New Paths
There is a heavy weight pressing against his stomach. A heavy weight that is puffing hot air very close to his navel. He relaxes then, wondering just how long he had been asleep then and whether or not the Doctor was too. The Doctor sleeping is a very rare thing, though, so he doesn't hold out much hope for it. His breathing is even and Jack can't sense any other movement from the Time Lord, but that doesn't mean anything. Rare as it is, the Doctor can be still on occasion. So Jack takes advantage of this moment; of the Doctor's hand curled loosely over his thigh and his knee drawn up over Jack's ankle. Provided he can get the Doctor to keep still he's quite content to stay this way the rest of the day. After thoroughly working each other to exhaustion beforehand again, of course.
"I don't think I like the turn those thoughts are taking," the Doctor murmurs as Jack cards his fingers through the unruly mop of hair resting on his stomach.
"And which thoughts are those?"
The Doctor lifts his head, his serious expression ruined somewhat by the mirth in his eyes. "The thoughts that result in me having difficulty sitting afterwards."
"Admit it, Doctor, you love it," Jack grins, his thumb lightly stroking the other man's cheek.
"I will do no such thing," the Doctor snorts.
Jack continues to grin at the Doctor who is doing his best to appear put upon. The effect is completely ruined by his twitching lips.
"Why are we even discussing this?" the Doctor demands, still doing his utmost to maintain his control.
"Because you brought it up, Doc. I was perfectly content to just imagine it. You're the one who started talking."
He can see the wheels practically turning in the Doctor's head as the other man tries his best to come up with some sort of argument. Jack can't help but laugh at the rapid changes of expression. It's only been a few weeks so he's still learning all of the little nuances that separates this incarnation of the Doctor from the one he'd known before. All of the little ticks and twitches that make up the Doctor's personality. It's certainly been fun discovering each one.
The Doctor mumbles something he can't quite make out before rolling off Jack completely. He's sure he makes some noise at the loss of contact, but prefers not to think about it. He's far too old to be clingy. So instead he crosses his hands behind his head and watches as the Doctor gets dressed. And even though they have no immediate plans beyond making a few modifications to the main console, the Doctor puts on his tie and jacket. Despite all his attempts over the past few weeks, he's been unable to get the Doctor to relax in his strict dress code. It's not really surprising given he'd been unable to before.
"Time to get up, lazybones," the Doctor says as he fastens the top button of his suit jacket. "We have things that need doing and they can't very well get done with you lounging about."
He makes no move to get up, but nods briefly at the Doctor, letting the other man know he's coming. It'll give the Doctor time to do some of the tinkering he thinks Jack doesn't know about. Tinkering Jack is fairly certain has to do with the fact that the TARDIS still won't give the Doctor any clues as to just what happened on the Game Station. That despite having gone through the files countless times he's still clueless about what changed him or why he can't die.
"Don't be too long," the Doctor grins broadly then starts down the corridor.
Jack can't help but smile in return. The uncertainly of his immortality still weighs heavily on his mind, but for now it is no longer such a burden because he can now share it with someone who is equally cursed.
Though he's doing what he can to keep from getting his hopes up, each time the scans fail to tell him what is keeping Jack from dying he becomes frustrated. He has coaxed and cajoled every way that he knows how but he can not come up with a reason as to why Jack came back to life on the Game Station beyond that it was the will of the Time Vortex. Whether because of Rose or him, some higher force had taken pity on Jack Harkness and brought him back to life. He's certainly not ungrateful for it happening. If anything he's relieved; thrilled even. There have been only a few other companions that he's lost to death over the years, but it never hurts any less. With Jack even that had been different because he had been closer to Jack than he had most of his companions. He had allowed Jack into his life in ways that he hadn't in more years than he cares to recall. Jack knows things about him that others haven't known in well over five hundred years.
The only comfort he can give himself is assuming that there is no danger to Jack. The TARDIS won't put Jack in danger unnecessarily. But having lived over nine hundred years himself and dying nine times he knows the burdens that immortality—or near immortality, in his case—brings with it. He can see the weight of it in Jack's eyes on occasion even though the other man tries his best to hide it.
There is a noise near the entrance of the console room and when he looks over he sees Jack entering. The other man is wearing a pair of dark grey trousers, the braces hanging down over his hips, and a white undershirt. The only remnant of the Jack he had known from his previous incarnation are the heavy black boots and his ever-present wrist computer. He knows that Jack is not deliberately trying to be provocative, but even so both of his hearts clench momentarily as Jack scrubs his fingers through his messy hair.
"Figured I'd save putting on a clean shirt till I find out if the old girl needs any repairs."
He can't help but roll his eyes at the comment. "And when exactly was the last time you did the laundry?"
"I'll answer that question when you do."
Giving Jack a hard look only makes the other man grin more. It's always amazed him how easily Jack can find joy in most things. In almost any situation, really. He knows Jack is far from the carefree rogue he presents himself as, but he's always been fascinated by how easily Jack can see the good in situations. People, too.
