A/N Hello, hello. First of all, I'd like to apologize for this long slightly rambly authors note. Just have a few things I want to say though. Thanks for finding your way to this story. The Terror In His Eyes takes place whenever you would like after Donna's departure in the Whoniverse and right before Children of Earth in the Torchwood world (However, you definitely donothave to have seen all of Torchwood to follow the story. All you need to know is that Jack Harkness is awesome and has two partners, Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones.) Also, this story is pretty much my excuse to write a s*** load of Doctor Whump, so I wouldn't suggest it to those who aren't fans of blood and angst. Cheers!

**There are elements of this story borrowed and adapted from Jellyhair's original Sherlock fanfiction "Broken Wings and Cigarettes". These elements have been borrowed with permission and approval. I highly recommend Jellyhair's story as well if this genre is something that interests you!**

The Terror In His Eyes: Chapter One

The man slammed his head against the wall once more for good measure. Blood was already trickling down the dark, cold stones from the assault, and his victim seemed to grow less and less conscious with each second. "Look at me." The man growled dangerously as he pulled his victim's face within inches of his own.

He tried to open his eyes, desperate to obey, but the world spun in a dizzying array of dark and blue colors, the ceiling becoming the floor and the man holding him up multiplying into three identically terrifying forms. It was enough to bring him close to vomiting. He screwed his eyes shut again, trying to ride out the wave of nausea and pain. "I'm s-s-sorry." He whimpered in a barely audible whisper.

"Sorry isn't good enough." The man accentuated his point by drive his fist into his prisoner's stomach. He doubled over as all the air in his lungs was forcibly removed, but the chain around his neck attaching him to the wall caught him as he struggled, temporarily choking him as he tried to find his feet again.

The man took advantage of his position and brought his knee up, hard, to meet his victim's nose. The prisoner's head flew backwards upon contact and slammed, once again, into the wall behind him. Blood, which was already slicked through his messy, matted brown hair, began to run anew, and the force of the blow was too much for him. The world was darkening around him. He fell limply into the oppressive hold of his captor, unable to support himself any further.

"What did you DO?" The man yelled cruelly, but he was beyond being able to answer. He attempted to peel open his eyes one last time, but darkness rushed in to greet him instead until he was no longer aware of the pain that had just been inflicted upon him yet again.

Jack Harkness could hear the shouting, could hear something being slammed against something else repeatedly. He prayed to God it wasn't what he thought it was, but he tightened the grip on his gun nonetheless. Gwen looked at him for instruction, gun drawn as well. Jack held up three fingers and she nodded in understanding.

They stood in front of the cellar door, poised to attack. The typical wooden door was covered in a thick plate of metal with three different strong locks attached to the outside, making it look almost impossible to break into. Or out of.

Luckily for them, each lock lay open. The bastard was still down there. They heard another thud through the slightly open hatch and Jack winced, guessing at what was making that sound and not liking it one bit. With each steadying breath he dropped a finger, readying to barge in, when suddenly they heard someone shout angrily "What did you DO?"

The two Torchwood agents glanced at each other quickly before Gwen lunged for the cellar door's handles and Jack, gun raised and ready, dove through the opening, leaping down the small flight of stairs and landing, catlike, on the floor of the dark cellar. Gwen followed hot on his heels.

The sight before them was enough to make even Jack feel slightly sick. A man stood with his back to them, salt-and-pepper hair disheveled and stature surprisingly normal looking. But his hands were slick with blood and holding up, by the neck, the limp form of –

"Let him go!" Jack ordered in the most authoritative voice he could muster. It echoed dangerously off the walls of the suddenly silent cellar and seemed to physically slam into the man.

There was a second of stillness as the man froze before releasing the dead weight from his grasp, which fell sadly to the ground in a crumpled heap. Then, slowly, the man began to turn around to meet the intruders. Jack held the gun steady, pointed directly at the man's turning head, the anger he felt inside him egging him to just pull the trigger.

And then he saw the man's eyes. They were blue. A bright electric blue with no whites or pupils visible. Jack faintly heard Gwen gasp next to him, but he hardly even noticed anyone else in the room besides the blue eyed man.

Jack was absolutely terrified. A terror that was all-encompassing and ineffable, that rooted him to the spot, froze him in time and space, ripped the air from his lungs and both wiped his thoughts blank and set them whirling in frantic, panicked circles. The gun began to shake in his hand as the man took a step towards him, and the need to flee, run away with his tail tucked between his legs, fought against his frozen limbs. He had never been this scared. In all the centuries he'd lived in and been in, he had never felt horror at this level.

Three shots rang out suddenly, breaking the painful silence that had enveloped the room. The man before him jerked and twitched erratically before falling to the floor with a surprisingly loud thud, red blood blossoming from three spots on his chest.

Jack stumbled backwards as if he'd just been hit by a train. Broken from his terrified trance, he turned to his left to see Gwen holding a smoking gun shakily in her hands, tears streaking down her cheeks and eyes expanded to petrified disks. She turned to him, gun lowering and body shaking all over. "What was that, Jack?" She asked in a voice that sounded close to breaking.

"You felt it, too?"

"That was – I –" She ended up simply nodding, unable to put it into words and too afraid still to try. Jack wanted to comfort her – and in fact wanted some comfort himself – but quickly remembered exactly why there were there.

"Doctor!" He called as he remembered the crumpled heap on the floor against the wall. He ran the short span of the basement to the tall, thin, unconscious figure, giving the dead body now filled with three pieces of lead a very wide birth. He crouched down next to the chained and lifeless figure, rolling it over so he could see him better.

The Doctor's face was a mess of bruises, blood, and streaks of tears. His mop of usually brown hair was so caked with blood it was almost the ginger he'd always craved. The back of his head was the worst, red fluid still oozing lazily from the wound and staining Jack's hand as he tried to hold his friend up.

"Come on, Doc, wake up for me, please?" Jack begged as he searched the Doctor's wrist for a pulse. It was there, weak and erratic, but too slow for a Time Lord; he only had one heart beating. He stared at the Doctor's face, wondering what he should do. Should he try starting the second heart? Or just focus on getting him out?

"Jack!"

The ex-time agent turned his head to see Gwen basked in a strange blue light that had suddenly encased the cellar, rising from the dead body in the middle of the room, the same color the man's eyes had been just moments before. Jack felt the same surge of terror course through him, though not as strong as the fear of the Doctor dying in his arms overpowering it.

Gwen, however, had much of the same response as the first time, and opened fire into the mass of blue light congregating over the body. One, two, three shots, all of which went straight through the light and pounded into the opposite wall. Then the blue light burst upwards, disappearing into the ceiling and leaving the cellar in a surprising darkness.

Gwen stood panting in the middle of the room, spinning on the spot with her gun still drawn, looking for whatever it was. "What the hell?" She practically screamed, voice still etched with unexplainable fear.

But Jack's attention was instantly drawn back to the limp form in his arms as it suddenly became not limp anymore. The Doctor woke with a great gasp for air before thrashing out of Jack's grasp and pressing himself against wall desperately, fresh tears gushing down his face as he began to mumble something into his knees. Jack had to strain himself to hear it properly, and his single heart seemed to shatter into a million pieces when he finally heard what the Doctor was saying.

"I w-wasn't. I –s-wear. Please. P-p-please d-don't. I'm s-sorry. I'm so, s-so sorry. I deserve this, I kn-know. I d-deserve th-this."

TBC

A/N Next chapter will be out on Thursday. Thanks so much for reading! Please leave a review on your way out:)