Fic: Doctor Who, Snared for Life
Mar. 11th, 2013 07:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eloriekamTitle: Snared for Life
Author:eloriekam
Characters: Ten, Jack; possible Ten/Jack subtext
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers; angst and darkness.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and I'm just taking them for a spin, and will return them,perhaps slightly battered.
Word Count: ~4,300
Summary: They couldn't always escape the worlds where they meddled.... or could they?
Author's Notes: Written from the 'Law' challenge during Amnesty 2012 for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
wintercompanion. Set after Last of the Time Lords and before Partners in Crime. I have a strong suspicion that someone(s) has done this kind of thing before, but hopefully my take on it isn't totally repetitive. This plotted itself out well, but I had a hard time figuring out where to start it (and once I started it there, Ten and Jack would not shut up). So, I hope this works as written. My muse was very insistent about doing this her way. Unbeta'd, and this is my first time writing the good Captain except for a few lines in a crackfic. This fic is angsty and probably dark.
"I think," Jack speculated from where they were squeezed into a small closet-like space, "we may have irritated someone."
"Several," the Doctor muttered against his back, breath ghosting past his hair. "Jack..."
"Hey, I haven't done anything," he retorted over the sound of shouting people and running feet.
"Can we move now, please?"
"I'd like to wait a little longer, see if they move on to another building entirely." The Doctor groaned softly in frustration from where he was trapped behind Jack, unable to even wiggle in the small space. The captain, in turn, was squeezed up against the door and sides of the closet.
"We need to get back to the TARDIS."
"Might be a bit difficult, Doctor." Jack turned his head, trying to figure out what direction their pursuers were going. It seemed to be every direction. "I do have my vortex manipulator, though," he added.
"Is this a bad time to admit I probably should have enabled it before we left the TARDIS?" The Doctor winced.
"Not exactly the best time, no," Jack hissed, then pressed back against the Doctor as people went by.
"I can't reach my sonic screwdriver when we're in this kind of small space, Jack."
"It's an even worse time to mention that, but that's not your sonic screwdriver?" Jack inquired, turning his head as far as he could to try and get a glimpse of the Doctor's face in the dimness of the closet.
"Jaaaack. Not now." The Doctor saw Jack's faint and mischievous smile in profile, and added, "And that's what you said last time."
"Hey, if you're going to insist on carrying a sonic screwdriver..."
"Shh. I really don't want to get captured."
Jack waited until the latest set of boots had gone by, and then said, "You really didn't want to get a bunch of people executed either, did you?" He felt the Doctor tense against him. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he added hastily.
"Oh, it's all right. Bringer of Darkness, Destroyer... that's me." The Doctor sighed. "But no, I didn't. Help rid a world of a corrupt and abusive ruler who didn't notice or care about an entire city being poisoned, half a continent laid waste by drought and overuse... well, that was a little more than I intended when we said yes to one family begging for help, but this world has so much potential. I'll always want to right that, Jack, just one little change to the Web of Time," he whispered against Jack's neck. "I didn't realize how close they were to revolution, how much violence was held in and waiting for a catalyst, or that you and I would be that catalyst. Some of them, oh Jack, some of them were just children, they hadn't done anything except be born related to Wop'v Ufgewl, they were too young even to hate...."
"Shh," Jack whispered this time. "I don't think we can do anything else here except leave before these soldiers or mercenaries or police or whatever they are get hold of us and realize we had a role in this."
"There are less footsteps now," the Doctor said, his voice still not entirely steady. "If you open the door enough to turn around, I can get my sonic out and work on your vortex manipulator."
"Right," the captain answered, trying to determine the status of the corridor.
"Not yet," the Doctor hissed.
"Hey, even I could hear some of those boots." Jack's hand crept toward the door release.
"Almost..." the Doctor tensed again, concentrating. "Go ahead." Jack released the door, squeezing out partway before turning. The Doctor slipped the sonic out of his pocket as the captain squeezed back in, struggling to close the door properly behind him. He ended up leaning a little against the Doctor as they shuffled in the darkness, and the Doctor listened for a moment before opening up Jack's wrist strap and activating the screwdriver.
"It's not your fault," Jack said quietly, having gotten a good look at the Time Lord's face in the light of the opened door.
"Isn't it?" The Doctor refused to look up, even though in the small, dim space he was working the sonic more from memory than sight.
"You said yourself, you had no way of knowing."
"I'm supposed to know." His tone was tight and clipped, discouraging any further discussion. "Ah. There we go. One vortex manipulator, ready for operation. And coordinates."
"Thanks," Jack said with a relieved sigh and a hint of sarcasm. He squirmed a bit until he could access his wrist strap. "Forgot about this part when I came back in. And, hang on..." The Doctor obediently grabbed hold of him, listening to Jack press buttons. "You're right, by the way... looks like they're moving their search elsewhere."
"Fantastic," the Doctor retorted. Jack raised his eyebrows a little.
"Haven't heard you say that in a while." He kept hitting buttons, squinting a little as he checked the coordinates.
"It seemed appropriate. Can you get us out of here, please?"
"And... now." The Doctor winced in anticipation. He really didn't like traveling this way.
Nothing happened. Jack hit more buttons, a little frantically, and then the diagnostic. "Doctor, are you sure you fixed this?"
"Positive." He aimed the sonic at it again. "Yes, definitely positive. It's working, Jack."
