Chapter Two: In the Enemy's Hands
~Torchwood 3-2007~
The Doctor had a cell in the basement of Torchwood Three. He didn't even have a bed. Just a blanket, a stone floor, three stone walls and a Plexiglas wall with air holes at the top. Jack worked here, but that meant he wasn't likely to help him, since he was working for people who only saw him as a threat to the country. The Doctor sat on the hard floor and sighed as he ran his hands through his hair.
"What are you in for?"
"Torchwood hates me," muttered the Doctor.
A laugh; short harsh and bitter.
"Yeah, welcome to the club. Jack Harkness, by the way. Who are you?"
"John Smith."
"How...ordinary," said Jack.
The Doctor shrugged.
"Ordinary is what makes humans so brilliant!"
***
"Who exactly is 'John Smith'?" Jack asked Ianto.
"Who?" asked Ianto.
"The alien brought over from Torchwood One," said Jack.
"Oh, no one you should be concerned about," replied Ianto.
"What is he?" asked Jack, "he looks human."
"He's not human," said Ianto, "I believe Mr. Dillon said he's the last of his kind."
"There seems to be an awful lot of those running around the universe," muttered Jack, thinhking of the Doctor mentioning being the last Time Lord, "they should make a 'Last of their Kind' Club. They could have t-shirts."
***
The staff that had come from Torchwood One with Ianto, seemed the most hostile to the Doctor. The staff that had always been at Torchwood Three were a bit nicer, but usually not by very much. Jack thought he was cute. And mysterious. And sad. Just sitting in that tiny little cell day after day in a place where people hate you just for not being born on the Earth-or for previously associating with one.
***
The Doctor found Torchwood Three more comfortable than Torchwood One. He got regular meals and bathroom trips, for starters. Torchwood Three also appeared to lack the Torture Chamber of Torchwood One. And, he had a friend-sort of. Wouldn't be so friendly if I told who I really am.
***
"Where's home?"
"Pardon?"
The Doctor was pulled away from memories of a Certain Blonde.
"Where are you from?"
"You've never been there. Far far away from here. So far away. How about you? Not exactly a native to this little island, are you?"
"Far away, too. Been here a long time. Longer than I care to think about. Long, long time. All alone."
"I'm sorry. It's not easy to be alone. I think I'm cursed with loneliness."
"Just a couple of lone wolves, us, then. 'Lone Wolf' or 'Bad Wolf'? No Bad Wolf. Bad Wolf bad wolf bad wolf. Bad Wolf everywhere! Can't get away-can't hide-can't escape Bad Wolf."
***
Jack was seated on the floor in front of the Doctor's cell, muttering about hidden messages and killer pepperpots and game stations and blue boxes that weren't blue boxes and face changing Doctors. The Doctor got as close to Jack as he could, pressed up against the Plexiglas, staring wide-eyed at him. He opened his mouth to speak, but before a single syallable had time to leave his throat, Jack was escorted out of the Doctor's sight. This was his fault. All his fault. I'm sorry, Jack. I'm so sorry.
***
Jack woke up in his room. There was a polite knock on the door. He recognized the knock.
"Yeah?"
"How are you feeling, Jack? Better?" inquired the beautiful Welsh voice.
Jack smiled. Worked like a charm every time.
"Yep," he answered.
The lock clicked.
"You can come out whenever you want. Door's unlocked now."
"Okay. Thanks."
He hoped he hadn't scared their resident alien too much with his little game. He had stayed away from the theatrics because he hadn't wanted to alarm him badly. He supposed he'd go down and see.
***
He looked depressed.
"Hey, sorry about that," said Jack, "did I scare you?"
"No, not really. Worried me; concerned me, yes."
"Why are you so nice?" asked Jack, "I'm keeping you a prisoner here."
"You don't think I belong here, just following orders. Just like your boss. Why are you so nice? I'm an alien threat, you know."
"You're not a threat," said Jack, "just an alien."