Sorry for the long wait again! I had some other stuff to do in "Real Life" Damn that reality, we could do so much if it would just disappear. We could write more then. I do have to warn you, there is implied "One Way" slash in this chapter, but not as bad as it will be later on.
Bearing in mind the comments from reddwarfaddict I have made some changes to the layout of this chapter, sorry to those who read it the way it was before, I now apreciate how hard it was after trying myself!! Sorry again!
Yay for DoctorWump!!!
Collins was bored. He swung around in his swivelling chair, about the only thing keeping him sane. He spun around a few more times, the crossword on his lap. 17 across: A city in Wales where "Aliens" are reported to have been sighted more frequently in the last few years. By using other questions he had managed to assemble the letters: C_ _d_ff. He was stumped, utterly and completely. It was supposed to be his job to monitor the phones that UNIT had in its base and answer them in case of an emergency, except that there wasn't actually anyone phoning in to tell them that there was a major incident somewhere. There were maybe hundreds of phones on the desk in front of him, he had never bothered to count them, and he reasoned it would only make him more depressed. There was one that was closer then the others to his chair. That one was reserved for Torchwood. He didn't know why they bothered to have a separate one though. Torchwood never, ever rang in. It wasn't that there were no problems to report, they just always dealt with them themselves, as UNIT and Torchwood weren't the closest of friends. They acknowledged each other, and kept out of the others way when they were on important missions, but that was about the extent of their "relationship". Collins turned to face Stiles, the other officer in the room. He was in charge of monitoring all the CCTV in the city and trying to spot trouble before it got a chance to manifest into something ugly. "How low has UNIT SUNK?" Collins thought to himself, despairingly.
"Anything?" He asked Stiles half-heartedly.
"Apart from a load of drunks, a murder, and a depressed manic-depressive, axe-wielding psychopath, nothing at all" Stiles replied, sighing.
"Nothing here either" Collins said, returning his attention to the hundreds of telephones, wishing one of them would ring and signal the start of some terrifying adventure, filled with danger, cunning plans, daring rescues and a beautiful damsel in distress. But he wouldn't get his hopes up. The last time any of the phones had rung, it was a wrong number, and Collins had had to tell the 10-year-old caller that no, Ryan didn't live here and he couldn't come round to tea, and to please try and ring the correct number next time. The time before that, someone had tried to start ordering pizza, and the time before that, the only emergency had been that a species of alien that looked like flying Earth pigs had been seen gliding over London. However, the only consequence of this short visit was that one commonly used phrase had been erased from the countries vocabulary. "You know any cities in Wales?" He asked the back of Stiles' head.
"My brother lives in Wales you pilok!" Stiles replied gruffly, watching as a camera zoomed in on a lone fox as it started digging to the depths of a bin at the back of a restaurant.
"You know any beginning with-"Collins never got to finish his question. At that moment, all the lights dimmed only to be replaced with a flashing red light, almost exactly the same thing that happened in Deal or No Deal on the telly when the Banker rang. It was quite ironic that the effect also accompanied the ringing of a phone in the London base of the Unified Intelligence Task Force. The phone that was ringing was Torchwood's, each ring accompanied by a flash of red light. The two men looked at each other, Stiles abandoning his post to move behind Collins as the man swivelled in his chair to face the offending phone. The crossword and pen were gently deposited on the flattest section of desk available, completely forgotten. Collins cleared his throat nervously and picked up the receiver. "Sergeant Collins. UNIT Officer 4283796. State your intent." He waited nervously for a few seconds for a reply.
"Capt'n Jack Harkness. Head of Torchwood Three" Came the voice down the line.
Collins body suddenly became very heavy and rigid, and he began to sweat. "Torchwood Three, huh? Haven't heard from you guys for a while! What's been happening near you then?" He asked, trying to make polite conversation and mask his feelings of unease. It was true. Torchwood Three or any Torchwood hadn't contacted UNIT for donkey's years. So if they were contacting them now, it had to be something big. He was right.
"Bloody Torchwood!" Stiles muttered, stalking away, back to his cameras. "Using the emergency line to have a pointless chat with a half-brained idiot who doesn't even know the capital city of Wales!"