"It's not." Jack gave a low growl of frustration, and ran more diagnostics. "Wow. Well, I didn't see that one coming."
"What?"
"There's an energy field scrambling teleportation, and my access to the Vortex. We should be able to get the TARDIS through it, but we can't use this thing." He tapped his wrist strap. "Scan distance was limited.... should have known from that. Damn."
"I hope you've been keeping in shape, then, Captain."
"You can't tell?" Jack inquired, fidgeting again.
"Really, Jack."
"Do you want to stay together, or split up?" the captain asked as his hand moved again to the door release.
"Mmm, well, plan A, we'll stay together, plan B, we'll split up. Also, Jack?"
"Yes?"
"These people don't have anything like the tech required to block teleports. That means whoever's running around out there in a search pattern? They must be offworlders."
"Yeah. Offworlders possibly summoned here during the revolt to protect their interests?"
"Yes, well, another reason to run."
"Let's go." Jack checked again, and opened the door. He peered around, and a moment later the Doctor wiggled until he too could examine the corridor. "Left or right?"
"Left," the Doctor answered shortly.
They ran down the corridor and took a right and ran down that, then dashed down a ramp, quickly ducked into another corridor when they heard a group coming and fairly flew down that one. They ran down another ramp and up some stairs and into a new corridor and then yet another one. Jack lost track, but he knew the Doctor was logging every stride in his head, trying to make sure they couldn't get lost.
A squad of blue and purple uniformed bipeds ran toward them as they turned one corner, and they frantically ducked the resulting weapons fire, instinctively grabbing each other as they tumbled across to the opposite corridor and started running again.
"Too close," the Doctor commented. Jack huffed out an affirmative breath, but didn't say anything. They both knew such an open sighting had reduced their chances for escape, particularly if these people had other technology available to them.
"Ohhhh!" Jack shouted, when they turned a corner a couple of minutes later and another squad was coming up the stairs toward them. Almost tripping, they doubled back, then took a right. Another ramp, and they ran along a curving windowed corridor open to the air, so close to the outside, so close.
"Is that the lake?" the Doctor asked, arms still pumping steadily.
"Yeah."
"How deep? Can you tell?" Jack brought up both hands in response and started working his manipulator, trying not to lose too much speed.
"Enough," he replied after a long moment. "I think."
"Oh. Well...." The Doctor made a face.
"Plan C?"
"Yep."
They passed a cross corridor. A few seconds later, half a dozen of the bipeds came out of it and gave pursuit. They both glanced behind them, then sped up. Ahead, the corridor forked off in three different directions, with a few side corridors between.
Suddenly, another half dozen of the blue and purple aliens came out from where their current path forked. They tossed a quick glance at each other, and Jack dove for one of the great windowless arches as the Doctor ducked into the closest side corridor.
It was an alcove.
He bounced off the back wall and leaped for and beyond the main passageway. Their pursuers shouted at him, but he lunged for the archway, swung up in a quick leap, and saw Jack hitting the surface in an ungraceful dive before he tipped forward himself, heading for the water.
Ow he thought as he hit, and kept going. He could feel Jack swimming above him, trying not to give away either of their positions by coming up for air. Scissoring his legs and arms, he leveled out, moving ahead of Jack, and turning away. Maybe if they came up on the shore at different points, they could unite later and keep heading for the TARDIS.
He felt a faint prickling on his skin, and then shocks flooded his system, lancing painfully through his arms and legs and up and down his torso. He almost gasped, but stopped himself, convulsing briefly against the water holding him up and down, before hanging there limply, moving a little in the waves he'd created and wondering if the shocks had hit Jack as well.
The water pushed against him from one side. He tried to move his arms, start swimming again, or his legs to help him dive down, but they wouldn't cooperate. Something else disturbed the water too, coming toward him from the same direction as the larger object. Abruptly, he was caught in a snare, clamps going around his shoulders and torso and dragging him along, and up toward the surface. It was a little fast for comfort, and with a massive effort he closed his eyes against it.
The Doctor broke the surface suddenly, flying through the air briefly before hitting the ground. He groaned, pried an eye open, and saw he was a little ways from shore, a boat humming out in the water with two large rods extending from it. Both sets of clamps looked to be empty, though he couldn't be sure, and he wondered where Jack was. There was a rush of noise as the blue and purple bipeds ran up to him and surrounded him. They lifted their weapons, in a way he would describe as very aggressively, and as he tried to swallow he wondered what exactly their policies were on prisoners. Two more burst through the line and knelt behind him, one grabbing him by his hair and pulling him to a sitting position as the other pulled out some kind of handcuffs and clasped one loop tightly around his wrist, slightly bruised from his imperfect dive, before pulling both his arms back and pinning the other. The first one lowered his head partway to the ground, then let go, and he grunted painfully. They moved to his ankles, and he heard Jack coughing hoarsely behind him, probably spewing up water.
Another person came through the circle surrounding him, and looked down on the Time Lord. "I am commander of these forces," she told him. "You are charged with a variety of war crimes, as is your friend. We are taking you into custody on behalf of those who can, thanks to you, no longer do so." With an enormous effort, he jerked one leg slightly as the soldiers placed a manacle around the ankle. A boot came down on that leg, then the other, and he looked up at the commander and tried to wiggle his fingers before remembering they were pinned behind him. She looked at his face briefly, then through him, before nodding to one of the soldiers, who drew out another sidearm and aimed it at him. He eyed it fearfully, and might have gasped, then tried to squirm away.
