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Jack’s head spun, his aching muscles screaming in protest with every movement. His shoulders were agonizingly sore, his wrists tender, phantom pains from healed injuries wracking his body. He stood frozen, limp, a painful fog filling his head as he watched The Doctor cry and cling to the body of the man who had kept him in chains, had hurt him and humiliated him. The sound of The Doctor’s anguished cries, of his grief, made Jack’s heart seize, but he couldn’t bring himself to move.
"Come on," he heard Martha say. He looked up to see her gently herding her family away from the men, from the body. She met his eyes, tilted her head to the side. There was something distant in her gaze, a glassiness to her baggy eyes, and Jack's chest panged. He forced a reassuring smile onto his face and gave her a nod, and she took a breath and turned back to her family.
Jack heard a sniffle, and his gaze snapped back to The Doctor. He grit his teeth and forced himself to move.
The Doctor flinched as Jack came closer, and Jack stopped in his tracks. He swallowed thickly and slowly held his hands up.
"Doc-Doctor, it's-it's me," he stammered, keeping his voice soft, heart thundering in his ears. "Are, uh, you okay?"
The Doctor gave another sniffle, then lifted his head and took a shuddering breath, bringing a thin, bony hand up to wipe his tears. His other arm stayed tightly wrapped around The Master's limp frame, and Jack's stomach turned at the sight of the man who had loomed over him while he stood helpless in chains. He grit his teeth and blinked away the memories, keeping his face stoic as The Doctor silently stared at him.
Jack knelt down next to The Doctor, fighting the urge to reach over and touch him. He looked so small, thin and frail and lost. His eyes were distant, cheeks shining with tears, and his lip quivered, just slightly. Jack cast another glance at The Master. The only other living member of The Doctor's species, gone.
"It's-it's gonna be okay," Jack murmured, not sure what else there was to say but wanting to say something. He wanted to comfort The Doctor, but he was at a loss. The Doctor was so old, so lonely in a way Jack could never understand. He shoved down his doubts. "You're gonna be okay, it's okay."
The Doctor just stared, brows knitting together as he locked Jack in his gaze. Jack's breath hitched, and he swallowed around the lump in his throat. Another wave of pain ripped through his sore shoulders, and he clenched his jaw to keep from wincing.
"Jack," The Doctor said softly, a feeble weariness to his voice.
"Yeah." Jack's heart leapt into his throat. "Yeah, I'm here."
The Doctor took a shuddering breath, then a cool mask of composure fell over his face. Jack stiffened, limply watching The Doctor calmly climb to his feet and lift The Master's body into his arms. Without another glance, The Doctor turned away and left Jack sitting on the floor.
Jack stared after The Doctor's receding form, heart sinking. His body felt weak, heavy, not even strong enough to get him back onto his feet. He stayed slumped on the floor for what felt like hours, waves of pain rolling through him, vision blurring as his head spun. He looked down at himself, stomach turning at the bullet holes littering his filthy shirt. He could still feel each piercing impact in his pristine skin, could still feel the lead burning through him. He could feel the chains around his wrists, yanking at his shoulders, could feel The Master's hot breath and hear his sneering voice and feel the slimy shame of being helpless, weak, unable to fight back.
"Jack," someone said, snapping him to attention. He lifted his pounding head to see The Doctor's tall, thin frame looming in the doorway, his long coat casting an imposing shadow over the room. The Doctor stared at Jack, brows furrowed. "What are you still doing here?"
Jack kept his face neutral, stoic. He couldn't let The Doctor see his weakness, couldn't let the other man think he was pathetic. The Doctor thought little enough of him as it was. Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat and tried to speak, but his throat was too tight.
"Jack," The Doctor said again, more firmly. He sounded expectant, like he was waiting for an answer.
"I don't know," Jack choked out.
The Doctor squinted at him, then crossed the room and kneeled in front of him.
"Are you hurt?" The other man murmured. Jack felt a slender, gnarled hand on his shoulder, and his breath hitched.
"Everything’s healed now," Jack said, forcing a smile. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"
The Doctor ignored his question. "But you were injured?"
"I'm fine," Jack said again, desperately keeping the panic out of his voice.
He felt The Doctor's small, smooth palms cup his cheeks, and his heart stopped. The other man tilted his head up, and Jack’s heart leapt into his throat as he met The Doctor's piercing brown eyes.
"Did he hurt you?" The Doctor asked in a slow, tight voice. Unable to speak, to lie to him, Jack could only nod. The Doctor's expression hardened, and he released a hot breath.
The Doctor was angry. He was angry that Jack had been hurt. The realization made something inside him crumple, and he slumped forward, shoulders shaking. He felt The Doctor's skinny arms wrap around his shoulders, and he wrapped his arms around The Doctor's thin waist and clung to him, gritting his teeth to keep from crying.
"You're alright," The Doctor murmured, patting his back. "Here, I'll make you a cup of tea. Tea makes humans feel better, right?"
