Breaking Point

Chapter 4: Valiant (Part 1)

Captain Jack Harkness had died more times in the last year than the last 100 put together. Since his capture with the Doctor, Jack had become the Master's new plaything. The games The Master played with The Doctor were purely psychological because he couldn't risk his old foe dying and regenerating into a youthful, stronger adversary. With Jack though, it was all physical. There wasn't a bone that hadn't been broken, a major organ that hadn't been pierced. Sometimes it would be quick, but most times it wasn't. The Master treated Jack like an experiment. Wanted to know how a human couldn't stay dead, questioned him about his memories to find out if there were inconsistencies, even going so far to wonder out loud if Jack was another Time Lord. The fact that Jack had died more than 12 times and not regenerated once might have been a clue. The flippancy of that answer was rewarded with a knife to the stomach. Jack took three days to die from that wound. The Master had allowed nobody to touch him, threatening to wipe out everyone in the Greater London area if anyone tried to help him.

After living through and fighting in several wars in different times, Jack thought he had a grasp of the cruelty one being could inflict on another. With the Master, he wasn't even close. The levels of pain he could subject Jack to without killing him, the length of time he could keep him lingering on the brink. It got to a point where Jack considered death a victory because the Master couldn't stop it happening. Jack would succumb to the blackness and be safe. No more pain… if just temporarily.

But it wasn't all about how much pain the Master could inflict on Jack. It was about breaking him mentally too. The Master had pretty much violated Jack in every way, including sexually, in a bid to humiliate him. Jack wouldn't allow the bastard to taint that which he considered to be sacred and beautiful with something as base and petty as rape. Rape wasn't about sex anyway. It was about the power the Master wielded over Jack and was to be considered no worse than a beating or a stabbing, because to consider it otherwise would be a victory for the Master and Jack would never allow that. He couldn't allow that.

Jack didn't know if the Valiant was subject to the same psychic field as the rest of the planet, but there were definitely a few people on board who possessed a stronger will than those down on Planet Earth… Amongst them, were Martha's family! When it had all started, Jack would be taken away, tortured and then his dead body dumped back in the sleeping quarters with the other prisoners. Francine would make sure that when he did come back to life, that Jack would be cleaned up and in bed. If the time allowed, she would wash his clothes using cheap soap and cold water… it was better than nothing and she had to at least try to get the blood out. Afford the man some dignity for what he had to endure. Often when he'd revive, the first person he'd see would be Francine and she'd take his hand telling him he was okay.

"… For the time being anyway." Jack rasped quietly. His voice barely above a whisper. Francine got him some water while he hauled himself up into a sitting position in the small bunk. "Not that I'm not grateful, Mrs Jones…"

"Francine."

"Francine." Jack smiled that million megawatt smile. "But why are you doing this?"

"I saw some of the broadcast on a monitor and the first thing I saw you do was stand in front of my daughter to protect her. Whilst I can't exactly return the favour, the least I can do is make sure you're alright when we get you back… And… and are you alright?"

Jack brushed her concern off. He couldn't deal with that right now. "Oh, you know me."

Francine raised an eyebrow "Actually, Captain Harkness…"

"Jack."

"Jack… no I don't. I don't know you at all." For all the hard façade Francine put up, one look in her eyes showed her concern for this poor man. She'd seen some amazing things since being transported to the Valiant. The Doctor aged to a wizened, old man. Jack dying… and he had been dead. She'd checked for vital signs herself and there had been nothing. But since Harold Saxon had betrayed her trust and used her concern for her daughter against her, Francine realised that maybe Martha's friends were the ones she should be siding with, and give them the benefit of the doubt. "How well do you know Martha?"

"Not very. We share a mutual friend." Jack said, sitting himself up properly, swinging his legs out onto the floor until he was beside Francine. "And if she's with The Doctor, then she must be special indeed."

Francine closed her eyes. "I was so wrong about him. Saxon's people told me these lies… That if Martha stayed with him, she could get hurt… I can't help thinking that a lot of this is my doing. If I'd have left well enough alone…"

"You were being controlled by the Archangel network. We were all suckered in by Saxon. Of course you trusted him. Hell, I trusted him and I'm wary of everyone! You were manipulated, Francine." Jack placed his hand on hers. "It wasn't your fault." She just nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I know you're worried for Martha, but you know her better than anyone. She's a fighter. She's got brains to burn and, if you'll pardon my language, balls of steel. And don't forget, she's also got a TARDIS key that can protect her because of its perception filter."

"Two of my children are missing, Jack. The third is a prisoner on this ship." Francine said. "It's the not knowing… it's killing me."

Jack put his arms around her and let the formidable, fiery Francine Jones cry on his shoulder. He had no ulterior motive. This wasn't Jack giving it the good old Harkness Charm. This was a man comforting a frightened woman… comforting a friend.

