Author: d8rkmessngr
Pairing: Jack/OMC, Jack/?, Jack/Ianto eventually, het and slash
Rating: NC-17 (betaed)
Summary: He left Jack on the game station. Abandoned. But then…he came back…different. An AU look on what happens if things happened differently. Doctor Who 'verse with Torchwood later on. Be sure to read the warnings.


Warnings: Please read each chapter's individual warnings. Some parts down the road may briefly mention non-con, abuse, and/or violence. Dark in the beginning. Please note there are some dark thoughts as my boys are broken…for now. Each chapter will be labeled for your convenience.
Author's Notes: Please note this is an AU that will cross over DW to TW season one. I'm probably spoiling my own story, but it will eventually be Janto. There's a bit of a journey first. I hope you enjoy. I'm working on this and intend to post regularly every other day. And again, I always believe in happy endings. So without further ado…
Disclaimer: RTD and BBC owns them. I'm just borrowing them for a while.

Warning For This Chapter: Dubious consent, verbal and mental abuse.


Prologue + Ch , Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5

Master Fic List: here



Chapter 6
Malcassairo, year 40 million
Two months later…

Tomorrow came too many times.

Jack stood on the top of the ridge and watched the Doctor, in a rare moment of glee, talking to a strangely beautiful blue green alien, dressed in an equally beautiful semi-transparent robe. Jack huddled into his greatcoat. It felt cold here. Even the Time Lord favored his long black wool coat today. He made a sobering figure among the crowds of friendly blue aliens gathered around him.

The TARDIS, perhaps because she was adjusting to Jack or the Doctor's intervention by putting her to sleep often, was able to leap to year 40 million with a few minor sparks and bumps. The Doctor, still clearly not happy for whatever reason the mercurial Time Lord wasn't sharing, had determined it wasn't "good enough".

Jack thought it was pretty amazing they’d even got this far. Not that the Doctor would listen. He usually ignored Jack these days. Unless it was time for his "treatment".

Or in his quarters, in the dark. And he still wouldn't look at him.

A chill rattled through and Jack's shoulders hunched around him. It seemed he got colder more easily these days. When Jack commented on his cloudy breath as they stepped out of the sleeping Tardis, the Doctor dismissed his concerns. It wasn't like he could freeze to death, the Doctor pointed out to him with a scoff, and went to seek out the natives.

Jack couldn't argue with him; he was still immortal. And it was a flaw he couldn't defend. The vortex energy, the Time Lord had once thrown at him, was constantly renewing itself, stubbornly holding onto Jack and dooming him.

Jack swallowed, remembering how each "session" felt. He was almost grateful it wasn't every day; the Doctor alternating from his "sessions" with whatever he was tinkering with in the console room. Jack rarely went in there any more. The silence from the Doctor, the TARDIS or both was painful, if not more so, than lying in that strange platform the Doctor had built. It felt like it could kill and it probably did, but he would revive/awaken with the Doctor standing over him with an unreadable expression on his face.

"Perhaps tomorrow," the Time Lord would always say.

"Tomorrow," Jack glumly repeated out loud. He was grateful though, because the Doctor was right; there was no one else in the universe that could fix him or even want to.

Jack kept his eye on the Doctor, who had no qualms talking and walking with any of the strange aliens. His fingers tapped against his thigh a soothing thrum-thrum-tap-tap to pass the time.

Jack sighed.

He wished he could join the Time Lord, but the Doctor had complained Jack would be too much of an "ill distraction" to be of any use. It hurt, but Jack fatalistically saw his point and stayed back. Jack, instead, stayed on the ridge and watched as the Doctor shook their hands, spoke with his voice and hands and looked nostalgically very…"Doctorish".

Jack snorted at his thoughts. Very perceptive, he thought in the voice of the Time Lord. This was why the Doctor referred to them as the "brains and the brawn". Guess who was the "brains" of the two? Jack would have been annoyed at the inference. After all, he was a 51st century ex-Time Agent; you didn't become one without some intellect. Yet Jack couldn't bring himself to be annoyed. Not when the Doctor referred to them as a pair. It made Jack feel so ridiculously pleased, he still flushed thinking about it.

"Chan you do not join him tho?"

Blinking, Jack turned to his left and found, during his reverie, one of the younger aliens had wandered up the hill to join him. Bright eyed, dark blue spotted with emerald that would lighten when she grew up, the alien looked and acted like a small child.

