Escape
Chapter numbers are starting to get wonky. I have decided to cease numbering them. So there. Shh, don't tell anyone. *wink wink*. Not gonna lie, this chapter was exceedingly fun to write. I feel moderately evil. An' don' it feel goooood.
Disclaimer: owning nothing.
The Doctor hated prisons. He hated being constrained. In general, he hated not being in motion. And not being in motion took on a whole new meaning when his arms were completely numb, being that they were locked into rusted, medieval shackles level with his head, and his most reliable ally stood practically comatose, and entirely not in a position to offer much assistance.
The Doctor watched Jack with intense concern. He sagged against his restraints, his chin drooped onto his chest, which rose only a miniscule amount with each shallow breath. He'd been like that since Ianto had left, five hours ago.
"Jack," said the Doctor finally.
Jack's head twitched, but he didn't look up.
"Jack," the Doctor's voice was not harsh, nor was it unfriendly. But it was forceful enough that the Time Agent started, and looked wildly around. His eyes focused on the Doctor with an angry type of fear. The flight instinct which had been so prevalent when he'd first met the Doctor was showing through, more starkly than it had since that night in the hospital. That night with Rose…unbidden, the image of her glowing yellow-blonde hair, glinting in the moonlight which filtered through the barred window, filled his mind. He could perfectly recall her flirtatious smile, the way one side of her mouth rose higher than the other. Stop it! he ordered himself.
"Jack, are you with me?" He hoped the others didn't realize the call to reality was as much for himself as for Jack.
After a moment, Jack nodded tremulously.
"Excellent. Gwen," said the Doctor authoritatively, "take off your left shoe and sock."
This garnered four completely bewildered stares. "What?"
"I need you to reach with your foot into my jacket pocket and get my sonic screwdriver," the Doctor explained. "Go on."
Gwen shrugged, and obeyed. The task, however, was much easier said than done. Gwen was wearing low-heeled leather boots which had zippers running along the inside seams, and came up to her mid calf. After several futile attempts, she managed to hook the other boot's somewhat pointed toe onto the top of the zipper and ever-so-slowly pull it down and slip off the boot. The sock-a sheer nylon knee high- proved another challenge. No one said it, but everyone was thinking about the shame which would never leave them if they, the best trained alien combatants on the planet, were defeated by a nylon sock. Gwen managed by dragging her left heel repeatedly against the toe of her right boot until the nylon was bunched up around the ball of her foot, and she could roll it all the way off, thereby freeing her toes to move about, and hopefully grip a sonic screwdriver.
Balancing on her right foot and tensing her arms to keep herself steady, Gwen raised her left leg and slowly moved her foot inside the Doctor's jacket.
"Why do you keep it in the inside pocket?" she asked in exasperation after the third failed attempt to get her toes around the screwdriver.
"It's the safest place!" said the Doctor defensively. "So people can't steal it."
"Well, it sure is bloody hard to get to!" Gwen gritted her teeth and dipped her toes delicately into the pocket.
"Ah!" cried the Doctor. A burst of laughter bubbled out of his mouth, and he flinched away from Gwen. "No, stop it! Stop!"
"What!" said Gwen and the others in alarm.
The Doctor took a deep calming breath, straightened his expression. "Sorry. Bit ticklish. Carry on."
After two more goes, Gwen managed to get the screwdriver between her first and second toes, and lower her foot carefully to the ground.
"Good," said the Doctor. "Now gently kick it over to me. Gently." He had slipped off his own right sneaker and resultant sock, and picked up the screwdriver with his toes, then proceeded to reorient it with amazing dexterity, so that he could press the button with his big toe. He raised his leg so his foot was level with Gwen's left handcuff. With his tongue clamped between his teeth, he pressed the button.
There was the familiar high-pitched whir, and the lock sparked and sprung open, but the screwdriver dropped to the floor and bounced, skittering to the center of the cell, well away from any of them. Owen let out an admirable collection of choice swear words.
"Toshiko," said the Doctor calmly, "stretch out your foot as far as you can." Tosh complied. She extended her arms until they were held at a bizarre angle above her head and her chin was pressed against her collar bone, and stretched her right leg out in front of her, pushing, reaching. She was about two inches short.
Tosh relaxed with a frustrated sigh and straightened up. The others all tried their best to reach the screwdriver, but each gave up after multiple painfully futile attempts.
"Well," said Owen, "shit." The others murmured their agreement. The situation looked rather hopeless.
"This isn't fair," said the Doctor angrily. "I'm brilliant! I can't be beaten by my own screwdriver."
"Welcome to reality, mate," said Owen.
"Reality is relative," grumbled the Doctor. Then, "Wait a minute! I'm brilliant!"
"What!"
Once again concentrating with all his might, the Doctor squinted at the screwdriver, and then down at his shoe, still sitting empty next to his foot. Then with a single precise movement, he kicked it. Like a ball on a pool table, the shoe knocked against the screwdriver and sent it rolling unevenly along the floor until it came to a stop, right beside Jack's foot. There was a quiet moment of relieved laughter, and Jack kicked the screwdriver back over to Gwen. She transferred it from her foot to her free hand.
Holding it to her right wrist, she activated the buzzing blue light, and the shackle cracked open. Instantly, the tense atmosphere dissipated. They were in comfortable waters now, practically home free.
Once freed, the Doctor turned his wrists and rolled his shoulders and neck, groaning, while Gwen released Tosh, Owen, and Jack.
The Doctor pushed the newly sonic-ed door open a crack and peeked out. "Clear." He pushed it open the rest of the way…and found himself face to face with Ianto Jones.
"Shit," breathed Owen.
"Why, thank you, Doctor." Ianto plucked the screwdriver from the Doctor's hand and inspected it critically, as a numismatist might a rare coin. "I've been wanting one of these." He spun on his heel and began walking away. "Put them back in their cupboard." Instantly, three Toclafane appeared out of thin air, each brandishing a menacing metal pipe, like the barrel of a gun.
The Doctor felt Jack tense beside him, preparing to fight. "Don't," he hissed out of the corner of his mouth.
Jack grumbled, but stepped obediently backwards into the cell, however-
"Wait," said Ianto, when Jack and the Doctor were the only ones not fully inside the cell. He walked back over to them, the soles of his dress shoes clacking ominously against the cement floor, and took Jack's hand gently in his. Jack jerked it away, held his arms rigidly at his sides. His jaw was clenched and his eyes were fixed determinedly on the wall over Ianto's shoulder.
This, however, did not deter Ianto in the slightest. He locked his fingers behind Jack's neck and pushed out his lip in a pout. "Jack," he said. "Jack, I'm so lonely, why don't you come upstairs with me?"
"Go to hell," Jack spat acidly.
Ianto sighed and removed his hands from around Jack's neck. "No, Jack. That's where you're going."
"Go ahead and kill me if it helps you sleep," Jack growled, for the first time meeting Ianto's gaze.
The faintest hint of a smile twisted the corner of Ianto's mouth. "I don't need to." He flicked his glittering grey eyes at the hovering Toclafane. The Doctor was shoved back into the cell, the door slammed closed, and Jack was escorted down the hall.
Okay, here's an experiment to test the waters. If you get this, say so in your review (even if you don't get it, reviews are still appreciated, but I really want to know how many people know what I'm talking about). Here it is: If Dean and Sam had a brother named Chester, and he won a game, everyone would say, "You win, Chester Winchester!" That is my contribution to the world for today. Also, I made a baby Castiel out of construction paper for my french project.
All review appersheated, as always. Have a nice day.