"Look!" Harkness' voice shouted down the phone. "We don't have time for this! We've got a big problem!" Collins and Stiles looked at each other, then at the phone and raising their eyebrows at it accusingly. "Don't give me those looks boys!" The captain said loudly, causing the officers to jump in shock.
"How did you-?" Stiles started.
"I know what UNIT is like! My friend has just been ambushed and kidnapped by a powerful idiot in a 4x4 so I don't have time to talk about your personality problems! Now, your officer there with the cameras on London. Check your monitors for a black 4x4 driving at speed around the centre." The Captain ordered.
Stiles shrugged in his chair, swivelled round to face his screens and began searching. Collins returned his attention to the phone which was currently bombarding his ears with the sound of Harkness whistling a tune that Collins recognised as a vague attempt at "Always Look On The Bright Side Of Life"
"So... This friend of yours? They pretty?" He asked, trying not to sound too interested.
"Yeah, they are" Came the short reply in the break in the whistling. A pretty girl had been taken and she was just waiting for Collins to come and rescue her in a daring kind of way that only hero's can normally pull of without looking like idiots. This could be his lucky day.
"Why'd this guy take her? Get revenge on you? On her? Why?" He probed. The whistling stopped abruptly.
"Sergeant." Harkness began sternly," One: The friend's a bloke. Two: The bloke's an alien. Three: The alien's the Doctor. Four: The Master took him. Five: Whatever he wants with the Doc, it can't be good, as they're enemies and I'm sure the Master will kill the Doctor if he gets half a chance so we need to hurry up. Six: Can you get a vehicle to pick us up? You can get our co-ordinates from the phone. And seven: Have you found anything yet?" He explained, stopping abruptly. Collins was just about to answer, no, when Stiles shouted out from the other side of the room.
"Got it!" He exclaimed excitedly, "Black Jeep. Travelling at 96mph. Definitely had some upgrades made to it: Tinted windows, better suspension, more powerful engine, judging by the sound and performance. Also has reinforced doors and windows, as well as what looks like a door to the boot that could withstand the blast from an atom bomb at close range. Basically it's got the lot." Stiles' words didn't exactly fill the listeners with confidence, all three of them.
"Where is it?" Came an unfamiliar female voice from the other end of the line, speaking for the first time.
"I'm sorry ma'am. That information is only for registered Torchwood or UNIT officers. Can I ask for your officer number or authorisation code? Or if you are a member of Torchwood?" Collins ventured. True, he hadn't asked Harkness for his number or code, but UNIT's database was crammed full of files on him that all members knew his name almost as well as their own, and the voice-recognition programme had confirmed his identity a few seconds after he talked the first time, so there was no doubt as to the captain's identity.
"No I am not a member of bloody Torchwood you idiot!" The female sounded angry. Collins had never been good with angry women. He had forgotten his sister's birthday once. The following events were burned into his memory forever now. He shuddered as he remembered the part with the ferret. The lobster came after that.
"Martha, shush! Let me handle this! That way we can find the Doctor quicker and sort this whole thing out!" Came Harkness' annoyed tones.
"Don't you tell me to shush Jack! I just want to find the Doctor and help get him back! I'm only trying to help, both you and him! And as for you SERGEANT, without me you have no idea who took the Doctor or what he may want him for, so you'd better tell me where he is or you'll have me to deal with!" Martha growled into Collins' ear. Collins could almost see the captain smiling. He gulped. Clearly Martha was one of those girls who were not to be crossed. He decided that it would be the wisest option to avoid answering Martha's demand, yet still remain on her good side.
"Transport should be with you momentarily." He reasoned that was the safest option. Stiles coughed deliberately at Collins' back, evidently annoyed at the girl coming to the base. Collins turned to face the other man. "She sound's like she's got a temper to rival my mother's" he mouthed to the other officer. Stiles pulled a face and shuddered.
"Point taken!" He mouthed back. Collins swivelled back to speak down the phone.
"Transport is just round the corner. If you go with them they will bring you straight back to base within 20 minutes." He told the two on the other end of the line.
