Killing Time
Jun. 28th, 2007 11:49 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Fic: Killing Time
Author: CrabbyLioness
Characters: Jack, Master, UNIT
Summary: Set after The Sound of Drums. The Master is killing time. So is Jack.
Word Count: 804
Rating: PG for adult themes.
When Jack comes back to life this time, he's still wearing the heavy restraints the Master uses when Mrs. Saxon joins them. The floor is slick with his blood and the room reeks like a charnal house. The lights are dim. He can see the Saxon's guards just outside the door. Down the hall, he can hear a technician working on a panel.
Mrs. Saxon has gone, but the Master is there. He watches Jack's face with an expression of sheer delight.
"I love that. I love watching your face when you come back from the darkness. There's the panic, the confusion, the moment when your predicament sinks in on you, the anger, and the calculation.
"But what intrigues me is the flash of hope. It's never on your face when I kill you, only when you return."
Jack's heart skips a beat. A huge grin lights up the Master's face.
"Ah, you didn't know I'd seen it, did you?" He bends down closer. "But I see everything. I saw you when you toured the Valiant in that group of petty dignitaries after it first opened. I watched the UNIT staff sneering at you for being Torchwood.
"Where does that hope come from? The Doctor can't save you. Your team can't reach you. Is little Martha the medical student going to come back for you? Oh, come on! You're completely surrounded by my people. There's no escape for you. There's no one here who doesn't hate your guts. How can you have hope? Have you gone mad? Or is there some god that speaks to you on the other side of that black veil, pats your head and gives you a cheery, 'Chin up, my boy' before sending you back? What is it?"
Jack tries to speak, but he can't. He ducks his head and opens and closes his mouth. The Master gives one of his theatrical frowns.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm being a terrible host, aren't I?" He splashes a cup of water at Jack's mouth. Jack swallows what he can, wets his lips, and takes a few breaths before speaking.
"You're a psychopath."
The Master smiles. "Yes. And?" He gestures for Jack to speak again. Jack stares at him, panting, and refuses.
The Master pouts. "Is that all? Aren't you going to play with me? I love playing with you." He looks at his watch. "Ah well. Time to dress for dinner. Don't worry. We'll play more later. I'll tell the Doctor you're indisposed. He worries about you, you know."
The Master leaves the room. He says something cheerful to the guards. After he leaves, a janitor steps up to the door with a hose and starts washing the floor. He glances at Jack out of the corner of his eye, makes a superstitous gesture warding off evil, and resolutely keeps his eyes off Jack while he hoses down the room.
Jack glances at Mohammad and closes his eyes There's no reason to do more right now. Nothing appears to have changed since the last time the man was here. There's still no signal from anyone. He's still locked up in the clutches of a psychopath.
A psychopath. It could be worse. Psychopaths have trouble with the concepts of scale and proportion, especially when it comes to emotions.
Saxon's people controlled the Valiant. They had locked up or killed most of the UNIT staff who ran it. But at the core of the ship, the "insignificant" "nonessential" UNIT personnel remained. Jack had met them during his tour. Mohammad's janitors, Ryan's maintenance crew, Carmelita's mechanics, Weng's kitchen staff.... A small army.
Not combat troops. Not officers. Nobody "important" with any important codes or passwords. Just the support staff. The ones whose tender care kept the Valiant running every day. And they were still UNIT. They had still sworn an oath to protect the Earth from aliens invaders like the very one who dared turn their pride and joy into his private castle from which to rain fire and destruction onto their planet.
UNIT hated Torchwood, of course. Always had, always would. They were bitter rivals. But there's a world of difference between a sibling rivalry and a blood feud. "Brothers in arms" wasn't just a trite phrase. Jack clung to that knowledge, and to the knowledge that he was in the best place to use it.
Now wasn't the right time. They were too few in number to take down the Master by themselves, and Jack wasn't going to waste their lives if he had another choice. He waited for a signal from them, from Martha, from the Doctor, from the very vibrations of the ship, from the Master himself. When the signal came, he would be ready. Until then he closed his eyes and rested, listening to the reassuring sounds of Mohammad's mop swishing over the floor and Ryan cursing the "stubborn" panel.
Mrs. Saxon has gone, but the Master is there. He watches Jack's face with an expression of sheer delight.
"I love that. I love watching your face when you come back from the darkness. There's the panic, the confusion, the moment when your predicament sinks in on you, the anger, and the calculation.
"But what intrigues me is the flash of hope. It's never on your face when I kill you, only when you return."
Jack's heart skips a beat. A huge grin lights up the Master's face.
"Ah, you didn't know I'd seen it, did you?" He bends down closer. "But I see everything. I saw you when you toured the Valiant in that group of petty dignitaries after it first opened. I watched the UNIT staff sneering at you for being Torchwood.