The other fired the weapon, and he jolted, darkness flooding him. The commander smoothly continued, "You will be given a speedy trial on our world, and restrained more comfortably once you have...." He went limp, unable to resist unconsciousness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When he woke, it took him a little while to figure out why he was surprised to be on a bed that was functional and wasn't classifiable as a torture device. Then, the Doctor was surprised that he wasn't feeling more aftereffects of the shocks and shots he'd received. After several moments, he opened his eyes and squinted around his cell.
In all honesty, he was also a little surprised to have woken up again in the first place, at least wearing the same body. For all he knew, a 'speedy trial' on this world was an hour-long presentation of evidence followed by five minutes of arguments from each side with 30 minutes allotted for sentencing decisions that were primarily capital punishment.
The Doctor flexed his hands, and realized he was still cuffed. Well, at least they were in front of him now, which was a bit more comfortable. He blinked, and slowly and awkwardly sat up and took a better look around. "Jack?" he called softly. "Jack, are you here?"
There was no response, and after several attempts, he stood and walked slowly (he did not stagger or shuffle) to the boundaries of the cell. After peering outside, he was somewhat satisfied: Jack was in another cell, hands also cuffed, and appeared to be breathing normally. Several minutes later, Jack woke, groaned, then rolled out of his bed, hit the floor, and groaned again.
"Are you all right?"
Jack looked up, squinted, and blinked, then surveyed his cell and restraints. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks. Do you know how long we've been here?"
"I've only been awake, oh, about 11 minutes myself. Sorry."
"Well..." the captain got up and made a more thorough survey. "Any idea how we're going to get out of here?"
"I'm thinking about it," the Doctor sighed.
"They mentioned a trial..."
"Yep. A speedy trial. However, either it's being conducted in absentia, which seems a bit rude, or they were waiting for us to wake up before they started."
Jack snorted. "Polite? Well, all things considered..." he trailed off and looked at the cell bed.
"How badly did the shocks hurt you?"
"Oh, I inhaled some water, but otherwise I just couldn't move." Jack stood near the cell entrance and leaned his head against the wall. "I wonder what we're being charged with."
"Aiding the fall of a friendly ruler and accessory to the murder of the leading family and their closest allies, at a minimum, I'd guess." The Doctor rubbed his face and neck awkwardly, then let his hands drop. "Another important question is what punishment those crimes carry?"
Jack looked over at him through his eyelashes, quite intently. "Thanks for giving me something else to think about."
"Ohhhh, I'm sorry." The Doctor went and sat on his bed, and leaned against the wall.
They both worried over that until the soldiers came for them.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"... and having contributed to the brutal murder of over 300 individuals in leadership positions, and disrupted peace and stability in our alliance, the accused, known as the Doctor and Jack Harkness, are guilty on all counts."
They knelt in the prisoner's box, hands shackled to a bar in front of them, legs anchored at the rear of the enclosure. The Doctor kept his head bowed, but Jack looked up at the grave and angry faces as two judges bowed to another, and the first sat for the second to speak.
"So guilty, we pass sentence and judgment. The criminals shall be held at Qot Cr'p until they are dead. They are ineligible for appeal or any form of succor by justice. In light of these exceptionally severe crimes, their hands will be treated with a dye the color of the Wop'v Ufgewl's blood, to be renewed until death."
The Doctor tugged at his wrist restraints, lowering his head even further and letting out a small moan of hopeless despair.
The court police started coming up to them to undo the shackles and move them out of the room. Jack tensed. The Doctor looked over at him from under his fringe of hair, trembling a little. "Please don't."
"Life sentence. God, Doctor... we don't even know how long that is for me. I could still be there when this world dries up."
"Jack, please. Please don't leave me." The Time Lord's eyes were desperate, liquid pleading, and Jack slumped and nodded, quietly letting them unhook restraints and lift him to his feet.
He didn't want to remain in a prison forever, becoming a target and a legend, until the prison and the world were dust and forgotten. But he couldn't leave the Doctor alone to face what might be millennia. He wasn't entirely sure how long each body was supposed to last, or if their jailors would count a regeneration as death.
If they didn't? The Doctor would regenerate three more times--if he even chose to, he added to himself--and then die, locked up and soul even more caged, a spirit meant to stride the stars confined to one time, one galaxy, one planet, one building.
They would face this fate together, as much as they could.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Their clothes had gone into time-protected storage, locked against decay. The TARDIS, retrieved thanks to information from the allies of the old rule, was placed in storage as well. Elsewhere. Too far. They filled out procedural forms, and stood silently as the dye was painted on and absorbed, then reapplied by a silent man and woman, before being moved to another room and dressing in what they would wear for a long, long time.
They'd both been in worse prisons. Once a week, small groups had a closely guarded brief time outside, in a courtyard hardly larger than the TARDIS console room, but the Doctor still tilted his head up to the sky. The food was actually more or less edible, and the guards didn't seem to beat them. Well, yet.
Jack and the Doctor had started out in separate cells, but within several weeks, their cellmates had begun negotiating with them (even though they were angrily ignored almost all the time), arguing about the Doctor keeping them awake at night. They said he woke up screaming every night, and again in the morning when the lights went on.
They sat apart, and Jack asked him, then waited, and asked again, watching the Doctor shake, then tuck his knees under his chin and stare off into the distance. He put one stained hand on the Doctor's shoulder, finally, and the Doctor flinched away, hard, so Jack cursed and then caught him and held him where the Doctor couldn't see his hands.
