|peja (peja) wrote in darkfic,|
@ 2010-03-17 20:04:00
|Entry tags:||dr who - fic, primeval - fic, torchwood - fic|
Fic: All Out Of Love - part 1
All Out Of Love
Fandom: Doctor Who, Torchwood, Primeval
Pairings: 1. Jack/Alonso Frame (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey) 2. James Harper/Alonso Frame (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey) 3. Jack/Ianto (John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd) 4. Jack/Alonso/James Harper (John Barrowman/Russell Tovey/John Barrowman) 5. Jack/Ianto/Stephen Hart (John Barrowman/Gareth David-Lloyd/James Murray) 6. implied Nick Cutter/Stephen Hart (Douglas Henshall/James Murray) 7. implied Stephen Hart/Helen Cutter (James Murrray/Juliet Aubrey) 8. implied Nick Cutter/Helen Cutter (Douglas Henshall/Juliet Aubrey 9. Jack/James Harper (John Barrowman/John Barrrowman)
Characters: 1. Eleven (Matt Smith), 2. Connor Temple (Andrew Lee Potts)
Summary: Someone has played havoc with the time lines and the doctor must fix things before its all gone.
Warning: AUish, fix-it fic, Jack does Jack (james)
Genre: slash, implied hetero
Chapter number if WIP: Part 1
General thanks to all of you folks who are requesting short fics and improvs in the various fandoms. You're keeping the words flowing.
Permission to archive to WWOMB: Y
Disclaimer. Doctor Who/Torchwood/Primeval do not belong to me. no money made in this
Acknowledgments/Notes: There is a scene which Jack and his other personality (James) indulge in sexual play. Not sure if this would be incest, masturbation or something else. Whatcha thnk?
Naked accept for the linen loincloth covering his masculine modesty, his hands secured with rough hemp rope behind his back, a scruffy and unkempt, far from the jaunty Jack Harkness of the past, mounted the steep bank of stairs with a regal pride that denied any natural fear. But then, why would he fear what he had worked so hard to win. Death was his desired prize. The darkness that allowed him to forget for a time waiting in each sought death was the only thing he lived for now. Without Ianto he had nothing, no one left to live for. His only joy in life was the executioner's platform.
Mounting the stairs to the platform one thousand feet above the alien landscape filled him with a sensual ecstasy, his crowning glory at the end of a very good day. For a while, just a while, he could stop seeing Ianto's teary face as he gasped his last, lingering breath, could stop hearing Stephen's screams as his mind was torn asunder from the piercing wave-lengths that destroyed the 456. For a while, he could stop being.
Flanked by the executioner's guard, Jack finally stood on the seat of his death. His diamond hard blue gaze slid lazily down, down, down the glittering path of the razor sharp blade. "Beautiful," He breathed, reverence coloring this one word. How many had this blade claimed before him? Thousands? Tens of thousands?
He tilted his head, his lips forming an adorable pout. He nodded his approval. Death would be quick. Clean. One more life for the blade.
He took a deep breath as the image of Ianto appeared, hovering over the gleaming blade.
"I love you, Jack," The phantom illusion spoke in his mind.
Tipping his chin arrogantly toward the executioner, Jack laughed dryly, drawing a murmur from the crowd gathered below. "What are we waiting for, then?" He dropped to his knees, straddling the thirsty blade with the casual flourish of a madman. "Let's get this over with." He slowly leaned forward, "Ianto...." His weight tipped the balance of the platform, dropping him against the blade. The kiss of the sharpened steel bite deeply at the first contact, then caught for a brief moment in resistant bone before his body succumb to the pull of gravity, sliding much like a child on a slide, only this brutal slide quickly ate through flesh and muscle and bone until two halves fell lifeless in the dust.
And if Jack had imagined the sweet herald of a time lord as the darkness claimed him yet one more time, would it come as any surprise? The Time Lord....Rose Tyler....The TARDIS... just several more accusing faces in a nightmare line of accusing faces back through time unending to be swallowed for a time by the welcomed arms of death's darkness.
"Welcome back, Nick," Helen Cutter smirked from under her dark bangs.
"Back?" Nick Cutter swiped at the sheen of sweat breaking over his upper lip and rose from behind his desk. Last thing he remembered was ...Oh God, Stephen, stepping into the room of carnivorous prehistoric beasts. He had a niggling feeling he should remember more, but.... "Back from where?"
Smiling that secret smile that never failed to make Nick's skin creep up into a tight clench at the back of his neck, Helen held her arm out in his direction rigidly, her index pointed like firing a gun and mouthed a silent "bang."