"Where does that hope come from? The Doctor can't save you. Your team can't reach you. Is little Martha the medical student going to come back for you? Oh, come on! You're completely surrounded by my people. There's no escape for you. There's no one here who doesn't hate your guts. How can you have hope? Have you gone mad? Or is there some god that speaks to you on the other side of that black veil, pats your head and gives you a cheery, 'Chin up, my boy' before sending you back? What is it?"
Jack tries to speak, but he can't. He ducks his head and opens and closes his mouth. The Master gives one of his theatrical frowns.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm being a terrible host, aren't I?" He splashes a cup of water at Jack's mouth. Jack swallows what he can, wets his lips, and takes a few breaths before speaking.
"You're a psychopath."
The Master smiles. "Yes. And?" He gestures for Jack to speak again. Jack stares at him, panting, and refuses.
The Master pouts. "Is that all? Aren't you going to play with me? I love playing with you." He looks at his watch. "Ah well. Time to dress for dinner. Don't worry. We'll play more later. I'll tell the Doctor you're indisposed. He worries about you, you know."
The Master leaves the room. He says something cheerful to the guards. After he leaves, a janitor steps up to the door with a hose and starts washing the floor. He glances at Jack out of the corner of his eye, makes a superstitous gesture warding off evil, and resolutely keeps his eyes off Jack while he hoses down the room.
Jack glances at Mohammad and closes his eyes There's no reason to do more right now. Nothing appears to have changed since the last time the man was here. There's still no signal from anyone. He's still locked up in the clutches of a psychopath.
A psychopath. It could be worse. Psychopaths have trouble with the concepts of scale and proportion, especially when it comes to emotions.
Saxon's people controlled the Valiant. They had locked up or killed most of the UNIT staff who ran it. But at the core of the ship, the "insignificant" "nonessential" UNIT personnel remained. Jack had met them during his tour. Mohammad's janitors, Ryan's maintenance crew, Carmelita's mechanics, Weng's kitchen staff.... A small army.
Not combat troops. Not officers. Nobody "important" with any important codes or passwords. Just the support staff. The ones whose tender care kept the Valiant running every day. And they were still UNIT. They had still sworn an oath to protect the Earth from aliens invaders like the very one who dared turn their pride and joy into his private castle from which to rain fire and destruction onto their planet.
UNIT hated Torchwood, of course. Always had, always would. They were bitter rivals. But there's a world of difference between a sibling rivalry and a blood feud. "Brothers in arms" wasn't just a trite phrase. Jack clung to that knowledge, and to the knowledge that he was in the best place to use it.
Now wasn't the right time. They were too few in number to take down the Master by themselves, and Jack wasn't going to waste their lives if he had another choice. He waited for a signal from them, from Martha, from the Doctor, from the very vibrations of the ship, from the Master himself. When the signal came, he would be ready. Until then he closed his eyes and rested, listening to the reassuring sounds of Mohammad's mop swishing over the floor and Ryan cursing the "stubborn" panel.
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-28 04:49 pm (UTC)And I love the sibling rivalry/blood feud comparison - works perfectly.
Nice work :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-28 05:06 pm (UTC)Love this. Love your Master, and Jack biding his time to call on the 'nobodies' of UNIT. Cause no one in UNIT is that :)
Very very impressed
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-29 02:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-29 02:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-28 05:15 pm (UTC)I just knew someone would write something like this after the Master's line in Sound of Drums. You just know he's going to be gleefully killing Jack over and over again. Poor Jack. I love how he has that spark of hope every time he comes back. And your Master is just right.
Thank you!
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Date: 2007-06-28 06:00 pm (UTC)One random thing reading this made me realize is how much Simm's Master reminds me of Pegg's Editor from 'Long Game'. Both written by RTD coincidentally. Seems he only has one model for insane-evil. :)
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Date: 2007-06-29 04:21 pm (UTC)Russell usually doesn't sugarcoat things for us. Spoonfeed for the sake of the kiddies, yes. But not sugarcoat.
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Date: 2007-06-28 09:11 pm (UTC)Thanks. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2007-06-29 05:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
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Date: 2007-06-29 06:01 am (UTC)Goodness I cannot wait.
And I really want to compliment you on the way you wrote Jacks observational skills in this one. I can almost picture his mind racing as he's figuring out what options he has when the time comes.
Well done.
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Date: 2007-07-07 02:07 pm (UTC)Will there be a sequal/ next chapter?
(no subject)
Date: 2007-07-08 04:42 pm (UTC)Not per se, but I'm dealing with the aftermath in my next fic.
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Date: 2007-07-08 06:48 pm (UTC)I'll be keeping an eye out for your next fic.
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