"That quick? They're here already?" Martha sounded amazed.
"Yeah, our guys are only a few seconds away. They're coming to get you now."
"If only the Doc hadn't disabled my teleport we would already be there" Jack sighed, as he remembered that the Master had it anyway. Why'd he want it? The he frowned. "Hang on! What're your guys doing in the centre of London at 5:00am, already in their vehicle? What, are they ordering pizza?" He scoffed. Collins groaned. Evidently Torchwood knew about the incident with the phones and the pizza ordering caller. How was another matter all together.
"Pizza!? Are you mad? Pizza? Whaddya take us for? We're way too sophisticated for pizza! Honestly! Anyway, at least we don't order our food using the name of our secret organisation unlike another one we both know." He smiled as Harkness promptly shut up. "We'll tell you everything regarding the Jeep when you get here. Over and out." Collins broke the connection.
"Wait!" Jack yelled, but Collins had already gone.
"Great" Martha groaned. She turned to see a large black van driving towards them. It stopped in front of them. "Actually great! They weren't joking!" She said, cheering up a little. The door slid tot he side. A young officer stood there, holding the door open. He looked a lot younger then the age that Martha had expected UNIT officers to be. She was about to say that he looked about the Doctor's age, and then she realised how stupid that sounded and promptly forgot it. She meant the Doctor's apparent age, sort of mid 30's ish, not 900 and whatever.
"Captain Harkness and Ms Martha? Hurry!" The young officer gestured. He stood aside to let them in. Jack and Martha climbed in and sat on the seats. Martha noticed the smell in the van and the bags on the floor opposite them, as the van set off at breakneck speed.
"What's that then?" She asked, pointing to the bags.
"Dinner." The driver replied gruffly, "Someone has to feed the troops, and that someone is us."
"Those guys back at base do love their fish 'n' chips!" Said the officer who'd opened the door for them "Sorry, Officer Adams" He shook their hands and went to sit next to the driver. Martha and Jack looked at each other, thinking where the Doctor was now. Martha leant her head and watched as the streets flashed by, and wondered.
The Master sped down the back streets of London. He was confident that the Doctor's companions weren't following. He checked the little monitor where the radio should be. It showed the Doctor in the boot, still handcuffed to the side. He smiled as he saw the Doctor was still fighting the effects of his partial mind control. He really was so feisty. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel as he shot around a sharp corner. He watched as the Doctor's limp body crashed against the side of the boot and then fell back to the centre. The Master was thinking. He knew the Doctor was strong, yet he also knew hoe to break him. He hurtled round another corner and watched as the Doctor was thrown again, hearing the following thump as his head connected with the side of the boot. He found his mind straying again to what he had found buried deep in the Doctor's mind. How could the Doctor imprison it for that long? It was so powerful, maybe even more so then his own. Surely he had been tempted once or twice? But obviously not, looking at his current situation. He shook himself out of his thoughts as he pulled into the courtyard of a deserted warehouse.
He stepped out, straightening his tie and jacket. He sauntered over to the boot and opened it, smiling happily at the captive it held inside. He took that handcuffs off the Doctor's wrist, putting them in his pocket. He then lifted the Doctor's torso until it was dangling precariously over the tall drop to the dirty ground, with his legs still inside. Then he let go. The Doctor's head hit the ground with a loud crack, but he didn't even blink. The Master leant down and rolled the Doctor's head over to the side, smiling at the blood now starting to flow from the wound, before dropping it again. He grabbed hold of the Doctor's legs and dragged him for a few meters, making sure he was pulled over the roughest and wettest parts he could see. He let go of the other Time Lord's legs, then quickly checked the Doctor's eyes. The silver cloud was almost completely gone, slowly fading away to nothing, it could only last a few minutes longer, maybe four at the most. He rushed to the car again, manoeuvring so that it was behind the Doctor, so that when he came to, he wouldn't be able to see it. Now all he had to do was wait for the fun to begin.