Jack let out something between a laugh and a sob. "Sure, thank you."
The Doctor tugged at his sleeve, pulling Jack to his feet. Jack clenched his jaw as his sore muscles throbbed and shakily followed The Doctor to the TARDIS.
Emotion welled up in his throat as he sat in the familiar TARDIS kitchen, and memories washed over him. Sitting at this same table with Rose and The Doctor when he was young, bright eyed and swept up in the wonder that was The Doctor, blissfully ignorant to what was coming. Jack swallowed and forced himself to take a shaky breath as he listened to The Doctor clamor around the kitchen. He hunched over in his chair, exhausted, leaning his arms on the table and slumping forward.
"You sure you're alright?" The Doctor asked, looking up from the kettle.
Jack rubbed his burning eyes. "Could I, uh, could I lay down? Please?"
"Yeah," The Doctor said softly. "I think your old room is still in here somewhere."
Jack's stomach turned. Being in the TARDIS kitchen was painful enough, he didn't think he could deal with his old room.
"Or you can use my room," The Doctor murmured. Something lifted in Jack's chest, and he nodded.
The Doctor led him to a cluttered room and gently pushed him down onto a soft, neat bed—too neat, like it had never been used. Jack sank into the mattress, chest panging as The Doctor's hand left his shoulder. He craved The Doctor's warmth, his presence, but the other man was already leaving the room. He listened to The Doctor's receding footsteps, a knot forming in his stomach.
He squeezed his eyes shut, heart seizing as he listened to the quiet, empty room. He had confronted the painful truth before, but it kept resurfacing, making him fall to pieces. The Doctor didn't want him around, not really. He was just one of Rose's pretty boys that she had dragged along despite The Doctor's protests, and The Doctor had just been waiting for an opportunity to get rid of him. He loved The Doctor desperately, craved his attention, but The Doctor thought nothing of him. He wasn't wanted. If he stayed with The Doctor, he was just going to be dumped somewhere again, the minute The Doctor got bored of him. He grit his teeth to keep back a sob, shame rising in his stomach at his weakness.
He heard the door open, the clink of a mug being set down.
"Here's your tea whenever you want it," The Doctor murmured.
At the sound of The Doctor’s soft, warm voice, Jack felt his resentment melt away. He shakily sat and took the mug, giving The Doctor a quiet thanks. The Doctor nodded and turned to leave.
"Wait," Jack choked out, something yanking at his heart. The Doctor stopped and turned to look at him, eyebrows raised. Jack swallowed around the lump in his throat.
"Yes?" The Doctor said. He looked tired, weary, as he hovered in the doorway.
"Um." Jack clung to the warm mug. "Are, uh, you okay?"
The Doctor smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'm always okay."
"I, um." Jack stared into his tea. "I'm sorry. About your friend."
"We haven't been friends for a long time," The Doctor said softly. He started to go again, and a jolt of panic shot up Jack's chest.
"Wait, please," he called. The Doctor looked over his shoulder at Jack, scrutinizing him.
"What is it?" The Doctor said with a tired sigh.
"I just—um-" Jack just didn't want The Doctor to leave. He knew the time he had with the other man was limited, and he didn't want The Doctor to leave him alone. He swallowed, unable to put his longing and his panic into words.
"Drink your tea before it gets cold," The Doctor said in a firm, even voice. "I have some things to take care of, I'll be back later."
Panic and desperation and loneliness swirled around in Jack's stomach as he rifled for something to say, anything.
"Why did you leave me?" He blurted out. "Why did you do it?"
The Doctor went rigid, his expression hardening. An iciness radiated from him that froze Jack to his core, and he shuddered and went back to his tea. The Doctor stood stiff and quiet in the doorway, watching him with a cold, emotionless look.
"Because that's what I always do," The Doctor bit out, an edge to his voice. "Get some rest, Captain."
And then he was gone.
Jack took shaky sips of his tea, tightly clenching his jaw to keep from crying. The emptiness of the room filled him, the loneliness tugging at his aching heart. He finished his tea and curled back up on his side, sinking into The Doctor's bed and longing for his presence.
Another wave of exhaustion hit him, and he felt his heavy, aching body melt into the soft, warm bed. His head spun, and as the room melted away, he remembered his team. Spunky Owen, brilliant Toshiko, passionate Gwen, gentle Ianto. Guilt turned in his stomach. He had abandoned them, like The Doctor abandoned him. He never should have left them. He needed to go back. Even if The Doctor did ask Jack to come with him, he needed to say no and go back to his team. Those kids needed him, he never should have left.
His thoughts melted away, and he came to back in that bleak room, feeling the chains scrape his wrists raw, the ever-present yanking pressure on his sore shoulders. He heard maniacal laughing and went rigid, clenching his teeth to brace himself for the coming pain. Despite his best efforts, a terrified whimper slipped past his lips.
