Authoress Note: I don't feel like making this story into a one shot or write long enough chapters to make it into a proper fanfictoin, so I'm writing drabble sections. Enjoy!
51 Weeks
Summary: AU of The Last of the Time Lords. There are fifty-two weeks in a year, but you only need fifty-one to get to know somebody. Jack/OC
After one week with The Master, the infamous and indestructible Captain Jack Harkness learned what it meant like to loose all hope. Everyday The Master would saunter in his prison and flaunt his victory over the earth and The Doctor, and then he would leave the Captain to reminisce in his failure. Even though he had great faith in Martha Jones in her mission that The Doctor had had sent her on and the constant reassurance that everything would be fine from Trish Jones, Jack couldn't help but feel alone, chained up because there wasn't anything he could do.
His head was loped off to the side, putting a lot of strain on his neck. This was the closing thing to sleep he ever got, due to the fact that The Master had decided that it would better if all his limbs were separately chained, causing the prideful Captain to look like a giant "X." Of course, Jack had suffered worse physical pain and or discomfort, but The Master could have been a little merciful by letting his prisoner to sleep, once in a while, on the cold floor.
The door slide open, revealing two guards in British, army clothing of The Master; they held a girl with short, fuzzy, brown hair and small amounts of drool sliding down from her mouth. Apparently, she had an easier time sleeping up than poor Captain Jack.
He opened one of his eyes to get a good look at what was happening. Frankly, he preferred Trish Jones bringing and feeding him goop to the army men who would do more harm and damage to him (they couldn't repeatedly kill him because that was the only other fun The Master had, other than goading The Doctor). They clicked her wrists and ankles in a similar holding cell as he was in. Following was The Master, prancing merrily in.
"Now, don't you want to tell me what you see?" The Master poked his face into hers. Her head was limp and eyes drooped, and more drool dropped.
"I guess you're the silent type, aren't you?" The Master poked his finger onto her shoulder repeatedly. Again and again and again. He turned to Jack, shrugging, said, "Well, I guess you have a new roommate." Jack glanced quickly at his new roomie and went back to sleep.
"Is he gone yet?" A soft voice came out of nowhere.
"Wha-who?" Jack inarticulately replied.
The same voice chuckled. "Not much the talkative type, are we?"
Jack slightly blushed at being made fun of (usually he was the one who made fun of other people). Then he straightened up to cover up his embarrassment.
"Who are you?"
"None of your business," she turned her nose the opposite way.
Jack fused his eyebrows together. Most people were friendlier toward the unusually attractive and indestructible Captain. What made her so different?
He looked back over to the girl and studied her. Dirt streaks covered almost every inch of her body, and tears were profuse in random places of the fading jeans and a "Rock Me Ama Deus" written in gold on a pink t-shirt. She snored lightly as little drops of drool cleaned the more filthy part of her face. Clearly she hasn't made her appointment with the shower yet. Her expression was so calm and relaxed; it almost scared Jack out of his wits.
When the left side of neck complained about the uneven strain, Jack let his neck his neck drop back to its former position. After a while, he went into what seemed like a cat nap.
"Oy, Jack, wake up!" someone shook the weary captain. He opened up his heavy lids to the image of Trish Jones waving a bowl of mush under his nose.
"Ugh, what is this…goop?" the girl asked with disgust as Francine Jones tried to spoon feed her the drooling mass. The mother rolled her eyes in amusement and frustration—it was almost a bit of a déjà vu for her.
"I don't really know…you might want to ask Jack, he's actually eaten this thing for about a week by now," Francine told the girl. Reluctantly, she opened her mouth and swallowed it down, then scrunched her nose.
God awful, isn't it? Jack wanted to say but never did. There was something about her that made her so unfriendly? No, that isn't the right word. He was sure that there was something more than just unfriendliness, almost like she wanted to be alone.
As the Jones left the room, The Master pushed them to the side, making a dramatic entrance and approached the new prisoner.
"Now, are you going to be a good girl and tell your Master what you know?" he sweetly said and flashed a toothy smile.
"Screw. You." She spat in his face. He stood back and grimaced. Jack couldn't help but notice that her accent wasn't like any from around here, almost American.
"Oh, dear. Now, you've really forced me to do some really not nice things to you." The Master snapped his fingers and two guards appeared, who unstrapped the rebellious teen. "Well, this is boring!" he exclaimed, and then in his hand manifested his sonic screwdriver. The Master pointed it at Jack and pressed the big, red button. A jet of green light shot directly at his heart and stopped it. For a few minutes, Jack felt nothingness and thought that he was floating above the whole scene unfold and felt a vortex pulling him back in.
"You know, that wasn't as entertaining as I thought it would be," sighed The Master.
"You and me both," Jack sarcastically replied.