Jack hunched down until he was eye level and extended his hand, grinning when she shyly took it. "Captain Jack Harkness and you are?"

His smile faltered when she replied and he realized he didn't have the vocal cords to repeat it.

"Nice to meet you," Jack replied lamely, recovering quickly by shaking her hand. "What are you doing up here?"

"You were alone," the child said in the pure, untainted logic of the very young.

Jack smiled, charmed, and pointed a finger to the Doctor, still shaking hands and talking. You would think he was a politician. "I'm with him."

The child tilted its head and suddenly looked so much older that Jack thought maybe he had been mistaken the first time. She looked back down the valley, then back up at him. She blinked.

"No, you are not." Then, a distant voice calling to her, probably a mother, pulled her away. She scampered down the hill, making a wide pass around the Doctor, who was climbing back up to join Jack.

The Doctor looked over his shoulder at the little one. He smirked at Jack.

"A bit on the young side, isn't she, Captain?"

Jack jerked like he was slapped. "I was only saying hello," he snapped.

"Hm, of course you were." The Doctor waved down to the group. His smile was a bit forced, but he waved as the aliens continued to do so. "Anyway," the Time Lord continued without moving his smile. "I wouldn't get too attached to them. They went extinct in the year 50 trillion." He paused, thinking as the last alien left. "I believe the last one died out in the end of the universe."

Jack stared at the little alien child who turned around to wave farewell. He raised his hand up in a weak gesture. "H-how did they die?"

Still waving, the Doctor's smile faltered unpleasantly. "Yes, yes, goodbye already," he muttered as some still lingered. "God, these people are friendly. What was I saying? Ah yes! How did they die, you ask? Genetic mutation." The Doctor dropped his hand with a snort and turned on his heel. "Sort of like the Spaniards introducing small pox to the Aztecs. Decimated their conglomerates." The Doctor sniffed and cleaned his hands with a handkerchief from his pockets. "They'd never recovered. Wiped them out completely from the universe."

"Oh." Jack watched the child skip with her mother as they descended down pathways to their carved out homes in the rock. The city glowed under the moon and stars. It looked almost ethereal. "That's…" Jack waved at the little alien one last time. "…sad."

"Yes, yes, all very tragic." The Doctor lowered Jack's arm with a snort. "Let us be off. Lots to do, Captain. Lots to do."

Jack reluctantly turned around and followed after the Doctor. Absently, he wondered how the Doctor knew all this if they haven't been able to reach the end of the universe yet. He opened his mouth to ask when he noticed something.

"Did you cut yourself?" Jack trotted up to the Time Lord. He nodded towards the spotted handkerchief in his hand.

"Hmpf," the Doctor grumped. He stuffed it down his pocket. "I think I nicked my hand on one of their rings." The Doctor opened his palm and showed Jack the tiny cut in the fleshy part of his hand. "Nothing to worry about."

Jack grinned. "Want me to kiss it and make it better?"

The Doctor surprised him with a laugh. "Maybe later, Captain. We should get your treatment done first and get you fixed." He stepped into the TARDIS, not realizing Jack had stopped in his tracks.

Jack swallowed. His stomach cramped at the thought. "Looking forward to it," Jack whispered. It will fix everything, Jack told himself. Maybe by tomorrow…

One last look around him, Jack followed the Doctor in with heavy feet.



There was blood mingling with his vomit this time.

Jack pressed a fist to his stomach, gasping as another wave of agony rippled through him like water. Over and over, rarely giving him the chance to draw air into his lungs. He tried to sit up, only to collapse back on his bed, head hanging over the side.

The TARDIS twilled in inquiry.

"Rough session," Jack explained hoarsely. "I thought we could go for a longer—oh God…" Jack curled into a fetal position, gasping.

"I don't think I can do this," Jack groaned. He blinked, sweat stinging his eyes. He couldn't straighten himself and rocked on his side on top of the bed. It felt like his entire body was pulling itself in, shrinking his skin over his body, crushing him inside. Jack fought back a whimper but failed.

"Hurts…" Jack smashed his face onto the bed. "It hurts…I…why isn't this working yet?"

The ship warmed the room a degree and cooed mournfully.

Jack tried to offer a smile but he grimaced instead. "Thanks." He sighed when the room dimmed and it eased the pounding in his head significantly. It seemed the ship forgave him since he was trying.

