the damage, refusing to give in to the scant comfort that shock would supply. He tried not to scream, hated giving the Master the satisfaction and more to the point, hated having the Doctor suffer for his weakness but eventually it was too much and Jack couldn't keep from arching and crying out.
Gazing at the scene with an aged body that finally seemed to make the ancient, weary eyes of the Doctor, the Time Lord watched as one of his last friends in the universe was tortured on his account. The smile that Jack had given him moments before it had begun severed to reassure the Doctor while simultaneously driving him deeper into despair. The faith that the ex-Time Agent had at him felt so unwarranted at the moment, but the reminder that others were counting on him and that he couldn't fail. And the Doctor wouldn't. It would take time for his plan to come to fruition, but it would.
In the mean time, he would make sure Jack was spared as much of this as he could be.
It took awhile for Jack to finally die. In fact, his voice ran out before his life force and for the last half hour he could only lay there and wait to die. Eventually, his body gave out and he expired, leaving the Master pouting like a child who had broke his toy. With a sigh he dropped the blood soaked gloves on the body and skipped out of the room.
This was deliberate, a subtle sort of torture where he left Jack and the Doctor alone but hopelessly separated by the cage and the straps holding Jack to the bed. It took almost an hour for Jack to revive, for his body to heal the damage done to it and as he gasped his way to consciousness, the Doctor's name was on his lips.
"Doctor?!"
Part of the Doctor almost wished that this time, Jack's body wouldn't knit itself back together, that his friend would just have the relief of death finally come to him. Nothing should have to go through death so many times, especially these kinds of deaths. But it didn't happen, the Doctor watched as muscle and skin formed itself back over the bones, a reversal of what the Master had done.
When Jack called his name the Doctor perked up a bit, forcing the weariness of his aged body aside to try and put on his best face for Jack. Harkness deserved that much at least.
"I'm here, Jack," he said, his voice sounding incredibly old to his ears. The Doctor had been old before, but he hadn't been this old.
His hand hung out of the cage as much as it could, half reaching for Jack. It felt like if he could just touch the man, that would make everything okay. He had never been comfortable with personal contact, but he knew that Jack would be comforted by something like that. The Master was far too cruel to let them have that sort of contact, though.
"If you ever wondered, you look just as dashing on the inside...."
Jack twisted towards the sound of the Doctor's voice and though he knew that was as close as the Master would allow them to get, he still struggled briefly against the restraints to try to reach back to his friend.
He was desperate for contact, even though the Doctor looked so achingly frail that Jack feared for the Time Lord every moment he couldn't keep an eye on him but he still ached to just be allowed the brief touch. He knew it was a weakness he'd probably unwittingly revealed to the Master, which was why the psychotic Time Lord had set up this time, to further torture them both.
"Well, course I would," Jack tried to joke back. This had been a bad death and he was still weak in the recovery so he hoped his words didn't sound as flat to the Doctor as they did to his own ears. He wanted to ask if the Doctor thought Martha was doing all right but he didn't dare bring her up, didn't dare give the Master something else to use against the Doctor.
"How are you holding up?"
"Ohhh, about the same," the Doctor replied. He wished that he could muster up the energy for a smile but even that took more effort than he could bring himself to expend these days. It would be different if he had something to smile about, but as it was the Doctor had to just stick it out as best he could.
"Do you have any idea how often you have to go to the bathroom when you get old?" the Doctor asked, trying his best to use this brief moment alone to lighten the mood a bit. The Doctor would have preferred to say something... encouraging to Jack, but he knew that the Master would just use that against him. That's why all his encouragement was offered telepathically. "You have to go more, but you move slower..."
The telepathy helped.
By now it was the only thing that did and Jack clung to it with all the strength of his untrained mind.
The humor helped as well and despite the fact that he still hurt, he laughed and craned his head around at an angle till he could catch a glimpse of the Doctor out of the corner of his eye.
"Have to start planning these things a couple hours in advance, eh? You know, read the paper, eat some toast, start to the bathroom, straighten the wall art, pet the cat, continue to the bathroom, stop and talk to bridge club ..."