It's something he's been having a harder time doing himself this regeneration. In the span of six months he'd saved the world with Harriet Jones then helped to bring down her government. He's willing to admit that he may have been a bit rash in that situation, but better to keep her in check rather than wait for something worse to happen.
"You've wandered off again," Jack murmurs, cupping the side of his throat and drawing him away from his thoughts.
"Just giving things some perspective," he grins, hoping to distract Jack for a moment. "So, anywhere in particular you want to go? It'll take the TARDIS awhile to reconfigure the data."
The smile Jack flashes him does strange things to his stomach. "Surprise me."
"Now that can be a dangerous request," he responds, matching Jack's grin with one of his own. "I've had many companions come to regret such a request."
Jack's eyes soften marginally. "Somehow I don't think that'll be the case."
"I've been meaning to bring you here for a while," is the only explanation the Doctor gives him as they exit the TARDIS into a marketplace teaming with all sorts of alien-life. There's nothing that set it apart from any other intergalactic bazaar he'd been to over the years, but the Doctor seems quite content about where they are. "Figured you could do with some new batteries for those blasters of yours."
"It's not often you promote me using my blasters," Jack reminds him, arching a brow in the Time Lord's direction. "What's brought this trip on?"
The Doctor shrugs his shoulders briefly as he sidles around a pair of conversing aliens who are at least eight feet tall and maroon-skinned. "No reason in particular. I just thought you could do without having to jury-rig your weapons all the time."
"It'll be nice to have easy access to batteries."
"Complain, complain," the Doctor grumbles, the twinkle in his eyes detracting from the tone of his voice. "Come along, let's get a move on. The sooner we get you those batteries the sooner we can start exploring properly."
Jack snorts quietly, shaking his head briefly. "You do realize that you just put a hex on this trip, don't you? Trouble is going to find us now."
"Really now, Captain, what's happened to your sense of adventure?"
Jack glowers at the Doctor, but there's no heat in the expression whatsoever. The Doctor can claim that he has no sense of adventure all day, but they both know it's not true. Nearly two centuries of living certainly hasn't robbed him of that.
"Any idea where we're going exactly, Doc?" Jack asks as they manoeuvre their way through the throngs of people and aliens. "There doesn't seem to be much order to this place."
"Of course I know where I'm going. I'll have you know that I have an excellent sense of direction…. Most of the time."
"Oh that's comforting," Jack chuckles, flashing a grin at a young, vaguely humanoid woman whose cheeks immediately flush an interesting shade of green and ducks her head down. When he glances back towards the Doctor, the other man is looking directly at him.
A lifetime ago that would have earned him a disapproving glare from the Doctor. Some days he'd been convinced that even breathing wrong would have annoyed the Time Lord. But even after the Game Station when he'd been abandoned with the dead he'd known, or at least fervently prayed, that he hadn't been left behind on purpose. He'd held onto the hope that the Doctor had cared about him at least a little. He'd never have dared to put himself on par with Rose, but as the Doctor had two hearts he'd hoped to take up at least a little room in one of them. And since the Doctor came back for him, he's known that he is loved.
The Doctor's hand grips his suddenly, fingers sliding through his own. He squeezes the Doctor's hand when he feels a thumb lightly stroking his own. He'd once thought that such expressions of affection were reserved for Rose alone. It was well over a month into his tenure on the TARDIS before he'd found the Doctor's hand curled around his. Rose had been back in London visiting her mother and they'd gone off on a brief adventure of their own. Considering who their tour guide was, Jack had been surprised by just how calm the trip had been. There had been no running for their lives, no imminent threat of death; nothing the least bit dangerous.
Jack was negotiating with a parts dealer from the Varnark system when he felt a light tug on his left hand. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the Doctor glancing impatiently at the vendor.
"Your negotiating skills leave something to be desired," the Doctor growled as he tossed some credits at the Varnark. "Let's go, Captain."
Jack had his mouth open, ready to protest, but the soft look in the Doctor's eyes stopped him. That and the fact that the other man hadn't released his hand. Instead, Jack picked up the piece he'd been haggling for and followed the Doctor away from the booth.
"Any particular reason for that?" Jack asked as they walked back in the direction of the TARDIS. "It's not like we'll be late picking Rose up."
The Doctor didn't turn towards him, but flashed a mega-watt smile just the same. "Thought I'd buy you a drink, Jack."
The Doctor's possession of a time ship had proved to be a necessity that day. It was the first day Jack had seen the Doctor's bedroom. It had also been the last. After that, the only bed they shared had been Jack's, normally after one of Jack's nightmares. He could never recall the content of those nightmares, just the Doctor's presence afterwards; in his bed and in his body.