"This will work," Jack whispered. "We'll keep cutting the vortex out of me. It has to run out sooner or later, right?" Jack squeezed his eyes shut and gasped. It felt like needles were lit and pricking his gut. "Just…bear with me a little longer…"

The TARDIS rumbled subdued then silenced. Jack hoped it was a yes.

The next wave of agony had Jack coughing. He knew it only meant the next step would be his unnatural body healing himself. It meant the pain would be over soon but it also meant it hadn’t worked and tomorrow…

Jack choked. Oh God, not tomorrow. He trembled. His fist dug deep into his abdomen. He couldn’t…he couldn’t deal with this again tomorrow.

"I…I can't do this again," Jack gasped, sobbed really, as his limbs flared up and he could feel his bones contorting.

"Sh…" A hand, always dry and hot, cupped the back of his head. Jack moaned, his hands weakly trying to push away the ones trying to straighten him on the bed, trying to strip him.

"No," Jack whimpered. It hurt too much. "Doctor…I can't…" He made a pained sound when he felt the Doctor climb on top of him. Jack blearily opened his eyes, trying to focus on the impassive features of his Doctor. Jack didn't know what he was pleading for. He couldn’t think. Everything hurt too much.

Hands pushed his knees apart. Jack groaned as his stomach cramped. He groaned when he was breached slowly, his body stretched with a burn. The Doctor slowly rocked into him with exaggerated care. Jack still cried out.

"You are doing so well," the Doctor said as he leaned into Jack's body. He blew hotly on Jack's damp cheeks. "I can see how much you want this, want us." His hands braced against Jack's hips. "We just need to keep trying. Take the energies before they replenish."

"I can't keep doing this," Jack winced. He tried hard to stay still.

"You will." The Doctor left no room for argument. "Perhaps continuously?"

"God," Jack moaned. He couldn't imagine.

It hurt so much, lying on his back, splayed out in offering to the Time Lord when Jack wanted nothing more than to curl into the twisting pain of his body. Jack whimpered, his hands feebly reaching for the Doctor. For what, he didn't know.

The next thrust, Jack choked. He looked up to see the Doctor staring back at him in the dark, not looking away.

Jack's chest expanded, the pain dulled minutely when he found himself smiling watery back at the Time Lord, who stared but didn't turn away. Jack groaned, eyes tearing, but he tightened his legs around his Doctor, locked his ankles around the thick material of his suit and pulled him in.

The surprised groan from the Doctor and eyes darkened with lust pushed back any pain from Jack's mind. Even the burning, sharp tearing agony Jack felt as the Doctor dove in him, Jack's legs tensing out of pain and pleasure, was ebbing. It was nothing to the feel of the Doctor filling him, slipping in deeper, his hands on Jack's shoulders, his mouth partially opened as he grunted. Dark eyes that had refused to look at him for so long now beckoned Jack, lust overblown the Time Lord's pupils so large, Jack found himself lost.

The Doctor found a pace that reminded Jack of the odd pattern the Doctor rapped out with his fingers on any surface. One, two, deep thrusts that jolted through Jack's body, followed by two short, abrupt jabs that made his legs shake. Over and over, the beat drilled into the captain's body and Jack was so lost in the pace that he cried out in surprise when he felt the Doctor curled his fists around Jack's growing erection.

"Almost there," the Doctor crooned as he pulled on Jack's erection, his cock matching pace pistoning into Jack. "We've almost cleansed you of everything that's wrong with you."

"Doctor," Jack cried out, his head thrown back as he felt himself being pulled in so many directions. Jack sobbed as he was slammed into his bed again and again. He felt the Doctor lean over, his lips hovering over Jack's. On impulse, Jack surged his head forward and met the Doctor's mouth in a hungry kiss.

The Doctor first acted like he was going to rear back but instead he froze and then with a growl, clasped his hands to Jack's head and leaned into Jack's mouth.

They parted for a second, gasping.

"I can still taste the vortex in you," the Doctor hissed but instead of pulling away, he wrapped his arms around Jack, bringing the captain to him. The change in angle made Jack groan which the Time Lord swallowed. It felt like the Doctor was trying to soak up and swallow every breath Jack exhaled, greedily sucking on Jack's tongue, his mouth demanding.