His laughter was rich but softer than normal and eventually Jack's voice gave out and he stopped trying to talk. Instead, he clung to the telepathic link, like a man at sea would hold on to driftwood and he let himself drift. He'd resisted this at first, horrified by the idea of putting a burden on the aged figure of the Doctor but now, after so long as the Master's play thing, Jack no longer had the luxury of his principals. He was weakening and as his body would never give out, Jack feared for his very sanity.
Doctor ... Jack couldn't think of words to say beyond the Time Lord's name and in the end, simply said, I'm so sorry.
One of the few blessings of his aged body was that it took so much effort and energy to do even the tiniest thing he often couldn't manage to even shrug his shoulders. So it was good that the expression on his face didn't change at all at Jack's words, because it killed him to hear the man apologizing. Jack had just had his skin ripped off and he was apologizing to the Doctor.
"Not your fault," the Doctor replied, again wishing he could at least reach out and clasp Jack's hand. It almost felt like all the pain could go away if he could just squeeze Jack's hand. It was amazing, what you learned to value once everything else was taken away from you. A touch. A smile. A tiny word of encouragement. Incredible, how little you really needed to be happy.
"And it's going to be okay," he added. "Martha will come through for us."
For Jack, who was a very tactile individual to begin with, the ability to just have the Doctor's friendly touch would have meant the world to him. He expected the Master knew this and so was deliberately setting up these moments, when ex Time Agent and Time Lord needed contact, could almost taste contact and yet remained hopelessly separated.
It was the sort of thing you did to crush a soul.
"I know," Jack said, with nothing but faith in his tone. There had been times when he had had to fake that faith but now he didn't bother. The Doctor said that Martha would come through, the Doctor trusted Miss Martha Jones and Jack Harkness trusted the Doctor.
"She's quite amazing, you know," The Doctor rasped.
He liked talking about Martha, because it reminded him that this was not over yet, and that there was a plan in the works to finish this, to stop the Master. Some people might be worried that it all relied on one person, but not the Doctor. The Doctor have faith in Martha.
"Shakespeare fancied her, did you know that?"
"Did he?" Jack gave a rough little chuckle. "Well, he was reported to have good tastes. Did you know they say he..."
Jack was cut off by the sound of a door opening and the Master skipped back into the room. The psychotic Time Lord had a bright smile on his face, which usually meant he'd come up with something new, inventive and cruel.
"Did you boys have a nice chat?" He asked, looking at both his captives. He sauntered over to the bound Captain and drove his hand into the man's dirty hair, yanking Jack's face to look up into his own.
"New gaaaaayyyymmmmeee," The Master singsonged, shoving Jack's head away as if he were dismissing an annoying dog and he skipped around the table to dance in front of the Doctor's cage.
"Riddle for your, Doctor. Do you know what happens when you drop Albinion acid on flesh? Oh!" The Master put his fingers to his mouth. "Wait, that's right. Of course you would. You're the DOCTOR. Be like me teaching my grandmother to suck eggs."
Tapping his finger on his mouth, he looked over at Jack who was now looking as if he might be sick. Albinion acid was not something to be fooled with, after all. It was a slow but ruthless corrosive and once it got on the skin, there was no hope of washing it off. The Master bounced on his toes.
"I know what we can do!" He said to the Doctor. "We can test what happens when you inject Albinion acid into the vein. What do you say, won't that be fun?"
The Master gleed as he danced back towards Jack.
"Oh I can just imagine it, a few drops, traveling through the circulatory system, all those blood, cells and cell cells to find and pop like little tiny bubbles," The man leaned over the head of the table and grinned upside down at Jack. "It'll be like, something slowly decomposing you from the inside out. Doesn't that sound interesting, fascinating, oh what's the word...oh, right! FAN-TAS-TIC!."
Jack turned his head away, hating hearing the word 'fantastic' from the Master's lips.