The Doctor blinked. Blinking. Blinking was good. His head hurt like Hell. He was lying on cold, hard, dirty, uneven ground. Three guesses as to who had "helped" him to get here, wherever here was. He also had no idea why he was here. He leant up onto his elbows and tried to look around. H is head exploded in pain and he sank back to his previous position. He rubbed that back of his head, and was surprised to find it was wet. He couldn't see any reason for it to wet, had it been raining? He brought his hand into his line of sight. Red. His hand wasn't normally red was it? Strawberries were red. Tomatoes were red. Books were red. Hang on, were books red or read? Or were they blue? His head hurt, all these complicated questions. Blood! That was it! That was it! Blood was red! Blood? He was bleeding? That was bad, wasn't it? He'd have to ask Martha. Martha was going to be a doctor. Doctor's knew a lot about blood. Where was Martha? He sat up, ignoring the nausea and pain that accompanied the action and looked around him.
The ground was dirty, almost like a demolition site. Crushed bricks and walls made up the ground he laid on, giving it a strong pink tinge. To his left was a huge warehouse, obviously abandoned. Most of the windows were missing, leaving only holes in the plain concrete wall. There were plants growing in all the visible cracks, giving it a look that suggested it was being used as a greenhouse by people who thought that plants were nocturnal, and therefore didn't need light at all, so had replaced all of the unneeded glass in a normal greenhouse with plain, dark, foreboding concrete. Bad taste. Other then the warehouse there was nothing in sight except for the tall buildings of modern London miles off into the horizon. Where was Jack? Jack always knew how to make a joke out of any and every situation. Mind you, so could the Doctor normally, though now he was stumped. He moved his blood-stained hand to avoid a particularly sharp bit of brick.
"Hello Doctor" Came a voice from behind him, causing him to jump. Unfortunately, his body didn't seem ready to perform quick or complex actions such as jumping in shock. His hands slipped from where they were behind his back, supporting him, so he fell backwards and managed to hit his head wound on the hard ground. He groaned, and turned his head to the side, trying to focus on the blurry, fuzzy images that his eyes were giving him to work with. The Master stood there, leaning on the bonnet of the 4x4, arms crossed, staring calmly at the pin-stripped heap in the dirt.
"Hello!" The Doctor replied cheerfully. He considered waving, but thought that his co-ordination and reflexes may not be quite up to it just yet.
"How's the head?" He asked unconcerned, as though starting polite conversation in a bar.
"Not so great really, no thanks to you of course." He groaned. He tried to move his legs to a position that from which he could spring energetically to his feet. His left leg shifted slightly, but that was it. Great.
"Yes well, sorry about that" He smiled, evidently not sorry at all. He walked slowly to stand beside the Doctor, his back to the Sun. The Doctor raised his hand to shield his eyes from the harsh light. He could only see the Master's silhouette, black against the bright light of the Sun in a clear blue sky. He didn't have a very good feeling about this.
"Any particular reason as to why I'm here?" He asked brightly, squinting at the Master's profile.
"Oh yes Doctor" The Master replied gleefully, but he didn't elaborate.
"And that reason would be?" He probed, stretching the last vowel.
"You'll find out soon enough. But first, Doctor, let's have some fun!" He declared. The following action found the Master's shoe embedded in the Doctor's stomach. The force of the impact sent the Doctor rolling for a few feet. When he stopped, he could only lay there and cough and splutter, trying to block out the pain. His body still hadn't recovered from the effects of the separation. He couldn't cope with it, his body wasn't ready. He tried to get up onto his hands and knees, but only half managed it before the Master kicked him again. He fell down onto his face, breathing in dust and dirt. The Master kept coming, kicking him again and again and again. Pain exploded repeatedly in the Doctor's abdomen, and he wasn't surprised to find that he could taste blood. He was gritting his teeth so hard trying not to cry out that he thought he must have severed his tongue in two. He could feel his shirt getting wetter and wetter as his blood soaked it, slowly spreading out from the epicentre of the Master's attack. He refused to cry out though, refused to give his tormenter the satisfaction. He could only grunt in pain every time the Master attacked him. He tried to brace himself for the next impact, squeezing his eyes shut tighter and re-gritting his teeth. But the pain didn't come.
