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Title: Master Plan – Part 2
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
unfeathered
Pairing: The Master/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: D/s themes
Word Count: 1,900
Spoilers: Doctor Who Seasons 2 and 3 and a little bit for Torchwood Season 1
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What did the Master do with Jack after The Sound of Drums?
Beta:becky_h
Previous part
I watch my dear little friends from the end of the universe settle in to killing their ancestors, then decide it's time to get back to the business in hand. The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness.
I'm a bit miffed that the Jones girl has managed to escape, but I wasn't so interested in her. It was fun tormenting her by going after her family, but I still have her family here so I can continue to torment her from a distance anyway.
And when I get bored with that, I can kill her. That'll be fun too.
But for now, I can concentrate on the two boys. I turn abruptly and lock eyes with the Captain. Oh, he's lovely. He stands stiffly, almost at attention, a hint of apprehension in the tightness of his jaw, but his eyes are wholly defiant.
I click my fingers at two of my soldiers (I love doing that! It's so old-time villain!) and jerk my head towards the Captain. They move briskly to either side of him and grip his arms. Jack braces himself, but doesn't fight.
“Take Captain Harkness to his room,” I order, and the soldiers march him away, but not so quickly that I don’t have time to see his reaction to that. Surprise turning to fear. Which is silly, because after all, what did he expect me to do with him? Kill him?
Well yes, of course, and with great pleasure. But after he comes back? I can’t spend my whole time standing over him with a gun ready to kill him again the moment he comes back to life.
Though I certainly plan to spend some of my time doing that.
But when I can’t be with him, or have him with me, he’ll need a room, so I’ve had one prepared. It’s been ready for a couple of months, actually, because there was a tiny chance that the Doctor would use his brains and come back to the Earth a little before he expected me to get here. To give himself a chance to prepare, to work out how to defeat my evil plans. Wouldn’t have done him any good, of course, because I was already here, but it would have been a sensible manoeuvre on his part.
But no, the Doctor’s stopped using his brain. Election Day he expected me, and Election Day he turned up. Well, actually, the day after, but who’s counting?
I give the Captain a while to let him take in his predicament and start wondering just what I’ve got in store for him. In the meantime, I make the Doctor comfortable – get the old geezer a wheelchair, a tent to sleep in, a doggy bowl to eat from – oh, yes, I’ve been making plans for him too. Then, when the Doc’s settled, I saunter down to Jack’s room, whistling happily because this is what I’ve been waiting for. Yes, I've got a few other things going on (world domination, universe domination, you know the sort of thing) but meeting Jack Harkness again face to face is the part I've been looking forward to the most.
I peek through the little peephole in his door (I’m a traditionalist – I like peering through a peephole – it's so much more intimate than a camera and tv screen!) and find myself frowning. Something is not right here. Yes, Captain Jack's in there, looking a little more vulnerable now they've stripped him of his coat. But I anticipated finding him at the borders of despair. He’ll know he can’t expect being my prisoner to be much fun – he'll be expecting pain and suffering and death – and he’ll know that I can do to him what I would do to any other human twenty, fifty, ten thousand times over, because he’ll always come back. The prospect of that ought to be enough to send almost anyone over the edge.
But he’s standing in the middle of the room, hands in pockets, looking preposterously unconcerned, and patient. As if he’s waiting for me.
Well. A bit of a fight for dominance might just make this even more fun. I open the door, put my own hands in my pockets and stroll in. I stop precisely three feet away from him. Because he’s taller than I am; any closer and I'd have to look up at him.
"Captain," I acknowledge him politely.
He draws breath as if about to respond the same way, automatically, because manners are very well-ingrained in Captain Jack Harkness. And if my name had been anything but 'Master', he might have done it. But my name stops him short. Call me by my name, and he'll be acknowledging me as his Master, too.
So he just inclines his head, and waits.