The blood of the other species was burnt orange. Broken words spilled out of the Doctor, a mixture of languages, until he could only lean against Jack and tremble. Not too long after that, the guards started pushing them into the same small cell for the night. The captain wrapped the Doctor in his arms and listened to his friend beseech the people of and cry out for a devastated world.
Around that time, Jack figured out that a number of the prisoners seemed to be out of the building most of the day. He left the Doctor silent on a bench, staring at dinner, and went to make inquiries. It took him a little while--he found the dynamics here bizarre but ultimately a little comforting--to discover that the food was edible because the prisoners made it so. Ones up for appeal soon, or who were nonviolent (not many of those here), or had passed multiple behavior evaluations, helped produce the food and prepare it. It was a chance to be outside, and he longed for it, but several too-quick glances at his hands convinced him that he and the Doctor would never, ever, have that opportunity. Returning to the Doctor, he sighed at the uneaten plate, and gently tried to get some food into the Time Lord, who finally shuddered and closed his eyes tightly before picking up the utensil and eating with perfect coordination, shoulders hunched the whole time.
Weeks went by them. Jack woke one night to the Doctor frantically climbing the walls, slipping back and then trying again with bruised fingers swiftly turning bloody. He pried the Doctor away firmly and sat down, but soon the Time Lord twisted out of his hold and went for the door, pounding against it. Jack shouted at him, but the guards came quickly.
"He needs to be in a restrained single unit," the doctor on duty decreed, looking at his bruised hands. She flicked an indirect look at Jack, then beyond him. "I'll keep him here until I'm done healing this damage, but after that, he needs to be moved."
"No no no no no please no," Jack gasped out from where he stood, surrounded. He was careful not to tense too much. "I'll stop him from doing it again, please..." He wasn't ever sure what else he said through the fear running through his brain, horror at the thought of the Doctor becoming even more trapped and isolated. Hours later, they went back to the cell together, linked at the wrists.
One day, Jack looked around and realized none of the guards, and very few of the prisoners, were the same faces he'd seen in their first week here. He looked in the mirror for longer than usual the next day, and found two gray hairs.
The color of their hands faded, and Jack thought that if the Doctor still had freckles, he could see them now, but instead the hair of hands and wrists stood out darkly. It was a different man and woman this time, and they were in there for longer, waiting for three coats of the dye to sink in.
Not too long after that, Jack woke in the morning to find the Doctor tugging at his sleeves, then the trouser legs, fingers frantically knotted and pulling, trying to rip and twist lengths of it away for a purpose he could guess. He leapt forward, yanking his hands away, and the Doctor shouted hoarsely at him, voice rusty from disuse, in a language he didn't know. The Time Lord's eyes were deeply shadowed in his thin face and he'd bitten through his lips, scratched one cheek with a fingernail. His gaunt face, Jack amended to himself. The Doctor was terribly thin, eyes ancient and restless and mad in a frame that still looked no older than it had when they'd first been imprisoned.
"Stop it," Jack said levelly, trying to tamp down his horror. The Doctor threw a punch at him, then a kick, and he sidestepped, trying to catch his friend without hurting him, trying to avoid that isolated cell with restraints that still hung over them as a possibility, even though they weren't cuffed together at night anymore.
Later, holding the Doctor's slim fingers in his own, he gave serious thought to trying to commit suicide by guard, knowing he could revive before disposal, and running to try to find the TARDIS.
"Jack, please. Please don't leave me." He closed his eyes and bowed his head over the Doctor, and knew he couldn't.
Whispers started to follow them, and questions.
The prison was remodeled, piece by piece, as he watched one guard climb from the lowest to highest rank there.
There was a bit of awe, now, when they sat in a corner in the common room for meals. Sometimes, someone new would sit there, but after an exchange with an older prisoner they never stayed. The Doctor sat quietly, hands in his lap, eyes usually closed, and sometimes opened his mouth when Jack brought food or drink near.
They went back to have their hands dyed again. This time, they were in there for almost a whole day, and the new mixture itched a little.
Occasionally, Jack would find something for them to read. If he got a raised eyebrow out of the Doctor from it at any point, he considered it a wild success.
He had to admit his face was wrinkled now, just a little more than it had been. Gray hair lightly dusted the Time Lord's temples.
The Doctor stopped standing and walking. Jack carried him, cursing his own lost muscle mass, then cursing again at the feel of that light body, bones jutting everywhere.
He'd deliberately not kept track of the time, but the Doctor whispered it to him one day. He winced, then brushed his fingertips lightly against the Doctor's cheek and stepped out of the cell for a short walk. So many years of good behavior had they needed to earn them this daytime privilege.
When he came back, the Doctor was flat on the bed. Jack walked over, looked, buried his face in his hands, and then looked again. He couldn't see the chest rising and falling with breath. The Doctor's eyes were open, the trapped madness gone, everything gone, even the rich brown faded. Jack sank to the floor and moaned, then lifted his face to the ceiling and cursed.
The Doctor blinked. Jack leaned over, frantically waving one green-clad arm in front of him. Nothing.
"No...." he moaned again. "No, Doctor, it's not your fault, it never..." and he reached to caress the Doctor's temples.
He spilled and tumbled in a great aching space.
Two of the guards looked in on them the next morning, and found them both staring at nothing, Jack leaning against the bed, one hand on the Doctor's thin frame.