Something evil tickled at the back of his memory but then was gone as suddenly as it ghosted through. He shook his head sadly. "You really are quite insane, you know that, don't you Helen?"
Chuckling softly, she shrugged, "Still killed you, Nick." Insanity glittered in her dark eyes as she met his eyes again. "Yeah. I did, ya know? Killed you and brought you back again. I..." She thumped her chest with her fist. "Me. I hold the power of life and death in my hands thanks to the rift. I'm god, Nick. Thanks to the rift, I'm God. I can build and rebuild history until it's perfect." A dreamy look clouded her eyes. "Perfect..."
"You need to stop, Helen."
"Stop?" she laughed wildly. "Why would I stop? I'm not done yet. I can see what's happened, and its bad. I need to stop that, Nick. Now...." A brightness sparkled in her eyes. "Stephen." She nodded again. "Yeah, Stephen needs to come back to fix all this. He can make you listen to reason. He always could."
"No," Nick scrambled around his desk, trying to grab her but she was quick, sprinting over furniture like it wasn't there.
A rift began to form in the room and she dashed toward it.
"Wait, Helen..." he shouted.
Too late. Helen tossed a smirk over her shoulder, and a jaunty salute then plunged into the shifting shimmer of silver white light.
The eerie warble of the TARDIS crushed the silence of sudden death following the very public execution of the out-worlder calling himself Captain Jack Harkness. The milling crowds, still locked in a disbelief of watching the man throw himself down the waiting blade, scattered at the first disembodied echo, fully expecting a full scale attack by more suicidal madmen seeking the blood of revenge on them.
Eleven stepped out of the TARDIS with an air of confidence that his youthful appearance spurned. His narrowing gaze slid slowly over the fleeing crowds, watchful until the scattering folk had vanished like a bad memory.
He moved forward, pausing only long enough to glance back over his shoulder as Alonso Frame stepped out of the TARDIS and hurried forward.
"I told you to wait."
"I had to see..." Alonso began, his words stuttering to a stop as his gaze fell on Jack's body lying by the blood glistening hundred foot high blade. "Oh, my God..." He wavered on suddenly weak legs. "Oh, God, Jack, no....Noooooo...."
Eleven caught him as his knees gave out, supporting him, easing him to the ground. "It'll be all right. Do you hear me, Alonso? It' all right."
"How?" Alonso looked at him through streaming tears. "How can Jack come back from that? He's been sliced in ha...ha...Oh, God...."
Eleven knelt down gathering Alonso in his arms and rocking him, cooing nonsense words of comfort in his ear. Alonso clung to him, his fingers digging into his shoulders like eagle's talons until his tears ran out.
Holding Alonso tight as his body shuddered out his grief, Eleven caressed his back. "Jack will be all right, Alonso . Jack is always all right. You know that. You've been with him long enough to know he always comes back."
"How?" Alonso rasped into Eleven's chest. "How can anyone live...like that?" He shuddered again, falling under a fresh wave of silent tears.
"This isn't how its supposed to happen" Eleven thought aloud. "Someone..Something...is corrupting the time lines."
Alonso gazed at him through tear stained eyes. "Like when you ...died?"
"Regenerated, yes," Eleven spoke absently, his mind racing back to the moments he and Harold Saxton, well, The Master, if the truth be told, his beloved younger brother....fought back the rebirth of the Time Lords. Back to... "Not them, though. They might have been a part of it, but this...this is something different. Something much more dangerous."
Jack slowly became self-aware, but with a cloying feeling of something being wrong. Very wrong. There was a creeping feeling on his right side, and he could only see from his left eye. He fumbled around on the ground trying to get his legs under him, but only one leg moved in the blood-saturated dirt. Only his left hand moved, his fingers clawing at the soft sandy soil.
He shifted his head around and his eyes...eye...widened in horror as memories of his death flooded what was left of his brain. There was something breath-takingly chilling about watching bone, white and gleaming in its virginal creation, sprouting out from a cleaved body to form the missing half.
His mouth opened, screaming a silent banshee cry into an even darker silence.
And suddenly he was not alone.
Alonso knelt at his side, reaching for him.
"Don't touch him."
Jack shifted his head, staring up at the young stranger from his single eye. His lips parted, forming the left half of a silent question.
"Doctor, what's happening to him?"