I smile, and take a slow, deliberate look round at his quarters. The room's big, but bare. Padded floor, bars and anchor points on the walls, a door (locked at the moment) leading to a very basic bathroom, a locked walk-in cupboard containing certain useful – equipment. Any larger equipment can be brought in as and when needed: I'm not leaving anything in here the Captain could use to his advantage. There's no bed, because I don't want him too comfortable. And no window, because we're right in the bowels of the ship here. When the lights go off, it's going to be very dark in here.
"I assume the accommodation is to your satisfaction?" I ask mockingly.
"I've known worse," he says, playing along.
Oh yes. This is fun! "I'm sure you have," I croon. "You've lived a very long time, haven't you, Captain?"
Jack's eyes narrow as he realises I've done my homework. "What do you want from me?" he demands, and there's a hint of despair in his voice that shows up a big fat crack in his cool façade.
That makes me happy, so I smile. "What do you think I want from you, Captain?" I ask silkily.
"Honestly? I have no fucking idea."
He's lying. He knows what I want. And somewhere, deep inside, he wants it too. His fatigue is plain now, in his roughened voice, his dull eyes, his drooping stance. It's not going to take much.
"Well," I say conversationally, "that's not going to get us very far. Come on, Captain! You're a hero; you've done this before! What would normally happen to you at this point in the proceedings?"
He shrugs, and says, casually enough but with a raw edge that betrays his fear, "Chains. Torture. Maybe death."
"Exactly," I say softly. "That's what you're expecting, isn't it, Jack?"
He flinches when I say his name, but doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at me, the insolent bugger.
"And oh God it'd be so much fun! Breaking you down, Jack. Breaking you down into little tiny pieces until there's nothing left."
“Oh, come on," he scoffs, hands out of his pockets, gesticulating. "I’ve been immortal for 140 years. Do you honestly think there’s anything you can do to me that I haven’t survived before?”
I smile nastily. “Ah, but that’s my point exactly, Captain. It isn’t about what you can survive, because you’ll survive anything. You don’t have a choice about that. It’s about what you can take. Because I may not be able to do anything new to you, but I can do it so many, many more times. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
His hands clench into fists and open again.
"But it's not what I want, Jack."
He goes motionless. Still not looking at me, but he's certainly paying attention.
I pause a second to enjoy the moment, then say gently, "Let me put it to you thus, Captain. I could – and probably will, because you're bound to defy me at some point – make you suffer indescribably. But I'm offering you an alternative." And at last blue eyes lift to my face as interest flares. I take a breath, then hit him with it. "You bow to me, acknowledge me as your Master, and I'll take care of you, Jack. I'll let you be the follower you prefer to be, rather than the leader you've been forced to be. I'll shield you from the knowledge of the devastation I'm going to wreak upon your planet, the billions of people I'm going to kill. I won't ask you to make any hard decisions. I won't ask that you look after anyone and put right their mistakes. I won't ask you to save anyone. I won't ask any more from you than that you submit to me. Because it's what you want. Isn't it?"
I see a flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. He's struggling with it, but I'm right. It's what he wants.
However, there seems to be something else obstructing Jack's free-fall into submission.
He swallows, and comes out with it. "Please. I gotta know. My team?"
Oh, that's what's getting in the way. He's got such a highly developed sense of responsibility, this boy. I shrug. And because he said 'please' (and wasn't that nice to hear, coming from his lips!), I tell him. "They're in the Himalayas investigating the Abominable Snowman."
That gets me a look of such utter disbelief that I can't stop myself chuckling.
"Captain, with Archangel I can make people believe almost anything! I don't know if they'll find old Yeti, but that's what they're up to."
"And what – " He licks dry lips. "What are you going to do with them?"
"Nothing," I say lightly, and his eyes narrow searchingly as he tries to determine if I'm telling the truth. I decide to clarify. "Assuming they all survived the decimation – " I smile, because my idea of using that term literally still tickles me – "then they're fine. And I shall leave them alone. I don't mean to force you into submitting by threatening your team, Jack. Neither do I want to trick you into it because you're tired and lonely and wanting comfort. I want you to surrender yourself to me of your own free will. It's so much sweeter if you're willing. If you're doing it because it's what you want to do."