Jack never knew the full extent of the Doctor's relationship with Rose, but by silent agreement neither of them ever mentioned those nights to her. At the beginning the thing between him and the Doctor had been purely about comfort, something they had both been in desperate need of. Jack would never dream of comparing his hardships with the Doctor's, but back then those two missing years had seemed a lifetime. And while Jack is still curious about those forgotten years, it is no longer a driving force in his life. He is content in the knowledge that he is back with the Doctor; where he belongs.
Jack hears what sounds like a scream coming the far end of the alleyway they're passing. There is a curve to the buildings so Jack can't see down the entire space, but he's certain that he heard something. A second scream follows almost immediately after the first, confirming it.
Giving the Doctor's fingers a quick squeeze, Jack releases the Time Lord's hand and moves quietly in the direction of the sound. He reaches around to the small of his back and slips a gun out of the waistband of his trousers, holding it at the ready.
Jack turns immediately when he sees a shadow dart to his right, finger on the trigger of his gun. Before he can even plant his feet something grabs him from behind and hauls him off his feet. Thick, heavy tentacles wind about his limbs and torso, preventing any sort of struggle, and before he can even open his mouth to scream for the Doctor, one of those appendages is down his throat.
"Oh, Doctor..." Jack hears a husky feminine voice call, the sound echoing all around him. "Come here, Doctor, I have your playmate and I'm not sure how long he can go without breathing. Such a silly habit those humans have. More foolish of you to keep company with one."
Jack is doing all that he can to stay calm, making it easier to draw air in through his nose. He can't see the Doctor, though, and Jack doesn't think he got that far head. He continues to scan the dim alley even as his vision begins to darken at the edges.
Just as his world begins to cloud over completely, he thinks he sees his lover's imposing, if somewhat scrawny, figure come into view.
"Well this is certainly a surprise," he hisses when he finally finds Jack and the creature that's grabbed him. "It's been what... three hundred years? Four hundred?"
"Three hundred and seventy-five years since you killed my mate," the Pyrean hisses, the tentacles not holding Jack immobile undulating. Her great purple eyes glares at him and he's fairly certain that were it possible, her beak-like mouth would be smirking at him. "I have been searching for you, Doctor, for centuries, and now I will kill your mate as you killed mine."
He bobs his head from side to side as he paces about before the alien. "You could kill Jack—or at least try to—but you wouldn't be killing my mate. Fond as I am of him, he's just a companion. A friend."
"The two of you stink of each other."
"That's a bit harsh, don't you think? Our odours may be a little bit entwined, but I'd hardly say that we stink."
The Pyrean contracts her iridescent tentacles, stretching Jack's limbs further. Jack's groans of pain are muffled by the appendage in his mouth. He can still see Jack's chest moving with even breaths, so he knows the other man can still breathe. It's just a matter of how long he'll keep breathing. Even though he knows Jack won't stay dead permanently, he'd rather not see Jack die. It's happened far too often already.
He doesn't even want to think about what will happen if she tries to pull Jack apart.
"Now look, I understand that you're upset about your mate's death, but it was purely accidental," he tries to explain, knowing he has little chance of persuading her, but hoping to buy some time until he can figure out how to rescue Jack. "He was doing something that he really shouldn't have been doing and I was only trying to detain him until the authorities arrived."
"And who forced you to get involved? You could have left us be, Time Lord. You chose to interfere and now this one's blood will be on your hands."
He opens his mouth, intending to argue further, but before he can get a single sound out, Jack and the Pyrean are gone, teleported away. For several long seconds he stares at the spot where Jack had been, momentarily unable to think of a single thing. It was just supposed to be a quick trip to get Jack some new batteries for his sonic blasters. Neither of them were supposed to be in any serious danger.
Then he's sprinting back towards the TARDIS, hoping he'll be able to track Jack through his bio-signature. It was how he'd found him before in Cardiff and he hopes that it'll work again.
He wakes up with such a sudden, deep indrawn breath that Jack's fairly certain he's been dead once again. The fact that he can't hear the gentle hum of the TARDIS is even more troubling. Struggling to calm his own breathing, Jack lays perfectly still, trying to see if he can hear anyone or anything else in the room, preferably the Doctor. The only sound is a steady drip... drip... of falling water. Not fast, more like a faucet that hasn't been shut completely.
Chancing to open his eyes, he can see absolutely nothing. Not eve a faint trace of light, further proof that he's not on the TARDIS. He must be on board the ship of the creature that grabbed him.
Having established that, wherever he is, he's alone, Jack slowly clambers to his feet. He won't find a way out just lying around. Of course, he soon finds that being upright doesn't offer much in the way of solutions, either. What he does know is that the room's not much bigger than a closet—really only enough room for him to lie down—and that there's no seams on any of the walls or on the floor; no door. That means having to wait, something he's not particularly fond of. Eventually someone will enter and then he'll make his escape.
However, since he doubts very much that he's been taken for interrogation purposes, Jack's not sure how long it'll be before someone comes for him. And since his captor was foolish enough to leave him with his wrist computer, Jack presses a few buttons, sending a signal that the Doctor will hopefully be able to track. It's just a matter of "when" the signal will reach the TARDIS; one of the perils of time travel.