Patting the Captain's cheek, the Master grinned over at the Doctor and drew a specially designed syringe out of his pocket. Moving down to Jack's arm, he patted up a vein and slowly began to inject the acid.
Jack woke with a start. Where was he, was his death ... no, no he hadn't died yet, the acid must still be in his...
"Ah, hell!" Jack groaned as he 'felt' the pain from within. Okay, acid definitely in the veins but where was he?
Looking around, he didn't recognize the chamber. Some sort of big, large clock and ... wait, over there, free of his cage.
"DOCTOR!?"
[ooc: Okay the ooc of dooooomm! So the Doctor and Jack are cursed and believe they are back on the Valient during the year that never was. Jack 'believes' he has acid in his veins slowly killing him. The Doctor 'believes' he is 900+ years old. Jack 'believes' the Doctor is 900+ years old and needs his protection. This is not the case for anyone else. They both look perfectly normal. They are both far away from perfectly normal in the head. Right now they are starting out down by the clock!
EDA: Now in the right place!]
Rating; R - For Graphic violence
Characters; The Doctor sciencegeekchic and Captain Jack Harkness handsomejack
Summary; In which a year they'd like to forget, is relived
Log;
Jack had been more than ready to meet the Doctor down by the clock that evening. He'd even attempted to be good company, though he figured his old friend could tell something was up, still the Doctor was good about not pushing, definitely a man who believe 'all things in good time'.
The sandwiches had been good and the ticking of the clock was strangely soothing and though Jack had no intentions to fall asleep down here, he found his eyes closing briefly.
At least, he thought it was brief, he didn't realize he'd dozed off till he started to dream...till he started to remember.
The Year That Never Was.
Only it had been.
Jack hung between two concrete support beams, the chains around his wrists bolted into the walls. He'd managed to escape every cell and room he'd been locked up in, making a game out of it till the last time, the Master had changed up his tactics and ordered Jack strung up.
"After all, don't expect the Geneva convention matters much anymore, since there's no Geneva left!"
Head down, Jack was trying his best to rest. It was almost impossible in his current state but he was making the effort. It would be time soon. Time for another round of games with the Master. The Master liked to call it 'games' but Jack didn't hesitate to call it what it really was; torture.
By now, he'd lost count of how many times he'd died by the Master's hands, not to mention the number of times the guards had killed him when he'd escaped. At least those deaths were quick, multiple gunshot wounds, merciful. The Master on the other hand ...
He just kept escalating. He'd started with the basics, fingernails, water torture, death by a thousand cuts, amatur hour. Jack had scoffed at him, laughed in his face till the Master had become enraged and turned the power of his sonic screwdriver on him. The only thing Jack regretted in those moments was the fact that all the torture, all his deaths, took place in front of the Doctor.
Jack knew the Master was doing it on purpose. Getting the most bang for his buck so to speak. Causing Jack physical pain, while simultaneously inflicting untold emotional and mental anguish on the Doctor. Jack hated, hated being used in such a way, felt guilty every single time it happened and he couldn't help wondering if the Doctor was mad at him for not having been able to flee with Martha.
He didn't know but in these quiet moments, between one session and the next, the worry ate at him.
The Doctor felt so old it seemed as if his bones would turn to dust. He didn't have any right to complain though, not when he was forced to watch what was happening to Jack. The Doctor didn't think he could ever again complain about pain after watching this. Especially knowing it was all his fault.
If Jack hadn't been his friend, then none of this would be happening to the good Captain. The Master had nothing against Jack anymore than he had something against the rest of the universe. But the Doctor, that was a different story. He doubted there was anything in the entire galaxy that the Master hated as much as the Doctor. And his adversary knew just where to hurt him, too. Physical pain was something the Doctor could have dealt with. But the emotional effects of watching someone else suffer because of him was almost too much.