"You said you'll torture me if I don't!"
"Oh no, Jack. That's not what I said at all. I said I could torture you. I probably will torture you sometime whether you choose to bow to me or not because, hey – I'm evil! It's just up to you whether you want to fight me while I do it, or simply accept it – and the lack of responsibility that comes with that acceptance."
Jack bites his lip. Almost there.
"You're tired, Captain," I said soothingly. "It's been a long life and you've done brilliantly, but you can let go now. You can give in and stop looking out for the rest of the world. You can rest. You've had the weight of the world on your shoulders for long enough. Let me take that weight. You don't want it. I do. Give it to me."
His eyes have dropped from mine but now they lift again, and I catch my breath at the exhaustion and despair there – and the faint ray of hope.
There's a moment's utter stillness. Then very slowly Captain Jack Harkness, Time Agent and con-man, head of Torchwood, temporal and spatial impossibility, universal constant, sinks to his knees before me and bows his head.
Next part
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Author:
unfeatheredPairing: The Master/Jack
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: D/s themes
Word Count: 1,900
Spoilers: Doctor Who Seasons 2 and 3 and a little bit for Torchwood Season 1
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: What did the Master do with Jack after The Sound of Drums?
Beta:
becky_hPrevious part
I watch my dear little friends from the end of the universe settle in to killing their ancestors, then decide it's time to get back to the business in hand. The Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness.
I'm a bit miffed that the Jones girl has managed to escape, but I wasn't so interested in her. It was fun tormenting her by going after her family, but I still have her family here so I can continue to torment her from a distance anyway.
And when I get bored with that, I can kill her. That'll be fun too.
But for now, I can concentrate on the two boys. I turn abruptly and lock eyes with the Captain. Oh, he's lovely. He stands stiffly, almost at attention, a hint of apprehension in the tightness of his jaw, but his eyes are wholly defiant.
I click my fingers at two of my soldiers (I love doing that! It's so old-time villain!) and jerk my head towards the Captain. They move briskly to either side of him and grip his arms. Jack braces himself, but doesn't fight.
“Take Captain Harkness to his room,” I order, and the soldiers march him away, but not so quickly that I don’t have time to see his reaction to that. Surprise turning to fear. Which is silly, because after all, what did he expect me to do with him? Kill him?
Well yes, of course, and with great pleasure. But after he comes back? I can’t spend my whole time standing over him with a gun ready to kill him again the moment he comes back to life.
Though I certainly plan to spend some of my time doing that.
But when I can’t be with him, or have him with me, he’ll need a room, so I’ve had one prepared. It’s been ready for a couple of months, actually, because there was a tiny chance that the Doctor would use his brains and come back to the Earth a little before he expected me to get here. To give himself a chance to prepare, to work out how to defeat my evil plans. Wouldn’t have done him any good, of course, because I was already here, but it would have been a sensible manoeuvre on his part.
But no, the Doctor’s stopped using his brain. Election Day he expected me, and Election Day he turned up. Well, actually, the day after, but who’s counting?
I give the Captain a while to let him take in his predicament and start wondering just what I’ve got in store for him. In the meantime, I make the Doctor comfortable – get the old geezer a wheelchair, a tent to sleep in, a doggy bowl to eat from – oh, yes, I’ve been making plans for him too. Then, when the Doc’s settled, I saunter down to Jack’s room, whistling happily because this is what I’ve been waiting for. Yes, I've got a few other things going on (world domination, universe domination, you know the sort of thing) but meeting Jack Harkness again face to face is the part I've been looking forward to the most.
I peek through the little peephole in his door (I’m a traditionalist – I like peering through a peephole – it's so much more intimate than a camera and tv screen!) and find myself frowning. Something is not right here. Yes, Captain Jack's in there, looking a little more vulnerable now they've stripped him of his coat. But I anticipated finding him at the borders of despair. He’ll know he can’t expect being my prisoner to be much fun – he'll be expecting pain and suffering and death – and he’ll know that I can do to him what I would do to any other human twenty, fifty, ten thousand times over, because he’ll always come back. The prospect of that ought to be enough to send almost anyone over the edge.