Author:
eloriekamCharacters: Ten, Jack; possible Ten/Jack subtext
Rating: Teen/PG-13
Warnings/Spoilers: No spoilers; angst and darkness.
Disclaimer: Not mine, and I'm just taking them for a spin, and will return them,
Word Count: ~4,300
Summary: They couldn't always escape the worlds where they meddled.... or could they?
Author's Notes: Written from the 'Law' challenge during Amnesty 2012 for
wintercompanion. Set after Last of the Time Lords and before Partners in Crime. I have a strong suspicion that someone(s) has done this kind of thing before, but hopefully my take on it isn't totally repetitive. This plotted itself out well, but I had a hard time figuring out where to start it (and once I started it there, Ten and Jack would not shut up). So, I hope this works as written. My muse was very insistent about doing this her way. Unbeta'd, and this is my first time writing the good Captain except for a few lines in a crackfic. This fic is angsty and probably dark."I think," Jack speculated from where they were squeezed into a small closet-like space, "we may have irritated someone."
"Several," the Doctor muttered against his back, breath ghosting past his hair. "Jack..."
"Hey, I haven't done anything," he retorted over the sound of shouting people and running feet.
"Can we move now, please?"
"I'd like to wait a little longer, see if they move on to another building entirely." The Doctor groaned softly in frustration from where he was trapped behind Jack, unable to even wiggle in the small space. The captain, in turn, was squeezed up against the door and sides of the closet.
"We need to get back to the TARDIS."
"Might be a bit difficult, Doctor." Jack turned his head, trying to figure out what direction their pursuers were going. It seemed to be every direction. "I do have my vortex manipulator, though," he added.
"Is this a bad time to admit I probably should have enabled it before we left the TARDIS?" The Doctor winced.
"Not exactly the best time, no," Jack hissed, then pressed back against the Doctor as people went by.
"I can't reach my sonic screwdriver when we're in this kind of small space, Jack."
"It's an even worse time to mention that, but that's not your sonic screwdriver?" Jack inquired, turning his head as far as he could to try and get a glimpse of the Doctor's face in the dimness of the closet.
"Jaaaack. Not now." The Doctor saw Jack's faint and mischievous smile in profile, and added, "And that's what you said last time."
"Hey, if you're going to insist on carrying a sonic screwdriver..."
"Shh. I really don't want to get captured."
Jack waited until the latest set of boots had gone by, and then said, "You really didn't want to get a bunch of people executed either, did you?" He felt the Doctor tense against him. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he added hastily.
"Oh, it's all right. Bringer of Darkness, Destroyer... that's me." The Doctor sighed. "But no, I didn't. Help rid a world of a corrupt and abusive ruler who didn't notice or care about an entire city being poisoned, half a continent laid waste by drought and overuse... well, that was a little more than I intended when we said yes to one family begging for help, but this world has so much potential. I'll always want to right that, Jack, just one little change to the Web of Time," he whispered against Jack's neck. "I didn't realize how close they were to revolution, how much violence was held in and waiting for a catalyst, or that you and I would be that catalyst. Some of them, oh Jack, some of them were just children, they hadn't done anything except be born related to Wop'v Ufgewl, they were too young even to hate...."
"Shh," Jack whispered this time. "I don't think we can do anything else here except leave before these soldiers or mercenaries or police or whatever they are get hold of us and realize we had a role in this."
"There are less footsteps now," the Doctor said, his voice still not entirely steady. "If you open the door enough to turn around, I can get my sonic out and work on your vortex manipulator."
"Right," the captain answered, trying to determine the status of the corridor.
"Not yet," the Doctor hissed.
"Hey, even I could hear some of those boots." Jack's hand crept toward the door release.
"Almost..." the Doctor tensed again, concentrating. "Go ahead." Jack released the door, squeezing out partway before turning. The Doctor slipped the sonic out of his pocket as the captain squeezed back in, struggling to close the door properly behind him. He ended up leaning a little against the Doctor as they shuffled in the darkness, and the Doctor listened for a moment before opening up Jack's wrist strap and activating the screwdriver.
"It's not your fault," Jack said quietly, having gotten a good look at the Time Lord's face in the light of the opened door.
"Isn't it?" The Doctor refused to look up, even though in the small, dim space he was working the sonic more from memory than sight.
"You said yourself, you had no way of knowing."
"I'm supposed to know." His tone was tight and clipped, discouraging any further discussion. "Ah. There we go. One vortex manipulator, ready for operation. And coordinates."
"Thanks," Jack said with a relieved sigh and a hint of sarcasm. He squirmed a bit until he could access his wrist strap. "Forgot about this part when I came back in. And, hang on..." The Doctor obediently grabbed hold of him, listening to Jack press buttons. "You're right, by the way... looks like they're moving their search elsewhere."
"Fantastic," the Doctor retorted. Jack raised his eyebrows a little.
"Haven't heard you say that in a while." He kept hitting buttons, squinting a little as he checked the coordinates.
"It seemed appropriate. Can you get us out of here, please?"
"And... now." The Doctor winced in anticipation. He really didn't like traveling this way.
Nothing happened. Jack hit more buttons, a little frantically, and then the diagnostic. "Doctor, are you sure you fixed this?"
"Positive." He aimed the sonic at it again. "Yes, definitely positive. It's working, Jack."
"It's not." Jack gave a low growl of frustration, and ran more diagnostics. "Wow. Well, I didn't see that one coming."