The Doctor had been through more than the Master could imagine since their last meeting though and as badly as it hurt him to see this happen to Jack, he could deal with it. More than anything what he wanted was to help Jack. It was the least he could do for his friend. The Time Lord refused to shut his eyes to what the man was going through, he wouldn't cheapen what Jack was going through like that. What he would do though was use his telepathy to help Jack deal with it all. Being the one responsible for the genocide of your entire race helped you learn to deal with anguish, and that's what the Doctor did every chance he could.
The Doctor's calm acceptance only seemed to enrage the Master further and the broken Time Lord spent hours plotting out his next round of torture for the immortal he kept like a pet in the bowels of the ship.
Smiling nastily, the Master ordered for Jack to be brought up, his lanky limbs all a twitter with a sort of dance to the drums locked in his head. He darted around the room, chattering to the Doctor about something utterly inconsequential as he oversaw the placement of the table he used to restrain Jack upon.
Soon enough the bedraggled figure of the immortal was drawn through the doors, held up by guards on either side, his expression as ever, hopeful that this time he'd come through the door and the Doctor would be restored, that the man he held complete faith in, would have managed to turn the tables. Through all the pain and the suffering, Jack couldn't give up the hope that the Doctor would figure out what to do.
But not yet.
Jack dropped his head, carefully hiding his distress at seeing the Time Lord still trapped in a cage like an aged rat. It infuriated the young immortal because his belief in the Doctor was so absolute that to see him humiliated in such a way made Jack sick. Riding the wave of rage, harnessing it to fuel his own lagging strength for the pain to come, Jack looked back up and smiled at the Master in a cocky manner.
"What, no candle lit dinner?"
At first the Master had punished Jack for his mouthiness but now the psychopathic genius had decided it was beneath his notice and he simply flicked his fingers towards the table, indicating that Jack was to be strapped down.
Oh goody.
"You know what I liked best about Earth, Doctor?" The Master asked as he skipped between the large board room table and the gilded cage. "Christmas. Oh but it's such a wonderful time of year isn't it? The smell of pine, the little toy soldiers, the presents, the alien invasions."
The Master paused and grinned.
"Just a shindig of a good time! But the presents ... oh the presents, Doctor!" The Master bounced in place, pausing in the act of putting on some strange sort of gloves. "I love the presents! Not for ripping them open, like an impatient child but the slow, careful unwrapping. The teasing reveal of what's underneath all that pretty paper."
Walking over to where Jack was now strapped down to the table, the Master smiled at the Doctor as he stroked his gloves fingers through Jack's dirty chestnut hair.
"Pretty, pretty wrapping paper, what do you hide underneath?"
Jack, had a really bad feeling about this and he turned his head towards the Doctor, giving the Time Lord a quick, easy sort of smile. Trying desperately to show the Doctor that it was okay, that he'd be okay, that the Doctor wasn't to worry...
Then the Master started. Slowly and carefully, cutting into Jack's flesh and then peeling it back from muscle and bone. The Master had already skinned Jack alive once, using sharp blades and he'd claimed annoyance at how quickly Jack had died. It seemed he'd adjusted his approach for this new game and the Master was using his hands to literally tear skin off muscle and then muscle of bone.
It was slow, Jack's overactive immune system fighting back against the damage, refusing to give in to the scant comfort that shock would supply. He tried not to scream, hated giving the Master the satisfaction and more to the point, hated having the Doctor suffer for his weakness but eventually it was too much and Jack couldn't keep from arching and crying out.
Gazing at the scene with an aged body that finally seemed to make the ancient, weary eyes of the Doctor, the Time Lord watched as one of his last friends in the universe was tortured on his account. The smile that Jack had given him moments before it had begun severed to reassure the Doctor while simultaneously driving him deeper into despair. The faith that the ex-Time Agent had at him felt so unwarranted at the moment, but the reminder that others were counting on him and that he couldn't fail. And the Doctor wouldn't. It would take time for his plan to come to fruition, but it would.
In the mean time, he would make sure Jack was spared as much of this as he could be.
It took awhile for Jack to finally die. In fact, his voice ran out before his life force and for the last half hour he could only lay there and wait to die. Eventually, his body gave out and he expired, leaving the Master pouting like a child who had broke his toy. With a sigh he dropped the blood soaked gloves on the body and skipped out of the room.