Even after all that has happened between them in the past he still has faith in the Doctor and knows that he'll come. And with luck, Jack'll have himself mostly rescued by the time he arrives.
"Hello, handsome Jack."
After a few hours of failed attempts to track Jack via his bio-signature, he's reminded of just why he's so fascinated by that wrist computer the other man always insists on wearing. The signal is faint, but it's one that he can definitely track. And once he does start to track it, that niggling little worry that had slowly begun to fade comes back once again full force when he realizes where exactly Jack is signalling him from.
The 51st century has always been a time they avoided.
"What kind of trouble have you got yourself into now?"
Even more perplexing is trying to figure out just how Jack had went from being the captive of a Pyrean in the 35th century to somewhere in the 51st century, nevermind the fact that the Pyrean shouldn't have had access to teleportation technology. His mind immediately latches onto the possibility that the Time Agency had something to do with it. He's never put much stock in coincidences. Whatever Jack is doing in the 51st century, someone brought him there intentionally. And that alone screams all kinds of trouble. Jack's an ex-Time Agent that did something that got two years of his memory wiped and then spent a fair amount of time conning his former employers out of money; it's fair to assume he's a wanted man in his own time.
But then there's that pesky problem of Jack using his wrist computer to send him a signal. If it was the Time Agency that had taken Jack prisoner, surely they would have removed that little bit of technology from his person. After all, it hardly makes much sense to let a captive keep hold of something that could get him rescued. Unless, of course, that was the point of the whole exercise.
Still, even though he's fairly certain that it's a trap, he can't very well leave Jack at the mercy of his enemies. He'll just have to be a bit more careful. Coming up with a plan might be a step in the right direction. Though that itself is lacking seeing as he doesn't yet have an exact location on Jack, just a period in time.
Better instead to trust his brilliance and this regeneration's wonderful ability to talk about anything. He's talked his way out of many situations in the past and between him and Jack they should be able to sort it out.
A man who can't die. Such an intriguing oddity; full of so much potential. All that he has to do is figure out what makes the Doctor's new toy tick and then take it for himself. He will be immortal, the same as the Captain. Well, in theory anyway. There is no guarantee the Captain will still be alive at the end of it.
"All right, boys," he says to the group of doctors gathered around him. "Go fetch the guinea pig."
He stays in the viewing room, watching on the console as a trio of rather large orderlies enter the containment cell. Or rather, as two of them enter and the third remains outside the door. The light coming in is enough to disorient the Captain for a few seconds, more than enough time for the orderlies to grab hold of him. It's almost disappointing. But then one of them is on the ground, blood pouring from his nose.
"Now that's more like it," he chuckles, watching the struggle with renewed interest. He certainly doesn't have to worry about them damaging the Captain. That Pyrean they'd used to capture him had killed him when separating him from the Doctor. Wonderful creature. Without her, the Captain would have simply been bait to lure the Doctor in so that he could take possession of his TARDIS. Now he would have the TARDIS and immorality.
The space is confined and the Captain is outnumbered. In the end he is subdued. It is interesting to see just how much stamina the young Captain has. Most promising. Maybe he'll be merciful and even give him back to the Doctor when he's gotten what he needs. Once he has the TARDIS. All of this hopping about that the Time Agency insists upon is most tiresome. If they didn't have their uses he would have parted ways with them long ago.
"We are most grateful for your help apprehending our rogue agent," a man named Billingsworth, the supposed head of this agency, says as he joins him at the console. "You sure he'll still be alive when this is over?"
"Never fear, there will be something left for you to discipline." That it may only be a pathetic husk remains unsaid. There's really no point in upsetting his hosts. At least not until he has the Doctor's TARDIS.
On the viewscreen they can now see the Captain laid utterly bare on an exam table. His wrists and ankles are restrained and there's also a wide strap stretched over his forehead keeping his head immobile. The Captain's unconscious, but he's certain that won't be for much longer.
Sure enough, after a few minutes, the Captain comes round again screaming loud as can be. His body arches, practically bent double, but there's no escaping the lasers that are currently cutting into him. And thankfully, the monitor in the console room has a mute button.
"Now all we need is the proper kind of doctor," he says mostly to himself.
Fifty-first century, check. Colony 1-54B, home of the Time Agency and also the source of Jack's signal, check. So far things are proving relatively easy and that is what worries him. He's half expecting there to be an engraved invitation waiting for him outside the TARDIS' doors. If it is the Time Agency that summoned him to this particular time and location, they've decided not to send out a welcoming committee. Not that they could actually get into the TARDIS. Only people who have the key can gain entrance, and even those won't work if he activates the internal locks. Not that he has any intention of doing that; not with Jack trapped outside. Not unless it's absolutely necessary.