"What?"
"There's an energy field scrambling teleportation, and my access to the Vortex. We should be able to get the TARDIS through it, but we can't use this thing." He tapped his wrist strap. "Scan distance was limited.... should have known from that. Damn."
"I hope you've been keeping in shape, then, Captain."
"You can't tell?" Jack inquired, fidgeting again.
"Really, Jack."
"Do you want to stay together, or split up?" the captain asked as his hand moved again to the door release.
"Mmm, well, plan A, we'll stay together, plan B, we'll split up. Also, Jack?"
"Yes?"
"These people don't have anything like the tech required to block teleports. That means whoever's running around out there in a search pattern? They must be offworlders."
"Yeah. Offworlders possibly summoned here during the revolt to protect their interests?"
"Yes, well, another reason to run."
"Let's go." Jack checked again, and opened the door. He peered around, and a moment later the Doctor wiggled until he too could examine the corridor. "Left or right?"
"Left," the Doctor answered shortly.
They ran down the corridor and took a right and ran down that, then dashed down a ramp, quickly ducked into another corridor when they heard a group coming and fairly flew down that one. They ran down another ramp and up some stairs and into a new corridor and then yet another one. Jack lost track, but he knew the Doctor was logging every stride in his head, trying to make sure they couldn't get lost.
A squad of blue and purple uniformed bipeds ran toward them as they turned one corner, and they frantically ducked the resulting weapons fire, instinctively grabbing each other as they tumbled across to the opposite corridor and started running again.
"Too close," the Doctor commented. Jack huffed out an affirmative breath, but didn't say anything. They both knew such an open sighting had reduced their chances for escape, particularly if these people had other technology available to them.
"Ohhhh!" Jack shouted, when they turned a corner a couple of minutes later and another squad was coming up the stairs toward them. Almost tripping, they doubled back, then took a right. Another ramp, and they ran along a curving windowed corridor open to the air, so close to the outside, so close.
"Is that the lake?" the Doctor asked, arms still pumping steadily.
"Yeah."
"How deep? Can you tell?" Jack brought up both hands in response and started working his manipulator, trying not to lose too much speed.
"Enough," he replied after a long moment. "I think."
"Oh. Well...." The Doctor made a face.
"Plan C?"
"Yep."
They passed a cross corridor. A few seconds later, half a dozen of the bipeds came out of it and gave pursuit. They both glanced behind them, then sped up. Ahead, the corridor forked off in three different directions, with a few side corridors between.
Suddenly, another half dozen of the blue and purple aliens came out from where their current path forked. They tossed a quick glance at each other, and Jack dove for one of the great windowless arches as the Doctor ducked into the closest side corridor.
It was an alcove.
He bounced off the back wall and leaped for and beyond the main passageway. Their pursuers shouted at him, but he lunged for the archway, swung up in a quick leap, and saw Jack hitting the surface in an ungraceful dive before he tipped forward himself, heading for the water.
Ow he thought as he hit, and kept going. He could feel Jack swimming above him, trying not to give away either of their positions by coming up for air. Scissoring his legs and arms, he leveled out, moving ahead of Jack, and turning away. Maybe if they came up on the shore at different points, they could unite later and keep heading for the TARDIS.
He felt a faint prickling on his skin, and then shocks flooded his system, lancing painfully through his arms and legs and up and down his torso. He almost gasped, but stopped himself, convulsing briefly against the water holding him up and down, before hanging there limply, moving a little in the waves he'd created and wondering if the shocks had hit Jack as well.
The water pushed against him from one side. He tried to move his arms, start swimming again, or his legs to help him dive down, but they wouldn't cooperate. Something else disturbed the water too, coming toward him from the same direction as the larger object. Abruptly, he was caught in a snare, clamps going around his shoulders and torso and dragging him along, and up toward the surface. It was a little fast for comfort, and with a massive effort he closed his eyes against it.
The Doctor broke the surface suddenly, flying through the air briefly before hitting the ground. He groaned, pried an eye open, and saw he was a little ways from shore, a boat humming out in the water with two large rods extending from it. Both sets of clamps looked to be empty, though he couldn't be sure, and he wondered where Jack was. There was a rush of noise as the blue and purple bipeds ran up to him and surrounded him. They lifted their weapons, in a way he would describe as very aggressively, and as he tried to swallow he wondered what exactly their policies were on prisoners. Two more burst through the line and knelt behind him, one grabbing him by his hair and pulling him to a sitting position as the other pulled out some kind of handcuffs and clasped one loop tightly around his wrist, slightly bruised from his imperfect dive, before pulling both his arms back and pinning the other. The first one lowered his head partway to the ground, then let go, and he grunted painfully. They moved to his ankles, and he heard Jack coughing hoarsely behind him, probably spewing up water.
Another person came through the circle surrounding him, and looked down on the Time Lord. "I am commander of these forces," she told him. "You are charged with a variety of war crimes, as is your friend. We are taking you into custody on behalf of those who can, thanks to you, no longer do so." With an enormous effort, he jerked one leg slightly as the soldiers placed a manacle around the ankle. A boot came down on that leg, then the other, and he looked up at the commander and tried to wiggle his fingers before remembering they were pinned behind him. She looked at his face briefly, then through him, before nodding to one of the soldiers, who drew out another sidearm and aimed it at him. He eyed it fearfully, and might have gasped, then tried to squirm away.