This was deliberate, a subtle sort of torture where he left Jack and the Doctor alone but hopelessly separated by the cage and the straps holding Jack to the bed. It took almost an hour for Jack to revive, for his body to heal the damage done to it and as he gasped his way to consciousness, the Doctor's name was on his lips.
"Doctor?!"
Part of the Doctor almost wished that this time, Jack's body wouldn't knit itself back together, that his friend would just have the relief of death finally come to him. Nothing should have to go through death so many times, especially these kinds of deaths. But it didn't happen, the Doctor watched as muscle and skin formed itself back over the bones, a reversal of what the Master had done.
When Jack called his name the Doctor perked up a bit, forcing the weariness of his aged body aside to try and put on his best face for Jack. Harkness deserved that much at least.
"I'm here, Jack," he said, his voice sounding incredibly old to his ears. The Doctor had been old before, but he hadn't been this old.
His hand hung out of the cage as much as it could, half reaching for Jack. It felt like if he could just touch the man, that would make everything okay. He had never been comfortable with personal contact, but he knew that Jack would be comforted by something like that. The Master was far too cruel to let them have that sort of contact, though.
"If you ever wondered, you look just as dashing on the inside...."
Jack twisted towards the sound of the Doctor's voice and though he knew that was as close as the Master would allow them to get, he still struggled briefly against the restraints to try to reach back to his friend.
He was desperate for contact, even though the Doctor looked so achingly frail that Jack feared for the Time Lord every moment he couldn't keep an eye on him but he still ached to just be allowed the brief touch. He knew it was a weakness he'd probably unwittingly revealed to the Master, which was why the psychotic Time Lord had set up this time, to further torture them both.
"Well, course I would," Jack tried to joke back. This had been a bad death and he was still weak in the recovery so he hoped his words didn't sound as flat to the Doctor as they did to his own ears. He wanted to ask if the Doctor thought Martha was doing all right but he didn't dare bring her up, didn't dare give the Master something else to use against the Doctor.
"How are you holding up?"
"Ohhh, about the same," the Doctor replied. He wished that he could muster up the energy for a smile but even that took more effort than he could bring himself to expend these days. It would be different if he had something to smile about, but as it was the Doctor had to just stick it out as best he could.
"Do you have any idea how often you have to go to the bathroom when you get old?" the Doctor asked, trying his best to use this brief moment alone to lighten the mood a bit. The Doctor would have preferred to say something... encouraging to Jack, but he knew that the Master would just use that against him. That's why all his encouragement was offered telepathically. "You have to go more, but you move slower..."
The telepathy helped.
By now it was the only thing that did and Jack clung to it with all the strength of his untrained mind.
The humor helped as well and despite the fact that he still hurt, he laughed and craned his head around at an angle till he could catch a glimpse of the Doctor out of the corner of his eye.
"Have to start planning these things a couple hours in advance, eh? You know, read the paper, eat some toast, start to the bathroom, straighten the wall art, pet the cat, continue to the bathroom, stop and talk to bridge club ..."
His laughter was rich but softer than normal and eventually Jack's voice gave out and he stopped trying to talk. Instead, he clung to the telepathic link, like a man at sea would hold on to driftwood and he let himself drift. He'd resisted this at first, horrified by the idea of putting a burden on the aged figure of the Doctor but now, after so long as the Master's play thing, Jack no longer had the luxury of his principals. He was weakening and as his body would never give out, Jack feared for his very sanity.
Doctor ... Jack couldn't think of words to say beyond the Time Lord's name and in the end, simply said, I'm so sorry.
One of the few blessings of his aged body was that it took so much effort and energy to do even the tiniest thing he often couldn't manage to even shrug his shoulders. So it was good that the expression on his face didn't change at all at Jack's words, because it killed him to hear the man apologizing. Jack had just had his skin ripped off and he was apologizing to the Doctor.
