for quitehomoerotic: Welcome to the 27th century

[rude_not_ginger]

Follows this.

It was one thing, watching your companion be ripped apart.

One very terrible thing, mind you, but one thing. The Doctor stayed prone on the ground, the sound of Jack's death screams ringing in his ears as that thing, whatever it was, tore him into several unpleasant pieces. It reminded him of the Year That Wasn't, of Jack's screams while the Master tortured him and the Doctor's frail body keeping him from helping. That was torture, far more brutal than anything the Master's tools could produce.

Once the loud stomps of the creature faded away, the Doctor struggled to get to his feet and limped to the place where Jack had been.

It was another thing, having to find his body for it to regrow.

It took some time to find his upper torso, limp and lifeless. It didn't take too terribly long to drag said upper torso to a safe, empty cave not far from the forest's edge (after all, what Jack no longer had in height, he also lost in weight. It didn't take long for time to start snapping around him and his body to start to regrow.

That was something else all together. Muscle and bone formed out of nothing, and while Jack wasn't coherent, he was still alive, screaming and thrashing as he reformed. The Doctor pressed his fingertips to Jack's temple and tried to take away the pain, but when that failed, he pressed his mind into a quiet, comatose state.

While Jack repaired, the Doctor covered him with his coat and sat, waiting. For all that they'd fought, for all that the Doctor swore he'd never want Jack back on the TARDIS again, he did care about him. He wanted him happy, even if he wasn't certain he could handle having him so close. Jack was willing to die for the Doctor, and this was just another example of how he could.

But the Doctor wouldn't leave. Not this time.

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"I think it looks like we're being watched," the Doctor agreed. He waved up at the glass, but there was no response. "Means we're not held in a psychic prison therefore there must be another way out."

He dropped to the floor and began checking the tiles for any secret cracks or levers he hadn't noticed. He traced his fingernail along the seal in the tiling, but nothing, not even a speck of dirt, came out. He felt terribly naked without his brainy specs in a time like this, though he didn't say so aloud.

"I think we're going to need to get their attention to get the doors open," the Doctor said, hopping back to his feet. Odd. Jack looked a lot taller, now. He had to be the same height, but his proportions looked all wrong. The Doctor blinked a few times and Jack went back to himself. Strange.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Hmm, it does look that way," Jack agreed and looked at the glass, "Hello," he shouted, "the food stinks, by the way. You need to work on that."

He wanted to shove his hands in his pockets, and felt put out that he didn't have any. He ignored it and crossed his arms over his chest instead.

"Well, getting people's attention is my speciality," Jack smirked and glanced over at the Doctor. "Where I go, people tend to look," he said, more than a little smug.

"Find anything crawling around there did you?" he asked, and as he did he noticed the Doctor's neck and the curve of his collarbone under the fabric. It was quite distracting.

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"No," the Doctor said. "This is good. No. No, wait, it's not good. Not good at all. Jack, can you please stand still for a moment?"

He took a step forward and put his hands on Jack's shoulders. Jack kept moving, his body shifting and swirling in ways he knew couldn't possibly be happening.

Maybe Jack was just a figment of his imagination? Maybe he was still dreaming, but Jack needed to stay still. It was terribly distracting.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Doctor..." Jack said, confused, "I am standing still. He reached his own hands up in return and touched his hands against the Doctor's arms. He could smell him. His pheremones and that smell that was so distinctively Doctor, but amplified as though he was tasting it.

It made his mouth run dry.

"Something's not right," he said, pointing out the obvious. "Doctor..." he said again, and saw himself putting his hand to the other man's face before making himself draw it back speedily.

"Tell me what's happening, Doctor."

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"I think we've been drugged," the Doctor said, though he could not for the life of him figure out why this was an upsetting situation. Why wouldn't he want to be drugged?

He let out a laugh. "This is definitely a euphoria I should not be feeling for the situation," he said, enthusiastically.

If his earlier excitement caused him to hug Jack, this new euphoria made him far more excitable. He wrapped his arms around Jack's shoulders and pulled him to him in a quick, excited kiss. The sort of kiss he generally only gave when he had just cheated death, but, well, he was too happy to worry about it.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Drugged, hmm, yes. Jack vaguely heard that somewhere in his mind, and he was sure he agreed with it. A fact he tried to make audible, but all that would come forth was a breathy "Yeah..." he was far too busy watching the Doctor's lips as he talked.

His blood ran hot, as though he was at the height of arousal. And really, the Doctor did it for him, but not this simply. Nobody did it this simply.

All consideration and questioning though was quickly cut off as the Doctor kissed him. Jack's body took control and sprung into action, like a fuse set alight.

He pushed his body against the Doctor's and all but smashed him against the wall, pinning him there with his own body pressed against him. He kissed him again, hard, passionate. He knew in his mind that this wasn't quite right, but he really couldn't stop himself, and in the moment, this was exactly what he wanted.