He opened one eye, panting, and looked up at the Master's profile. The Master was staring at him. No he wasn't. He was staring at his own shoe. The Doctor looked at it two, opening his other eye to join the first. He had lost most of the feeling to his body now, from the stomach down at least. So it was a little surprise to see the Master's shoe covered in hid blood. The red liquid dripped from the surface of the shoe to the ground. They watched the progress of the blood, they watched it pooling at the Master's feet, watched it as it slowly got bigger and bigger, expanding until it joined noiselessly with another pool. A pool that was growing around the Doctor's abdomen. The two Time Lords looked down at the Doctor's stomach. The shirt covering it had a hole 20cm in diameter and the first 5cm of the material closest was soaked in red liquid. Through the hole, they could see the Doctor's skin. It was turning as pale as a glass of milk. Or it would have been if they could have seen it through the blood that was flowing freely out of the opening in the Doctor's skin. The Doctor stared at the latest problem for a few seconds before the pain hit. It was almost as the pain had decided to wait for the Doctor to see his affliction before suddenly manifesting in all its glory. The Doctor slowly moved both his hands to hug his wound, curling up into a tight ball soundlessly in slow motion.
The Master smiled, chuckling. He slowly turned his back on his prisoner and walked back to the 4x4. As he walked, he got out Jack's Vortex Manipulator and the Doctor's Sonic Screwdriver. It was time for a considerable number of upgrades. He leant back on the bonnet and fiddled for a few minutes, adding a few functions to the wrist strap. He got bored quickly though, any time not hurting the Doctor was time wasted. He placed the two items on the bonnet behind him as he watched the Doctor as he squirmed in agony on the ground and smiled, pleased with his achievements. He had captured the Doctor, when so many species had failed, and the Doctor was powerless. Most species in the Universe would give most of their organs to have the Doctor in a situation like this. Too bad for them. This was his time.
The Doctor couldn't get up, couldn't force himself to go through the pain that he knew would come if he tried. He could feel his blood soaking the sleeves of his coat. He curled up tighter, willing the pain to end. But it didn't. It kept coming, getting greater and greater each time. He couldn't move, couldn't block out the agony. He didn't care where the Master was now, didn't care what he was going to do with him. He didn't even care about how Martha and Jack were. All he cared about was the pain stopping, that he could get away from the feeling that was forcing its way throughout his whole body. But it didn't stop. He didn't know how long he lay there. It could have been hours, days, weeks, months, years even. But he knew it was probably just a few minutes at most really.
He only stopped focussing on the pain when he started to feel light-headed. Tired. He was so tired. He needed to sleep. Sleep cured everything. Sleep..... No. He couldn't go to sleep. He had to stay awake. He was passing out, not falling asleep. That was bad, and wouldn't help anything. Was it his blood? How much blood had he lost? He couldn't let himself pass out. Then all that would happen would be was that he was at the Master's mercy. Suddenly he felt the Master's foot on his neck, constricting his windpipe. He was aware that the squeaking sound he could hear was his own feeble attempt at breathing. Darkness was clouding his vision, slowly consuming him, dragging him down into its murky depths. If he sank, he wouldn't be in pain anymore. That sounded good. He was letting go of consciousness, he was finally sinking. Then the Master removed his foot from the Doctor's throat. He could breathe again. He wasn't being allowed to sink. He was being kept conscious. His vision was returning. He could hear the Master talking.
"Now, let's make you all better shall we?" He heard the Master whisper. He saw the Master snap his fingers and the IAC zoomed out of the 4x4 and onto the Master's outstretched hand. He smiled at the Doctor, not even looking as the IAC started glowing gold. Tiny spots of light surrounded the metal glove, pulsing around it like mosquitoes near a light bulb at night. The Master pointed at the Doctor's abdomen. The golden spots buzzed out and around the wound. The Doctor watched as the skin slowly stretched itself and the edges bonded together. The wound now looked as though it had never been there at all. Only a small scar remained, a long straight line of slightly raised skin, 20cm long, forming a ridge on the Doctor's stomach. It now looked as though the Doctor had simply poured a few bottles of tomato ketchup over his body. The spots evaporated into thin air as the Doctor slowly raised his fingers and ran one over the ridge, tracing the line and breathing deeply, trying to compose himself.