Doctor? His doctor? Jack's single eye narrowed on the too young man with the ash brown hair. Drawing a breath through what was left of his throat by some rule that only applied to men of Jack's unique qualities, he struggled to rise up on his side. His body teetered on his bent arm. He reached out with a skeletal limb to steady himself, staring at the sinewed muscle that was thickening from the bone. No pain yet, just that creepy feeling that wasn't an actual sensation, but more a... phantom memory. He grinned at the internal observation, knowing the pain would hit when the nerve endings re-grew and reconnected with his brain.
"Jack's doing what comes naturally, Alonso." Eleven said, hunkering down beside them. He offered a wane smile. "I told you he'd be all right."
The niggling of reborn nerve endings rose a tinging in his brain. A tingle that quickly grew to searing agony. He threw his head back, his fingers curling in the blood clumped dirt and a scream erupted from him that would give a banshee competition.
On the other side of the gore streaked blade, a second cry echoed in the air.
Eleven bolted to his feet and scrambled around the blade. "Wha..." he squawked, sounding like the old Ten in that instant. "Jack?" He caught Alonso's questioning glance. "Alonso...." he caught the human's wide-eyed stare. "There are two of them."
"T---'Two?" Alonso's voice held a curious blend of amazement and dread in that single word.
Jack's screams cut short suddenly. The Jack in Alonso's arms, at least, stopped screaming. The man on the other side of the execution blade continued to scream. Alonso's Jack sprawled listlessly on the gore smeared ground, bright eyes staring sightlessly at the sky.
"Jack?" Alonso brushed a stray lock of hair off Jack's forehead. "Jack, are you all right?"
Shuddering out a long, stuttering breath, Jack forced his eyes to focus on Alonso's anxious features. "I'm good." He flashed a shaky, but oh, so very cocky, empty smile and let Alonso guide him to a sitting position.
Alonso's arm stayed around him a moment longer, steadying him.
Jack's smile warmed, gaining strength. He turned into Alonso's broad chest and cradled his cheek in one large palm, drawing the younger man to him, claiming his lips in a kiss that began softly, only to quickly race to flaming passion.
Two Jack's. Oh, this was bad. This was very, very bad.
Eleven gave himself a teeth-rattling shake, forcing his Time Lord oriented sense of continuum to accept what his eyes told him. His mind rebelled against the reality.
"We should leave," he muttered, raking an unsteady hand through ash brown hair. "We should really leave now."
Jack's screams died as suddenly as they had begun. He rolled into a fetal curl, rocking back and forth in lonely self-comfort until some instinct warned him he was being watched. He stilled for a long moment, then turned to look at Eleven.
Drawing a thoughtful breath, his sapphire gaze locked on Eleven's. Hope blazed in those amazing windows to his soul for an instant before he allowed a mocking, brittle laugh. His darkening gaze swung away and he shoved himself into a swaying seated position in the blood and gore of his death. "Doctor?"
Eleven approached him slowly, as if he were a wild creature in danger of bolting. "How have you been, Jack?"
Jack snorted, shaking his head, his haunted gaze roaming slowly over the Time Lord. "You had some work done, then?"
"You might say that." Eleven threw his arms wide and tip-toed through a slow spin. "Like?"
Jack winced, letting his gaze drop. "Sure."
"How long, Jack?" Eleven asked softly, touching Jack's shoulder.
"Hmmm?" He diverted himself by scratching at the fast drying blood on his arm with a glossy fingernail.
"How long is this going to go on?"
Jack shrugged. His soft laugh whispered in the arid air as he remembered how he'd once asked that same question of Owen. "Can't die, Doc. Remember?" he murmured. "And I can't forget him, either." His lips curled into a tight grimace. "I never told him I love him." His gaze blazed with grief. "I was...afraid."
He scratched the dried blood clinging to his thigh, grimacing. "Must look a sight."
"Jack, Eleven caught his arm in a gentle grasp, earning himself a heated scowl. The anger flared nova bright, then dimmed. "Jack, let's get you up and see what we can do about cleaning you up a bit."
Jack allowed himself to be hoisted to his feet, then froze as Alonzo and the other Jack rounded the blade. "No...."
The other Jack's gaze darted over the party of men, his own amazement widening his eyes. "Oh, my..."
The sight of two Jack Harkness' facing each other is would be a sensual delight. The sight of that same two men facing off wearing only a fine coating of blood and gore over rippling, sculpted muscle is enough to send lust and horror into overdrive.
Jack warily approached Jack, each matching the other step by disbelieving step. Mirrored hands lifted to cup identical cheeks.
"Are you real?" The words were spoken in stereo. "Oh, my God..."
"Jack..." Eleven said softly.