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This felt good, and the Doctor felt gleeful at Jack's enthusiasm to the kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this was wrong, and Jack's reaction was wrong, and they needed to stop this nonsense right now.

The wall hit the Doctor's back hard, and he found he was much too excited to be, well, as excited as he imagined he would be in a similar situation with Jack forcing him up against a wall so aggressively. Jack was, well, very excited against the Doctor, but there was nothing but pure euphoria running through the Doctor. No arousal, no sexual drive. While the Doctor could be cold on occasion, he hadn't had that sort of problem in 900 years.

The euphoria began to ebb away, replaced by frustration. Which was idiotic. He had no reason to be frustrated. But there wasn't reason. There was just emotion.

He found the strength in his shoulders to push Jack back. "Jack," he said. "We need to stop and think."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack was amazed at just how much he found he wanted the Doctor. He wanted so much, he wanted to do so much. Ideas and images ran rampant in his mind and the voice telling him it was wrong screamed trying to tell him to stop.

His mouth seeked out the Doctor's jawline and he kissed his way along it, one hand down grabbing on the Doctor's thigh to try and lift it.

To lift it? He frowned a little, what was he doing? Was he genuinely trying to have sex with the Doctor up against a wall in some alien hospital cell where they may or may not be watched?

No, this was wrong.

At that moment the Doctor pushed him off. His urges told him to move straight back and reclaim the loss, but his mind was stronger than that, and he held back.

"Yeah you're telling me!" he said gruffly, his voice rich with want.

He stepped back and tried to keep his distance from the Doctor, to try not to breathe him in and want him even more. "Drugged," he repeated back, "definitely drugged."

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He started thinking about what drugs could do this. His mind was trying to list out the drugs that could do this to him and create the reactions he saw in Jack. Emphasizing natural inclinations? The Doctor was excited to be safe, so he was euphoric, a little frustrated by his predicament against the wall, now he was furious...

"That's what I said, isn't it?" the Doctor snapped. Jack could just be so utterly useless. Repeating what the Doctor had already knew, only interested in having sex with him. That was all Jack was ever interested in!

He couldn't control himself, the Doctor pulled back and threw a punch at Jack's face.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack breathed in and out deeply, trying to stop himself from moving back to the Doctor and kissing him again. God he wanted to kiss him. He'd always wanted to kiss him, he wanted to--

"Oww!" Jack called out as a fist connected with his face.

All arousal was quickly forgotten and discarded and he reached a hand up to cradle his cheek. His lip was spit and bleeding.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" he shouted, but tearful rather than angry. "All my life I'm trying to impress you. I try and do things to make you proud, I try and be what I think you'd want me to be and it's never enough is it, I just can't please you, I just can't impress you! I make mistakes, Doctor, I know I make mistakes but I try, I do you just don't care, do you?!"

Oh God, what was he saying? He really wished he could shut up, and stop crying... what, he was crying?!

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Now, the Doctor was positively livid. Frustration was gone, replaced by pure rage.

"Stop being an idiot! Of course I care! I've always cared about you, but you're just like Rose! You lot always expect me to say it and make commitments and be with with you! It doesn't work like that for me, Jack! Maybe if you stopped to think about the things I do, then maybe you'd realize it!"

He was gone, now. He threw another punch towards Jack's face, and another. He knew he should feel shame for how he was reacting and how he was hurting Jack, but there was nothing but anger.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack cowered from the Doctor's punches, finding himself genuinely frightened of them; scared as they made contact with his skin, causing new bruises and cuts. One landed hard across his face and smacked into his teeth, and in his mouth he tasted blood.

He flipped.

He wasn't upset or scared any more, he was just as angry, and he lashed out himself, grabbing one of the Doctor's punches and twisting his hand.

"I'm the idiot?! You're ridiculous! I've never expected you to say anything in my life, and I've certainly never expected any commitment. What is it? Too much knowledge in that thick Time Lord scull of yours to fit a simple concept like love in there?" He pushed at him, knocking him back.

He reached a hand up to wipe at his bloody nose and fumed at the Doctor, "And you know what Doctor I don't fucking care that I asked for more from you. I don't think it was a lot, certainly not what Rose wanted, so don't you dare compare us like that. And you're the one that sabotaged a fucking ship just so we could have sex, not me!"

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His knuckles hurt. He never threw fisted punches, not even when he was at the height of using his Venusian akido to get what he wanted. He certainly never threw punches at the people he cared about.

Anger was gone, replaced entirely by anguish. He was out of control. He was out of control and he would hurt someone. He might not be able to kill Jack, but if he got on that anger bent again, he could do far worse than those government agents did.