The other fired the weapon, and he jolted, darkness flooding him. The commander smoothly continued, "You will be given a speedy trial on our world, and restrained more comfortably once you have...." He went limp, unable to resist unconsciousness.
When he woke, it took him a little while to figure out why he was surprised to be on a bed that was functional and wasn't classifiable as a torture device. Then, the Doctor was surprised that he wasn't feeling more aftereffects of the shocks and shots he'd received. After several moments, he opened his eyes and squinted around his cell.
In all honesty, he was also a little surprised to have woken up again in the first place, at least wearing the same body. For all he knew, a 'speedy trial' on this world was an hour-long presentation of evidence followed by five minutes of arguments from each side with 30 minutes allotted for sentencing decisions that were primarily capital punishment.
The Doctor flexed his hands, and realized he was still cuffed. Well, at least they were in front of him now, which was a bit more comfortable. He blinked, and slowly and awkwardly sat up and took a better look around. "Jack?" he called softly. "Jack, are you here?"
There was no response, and after several attempts, he stood and walked slowly (he did not stagger or shuffle) to the boundaries of the cell. After peering outside, he was somewhat satisfied: Jack was in another cell, hands also cuffed, and appeared to be breathing normally. Several minutes later, Jack woke, groaned, then rolled out of his bed, hit the floor, and groaned again.
"Are you all right?"
Jack looked up, squinted, and blinked, then surveyed his cell and restraints. "Yeah. I'm fine. Thanks. Do you know how long we've been here?"
"I've only been awake, oh, about 11 minutes myself. Sorry."
"Well..." the captain got up and made a more thorough survey. "Any idea how we're going to get out of here?"
"I'm thinking about it," the Doctor sighed.
"They mentioned a trial..."
"Yep. A speedy trial. However, either it's being conducted in absentia, which seems a bit rude, or they were waiting for us to wake up before they started."
Jack snorted. "Polite? Well, all things considered..." he trailed off and looked at the cell bed.
"How badly did the shocks hurt you?"
"Oh, I inhaled some water, but otherwise I just couldn't move." Jack stood near the cell entrance and leaned his head against the wall. "I wonder what we're being charged with."
"Aiding the fall of a friendly ruler and accessory to the murder of the leading family and their closest allies, at a minimum, I'd guess." The Doctor rubbed his face and neck awkwardly, then let his hands drop. "Another important question is what punishment those crimes carry?"
Jack looked over at him through his eyelashes, quite intently. "Thanks for giving me something else to think about."
"Ohhhh, I'm sorry." The Doctor went and sat on his bed, and leaned against the wall.
They both worried over that until the soldiers came for them.
"... and having contributed to the brutal murder of over 300 individuals in leadership positions, and disrupted peace and stability in our alliance, the accused, known as the Doctor and Jack Harkness, are guilty on all counts."
They knelt in the prisoner's box, hands shackled to a bar in front of them, legs anchored at the rear of the enclosure. The Doctor kept his head bowed, but Jack looked up at the grave and angry faces as two judges bowed to another, and the first sat for the second to speak.
"So guilty, we pass sentence and judgment. The criminals shall be held at Qot Cr'p until they are dead. They are ineligible for appeal or any form of succor by justice. In light of these exceptionally severe crimes, their hands will be treated with a dye the color of the Wop'v Ufgewl's blood, to be renewed until death."
The Doctor tugged at his wrist restraints, lowering his head even further and letting out a small moan of hopeless despair.
The court police started coming up to them to undo the shackles and move them out of the room. Jack tensed. The Doctor looked over at him from under his fringe of hair, trembling a little. "Please don't."
"Life sentence. God, Doctor... we don't even know how long that is for me. I could still be there when this world dries up."
"Jack, please. Please don't leave me." The Time Lord's eyes were desperate, liquid pleading, and Jack slumped and nodded, quietly letting them unhook restraints and lift him to his feet.
He didn't want to remain in a prison forever, becoming a target and a legend, until the prison and the world were dust and forgotten. But he couldn't leave the Doctor alone to face what might be millennia. He wasn't entirely sure how long each body was supposed to last, or if their jailors would count a regeneration as death.
If they didn't? The Doctor would regenerate three more times--if he even chose to, he added to himself--and then die, locked up and soul even more caged, a spirit meant to stride the stars confined to one time, one galaxy, one planet, one building.
They would face this fate together, as much as they could.
Their clothes had gone into time-protected storage, locked against decay. The TARDIS, retrieved thanks to information from the allies of the old rule, was placed in storage as well. Elsewhere. Too far. They filled out procedural forms, and stood silently as the dye was painted on and absorbed, then reapplied by a silent man and woman, before being moved to another room and dressing in what they would wear for a long, long time.
They'd both been in worse prisons. Once a week, small groups had a closely guarded brief time outside, in a courtyard hardly larger than the TARDIS console room, but the Doctor still tilted his head up to the sky. The food was actually more or less edible, and the guards didn't seem to beat them. Well, yet.
Jack and the Doctor had started out in separate cells, but within several weeks, their cellmates had begun negotiating with them (even though they were angrily ignored almost all the time), arguing about the Doctor keeping them awake at night. They said he woke up screaming every night, and again in the morning when the lights went on.
They sat apart, and Jack asked him, then waited, and asked again, watching the Doctor shake, then tuck his knees under his chin and stare off into the distance. He put one stained hand on the Doctor's shoulder, finally, and the Doctor flinched away, hard, so Jack cursed and then caught him and held him where the Doctor couldn't see his hands.
