- The Doctor -

He had been a little ambitious with the meal and he knew it. He decided to go all out and make her spaghetti, but as he stood stirring the sauce his legs had begun to shake. Jack was sitting at the end of the table with a newspaper in his hands. Even though Jack was pretending to ignore him the chair at the end kept being pushed closer to him by Jack's foot. He could also tell by Jack's look that if he didn't sit down soon he would be forced into the chair. He reached out behind him and grabbed on to it. Slowly he lowered himself down.

"Jack can you stir that," he asked him. Jack smiled happily as he took the Doctor's place at the stove. The Doctor reached down and tenderly rubbed his aching legs, knowing he would regret it later. He sat in silence for a little while, watching Jack before he looked down.

"Jack, could you do something you knew you would regret, to save someone's life?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He all ready knew the answer, but he needed to hear Jack say it. For Jack to tell him that he had made the right choice.

"I know you could," Jack replied. "You have saved thousands, possibly even millions."

"Answer the question," he sighed, still not meeting Jack's eyes.

The timer went off and Jack turned down the heat. Jack then pulled up the chair across from him. Jack reached down and grabbed the Doctor's leg and pulled it onto his lap. He took of his converse and began a slow massage on the Doctor's leg muscles. The Doctor tried to pull away, but Jack held his leg firmly.

"Martha is going to kill me when she comes back and finds you are in pain," Jack told him. He proceeded to try to pull away from Jack, but Jack held on. He realized he was on the losing end and stopped trying to move his leg. He closed his eyes and let the darkness wash over his senses.

"Whatever they made you do isn't your fault," he heard Jack say. He kept his eyes closed as he steadied his breathing and then opened them again.

"You've been talking to Martha."

"Yes and no. She hasn't told me anything accept you won't talk about a room. Everything else is between you and her," Jack replied as he began the massage again.

"I couldn't save her," the Doctor said sadly.

"Save who?" Jack wondered.

"I never learned her name. I wasn't allowed to talk to her." He watched Jack work on his leg.

"Did you see her?" Jack asked him and he nodded. "What did she look like?"

He closed his eyes for a minute. He wished he could picture her full of life, but all he had ever seen from her was pain and sadness. He opened his eyes as he began to speak in a low voice.

"Brown hair that fell past her shoulders, a thin pale face with vibrant blue eyes." He lifted his eyes and seeing the look on Jack's face, paused in his description.

"You know her," he finished.

"No," Jack replied.

"That wasn't a question. You know her."

"I don't know her. But I have seen her picture. We found her DNA at the warehouse." He turned his eyes towards the stove. His appitite was gone and the smell of the food was making him sick.

"Bathroom," he barely whispered, but Jack got the hint. Picking him up Jack ran down the corridor and sat him down in the bathroom. He just made it to his knees in front of the toilet before he threw up. He emptied the contents of his stomach and kept gagging after nothing else would come up. When he finally leaned back, Jack handed him a cold washcloth and he wiped his face. He rested against the wall and closed his eyes.

He had been hanging in the room for days, listening to her cry in the other room. She was getting weaker from the lack of food and water and her voice had grown hoarse from screaming. She screamed for somebody to help her. He wanted to talk to her and try to soothe her, but he didn't dare. His back still burned from the whipping he had received.

Mrs. X came into the room with her men. They pulled him down from the wall, throwing him roughly onto the floor. She gave him food and water in the bowls as normal. She cooed at him and called him a good boy as he drank greedily. He couldn't stomach the food though. He took a piece in his mouth and gagged immediately, almost throwing up the precious water in his stomach. He spit it out and then held his mouth tightly closed willing the water to stay down. The water was barely enough to satisfy his thirst and his mouth and lips still felt dry.

When they realized he was done, they picked him up off of the floor. Dragging his feet along the concrete, he was carried into the next room again. The guards threw him roughly on top of the girl. He willed his aching body to roll off of her as she screamed.

"Go on then," Mrs. X said. He stared at the ceiling refusing to acknowledge her.

"Fine then," Mrs. X cooed pleasantly. She snapped her fingers. One of the guards came forward and pulled him off the bed. He was held up against the guards chest, so that he was looking at the girl. Her eyes pleaded with him to help her. The other guard went and knelt beside her at the bed. He pulled a knife out and forced the girl's head back, placing the blade against her throat. He saw the terror in her eyes as he stared at her.

"Either you listen to me or we slit her pretty little throat," Mrs. X stated coldly. "You have two minutes."

He glared at Mrs. X.

"Choose.