He fell backwards with the push, his shoulder smacking hard into the wall. He thought he felt a crack, but the bone didn't feel broken. Bruised at the worst, but he deserved to be hurt. He deserved it and---

No. No, no. He was falling into this. He was letting it take him over. He was letting it take him over and he had to stop.

"Jack--" he tried to speak, but his voice came out hollow and aching.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack stared at the Doctor and he was so angry. So very very angry and annoyed. Annoyed at doing all he possibly could and that still not being enough. Upset that however hard he tried, he'd never manage to be the person he wanted to.

Upset. It weighed down on him and he was so tired. So tired and worn and he'd had enough. He could so easily be dragged under by that emotion, it dominated him so often as it was.

But no. No because he heard the Doctor speak, and he heard the tone, and more than anything Jack wanted to protect him. So whatever emotion was forcing itself to the foreground, it managed to be pushed aside by Jack's overwhelming desire to see the Doctor all right.

He stepped over to him and took both of the Doctor's hands in his own. "Doctor," he whispered gently, soft and so caring. "Doctor it's okay, I'm here, you're okay, we're both okay. We'll get past this, right? We've got past much worse."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor gripped Jack's hands and struggled to make the muscles in his arms and his aching legs move. Jack would protect him and the Doctor could not give up.

He felt so completely weighed down by everything he'd done. He'd pushed Jack away, he'd gotten them into this situation, he'd abandoned Jack before, it all swirled around his head and kept pushing, pushing, pushing. He needed to focus.

"Whatever they've given us, it's made us single out individual emotions," the Doctor theorized. "Focusing on one feeling only and letting that take us over. Then they get to watch. Like we're elaborate lab rats."

He felt a flash of anger, but there was too much anguish for it to take over. He put a hand to his shoulder. Not broken. So what was that crack?

He looked back. Where the Doctor had hit the wall, a panel and been broken open. A panel with a large number of shiny buttons.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack ran his thumbs over the Doctor's hands, comforting and close. He'd do anything at the best of times to make sure the Doctor was safe, and now, now he felt a tugging inside him that screamed that he had to, that if he didn't, he'd have failed altogether.

He couldn't let that happen.

"Keep us going until one flips and kills the other, I guess," Jack said, his tone still soft and cautious. "Trouble there is they didn't expect us, right Doctor?" he smiled gently, squeezed on his hands, "Didn't account for who we are. We just need to focus, that's all. Stick to one."

His eyes glanced sideways over the Doctor's shoulder, and he looked at the panel with little lights flashing and buttons a-plenty. Slowly, he smiled, and tried to ignore the wave of glee that was trying to make itself prominent. No. Look after the Doctor, that was a strong emotion, and it was safe. That one could win.

"And right now," he said slowly and quietly. "I think it might just be time for you to be brilliant."

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He tried to grip onto the very brief burst of euphoria he felt, but it was overwhelmed by the anguish. What was the point? He'd fail, he always failed the ones he cared about. Donna, Martha, Rose. They all were hurt because of him. He watched them stop becoming the brilliant people they were becoming and watched them turn into...what they became. It didn't matter what happened to the Doctor. They could do whatever they wanted to him and maybe the universe would be better.

But Jack...

No. No, he couldn't let them do this to Jack. Jack had suffered enough, and mostly because of the Doctor's gross negligence. He wouldn't let them hurt him again. This new emotion pumped through the Doctor's veins and he turned to the buttons.

"They have that symbol on them," he said, his voice now confident. "I don't think it's a language, I think it's a code. If our theories are right about this place, it's violating so many of the codes of the Shadow Proclamation that just a breath of what goes on would send every person here into permanent solitary confinement on Rabio Major."

He couldn't figure out the symbols, he'd need time and more samples of the code. He shook his head. "Logically, this would be the lights, heating, water, air, medical. This would be the doors."

He pressed the button. The lights went out.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Do you think it's a code? Maybe if we crack it they let us out?" Jack shook his head, "Oh but who am I kidding, since when do we ever wait to be let out?"

He stood behind the Doctor as he turned to the panel, and kept a hand pressed gently to his shoulder. He needed to flick himself to be a bit more proactive, he thought. Force an emotion that would achieve that, and not just the passive careful one he was feeling now.

There was no need to wait long for a trigger though, as the Doctor didn't let him down. The room was plunged into darkness and Jack grinned wide. He felt a rush and he smacked a hand gently against the Doctor's back.

"Right!" he said with a beaming smile. "They want to observe us? Let them observe this."

Jack spun around the room, trying to take in every detail and anything that might be used to help. On hooks in the corner their clothes were sitting, cleaned and ready. He ran over to them and checked the pockets of their coats. His adrenaline ran rampant and he laughed as in the Doctor's pocket his hand came into contact with something long and thin. The sonic screwdriver. He pulled it out and tossed it over.

"Guess they're not as bright as they think they are. I'm betting they don't know what it is. Either that or they've tried to disable it."