"Nanogenes!" He whispered in understanding, he was too weak to do much else. He realised that the Master must have programmed the little robots to only repair the flesh wound, not replace the blood he had lost. He felt the Master grab hold of the front of his suit and pull him clean off the ground, so his feet dangled in the air. He grasped feebly for the Master's wrists, so that he could pull his head straight, but the Master shrugged him off easily. The Master pressed his face so close to the Doctor's that their noses were touching. He bared his teeth, actually growling at the helpless Doctor. He grabbed the Doctor's hair, forcing his head backwards and receiving a cry of pain when he began to bite his neck viciously. He tried to push the Master away but he was too weak. The Master pushed violently, forcing the Doctor to lie flat on the bonnet, crushing his head wound on the shiny metal. The Doctor found his arms pinned, he couldn't move them, no matter how much he tried. He tried to turn his head away but the Master bit down on his lip hard, so unless he wanted to lose part of his mouth, he couldn't move that either. The Master bit harder still, drawing blood and licking it off quickly. He grabbed hold of the Doctor's hair again and yanked it back so hard that the Doctor's eyes nearly popped out of his head. The Master's tongue invaded the Doctor's mouth, forcing its way down his throat.
It was too much. The Doctor used all his willpower to scream out in anger and pain and forced his arms to move. He lashed out and struck the Master hard, his fist connecting with soft cheek flesh. The Master, caught by surprise, stumbled backwards, but managed to right himself. He looked furious, licking the last few drops of the Doctor's blood from his lips. The Doctor was still too weak to move much, his body slipped down the smooth metal and ended up in a heap on the ground. The Master walked up to him slowly, taking his time. He stood, towering over the Doctor, who raised his head weakly to look him in the eye, forever defiant. The Master's eyes burned with anger and contempt, but that wasn't what frightened the Doctor. What scared him was the emotion burning behind the eyes, burning even brighter then the fury. The feeling that told the Doctor that the Master had some very specific plans for him, plans that the Doctor did not feel the same enthusiasm to see the plans carried out. Lust. The Master wanted him, and they both knew it. However, only one was willing to comply with the Master's sick desires.
His face suddenly split into a smile so sinister that it chilled the Doctor to the bone and showed him exactly what he had feared about the Master's intentions. He bent down and reached out to grab onto the Doctor's tie, loosening it quickly and taking it off. The Master pulled the Doctor's face towards him, chuckling, seeing no reason to hide his desires. He began to re-tie the Doctor's tie, making a very robust gag out of the material. The Doctor was too weak, he couldn't fight.
"No" He whispered, trying desperately to remain defiant in the face of this evil intention. "No.....please......don't.....no..." The gag was tightened, so much so that the Doctor couldn't even open his mouth anymore.
"Yes Doctor" The Master whispered seductively into his ear. "I think you deserve a special treat for being such a good boy. Today's your lucky day my friend"
The Doctor felt IAC's power again; clamping his arms to his sides and lifting him clean off the ground. His body was limp and his head lolled, he just didn't have the energy, He lifted his head weakly, the Master was already halfway to the warehouse. He beckoned with one finger and the Doctor felt himself drifting in that direction, not that he wanted to. He couldn't struggle, he wasn't strong enough. It wasn't long before they were both inside the large metal doors. The Doctor took one last look at freedom behind him, getting further and further away each second. The Sun was up properly now, bathing the tranquil scene in a warm yellow glow. Birds twittered and butterflies fluttered everywhere. He would remember the scene when it started, maybe it would help him. The doors slammed shut behind them, the sound echoing across the deserted scene of peaceful tranquillity. It was a few seconds before the Doctor's scream disturbed the silence, but unlike the birds, that sound didn't stop.
Can any of you guess the answer to the crossword? Banana's for those who can!
I really am so mean to the Doctor aren't I! But he doesn't complain! That may be because he's tied up in the other room though, that might be the problem. But I give him bananas, he's happy! Yeah, anyway................
Reviewers get bananas too! Come on you know you want to review, it's that little green/lilac button down there!