"Yeah," Two voices, the same voices responded.
"Oh, for the love of....This is not going to work." Eleven's Jack managed to speak alone, but both Jack's were chuckling.
"I'm open for suggestions," Alfonso's Jack allowed his brow to rise questioningly.
"This is bad," Eleven muttered. "This is very, very bad."
"Not helping, Doctor." Alfonso moved to his Jack's side. "Jack," He raised a hand as both men opened their mouths to respond. "Not you, Jack," he told Eleven's Jack. "You, Jack," He poked at his Jack's reddish brown stained chest. "You need a name."
"I have a name."
"You can't share it." Alfonso squeaked. "You share," his hand flew to encompass both of them. "Everything." A look of panic washed over his face. "I need you to have a different name."
Spurred by Alfonso's strained emotions, both Jack's enfolded him in strong arms and bathed his face in kisses, sometimes sharing a testing kiss between them as well as their bodies heated with desire, until Alfonso found himself sandwiched in a masculine flood of passion.
He was saved from his own needs and the needs of two powerfully sexual Jack's when Eleven scooped him out of the blazing embrace. His head spun under the influence of two Jack's desire, but Eleven's soft words of, "Not the time, gentlemen," managed to filter through. Just barely.
Both Jack's groaned a protest as their prize escaped, but they dutifully directed their attention towards Eleven just the same.
"Come on, Doctor," Alfonso's Jack grumbled. "You gave him to me....uhm, us. You can't take him back."
"Name first," Eleven told them firmly. "Alfonso after."
The Jack's exchanged lascivious grins, bringing a yelp of anxiety from deep inside Alfonso.
"After we get you all cleaned up and away from here," Eleven added, casting a wary eye over the area. "You stink of death."
"Name is easy," Eleven's Jack told them, sharing a conspiratorial grin with his mirror image.
Alfonso's Jack stepped closer to Eleven, extending his hand. "Call me James Harper, Doctor." He chuckled softly as a dubious Eleven shook his out-stretched hand. "How'd ya like to hear about the time I spent with the original Jack Harkness?"
"Right, so..." Eleven cast an anxious glance around, "First order of the day, we retreat back to the TARDIS and get you both cleaned up and clothed."
Jack, the doctor's Jack, glanced at the newly named James Harper with a petulant scowl on his face. "I need to get back to the jails. Need my clothes."
"Don't be ridiculous, Jack," Eleven laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I have an extensive wardrobe you can choose from."
"I need to get those clothes."
"Jack, for heaven's sake.."
"Doctor," James interrupted. "The clothes. The coat...It was the last thing Ianto gave us."
"I'll go," Alfonso said firmly. "You two go with the doctor. I'll be back with the clothes before you're done with your wash up."
"I don't think...."
"Doctor, I'll be fine. Jack kept me well out of his ...escapades. These people have no reason to harm me."
Eleven scowled darkly, but relented. He could say nothing to prevent Alfonso from going. Not when Jack so desperately desired the clothes he had left behind.
It didn't calm his nerves when James Harper pulled Alonso into his embrace and lavished a passionate parting kiss on his eager lips. Or, when breaking the kiss, James cupped Alonso's cheeks and whispered, "Be careful, my own.
Nor did Alonso's departing, "Be back in a jiff," reassure him. Time was being played with by a careless hand. Danger lurked in the very air around them. He could smell it, and it stank of death and destruction.
But he had no other choice than to let the young former midshipman scamper away down the twisting dirt alleyways and by-ways. He had two...Two, for the love of... Two Jack's to get to the safety of the waiting TARDIS.
Gleaming darkly in the soul-sucking heat of mid-day, the prison facility sat like a great hulking behemoth from 1700's Transylvania. The fortress had been built from the stone cliff face that protected this end of the town from intruders. The only natural light inside came from the tiny, narrow slits carved into the walls.
Alonso crossed into the building. An over-whelming sadness claimed him as the gloom settled over him. He wanted to bolt back out into the sun. To feel the warmth that the prison had devoured by simply entering it.
Jack had been incarcerated inside the grim world of chill shadow for two long weeks. Much more deeply inside than the reception area. How had he survived the desperation that clung to Alonso like tar, pulling him toward ...he dare not think.
"Help ya?" the surly man behind the desk glanced up at Alonso from behind a newspaper.
Alonso moved the last few steps toward the desk, saying, "I've come to collect Jack Harkness' belongings."
The man's lip curled into a nasty sneer. "You related to that murdering bastard?"