He hopes that now he's in the same century and on the same planet as Jack that the TARDIS will be able to pick up his bio-signature. Better to have a rough idea of where Jack is than to go blundering about and make things more difficult. He also stands a much better chance of rescuing the other man if he doesn't get caught himself first.
For once, where Jack is concerned, the TARDIS is behaving herself and gives him the readings. Jack is about three kilometres to the north and another half kilometre underground.
"Well you certainly pissed someone off," he says to himself as he transfers the data from the console to a portable scanner.
He could easily steer the TARDIS into the very room Jack is being held, but he doesn't want to take the chance that there will be others in the room. Too many things could go wrong. So instead he programs her so that they can make a quick escape if need be. Which he thinks it probably will. Besides, as he discovered a long time ago, getting in is often far easier than getting out.
Pocketing the scanner momentarily, he slips his greatcoat on. It's a wonderful kind of coat, allowing him to fit into nearly every era in al of time and space. There's quite a few of Earth's early centuries that it looks a bit odd in, but he's generally found that he fits in rather well wherever he goes. Something he can't say about the fashion choices of some of his earlier incarnations.
Outside, he sees that the TARDIS has chosen a rather secluded corner of a park to land. It's a good choice. The TARDIS is less likely to be noticed where it is and it'll give him time to figure out just how he is going to get to wherever Jack is. He's made the mistake of landing the TARDIS inside Torchwood and doesn't much fancy a repeat performance with the Time Agency seeing as they actually know what to do with the technology they find.
Checking the scanner he's brought with him, he starts off north, hoping that by the time he reaches the Time Agency's headquarters he'll have figured out a way to get Jack out of this mess.
Five times they've killed him and five times he's come back with a choked off scream. Even if he doesn't find out what makes the Doctor's little toy tick, killing him and watching him come back to life repeatedly is quite amusing. It certainly makes the lack of progress more interesting to watch. He especially liked the one when the doctors had spread open the Captain's ribcage. All those lovely little bits and pieces that showed just how fragile humans were—most humans anyway. This one just keeps right on going no matter what's done to him.
"How is this possible?" Billingsworth demands, his voice having that breathy, panicky tone humans were so fond of. "He was given a full physical when he enrolled and there was no hint that he was anything but human. Ordinary, run of the mill human."
"That was before he met up with a Time Lord."
"A Time Lord? They're only a myth. Like the gods people believed in thousands of years ago," Billingsworth sputters. He scrubs a hand over his jaw, backing away slowly from the main console. "Time Lords don't exist."
Smirking, he glances at Billingsworth out of the corner of his eye. "Don't we now?"
The shining glass citadel of the Time Agency stands out like a beacon in the middle of the city. It's impossible to miss. And while it may offer tours to some of the less sensitive areas, he highly doubts he'll get anywhere near the levels where Jack is being held. And Jack is so very close. He can fell the other man's consciousness humming away right on the very edges of his mind. It's hazy and indistinct, but it's most definitely Jack.
And then it's gone.
"That's not good."
Though it still feels strange for him to have such thoughts about a companion and lover, he hopes that the lost connection is just a matter of Jack having died again. Death is something Jack can come back from. He purposely doesn't let himself think about the fact that these are the same people who stole two years of Jack's memories from him. If they've discovered that Jack doesn't die...
Shaking his head to banish those thoughts, he pockets the scanner and begins to climb the steps leading up to the lobby of the Time Agency. There should be a tour starting soon and that will get him at least partway into the building. He can figure out how to get down to where Jack is once he's deeper inside.
He's stepping through the automatic doors when he feels another consciousness brush against the edges of his mind. It's familiar, but it's not Jack. Before he can get any hint of just who it is, the sensation is gone and he's left alone in his mind once again.
It takes a moment for him to reorient himself and he's jostled a bit by people moving swiftly in and out of the building. Apologizing to a woman's whose path he was apparently blocking, he continues on through the doors and up to the reception desk.
"Excuse me, but I was told that there were tours of this place." He flashes the receptionist a wide grin, making himself as unassuming as possible.
He's obviously spent too much time with Jack because the female in question flutters her extremely long eyelashes at him. And while he's immediately flustered by her obvious interest, he pushes it aside because he needs to get to Jack.
"Such an interesting mindscape you have, Captain," he murmurs as he removes his hands from the ex-Time Agent's temples. "Crammed so full for such a small ape-like mind. It's a wonder you can still function."
"Who. Are. You?"
The words come out as little more than a croak, but there's a surprising amount of rage contained in them.
"So the freak is alive again. Quite an interesting talent you have there. Any chance you know how to make it work?" he asks, not expecting an answer, but curious about what the Captain has to say anyway. It could be quite amusing.
"Fuck off," the Captain grunts, straining against the metal cuffs holding him to the table.
Rolling his eyes, he leans his hip against the edge of the exam table and crosses his arms over his chest. "Really now, Captain. It was a simple enough request. Tell me how you became the one and only fact in the universe and perhaps I'll consider letting you go."
