Chapter Eighteen
Jack burst back to life under the water, after a few seconds of confusion, he started looking round.
It was almost impossible to see in the grey murk... and it was so cold. How was he going to find the Doctor?
His lungs started to protest at their lack of oxygen, so he began swimming up to the surface. He really didn't want to die again.
The sea was not as calm as it had been when he'd crashed into it, the sky was growing darker, and the waves were starting to peak, whipped up by an increasing wind.
Panic started its inevitable rise, but he quickly quashed it, it wouldn't help. The odds of the Doctor being within eyeshot were beyond impossible and finding him alive would be miraculous.
He saw another wave looming and taking a breath, he submerged once more into the grey of the water, and almost had the breath knocked from him, when something hit him.
White Coat waited impatiently while the pilot carefully manoeuvred the shuttle onto the deck. He stepped out and waved the pilot away, not turning to watch as it rose into the storm-ridden sky.
"Welcome aboard, sir!" a man in uniformed barked out and saluted.
"Yes, yes, shall we get on? I assume you have some idea as to where to look?" White Coat said as he stepped into the control room.
The uniformed man nodded and closed the entrance behind him. "Yes sir."
"Good, then let us not waste anymore time, take us down Captain."
"Yes sir!"
The Captain moved to the centre of the room. "All hands, prepare to dive!"
"Aye sir, preparing to dive!"
White Coat sat in the chair provided and watched as the calls came from different parts of the room. He felt the slow but steady descent as the submarine disappeared beneath the storm-tossed waves.
He smiled to himself; it seemed he'd killed the proverbial two birds. He wouldn't have to worry about the Cynrog, they'd never find him, and if he was extremely lucky, he could still extract DNA and RNA from the body of his property. It would save him the time and effort of once again trying to bring his property to heel, he could grow himself a willing pit-bull, with all the knowledge and no moral compass.
Yes, that would do him nicely, although if by some miracle his property survived its suicide attempt, he may just use more brutal techniques to subdue it. Why have a poor copy, if you could salvage the original.
"How long before you reach the area?" he asked.
"Depends on the storm and the tide sir," the captain answered.
White Coat nodded. "Very well, I shall be in my quarters, inform me when you have something positive to report."
"Yes sir!" the captain saluted the retreating back of White Coat. "Steady as you go, keep a close eye on the radar and sonar."
The chorus of "yes sirs!" came back.
The submarine slid through the water, its dull steel shape looking very much like a shark searching for prey.
Martha sat watching the storm from the warmth of the cafe, the mug of coffee forgotten and going cold in front of her.
She was waiting for Gwen to come back from calling Ianto. She had gone to find a phone, as the storm was interfering with their mobiles.
She was still angry with UNIT, as they had assumed that the Doctor at least was dead, and they didn't seem to care about Jack at all.
They were on their own again, nothing new there, but it meant they had to wait for the storm to die out before they could do anything.
Martha had the awful feeling that they wouldn't be the only ones looking. It wouldn't surprise her, not in the slightest if White Coat wasn't looking for them as well.
She shuddered at that thought, the images flashing through her head as to what he would do with the Doctor, dead or alive.
She didn't want to think about the Doctor being dead, even if his leap had been a suicidal one. She could only hope that somehow Jack had found him and was now trying to rescue his sorry Time Lord arse.
She looked up as the door opened, and a windswept and damp Gwen stepped inside. She spotted Martha and moved over to sit opposite her.
"Ianto will be here as soon as he can. I spoke to the Harbour Master, the Rescue Services are too stretched to help, there's a container ship in trouble just off the Straits of Dover."
"So we have to wait, but they could have been swept hundreds of miles away by now!" Martha said her temper still not cooled down from her argument with the UNIT commander. "Why wouldn't they help us?"
Gwen sighed. "I guess the Doctor's no use to them dead, and Jack, well, he's a thorn they've wanted to remove for ages. I think they'd be quite happy to see him just disappear."
Martha let out an annoyed huff of air. "Then how the hell are we going to find them?"
Gwen placed a hand on Martha's. "Have faith Martha, faith in them, and the fact that Ianto's sister's best friend's cousin's uncle has a deep sea trawler here at Dover."
Jack surfaced again, spitting out cold salty water, and began looking round for what had hit him...and then he saw something beyond impossible.
That had been several hours or a life time ago. He'd lost all feeling in his arms, in fact most of his body. But he still clung to the figure, fear making his grip vice-like.
He was fighting his fatigue and the storm...and the cold.
It would be so easy to drift off. To close his eyes and succumb to the warmth that was now creeping up his body.
He closed his eyes...just to sleep for a few minutes.
Something touched his face and his eyes opened, and widened in surprise.
A pair of weary brown eyes looked back at him, crease lines wrinkled by the frown of concern that was etched on the owner of the eyes face.
"Doctor," Jack said, his voice hoarse with the salt and the cold and the effort of keeping himself and the Doctor afloat.
The Doctor didn't reply, only stared at Jack, his eyes said the words...and they were words that sent Jack into a panic.
"No, hold on. Doctor you have to hold on!"
The Doctor shook his head and said only three words.
"Save yourself Jack."
With strength Jack didn't think the Doctor had, he broke the grip Jack had on him and pushed away. He was gone. Lost to the storm.