A/N: Many warnings. To keep it concise, this is Jack's POV "The Year that Never Was." Kinky is synonymous with THAT situation. Non-con, torture, pain, character death, all that good stuff (haha, that's supposed to be sarcastic). So if you don't like it, it's your fault. Don't like Don't read is a law!
Brad: No, it isn't. unless you got it confused with DADT.
Océane: I made it a law now! Live with it. And, I'm sorry to all of you God blessed people who are waiting for me to update All that's left. This was actually meant to be a chapter of All that's Left, but… then I would have to make that whole story "M"
Brad: What's wrong with that?
Océane: EVERYTHING! (Besides, you aren't in here. Go mess around in Utah.)
Brad: Not until you do the disclaimer.
Océane: Fine. I don't own anything… except the plot. You recognize it, I don't own it. Satisfied?
Brad: Yes. (disappears into mid-air)
Océane: On with the story!
Jack's Hell
Jack's POV
I fought back a groan of submission, as the guard's hands detached themselves form my body. My trembling, treacherous knees failed, slipping my form closer to the cold, steel floor. Finally, the pressure expanding against my bruised ribs became too great for me to ignore. As my knees contacted the floor, I moaned, begging the Master wouldn't hear it. All my hopes were pointless, as usual, proven when Saxon Grinned.
"You're dismissed sergeant." He all but beamed, the giddy, childish edge to his voice bleeding through like it always did.
"Sir." was the soldier's only reply, before he spun on his heel, marching out the door.
I ground my teeth to the gum line, pressing my forehead further against the wall, struggling against the bonds securing my hands behind my back. Why the hell were all of the soldiers so loyal? I remembered how I had brought up that question. A small laugh almost escaped my sealed lips. Yeah. Right. Like that had gotten me anywhere.
The Master stepped into the room, his face stern and humorless. Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong, and he was not pleased. I swallowed, mentally preparing myself for the experience. Whenever he wasn't in a good mood, I was the selected method of cheering himself up. Namely, the bastard got high off seeing me beaten to death.
Immediately following him came a meek, shy looking child of a soldier. The kid could have just graduated high school. He kept his eyes glued to the floor, making my shoe feel very flattered that it was being focused on so intently. I sighed, knowing all too well what he was planning on having in store for me. He would give the kid a knife, and tell him that if I wasn't dead within ten minutes, he would be thrown off the top deck. It had happened once already. Before, it had been a girl, exactly like the boy in front of me. Young, too young to be enlisted, and yet standing next to the reigning sovereign of the planet. She had fixed her eyes on the floor, her hands trembling as she was given the knife. The first cut had been shallow, barely enough to cause bleeding. She hadn't been able to do it. Even when I tried to help her, leaning towards the blade, rather than away, she hadn't been able to do it. I could still hear her screaming as she plummeted towards the earth.
"Do you understand your orders?" the Master asked, glaring at me, though his question was clearly directed at the boy at his side.
"Yes sir." He muttered, standing up the slightest bit straighter.
"So do it."
I swallowed; worry prodding me as the guard approaches. The Master hadn't given him a knife, or any sort of weapon. What was he going to do? What was going to happen to me?
Suddenly, I realized what was going on inside the master's head, as the young guard walked behind me, his hands nervously sliding over my body.
"Do It." The master ordered again, setting the child's fraying nerves on edge once again.
He couldn't do it. I had tried to help him, talk him through it, but in the end, he just couldn't do it. So Saxon had brought in another man. He had been able to do it.
"Have you been watching?" Saxon demanded, glaring at me through the corner of his eye.
"Yes Sir." the man responded, staring at me coldly. He was older than the last one had been, taller, with much more muscle tone. There wasn't a doubt in my mind that he wouldn't hesitate to do what he had been ordered.
"You understand your orders?"
"Yes Sir." He confirmed again.
"So take him."
The master's words sent chills down my spine, as the soldier roughly opened my bonds. Before I had the chance to think of something, he had snapped a pair of handcuffs around my wrists. Unable to do anything to alter the circumstances of what was about to happen, I tried the one thing I still had in my power - the ability to mouth off.
"Ooh, look. Saxon Really knows how to pick 'em, don'tcha' sacky." I grinned, feeling the man behind me stiffen as I laughed. "You found one of 'em that like handcuffs. I might be worried."
Suddenly, the soldier grabbed a fistful of my hair, snapping my head back. I could feel a knife at my throat, as he snarled.
"Shut up, or I swear I'll slit your throat, you worthless little trashy f-"
"Hey! I'm proud of it too!"
Saxon glared at me, obviously distrustful of where my cheeriness came from.
"Take Him." He ordered once more, resulting in the soldier being more than willing to comply. As soon as the blade was removed from my throat, I had been thrown against the wall, a solid, restraining form pressing me against the surface from behind.
That was when I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it. The Master Just stood there through the whole thing, grinning and laughing darker than the sky.
I could feel the soldier's leg between mine, forcing my feet apart, and grinding my hips into the wall. I tried to smile, forcing my lips into something resembling more of a grimace than a grin.
Another comment choked up my throat, silenced by the sound of the sergeant dropping his pants. My heart clawed upward from its place in my chest, recalling the last time … it would have been nearly a century ago.
Why did I always exaggerate that? I told everyone – gods, they must have thought I was such a fucking WHORE. And I left, with them thinking that? I had left them, assuming that I had no reason to come back. That couldn't be any more wrong.
Silent tears fell over my face, as I slowly counted each thing that I had wanted to go back for.
Ianto
Torchwood. They needed me there. It didn't matter if I was alive or not. (because, does the life I have right now really count for anything, if I can't give it up?)
Ianto.
Tosh
Owen
Gwen. Yes, for all her complaining and insubordination, I sill cared about her. (though not in the way I felt about Yan.)
Ianto.
Myfanwy
Janet
Ianto
Ianto
Ianto
Ianto
Ianto
That's my biggest regret. I never told Him. NEVER, once, in all the time…
Not once did I spare a moment to tell him what I really wanted to.
'Ianto, I love you.'
And now it was too late. Because Ianto died yesterday.
Océane: And… Depression sets in!
Ianto: why did I have to be the one that died.
Océane: Plot device.
Ianto: What?
Océane: anyway… Reviews make me happy!