It was like being back on that platform again, but instead of pain, Jack felt drained. His cock trapped between them, the Doctor's suit rubbing against the swollen shaft and scrubbing at the inside of Jack's thighs as the Doctor pounded.

"Does anyone do this for you?" the Doctor hissed. "When you offer yourself like a whore, did anyone take you?"

Jack pressed his burning face against the Doctor's jaw. He groaned as they rocked repeatedly against each other.

"An abomination like you…did anyone still want you?"

Jack moaned, feeling his mouth being possessed again.

"Or did you not tell them? In London were you too busy opening up your legs to them so they would never find out?"

He didn't know why he had told the Doctor about London, or about his decades of loneliness. It was like he could not not tell him anything. Jack gritted his teeth when the Doctor pulled his mouth away.

"Your Doctor stayed despite knowing, despite how hard it is to look at you, touch you…" Hands groped between them and Jack arched his back. The next thrust made Jack quiver against the Doctor.

"I'm the only one who can stand by your side…"

Pleasure was building up. Jack moaned as hands gripped him so tightly, his body jerking up from the fullness inside him and the fist pulling him like a chain.

"I'm the only one who will stay despite of you…"

Thrust, thrust, jab, jab. Jack sobbed as the ache in him replaced the burning agony of before.

"…the only one who will touch you…"

A hand pulled Jack away from that mouth and fisted around his hair. Jack gasped, flinched.

"…so wrong…sick looking at you…"

Bile rose in Jack's throat. "I'm sorry," he croaked.

"…the only one…"

Yes.

"…own you, mine to touch…"

He wanted no other. They were all…pretend.

"…mine to take…to break…" The Doctor's voice was suddenly in his ear.

"I will break you, Captain."

One thrust that touched deep, so deep and Jack threw his head back, shouting as he came. The Doctor snarled as cum stained Jack's belly and his suit. He surged, slamming into Jack and hot cum flooded inside Jack in a hard jet that actually hurt.

Jack fell back on the bed, winded, dizzy, his head pounding so loud he didn't realize he blurted out, "I love you" until the Doctor paused.

The Doctor's eyes darkened and he smiled thinly.

"I know."



London, Canary Wharf
2006

The archives, while well organized, were daunting; endless rows of cabinets of every little thing thought strange, supernatural, or alien. If it was alien though, it was Torchwood's. It was an unofficial motto he had learned when he had been hired last year.

As a junior researcher, the bowels of the archives were his world, his domain, so as daunting as it was, Ianto Jones knew something good about the archives.

Hardly anyone went down here.

A giggle drew his musing back to the present. Ianto blinked, and then flushed at the coy smile Lisa Hallett favored him before she stepped back.

"You know," Lisa said casually as she straightened her skirt and hand combed her short brunette hair. "A girl might be insulted if she sees her bloke's attention is somewhere else during…" She arched an eyebrow suggestively. Then she laughed, reaching over to help Ianto with his tie.

"Perhaps it was on work, like it should be," Ianto huffed as he finished tucking in his shirt, but there was little anger in his voice. "What if someone had walked in?"

"Posh, you yourself said no one ever uses the G to I section." Lisa backed away from Ianto and randomly pulled a file out. "I mean. Who would be looking for Happ, 1938 or…or…Harkness—good Lord—1909, even?" Lisa tossed the aged files back in the cabinets and shut the drawer with her hip.

Ianto rolled his eyes. She did have a point. "You never know," he was still protesting, half heartedly. "Someone could be…" Lisa lowered her eyes and gave him a kiss on the lips. "…searching for…" Another one, this time on his throat. "…ah…Victorian…" One over his ear. "…phasmagoria…" he finished weakly.

The giggle blowing in his ear told him he hadn’t won the argument this time.

"Phasmagoria? Good God, you have been down here too long. We should move you up to Development and Research."

"I like the archives," Ianto grumbled, tired of the old argument. "I have no interest in dissection or experimentations." Ianto finished buttoning up his waistcoat. "The Director is always fiddling with something. And now Frederick said he heard her talking about that dimensional ghost shift—"

Lisa sighed. She drew her arms up around his neck. "It's not all dissection and mad scientists. And Frederick is daft. The Director just wants to reach it first, but it's six hundred feet above sea level. It's all talk. We haven't got the coffers or the energy to do it. And our PM is not going to okay forty percent of London's power grid to us to make it happen. Even if we are Torchwood." She smiled to herself as she adjusted the knot on Ianto's tie.