It's a broken thing, but the Captain laughs at him. He has to give the pathetic human for remaining cocky after all that's been done to him. Of course, from what he's learned of humans—and the Doctor's companions in particular—they are a rather cocky bunch. So full of themselves because they have been "chosen" by the Doctor to travel with him.
"You're not gonna let me go."
"That's not true, Captain," he drawls, unfolding his arms to run a fingertip along the inside of the Captain's forearm. "After all, how can I find the Doctor if I keep you locked down here? Take me to him and you're free to go."
The Captain's eyes widen and for the first time he knows that the other man is scared. He positively reeks of it. He does a very good job at shoving all that wonderful fear away, though, and settles for glaring.
"Not happening."
"We'll see about that, Captain."
His physic paper is completely useless in a place like the Time Agency where all employees are trained to spot out such falsehoods so it takes a bit of effort to get himself down to the lower levels of the building. Nowhere near as much as it should to get into the lower levels of such a secure building, but then he's absolutely brilliant so it's much easier for him to bypass their security protocols than it would be for someone else. Having a sonic screwdriver certainly helps.
Now it's just a matter of figuring out just what room Jack is in. He refines the settings on the scanner a bit, hoping to avoid the need to check every single door. Not only will it quite possibly draw unwanted attention to himself, but he also doesn't want to see just what the Time Agency keeps in a ward called "Bio-Ops."
The lights on the scanner begin to flash madly as he holds it up in front of a door about halfway down the corridor. He pauses and presses an ear to the door. He can't hear anything and can't decide whether it's a good thing or a bad thing.
"Only one way to find out," he says to himself as he holds the screwdriver up to the lock.
Inside it's completely black, but when he stretches out his senses he can barely make out Jack. Throwing caution to the wind, he strides right in.
"Well well, hello, Doctor. So this is what you look like this time around," a voice chuckles darkly over the speakers. "What turn is this for you? Eleven? Twelve? One can only hope."
"Where's Jack?" he demands, ignoring the growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach.
"Oh, you mean the freak? He's right behind you."
There's a sudden spotlight and he whirls around, instantly finding Jack. When he does see the other man, it takes everything in him not to react outwardly. He's naked, strapped to an exam table and if it wasn't for the fact that Jack can't die, he's fairly certain that his lover would be dead. Or rather, has probably died several times already and is now either dead once again or recently revived and not fully aware of himself. There's not a mark on Jack, but that doesn't mean he hasn't suffered or been brutalized in the time since he was taken. Each time he dies, his body becomes whole once again, all injuries healed, so any number of things could have been done to him with the Time Vortex merely piecing him back together with each death.
"Who are you?" he demands of his unseen enemy. "What do you want with him?"
"With the only thing in the universe that's an actual fact? Nothing at all, Doctor," the other individual—he can't say for certain that it's humanoid—snorts. "He doesn't age, he doesn't die. He just is. It's a wonder you didn't run as far as possible from him."
He doesn't know the voice, but the only species who would talk like that was a Time Lord. They were the only ones aware of time to such an extent. Had been the only ones.
"Who are you?" he asks once again, taking a half-step in the direction of the voice.
The room is once again filled with the sound of manic laughter and drowned out a moment later by Jack's screams. His back is arched and his eyes are open wide, unseeing. And even though he knows it's only a distraction, he rushes to Jack, searching for the source of whatever is causing him pain. He can't find anything and Jack continues to wail and thrash about as best as he is able while still bound to the table. Then, all of a sudden, he's still once more. Dead.
"Oops. Looks like he's shorted out again," the manic voice snickers. "It's a wonder the human race has survived so long with such vulnerable shells. Not this one, though. This one's special. A freak."
"That's no reason to do this to him. Just let him go," he pleads as his fingers scrabble within the pocket of his coat for his sonic screwdriver. It's definitely time for a quick escape.
"Not until I figure out why he can't die... Of course, you could tell me yourself and then you're both free to go."
He presses the button that will bring the TARDIS directly to them.
"Tell me who you are!"
There's a familiar grinding of the TARDIS' time rotor as the ship begins to materialize around him and Jack. They'll be safe inside the TARDIS.
"Now really, old friend, is that any way to treat your master?"
The words are spoken just as the TARDIS becomes solid around them, but there's no mistaking the emphasis on the last word. Master. It's completely impossible, though. The Master is dead. All of the Time Lords are dead. He's the only one left. It can't be the Master. He's still trying to convince himself that it's not true as he rushes to the console. Whether it's the Master (improbable) or the Time Agency (highly probable), he needs to get the TARDIS into the Vortex. They'll be safe there.
He's just pressing the last of the buttons when a loud gasp alerts him to the fact that Jack's no longer dead.
He strides quickly away from the console, shedding his coat along the way. He keeps hold of the sonic screwdriver, though, already adjusting the settings so that he can release the restraints holding Jack to the table.
"You're right up there with Rose for jeopardy-friendliness," he informs Jack's prone form.