When Francine couldn't be there herself, she'd enlist Clive and Tish to keep watch over Jack until he came around. Because it was Francine's job to serve the Master his breakfast, there were nights when she got little or no sleep in order to tend to Jack, but she didn't dare miss the call. "Staff" on board the Valiant who displeased the Master would get transported back to Earth and put to work in the labour camps, enduring harsh conditions. The Valiant was a 5 star resort in comparison. If anything, Francine would make sure she was ready a few minutes before she was needed so she could go to the boardroom and talk to the elderly Doctor. Some days, he talked on and on like the young man she had met at LazLabs. Other days, he was barely responsive, his eyes distant and unfocussed. The Doctor wasn't exempt from the Master's cruel whims either. He took great pleasure in taunting the old man. To Francine, Master was nothing more than a bully, a vicious, cowardly, murdering bastard and given the first chance, she would end him.

"How does he do it?" Tish asked as she and Francine removed the stained clothes from Jack's lifeless body. "How is he not an insane, gibbering mess?" Neither woman wanted to think about the abuse meted out, just to get him cleaned up and hopefully allowed to get some rest before the next round of whatever "games" the Master had planned. Tish could barely think of him as dead and gone, just unconscious. He'd wake up every time, so maybe he wasn't really dead. Jack never spoke about where he went. Nothing about "going towards the light" or floating on a cloud. Tish hoped it was because he didn't remember. She had to believe with all the carnage and death going on around them, the victims were going a better place.

Clive joined them, helping to lift Jack's dead weight into the bunk, voicing Tish's opinion. "Maybe he doesn't remember it after he wakes up."

"Oh he remembers." Francine said ruefully as the three ensured Jack was tucked in, where he'd wake up warm and safe.

"If that was me…" Tish started.

"Just thank God it's not you." Clive kissed his daughter on the forehead and ushered her to her own bunk. He took Francine's hand. "You can't do anything more for him tonight, sweetheart, get some sleep. She was too tired to protest. Clive had been a rock since they'd been taken to the Valiant. He, in turn, drew strength from her belligerence. Character traits that had contributed to their split now kept them going. Their fiery personalities buoyed them instead of driving a wedge between them. Seeing the Master's treatment of Jack and then the destruction of the Japanese islands and their inhabitants, you needed a strong personality to not let it completely destroy your spirit.

The Master wiped his hands on a silk handkerchief as he stood over his beaten and bloody quarry. Jack Harkness tried to breathe through the pain in much the same way as pregnant women did during a contraction. The pain he was experiencing was way worse than any contraction... and if any man would know, he would! His wrists had been cuffed behind his back, but not before his right shoulder had been dislocated as a prelude to the proceedings. Sometimes, the Master barely touched Jack, preferring to use the laser screwdriver to manipulate muscles and nerve endings. Other times, like today, The Master was quite happy to lay into Jack with brute force. Either way, there would be pain and eventual death. He'd lost all concept of time during his sessions with the Master. It could have taken minutes, but God, it always felt like hours. "You'll be happy to know that I'm a little busy over the next few days so we won't have time to play. My rockets are near completion and I need to co-ordinate a launch. It's a pity, because I do so enjoy our time together." The Master hunkered down beside Jack and traced a finger down his face. "You're much more fun than The Doctor. He's such a useless old git, these days. Probably has Alzheimer's, or something." The Master took out his laser screwdriver and twirled it between his fingers like a majorette with a baton. "The problem is, Jack, that I can't kill you. I've tried and tried and tried and tried and tried, and every time, you come back as able bodied as if I never laid a finger on you… I wonder what would happen if just for once, I let you live?" The Master pressed the laser screwdriver between Jack's shoulders. The Captain screamed as pain seared through his back…and then there was nothing. But Jack wasn't dead. He just couldn't feel anything. No pain, no cuffs around his wrist… No sensation of anything.

"They say quadriplegics can live quite fulfilling lives, these days." The Master grinned, manoeuvring himself into Jack's eye line. "Maybe I'll wedge a paintbrush in those perfect teeth and see what you can come up with." He took Jack's TARDIS key from his breast pocket, still with the perception filter attached. "Although, I wonder what would happen if I put this around your neck? You'd fall off everyone's radar, even Francine Nightingale's, and be left to waste away in your own filth. The human body can survive days without food and water. A 51st century specimen like yourself should last even longer!"

The Master escorted the two guards carrying Jack back to the prisoner's quarters. He was dumped on the floor and shoved under his bunk, facing the wall so he wouldn't be able to see anyone coming or going. "Seeya soon, Captain!" The Master said as he placed the key around Jack's neck.

Jack tried calling out to attract attention. His voice was slight and hoarse after spending the better part of the day screaming out in pain. Nobody heard. Nobody noticed. He lay there, unable to move, unable to do anything… It had finally happened. He had been sent to Hell.

To Be Continued…