Alonso bristled under the accusation.
Jack had been attacked leaving a club. In the ensuing battle, one of the attackers had been killed. Being a stranger in town, and the dead man being the mayor's nephew, Jack had been arrested without questioning. His trial had gone down even before anyone could be notified, and without Jack being present to defend himself.
He hadn't had a chance.
"Jack is...was my lover."
Muddy brown eyes slithered over Alonso's body, leaving his with a distinctly soiled taste in his mouth.
"Yeah?" the guard pushed away from the desk, just enough to open the bottom drawer. He pulled out a taped bag and plopped on to the desk. "You looking for a replacement ...lover, then?" He leered down his crooked nose. "I'm good protection on a rough night out."
Alonso snatched up the parcel, glancing inside to make sure it contained the greatcoat and the rest of Jack's clothing. "Sorry, I...I'm leaving...town." He spun on his heel, making for the exit.
"Heard there was some kind of ruckus over at the execution," The guards words stilled Alonso's flight. "Word is your...lover was more than willing to toss hisself down the blade."
Alonso make a choking sound before managing to say, "Jack always was the impulsive sort." Straightening his spine, Alonso stalked from the prison, his eyes rooted forward. Always forward. With only one thought in mind. To get back to Jack. Both of him.
After the doctor got his charges back to the TARDIS he suggested they take themselves deeper into the unending craft, find rooms that appealed to them for the time they would be with him and get cleaned up. Maybe get some rest while he consulted TARDIS in an attempt to find out the extent of damage that had been done by someone's tampering with the time-lines.
Jack and Jack-now-James exchanged playful grins and sprinted off down a path of twists and turns, and sometimes double backs, both shared memories of.
The TARDIS was a magical place. A place where you had only to think of a desire and that wish would make itself available. And at that instant, both sides of Jack wanted nothing more than a hot shower with hours of hot, clear water.
Jack and James easily found the spa-like bath house. They made a bee-line for the huge shower area. The water rained down on them at the same instant their feet hit the ceramic tiled shower booth, just the right temperature.
James glanced around searching for cleanser. A glassed in door lifted, revealing the shower gel Jack had preferred back at the Hub. Sighed his pleasure he grabbed the masculine scented lather into his hands, then Jack's when he held out his palm for a share of the soap.
The two men lathered up, arms stretching out for scrubbing, and two sets of fingers accidentally brushed against each other. Jack and James stilled, staring into identical sets of eyes. "Sorry," slid from two sets of lips, but the fingers laced even as the men would have retreated a pace. Two gazes traveled the linked hands and back to clash with its twin.
Jack swallowed and cleared his throat. "This is not smart."
"You think?" James reached out to trace Jack's lower lip. "You...We...really are a damn gorgeous hunk of man." His gaze roamed over Jack's lean form. "Want me to get your back?"
Jack gave a soft, nervous laugh. "We're really gonna do this, aren't we?"
James leaned closer, sharing breath with Jack. "Don't see it not happening." He shot a cocky grin just before staking a testing claim on Jack's lips. "Just think of it as...masturbation taken to new heights."
Jack snorted and his fingers tangled in James streaming hair. "Go fuck yourself."
James nodded, mirroring Jack's straggle hold on his hair. "Without a doubt."
Madness burned in Helen Cutter's eyes as she tilted her head and studied the gorgeous dark-haired man sleeping peacefully in bed. He was completely clueless, trusting her when his very life could, well, actually did depend on her simplest whim. She smiled darkly, just barely resisting the urge to shake his awake with a harsh hand and reveal all she had done a lot to break up his relationship with her estranged husband, Nick. Would likely do a lot more if the need arise. Nick and Stephen living happily ever after do not fit in with her plans for how the world's events progressed. And she would do whatever it took to see to it that her vision of the way time played out was indeed the way it would be, even if that meant playing havoc on the time-lines.
"We have Rift activity." Conner Temple shouted to the room in general, setting the team into well practiced motion. "Whatever's coming through appears to be small, he added, location, Cardiff...On or near the bay..." he rattled off the coordinates even as he moved toward the van with the rest of his team.
end part 1
If you like this one, please let me know. If you think a scene needs more content, let me know that as well. Your input goes a long way to making an improved finished work.
FINAL NOTE: This is a WIP. There may be revisions of this part if I decide it needs it. If I do add more or revise any part of this, I will replace that version my only on personal LJs and the wwomb archive. I will, however, make a note of it in the continuance chapters.
Comm/List Written for: Written for and cross-posted to YG, LJ, IJ and DW