His own coat pocket had his vortex manipulator. He could see it had been tampered with, but he'd fix it later, and for now he just fixed it back on his wrist where it belonged.

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"Oh, that's how you do it!" the Doctor grinned and caught the sonic as it was tossed towards him.

The Doctor grabbed his suit but only bothered taking the time to throw on his coat. There should've been a rush of adrenaline, now, he knew. He should've been excited to be running again, excited that they were going to be getting free. But the only emotion was a quiet determination. It slowed him down, he needed the mix of emotions to make himself an efficient adventurer and escapist.

He aimed the sonic at the walls, slowly checking every panel before he heard the telltale click of a lock being recognized and opened. A panel on the far wall slid open, letting in a shaft of florescent light.

"Brilliant," he said. He started towards it and stopped. He grabbed a block of food and shoved it into his pocket. Just in case this didn't wear off of Jack like he expected it might, he wanted to know what they were doing.

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Jack shrugged into his coat (it was all that was left of his clothing) and dashed back over to the Doctor at the panel. His heart palpitated like mad, he wondered if he were anyone else if it might cause problems, if it might overload his system. But Jack was no normal human, and his body could take a lot more than that of most.

"Okay!" he beamed, practically bouncing on the spot. He headed into the new corridor and started to run ahead, having to force himself to stop to wait for the Doctor.

The Doctor. Primary goal, look after the Doctor and stop getting so very excited. "You with me, Doctor?" he called back, making sure he was there.

He flicked open his wrist strap but the central battery had been removed, so maybe they weren't so stupid. Maybe this was all part of it, mayb-- no. No he couldn't start to worry, it'd take over him. He needed to focus.

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The Doctor gave Jack a firm nod. "Always."

There was part of the Doctor that thought this was far, far too easy. They shouldn't have been able to get out so fast. They shouldn't have been able to find their clothes or that panel. He could feel paranoia start to overwhelm his determination and he focused, pushing it back as quickly as he could.

The worst part was, there was part of him that thought the code looked familiar. Very, very familiar, though he couldn't figure out for the life of him how.

The hallway split down two corridors, the ceiling still that high, vaulted mirror-glass, probably with some sort of viewers on the opposite side, enjoying watching them run.

"When in doubt, I've learned we should turn left," he said, leading the way.

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Jack smiled back so brightly at the Doctor that it would almost light up a room in the darkness. Utterly gleeful. Always! He said always! That's just great!

He stopped at the crossroads, continuing to jump up and down to channel his excitement. "Left it is!" he agreed and made down the corridor behind the Doctor at haste.

"So what is this?" he called ahead, "Some sort of Gladiator type entertainment you think plug us full of drugs and see what it does I mean it's hilarious really they've got no idea what they've got themselves into you know I was a Gladiator once for a few days when I took a trip to Rome fun holiday that turned out to be."

His words ran out as one stream of consciousness, almost an overload. "You know I feel a bit like a hamster in one of those balls."

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Jack's overt excitement only fueled the Doctor's cold determination. This wasn't the Jack he knew, and that meant they were hurting him further. They were going to pay for this.

It was a cold hatred he knew he didn't normally feel. This wasn't like him. The last time he hated the way he was hating now, it was to that creature, the one who had crippled the TARDIS and, as the believed at the time, killed Jack. This wasn't like him. He needed to get control.

He was so focused on his own thoughts that he almost walked right into the trap ahead of them. He caught Jack by the shoulder.

"Stop! Wait!" He gestured to the floor. It went from the sterile white floors from before to brightly red-and-white checkered tiles. It struck the Doctor as frighteningly familiar.

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Jack was so busy rushing ahead, sparking off his own excitement, that he was forgetting to be aware of his surroundings. He was forgetting his own codes that he'd developed over so many years. In many ways, it's a good job the excitement had taken hold, else that fact could make him quite annoyed, annoyed at himself and angry. That'd do none of them any good.

He stopped sharp as the Doctor called out, and swung around to him. "What is it?" the excitement was fading and for a moment he worried what it'd be replaced with. He worried what was ahead of them, and what might be behind.

He was worried. Damn. He tried to control his breathing, but it was hard, and the corridor suddenly seemed smaller and much more terrifying.

He looked down at the floor and at the colours in the tiles. He'd not seen anything like it before, but he was sure whatever it was it was terrible. "What does it mean?"

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The Doctor dug into his pocket and produced the yo-yo. He tossed it out into the board, and the whole thing electrified.

"Oh, now that's clever," the Doctor enthused. "A checkerboard puzzle. The question is, which ones do we step onto?"

He was very, very good at puzzles and, before he could really think about it, he found he was really glad he was the one working on this. He was, naturally, brilliant, and there wasn't a riddle in the known universe he couldn't work out in time.

The overconfidence fueling him, he grasped Jack by the arm. "I bet we could just jump it."