"Jack," someone said softly. He felt thin, gentle fingers brush through his hair. He opened his eyes and the hand in his hair left.
Jack looked around to find himself back in the TARDIS. The Doctor's wiry frame hovered over him. Jack took a shuddering breath, sitting up and rubbing his eyes to push away the dream, the memories.
He glanced up and saw The Doctor, still watching him. "Sorry," he muttered.
The Doctor frowned at him. "What for?"
"Um—" Jack took a breath and reached for his charming demeanor, but it was gone. He was so tired. "Did—did I bother you?"
"No," The Doctor said, something softening in his voice.
Jack swallowed. His chest was tight, painfully tight, his breath hitching in his throat.
"Captain," The Doctor said slowly, gingerly sitting next to him. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure, anything," Jack said softly.
The Doctor took a breath. "Where was he keeping you?"
Jack suppressed a shudder as he remembered that cold, bleak room, the way the chains had yanked on him, had forced him to stay standing even as his legs ached and his head pounded and all he wanted to do was sleep.
"I didn't see you that whole year," The Doctor continued. "I saw the Jones's, but not you. Where were you?"
"Um, I think it was like a storage room," Jack said around the lump in his throat. "Or a basement. He, uh, had me chained up."
The Doctor looked at him sharply. "Chained up how?"
Jack swallowed bile, then shakily climbed to his feet and spread his arms wide, wincing when pain tore through his shoulders. The Doctor watched him with a hard, cold gaze.
"He had you chained up like that for the entire year."
"Uh, yeah."
The Doctor ran a hand over his eyes and released a breath through gritted teeth. "Come sit back down."
Jack sat next to The Doctor, fighting the urge to rest his heavy head on The Doctor's bony shoulder. He clasped his hands in his lap and stared at his feet.
"And he hurt you, didn't he?" The Doctor pressed. His voice was even, but with a low edge. "What did he do?"
Jack wanted to cry. He wanted to cling to The Doctor's long coat and cry like a scared little boy. He took a breath and grit his teeth, then forced himself to speak past the tightness in his throat. As calmly as he could, he told The Doctor how The Master had experimented on him. How The Master had killed him over and over again in increasingly brutal ways to test just how much he could survive, had broken bones and amputated limbs to test the limits of his healing abilities. How he had taunted Jack, delighted in humiliating him and laughed with joy at his pain and fear. By the time Jack finished, his hands were shaking and The Doctor's eyes were narrowed, jaw tightly set.
"Lay back down," The Doctor said in a low, firm voice.
"I'm fine, Doc," Jack said, forcing a smile. “I’ve had worse.”
The Doctor looked at him, and Jack swore he saw a flash of guilt in the old man's cold eyes. The Doctor grinned back, the familiar cheery mask sliding back into place.
"That's my boy," The Doctor said, clapping Jack on the shoulder. His touch sent warmth through Jack's chest, but it was gone far too quickly. "You can survive anything and come out smiling, eh?"
Jack forced a chuckle and nodded. His own mask was drifting back within his reach, and he knew that very soon, he was going to have to bid The Doctor a cheerful goodbye and go back to his team. He was going to have to hold it together, to stay strong, to be the charming, fun man everyone knew even with this deep pit in his stomach. For so long, he had longed for the moment he got to see The Doctor again, had imagined that The Doctor would give him a neat, satisfying explanation for exactly what had happened to him, that there would be a perfectly understandable reason for The Doctor to abandon him on a space station full of corpses. But instead all he had gotten was more pain, more impossible things to try to wrap his head around. And worst of all, The Doctor was so cold, so distant. Clipped and cordial and at the very least somewhat upset that Jack had been chained up and tortured, but he didn't care. The Doctor didn't care about him.
He bit back tears, keeping the emotion out of his face, and cast another glance at The Doctor. The Doctor hopped up and started rambling about something, but Jack couldn't really understand him. His heart was pounding in his ears, bile rising in his throat.
"Doc," he said, interrupting The Doctor. "Can you just drop me off back in Cardiff?"
The Doctor faltered. "Are you sure? You can stay with me, I don’t mind."
Jack's heart leapt into his throat, and he swallowed a storm of emotion. He wanted to say yes, so badly, but he knew he shouldn't. He didn't want to be abandoned again, and he didn't want to abandon his team.
"I'm sure," he choked out. "I need to get back, I didn't mean to be gone for so long. I was just…" he took a breath. "I was just looking for answers, I didn't mean to—I have people I need to get back to."
Something gleamed in The Doctor's eyes, but it was quickly gone, replaced by that same fake grin.
"Alright then," The Doctor said in a voice that was too bright, too cheerful. "To Cardiff it is! Come along, Captain."
The Doctor raced off, and Jack dragged himself to his feet, ignoring his sore, screaming muscles. He clenched his jaw, swallowed around the lump in his throat, and trudged after The Doctor, bracing himself for the coming goodbye.