"It's a good lateral move. I like it, the pay's better than the field agent's and after two years, you’re guaranteed a promotion up."

"I like the archives," Ianto stubbornly repeated. "It's quiet." At Lisa's skeptical look, he amended, "Most of the time."

Lisa shrugged because frankly, it was an argument they had constantly without a winner. They'd had it often enough, it was better to let it fall on a stalemate than to try and to win. Even the makeup sex for this wasn't as appealing anymore.

"I have to go back upstairs," Lisa said with obvious regret. "I might be working late."

"Do you want me to wait?" Ianto craned his neck and did a tweak to his tie on the shiny surface of one of the newer cabinets.

"No. Lord knows how long Dr. Singh may be. Pick me up some Chinese?"

Ianto made a long suffering sigh. "If I must."

Lisa threaded her fingers with his. She smiled.

"I like your tie," she offered with a wink and a smile.

Ianto retorted. "You should. You bought it."

"Mm, I have such lovely taste." Then, with a kiss on his nose, Lisa slipped back on her lab coat and hurried for the elevator she could hear dinging at the end of the hallway. She waved a hasty goodbye over her shoulder as she trotted around the corner, squeaking for someone to hold the doors.

Ianto leaned against the desk overlooking the old cabinets. He looked at the piles of yellowing folders with a rueful grin. He never had any aspirations to be anything else and unlike others he knew, the excitement of a field agent didn't appeal to him like it did Lisa. It was only practicality—their loft rent had shot up the last few months—that had made her settle to the higher paying job as an assistant to Dr. Singh, the proverbial mad scientist in Ianto's opinion. Lisa thought he was brilliant.

Happ's file and Harkness' were placed in reverse. Ianto grumbled goodnaturedly to himself as he pulled the files again and—Oops.

"Damn," Ianto groaned as sepia toned photos fluttered out with the pins that attached them. He gathered them up, glancing at them as he went, relying on the pencil scrawls on the borders to tell him where they went.

Ianto paused at one that had only a tall figure in uniform, standing with just his cap tucked under his arm, standing remarkably loose limbed and casual despite the stock military pose. His smile, while wide, was secretive, as if the smirk on his face was not for the photographer but for whoever he held regard in his pale eyes. Looking carefully, Ianto realized he wasn't looking directly at the camera, but at a spot off the photographer's shoulder.

He looked…lost.

Ianto shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself. Romantic fancies down in the bowels of Canary Wharf were not good. Perhaps Lisa was right. He'd been in the Archives long enough. He took another look at the photo. Seemed good looking enough. For a man, that is. Lisa and her friends would probably find him "hot".

The date said "1909" so—Ianto checked the border—this Captain Jack Harkness would now be over 130 years old, if he was still alive. Hot, indeed.

Ianto chuckled, flipped a mock salute off to the photo and snapped to attention with a click of his heels.

"Captain," Ianto murmured with an amused twist of his mouth.

Before he could pin the photo back in the report, a low siren rang out

Ianto frowned, looking up at the ceiling where the alarms spun red, then blue, then red. Temporal alarm. Huh. It never rang before. Was it a drill?

Ianto's mobile bleeped a few times before it registered. He dug it out of his pocket, eyes still on the siren with a frown.

Lisa didn't even wait for him to answer.

"—Get to the tenth floor!"

Frowning, Ianto walked slowly towards the elevators. "What is it? The alarms are wailing down here. What's happening?"

"Just come to the tenth floor." Lisa sounded flustered and hung up before he could ask her another question.

"Well," Ianto sighed, pocketing his mobile. "I guess I'm going to the tenth floor."



The doors opened to bedlam in the cargo bay. Their security was in full garb running in orderly chaos, marching past Ianto in thundering droves. Director Hartman, prim in her tailored suit, looked calm as she gave orders but there was a tremor of excitement in her voice. There were clusters of people, all in lab coats, as they pointed something in the middle of the cargo hold.

"What's going on?" Ianto pulled Lisa aside. She didn't look scared but she clutched Ianto's sleeve with fervor. Assault weapons were leveled, personnel ordered to push back, and in the center of it all…

Stood a blue police box.


Chapter 7

Additional Notes: Many thanks to snakeling for betaing this chapter long ago. Yes, I finally finished and can start reposting! Huzzah! LOL.