A quiet grunt is the only sign he has that Jack's really alive once more.
Starting with Jack's feet, he releases the restraints one at a time, talking soothingly to Jack all the while since the other man is obviously still out of it. He slides his fingers through Jack's while working on the wrist cuffs, relieved when Jack squeezes back.
Desperate as he is to find out information about Jack's captor, he keeps quiet. There will be plenty of time for that later once Jack has rested and has had time to recover. He may have been cursing the TARDIS' refusal to help him find a solution to Jack's immortality problem a few hours ago, but as he removes the last of the restraints and Jack curls towards him, he can only be grateful.
He sits down on the edge of the exam table between Jack's head and his drawn-up knees and carefully manoeuvres Jack's upper body onto his lap. He leans over, covering as much as Jack's torso with his arms as possible and presses his forehead against the other man's temple.
"Shouldn't have sent you the signal," Jack moans, turning his face towards him briefly. "Knows you'll come for me now."
He snorts, pressing a kiss first to Jack's forehead then to the bridge of his nose. "Like not coming for you was even an option."
It's the steady beating of two hearts under his ear that keeps him from panicking when he wakes. That tells him it's the Doctor he's lying curled against and that he's back home. Safe. He turns his face into the Doctor's chest and inhales deeply, taking comfort from that familiar scent. It's a scent he can't find words for, but if he breathes deeply enough he can almost make out the underlying hint of leather from a previous lifetime.
Jack sighs deeply as fingers card through his hair, massaging tense muscles at the base of his skull.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I've been shredded to bits in a blender then stitched back together," Jack grunts, rubbing his cheek against the smooth chest he's currently using as a pillow. "How long've I been asleep?"
The Doctor chuckles, the sound of it vibrating through Jack's entire body. "Not long enough from the looks of things."
"I don't think a week'll be long enough," Jack yawns. He shakes his head briefly, not wanting to sleep. "Where was I, anyway?"
"Fifty-first century," the Doctor says rather simply, his fingers never stilling in Jack's hair. "You were in the Time Agency's headquarters, but I don't think they were the ones in charge."
"I have a message for you to give the Doctor..."
Jack stiffens involuntarily. The voice sends shivers down his spine now as it had then. There was a darkness in that man which frightens Jack more than anything in his too-long life.
"He wants to know if you had stopped running yet," Jack says quietly against the Doctor's throat. "He wants to know what happened to Gallifrey and he wants the TARDIS."
The Doctor's hands still for the briefest of moments. Barely even a second, but Jack can feel the hesitation. The Doctor knows who his captor was and knows him quite intimately if the mention of Gallifrey and the TARDIS is anything to go by. Jack has his own suspicions, but isn't sure whether they'll be welcome or not.
"It's not possible," the Doctor murmurs, his voice almost too quiet for Jack to hear.
"He gave me a message," Jack continues. Lifting himself up slightly, he meets the Doctor's still shocked gaze. "You are not alone."
The Doctor shakes his head, eyes squeezed shut tight. "No. It's not possible. They died. All of them. There's no one but me. I'd know."
Jack can't think of anything that will take that dazed look from the Doctor's face. Anything he would say would just be empty words. So instead he rolls onto his side and pulls the Doctor into his arms, fingers moving through his hair and along his back.
Jack knows only what the Doctor has told him about the Time War. A war that was supposed to have destroyed both the Daleks and the Time Lords. All of them except for the one currently lying in his arms. He still remembers how the Doctor had reacted when they'd seen the entire fleet of Daleks when they were on the Game Station. The Doctor had committed genocide and it had all been for nothing.
Words come spilling out of the Doctor then and, for the first time, Jack hears tales about the Time War. He keeps absolutely silent, letting the Doctor speak, but keeps his hands moving gently so that the other man knows that he's there and that he's listening.
"I wasn't supposed to survive. I was supposed to die with the rest of them. The Time Lords and the Daleks wiped out of history." The Doctor trembles in his arms. "But then I woke up with a new face—the one you first knew—with the TARDIS crying out in pain from falling through time."
"There's a reason you survived," Jack tells him, his voice muffled against the Doctor's hair. "The universe still needed its champion."
"But you don't know what it's like, Jack. No matter where I went or what I did, I could always feel them, vibrating at the back of my mind. Then, in an instant, there was nothing. And it was because of what I did."
"Except that what you did saved everyone else. The universe keeps moving on because you and the rest of the Time Lords were willing to die in order to destroy the Daleks." Ducking his head down, Jack sought out the Doctor's eyes. "For what it's worth, you have me now and I'm not planning on going anywhere."
Jack knew that it wasn't the same, that he could never replace what the Doctor had lost, but it was all that he could offer. After all, he now had eternity to offer the Time Lord.
"I thought you wanted to be able to die," the Doctor says quietly, a slight frown tugging at his lips.
Jack offers a lop-sided shrug. "Eventually, it would be nice, but I'm in no rush. There's a lot out there to see yet. And, like you said, I'm quite jeopardy-friendly."