But he’s standing in the middle of the room, hands in pockets, looking preposterously unconcerned, and patient. As if he’s waiting for me.
Well. A bit of a fight for dominance might just make this even more fun. I open the door, put my own hands in my pockets and stroll in. I stop precisely three feet away from him. Because he’s taller than I am; any closer and I'd have to look up at him.
"Captain," I acknowledge him politely.
He draws breath as if about to respond the same way, automatically, because manners are very well-ingrained in Captain Jack Harkness. And if my name had been anything but 'Master', he might have done it. But my name stops him short. Call me by my name, and he'll be acknowledging me as his Master, too.
So he just inclines his head, and waits.
I smile, and take a slow, deliberate look round at his quarters. The room's big, but bare. Padded floor, bars and anchor points on the walls, a door (locked at the moment) leading to a very basic bathroom, a locked walk-in cupboard containing certain useful – equipment. Any larger equipment can be brought in as and when needed: I'm not leaving anything in here the Captain could use to his advantage. There's no bed, because I don't want him too comfortable. And no window, because we're right in the bowels of the ship here. When the lights go off, it's going to be very dark in here.
"I assume the accommodation is to your satisfaction?" I ask mockingly.
"I've known worse," he says, playing along.
Oh yes. This is fun! "I'm sure you have," I croon. "You've lived a very long time, haven't you, Captain?"
Jack's eyes narrow as he realises I've done my homework. "What do you want from me?" he demands, and there's a hint of despair in his voice that shows up a big fat crack in his cool façade.
That makes me happy, so I smile. "What do you think I want from you, Captain?" I ask silkily.
"Honestly? I have no fucking idea."
He's lying. He knows what I want. And somewhere, deep inside, he wants it too. His fatigue is plain now, in his roughened voice, his dull eyes, his drooping stance. It's not going to take much.
"Well," I say conversationally, "that's not going to get us very far. Come on, Captain! You're a hero; you've done this before! What would normally happen to you at this point in the proceedings?"
He shrugs, and says, casually enough but with a raw edge that betrays his fear, "Chains. Torture. Maybe death."
"Exactly," I say softly. "That's what you're expecting, isn't it, Jack?"
He flinches when I say his name, but doesn't answer. Doesn't even look at me, the insolent bugger.
"And oh God it'd be so much fun! Breaking you down, Jack. Breaking you down into little tiny pieces until there's nothing left."
“Oh, come on," he scoffs, hands out of his pockets, gesticulating. "I’ve been immortal for 140 years. Do you honestly think there’s anything you can do to me that I haven’t survived before?”
I smile nastily. “Ah, but that’s my point exactly, Captain. It isn’t about what you can survive, because you’ll survive anything. You don’t have a choice about that. It’s about what you can take. Because I may not be able to do anything new to you, but I can do it so many, many more times. I’ve got all the time in the world.”
His hands clench into fists and open again.
"But it's not what I want, Jack."
He goes motionless. Still not looking at me, but he's certainly paying attention.
I pause a second to enjoy the moment, then say gently, "Let me put it to you thus, Captain. I could – and probably will, because you're bound to defy me at some point – make you suffer indescribably. But I'm offering you an alternative." And at last blue eyes lift to my face as interest flares. I take a breath, then hit him with it. "You bow to me, acknowledge me as your Master, and I'll take care of you, Jack. I'll let you be the follower you prefer to be, rather than the leader you've been forced to be. I'll shield you from the knowledge of the devastation I'm going to wreak upon your planet, the billions of people I'm going to kill. I won't ask you to make any hard decisions. I won't ask that you look after anyone and put right their mistakes. I won't ask you to save anyone. I won't ask any more from you than that you submit to me. Because it's what you want. Isn't it?"
I see a flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes. He's struggling with it, but I'm right. It's what he wants.
However, there seems to be something else obstructing Jack's free-fall into submission.