"Not your fault," the Doctor replied, again wishing he could at least reach out and clasp Jack's hand. It almost felt like all the pain could go away if he could just squeeze Jack's hand. It was amazing, what you learned to value once everything else was taken away from you. A touch. A smile. A tiny word of encouragement. Incredible, how little you really needed to be happy.
"And it's going to be okay," he added. "Martha will come through for us."
For Jack, who was a very tactile individual to begin with, the ability to just have the Doctor's friendly touch would have meant the world to him. He expected the Master knew this and so was deliberately setting up these moments, when ex Time Agent and Time Lord needed contact, could almost taste contact and yet remained hopelessly separated.
It was the sort of thing you did to crush a soul.
"I know," Jack said, with nothing but faith in his tone. There had been times when he had had to fake that faith but now he didn't bother. The Doctor said that Martha would come through, the Doctor trusted Miss Martha Jones and Jack Harkness trusted the Doctor.
"She's quite amazing, you know," The Doctor rasped.
He liked talking about Martha, because it reminded him that this was not over yet, and that there was a plan in the works to finish this, to stop the Master. Some people might be worried that it all relied on one person, but not the Doctor. The Doctor have faith in Martha.
"Shakespeare fancied her, did you know that?"
"Did he?" Jack gave a rough little chuckle. "Well, he was reported to have good tastes. Did you know they say he..."
Jack was cut off by the sound of a door opening and the Master skipped back into the room. The psychotic Time Lord had a bright smile on his face, which usually meant he'd come up with something new, inventive and cruel.
"Did you boys have a nice chat?" He asked, looking at both his captives. He sauntered over to the bound Captain and drove his hand into the man's dirty hair, yanking Jack's face to look up into his own.
"New gaaaaayyyymmmmeee," The Master singsonged, shoving Jack's head away as if he were dismissing an annoying dog and he skipped around the table to dance in front of the Doctor's cage.
"Riddle for your, Doctor. Do you know what happens when you drop Albinion acid on flesh? Oh!" The Master put his fingers to his mouth. "Wait, that's right. Of course you would. You're the DOCTOR. Be like me teaching my grandmother to suck eggs."
Tapping his finger on his mouth, he looked over at Jack who was now looking as if he might be sick. Albinion acid was not something to be fooled with, after all. It was a slow but ruthless corrosive and once it got on the skin, there was no hope of washing it off. The Master bounced on his toes.
"I know what we can do!" He said to the Doctor. "We can test what happens when you inject Albinion acid into the vein. What do you say, won't that be fun?"
The Master gleed as he danced back towards Jack.
"Oh I can just imagine it, a few drops, traveling through the circulatory system, all those blood, cells and cell cells to find and pop like little tiny bubbles," The man leaned over the head of the table and grinned upside down at Jack. "It'll be like, something slowly decomposing you from the inside out. Doesn't that sound interesting, fascinating, oh what's the word...oh, right! FAN-TAS-TIC!."
Jack turned his head away, hating hearing the word 'fantastic' from the Master's lips.
Patting the Captain's cheek, the Master grinned over at the Doctor and drew a specially designed syringe out of his pocket. Moving down to Jack's arm, he patted up a vein and slowly began to inject the acid.
Jack woke with a start. Where was he, was his death ... no, no he hadn't died yet, the acid must still be in his...
"Ah, hell!" Jack groaned as he 'felt' the pain from within. Okay, acid definitely in the veins but where was he?
Looking around, he didn't recognize the chamber. Some sort of big, large clock and ... wait, over there, free of his cage.
"DOCTOR!?"
[ooc: Okay the ooc of dooooomm! So the Doctor and Jack are cursed and believe they are back on the Valient during the year that never was. Jack 'believes' he has acid in his veins slowly killing him. The Doctor 'believes' he is 900+ years old. Jack 'believes' the Doctor is 900+ years old and needs his protection. This is not the case for anyone else. They both look perfectly normal. They are both far away from perfectly normal in the head. Right now they are starting out down by the clock!
EDA: Now in the right place!]