The Doctor gives him a confused look, but doesn't say anything. That alone clues Jack in to just how out of sorts the current turn of events has the Doctor. Had they been in the process of running for their lives, the Doctor would have likely just pushed things aside—he'd been quite good at that in his previous incarnation. The only times he can remember seeing the Doctor falter were when they'd thought Rose had died and after the confrontation with the Dalek emperor. Both times, the Doctor had been forced to push aside his own emotions and deal with the matter at hand. This time, there's nothing to distract the Time Lord from whatever path his thoughts are taking.
So Jack does the only thing he can think of and kisses him. Following an afternoon of dying and coming back to life multiple times, Jack is certainly eager to prove to himself that he's still among the quick. And while Jack knows he has a reputation for being something of a slut, in this moment, with the Doctor, he's not looking for a simple release.
He's very deliberate as he unbuttons the Doctor's shirt. He takes his time, refamiliarizing himself with the Doctor's chest and torso. There is a smattering of freckles over his collarbones that Jack has always been particularly fond of. He traces absent patterns with the tip of his tongue, pausing occasionally to suck on the edge of protruding bones.
The Doctor's nipples are already starting to harden before Jack takes his first swipe at the right one with his tongue. He lightly scrapes the blunt edge of his teeth over the nub, closing his lips over it when the Doctor shudders beneath him.
It's when Jack reaches his navel that things change. Back arched to knaw lightly on the edge of the Doctor's belly button, Jack suddenly finds their positions reversed, the Doctor kneeling between his spread thighs. He presses his bare knees against the other man's hips, holding him in place and using him as an anchor as he clenches his stomach muscles to heave his upper body off the bed. His fingers card through the Doctor's unruly hair as he's drawn into a kiss that's full of such desperate need that Jack can only hand himself over willingly.
Between the two of them they get the Doctor's trousers unfastened and pushed down to his knees. Jack doesn't bother with preparing himself. He fumbles on the bedside table for the tube of slick and coats the Doctor's erection before reclining against the pillows once again.
The Doctor looks almost contemplative as he wiggles the rest of the way out of his pants and extends himself over Jack. Jack hooks his left leg over the Doctor's hip and a moment later feels the blunt tip of the Doctor's cock pressing against his hole. The Doctor touches his forehead to Jack's, his eyes squeezing shut tight, as he presses his hips forward.
Jack's mouth falls open as he's stretched around the Doctor's thick length. Having skipped any preparation, he can feel every inch that slides into him, the Doctor's nose nuzzling against his in silent apology for any of the pain that follows. Reaching out with what minor telepathic abilities he has, Jack assures the other man that there's no pain. At least not any that he regrets.
"My Jack," the Doctor gasps, his hips surging forward at the same instant Jack's mind is flooded with a maelstrom of images and emotions. Far more than he can process. In the end it's too much for him and everything goes black.
As he watches, simple unconsciousness turns into deep sleep. Jack is resting peacefully and he's glad for that. He still has no idea what had happened to Jack beyond the fact that he'd been killed several times over the course of a few hours. And that's assuming that linear time for him was the same as it had been for Jack. Things might have lasted much longer from Jack's perspective. He really hopes that's not the case, though. The fact that Jack doesn't stay dead doesn't mean there's no pain involved with his deaths. And Jack'll never say anything about the pain.
It would be easier to distract himself if he was in the console room. There's always something that needs tinkering with and if he's doing that there's no need for him to think about things. In particular it would stop him thinking about the identity of the man who had taken Jack. However, every time he even thinks about moving, Jack's grip on him tightens. Not to the point where it's uncomfortable, but where he knows that he'll wake Jack if he tries to move.
So he stays where he is, listening to Jack's even breathing and letting the steady beating of his heart soothe him. Jack's very existence should have sent him running as far and as fast as possible, but since he'd first seen Jack in the Torchwood morgue he's enjoyed knowing that he's not alone. That small niggling voice in the back of his head that is always full of doom is silenced every time he looks at Jack. It's because Jack is always so alive. Always so willing to search out the good in situations. After awhile it becomes infectious and starts to quiet the rage that's been building in him since he lost Rose. Since long before that, really.
Jack stirs slightly in his arms, mumbling something that he can't quite make out. There's nothing distressed about the sound, Jack isn't having any nightmares about what happened to him, he's just restless. Even in sleep, Jack Harkness is rarely still.
"Hush now," he admonishes quietly, brushing a kiss against Jack's forehead. "The both of us could do with a rest."
Frustrating as it is to still be stuck in the 51st century, he knows it won't be for long. The Doctor is far too persistent to let things end as they did. He's given him and the Captain just enough information to frustrate the Doctor and keep him guessing. Keep him wondering. And it will drive the Doctor absolutely mad. In the end, he'll return if only to get his questions answered.
"Until then, my dear Doctor," the Master murmurs, raising his glass in toast.