He swallows, and comes out with it. "Please. I gotta know. My team?"
Oh, that's what's getting in the way. He's got such a highly developed sense of responsibility, this boy. I shrug. And because he said 'please' (and wasn't that nice to hear, coming from his lips!), I tell him. "They're in the Himalayas investigating the Abominable Snowman."
That gets me a look of such utter disbelief that I can't stop myself chuckling.
"Captain, with Archangel I can make people believe almost anything! I don't know if they'll find old Yeti, but that's what they're up to."
"And what – " He licks dry lips. "What are you going to do with them?"
"Nothing," I say lightly, and his eyes narrow searchingly as he tries to determine if I'm telling the truth. I decide to clarify. "Assuming they all survived the decimation – " I smile, because my idea of using that term literally still tickles me – "then they're fine. And I shall leave them alone. I don't mean to force you into submitting by threatening your team, Jack. Neither do I want to trick you into it because you're tired and lonely and wanting comfort. I want you to surrender yourself to me of your own free will. It's so much sweeter if you're willing. If you're doing it because it's what you want to do."
"You said you'll torture me if I don't!"
"Oh no, Jack. That's not what I said at all. I said I could torture you. I probably will torture you sometime whether you choose to bow to me or not because, hey – I'm evil! It's just up to you whether you want to fight me while I do it, or simply accept it – and the lack of responsibility that comes with that acceptance."
Jack bites his lip. Almost there.
"You're tired, Captain," I said soothingly. "It's been a long life and you've done brilliantly, but you can let go now. You can give in and stop looking out for the rest of the world. You can rest. You've had the weight of the world on your shoulders for long enough. Let me take that weight. You don't want it. I do. Give it to me."
His eyes have dropped from mine but now they lift again, and I catch my breath at the exhaustion and despair there – and the faint ray of hope.
There's a moment's utter stillness. Then very slowly Captain Jack Harkness, Time Agent and con-man, head of Torchwood, temporal and spatial impossibility, universal constant, sinks to his knees before me and bows his head.
Next part
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Hmmm. That's what Becky said - or at least, she said Jack gave in a bit quickly - so I added in a bit more and we both agreed that was enough. But I think you're right and it does need a little bit more. Maybe I'll have to try and do a bit from Jack's POV to make it a bit clearer (and to get my own head round it a bit better).
I love the style
Thank you. I always have been a lot better at style/atmosphere than content/story (see above)!
I'm really curious about why you don't like first person? I can understand someone finding it hard to write if, say, they're not very good at sticking to one person's POV. But personally, I find it easier in some types of story because you can be lazy and just say 'he' a lot instead of trying to think up interesting things to call the characters, as it's always clear who 'he' is in first person. I don't have a problem reading it either and I'm really intrigued...? :-)
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And tbh LotTL is a hell of a long way off yet. A whole year off. So the Jack we see there isn't necessarily going to be the Jack we would see at any other point during that year. I feel he went down a long way before he went up again.
But yes. I really do need to write something from his POV and get my head round where he's really coming from.
Which is going to be interesting because I haven't managed to write Jack in the first person yet. Ah well. I love a challenge!
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Yeah, I'll buy that. It'll be really interesting to see what you write from his POV!
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...or just keep going with the Master so we can see what's going on. Um, there's more, right? *hopes*
I find that 1st person is generally the most abused of the points of view. People often use it as an excuse for 'telling not showing' as well as plumbing new depths of emo. For some reason, I also usually find 1st person present very difficult to read (not this time, I should say), just to follow. Not sure why.
I think I was thinking the same as medley, on the "he only 'thinks' he's won" front, but I found the Master's conviction that it was going to work convincing too, so got a bit off-balance.
It's also, of course, a shameless way of demanding more fic, for which I'm not going to apologise *grin*
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Thanks for explaining about 1st person - I'll know what to watch out for!
And yes, "he only 'thinks' he's won" is definitely partly correct. I'd just gotten a bit lost in the Master's POV, I think, and kind of forgotten. But he's definitely not won anywhere near as much as he thinks he has!