The blood of the other species was burnt orange. Broken words spilled out of the Doctor, a mixture of languages, until he could only lean against Jack and tremble. Not too long after that, the guards started pushing them into the same small cell for the night. The captain wrapped the Doctor in his arms and listened to his friend beseech the people of and cry out for a devastated world.
Around that time, Jack figured out that a number of the prisoners seemed to be out of the building most of the day. He left the Doctor silent on a bench, staring at dinner, and went to make inquiries. It took him a little while--he found the dynamics here bizarre but ultimately a little comforting--to discover that the food was edible because the prisoners made it so. Ones up for appeal soon, or who were nonviolent (not many of those here), or had passed multiple behavior evaluations, helped produce the food and prepare it. It was a chance to be outside, and he longed for it, but several too-quick glances at his hands convinced him that he and the Doctor would never, ever, have that opportunity. Returning to the Doctor, he sighed at the uneaten plate, and gently tried to get some food into the Time Lord, who finally shuddered and closed his eyes tightly before picking up the utensil and eating with perfect coordination, shoulders hunched the whole time.
Weeks went by them. Jack woke one night to the Doctor frantically climbing the walls, slipping back and then trying again with bruised fingers swiftly turning bloody. He pried the Doctor away firmly and sat down, but soon the Time Lord twisted out of his hold and went for the door, pounding against it. Jack shouted at him, but the guards came quickly.
"He needs to be in a restrained single unit," the doctor on duty decreed, looking at his bruised hands. She flicked an indirect look at Jack, then beyond him. "I'll keep him here until I'm done healing this damage, but after that, he needs to be moved."
"No no no no no please no," Jack gasped out from where he stood, surrounded. He was careful not to tense too much. "I'll stop him from doing it again, please..." He wasn't ever sure what else he said through the fear running through his brain, horror at the thought of the Doctor becoming even more trapped and isolated. Hours later, they went back to the cell together, linked at the wrists.
One day, Jack looked around and realized none of the guards, and very few of the prisoners, were the same faces he'd seen in their first week here. He looked in the mirror for longer than usual the next day, and found two gray hairs.
The color of their hands faded, and Jack thought that if the Doctor still had freckles, he could see them now, but instead the hair of hands and wrists stood out darkly. It was a different man and woman this time, and they were in there for longer, waiting for three coats of the dye to sink in.
Not too long after that, Jack woke in the morning to find the Doctor tugging at his sleeves, then the trouser legs, fingers frantically knotted and pulling, trying to rip and twist lengths of it away for a purpose he could guess. He leapt forward, yanking his hands away, and the Doctor shouted hoarsely at him, voice rusty from disuse, in a language he didn't know. The Time Lord's eyes were deeply shadowed in his thin face and he'd bitten through his lips, scratched one cheek with a fingernail. His gaunt face, Jack amended to himself. The Doctor was terribly thin, eyes ancient and restless and mad in a frame that still looked no older than it had when they'd first been imprisoned.
"Stop it," Jack said levelly, trying to tamp down his horror. The Doctor threw a punch at him, then a kick, and he sidestepped, trying to catch his friend without hurting him, trying to avoid that isolated cell with restraints that still hung over them as a possibility, even though they weren't cuffed together at night anymore.
Later, holding the Doctor's slim fingers in his own, he gave serious thought to trying to commit suicide by guard, knowing he could revive before disposal, and running to try to find the TARDIS.
"Jack, please. Please don't leave me." He closed his eyes and bowed his head over the Doctor, and knew he couldn't.
Whispers started to follow them, and questions.
The prison was remodeled, piece by piece, as he watched one guard climb from the lowest to highest rank there.
There was a bit of awe, now, when they sat in a corner in the common room for meals. Sometimes, someone new would sit there, but after an exchange with an older prisoner they never stayed. The Doctor sat quietly, hands in his lap, eyes usually closed, and sometimes opened his mouth when Jack brought food or drink near.
They went back to have their hands dyed again. This time, they were in there for almost a whole day, and the new mixture itched a little.
Occasionally, Jack would find something for them to read. If he got a raised eyebrow out of the Doctor from it at any point, he considered it a wild success.
He had to admit his face was wrinkled now, just a little more than it had been. Gray hair lightly dusted the Time Lord's temples.
The Doctor stopped standing and walking. Jack carried him, cursing his own lost muscle mass, then cursing again at the feel of that light body, bones jutting everywhere.
He'd deliberately not kept track of the time, but the Doctor whispered it to him one day. He winced, then brushed his fingertips lightly against the Doctor's cheek and stepped out of the cell for a short walk. So many years of good behavior had they needed to earn them this daytime privilege.
When he came back, the Doctor was flat on the bed. Jack walked over, looked, buried his face in his hands, and then looked again. He couldn't see the chest rising and falling with breath. The Doctor's eyes were open, the trapped madness gone, everything gone, even the rich brown faded. Jack sank to the floor and moaned, then lifted his face to the ceiling and cursed.
The Doctor blinked. Jack leaned over, frantically waving one green-clad arm in front of him. Nothing.
"No...." he moaned again. "No, Doctor, it's not your fault, it never..." and he reached to caress the Doctor's temples.
He spilled and tumbled in a great aching space.
Two of the guards looked in on them the next morning, and found them both staring at nothing, Jack leaning against the bed, one hand on the Doctor's thin frame.
