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Light streamed into his cell, and Jack blinked against it. Light sensitivity — his eyes ached, and his head felt as though it’d been filled with cotton fluff.
He let out a groan, but the sound never reached his ears. Instead, he was greeted by fire in his throat, burning, burning his vocal cords raw, flowing steadily from a spot right over his Adam’s apple. The skin of his throat was tight, swollen, a totally different kind of pain.
Oh, something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong, and he wracked his brain trying to remember what had happened last night. The fact that he couldn’t remember…was not a good sign. At all. He pushed down the growing feeling of terror in his chest.
Okay. His training. This happened all the time to Time Agents. They had a protocol…what was the damn protocol?
He took a deep breath of the musty air, trying to access the memories. They were blurry, but they were there, and his instructor’s genderless voice settled in the back of his mind.
Scan the room.
Featureless. Small window. Chains holding him immobile to the ragged, rough cot. Nothing else, not even a sink or a bucket — was he just supposed to piss himself? Probably not intended for long term imprisonment, then…that was not comforting. But still, he must’ve been here for several hours, if not days. The soreness in his eyes and the ache in his joints were not the main priority by a long shot, but they were clues.
Seek out escape routes.
The window was very high up on the wall, so that was out unless he could find a way to reach it. There was a door. Wasn’t much good right now, what with him tied up, but they’d have to untie him eventually.
Assess for other captured individuals.
He was alone.
”Doctor? Rose?” He tried to call out, trying to force his way past the pain, but it wasn’t a case of ‘painful to speak’. He physically could not do it. Screaming, voluntarily or involuntarily, didn’t help either. In fact, it only made the acid eating away at his throat worse, and he yanked against his bonds. The metal was tight against his wrists, but that sensation was also a distant number on his list of priorities right now.
He had to get out. He had to find them…
So much for staying impartial in his escape plan. He could hear the chastisement from his instructor.
He could also hear another familiar voice.
“Jack?”
He could have wept with relief when Rose entered his field of vision. She looked like she’d been through a war, her clothes torn and dirt and cuts and bruises marring her beautiful face, but she was alive.
“Oh, my God. Jack, what did they do to you?”
And then, finally, it all came flooding back. The Varrorians. He’d spoken out of turn.
The glint of steel, piercing his throat, the serum injected into his vocal cords. Deep laughter when he’d cried out in pain, the endless cycle of burning and screaming and burning…
Rose ran her thumb over the side of his neck, avoiding the spot he was pretty sure was infected, or about to be. Her hands were gentle, but when he looked up, there were tears in her eyes and a very recognizable expression of self-blame on her face.
It hurt even worse than his wounds to not be able to comfort her properly.
“‘It’s okay,” he mouthed, as best he could without setting off the reaction. “Not your fault.”
She seemed to snap out of it and reached for his wrists, pulling at the chains uselessly for a second before reaching into her pocket. The sonic made the metal vibrate briefly before they fell away, and he could finally rub the circulation back into his wrists.
“Doctor?” He enunciated as best he could.
“He’s trying to get you out the diplomatic way first, I think.” She grinned, tongue between her teeth, and slipped the tool back into her pocket. “We figured, since it wasn’t working so well…they were distracted, and he definitely knows their laws better than me.”
Oh, he loved them both so much.
He put a thumb to her cheek, softly rubbing one of the bruises.
“Guard,” Rose said by way of explanation. She helped him sit up, and then frowned at his shaking limbs. “Can you walk?”
That was a very good question. He had to, if they wanted to get out of here — Rose was many things, most of them absolutely wonderful, but she was not much of a weightlifter. He gave her a brief nod, the motion sending a sharp stab through his neck, and stood up slowly. His muscles and joints screamed in unison, but held him upright. Rose wrapped her arm around the center of his back.
“Okay. We’ll take it nice and slow, okay? The guard’s gone.”
Jack wondered exactly what had happened to her, and why the guard wasn’t there, but that was definitely a question for later. Right now, their focus had to be on getting out. If he remembered correctly, this place was a bit of a concrete labyrinth…
”There!” Rose said, pointing at the door down the corridor. Huh. Maybe not, then. Lucky, too — the way his mind was descending back into the fog from earlier, he wasn’t too sure if he’d make it much further.
They made their way towards it. Each step they took, the pain seemed to double. His muscles seemed to slump further and further towards the floor, and he had to mentally beg them to hold on just a little longer.
Rose was saying the same thing to him more generally, except in a much more gentle tone.
Unconsciousness would have to wait.
And then they were outside, bathed in the triple sunlight, hiding behind something that looked like a tree but wasn’t a tree. Even though something faint inside his mind told him it was a bad idea, Jack took that as his cue to let his muscles go limp. He slumped against the not-tree, solid against his back.
And then Rose was there, her cool hand ghosting over his forehead and brushing sweaty hair back from his eyes. He was hot. So hot, and cold, and everything hurt, and his voice was gone, and he was so tired. He didn’t even want to think about if this would be permanent or not.
“Jack,” she said, wrapping her other hand around his. “It’s okay.”
They sat like that for what could’ve been minutes, hours, days. His heart was pounding in his chest, the anxiety replacing the adrenaline that had gotten them out the door.
Finally, finally, he heard the voice they were waiting for.
“Not the best hiding place, you two,” the Doctor said, coming to crouch next to them. His attention was immediately on Jack, though, and his hands were just as gentle as Rose’s on his neck.
”Oi!” Rose said, and bopped him on the arm. “Where the hell have you been?”
”Took me a while to explain to them why you’d left, but that’s not important. C’mon.” Things shifted dizzyingly, and Jack found himself weightless, his head gently settled against a shoulder clad in black leather. The Doctor was carrying him. Like a child. Instinctively, he opened his mouth to protest, but stopped himself short before the pain could set in again.
“Good catch,” it was very strange hearing his voice from this angle. “Didn’t think I was going to make you walk half a kilometer back to the TARDIS with talaxofen poisoning, did you?”
So that’s what it was. Jack had heard about it briefly in his training. His instructor made a reappearance in the back of his head.
There is no antidote for talaxofen.
He could have thrown up right then and there.
Rose piped up from next to them. “It has a proper name, then?”
“Yep. Nasty stuff, standard part of the Varrodian carceral system. Paralyzes the vocal cords and causes severe swelling, which is why—“ Rose finished the sentence, and glanced at him sympathetically. “He can’t speak.”
Jack wished they’d stop reminding him.
A gentle hand rubbed his back, and, against his better judgment, he leaned into it. God, if the Doctor was resorting to physical affection…
”It’s all right, lad. We’ll get you sorted out as soon as we get back.”
He couldn’t do anything against talaxofen, Time Lord or no Time Lord. He was going to be voiceless, powerless, forever…why didn’t he just stay silent in the first place?
He shook his head, eliciting another stab of pain.
“Course I will. There’s a vial of antidote in the medbay with your name on it. No charge.”
Rose must’ve seen the look on Jack’s face, because she took his hand again.
The Doctor might not have been able to see his face from this angle, but she could. “There’s no antidote,” he mouthed to her, pointing at the wound and immediately cringing. His vision was starting to fade into a spinning blackness again, and the pain the movement produced wasn’t helping.
“There’s no antidote?” she repeated back. “Doctor, you just said there was.”
He couldn’t follow anything else either of them said after that. He was so tired. Maybe if he just closed his eyes…
—-
He stirred again when he was put down onto something soft. His throat was still burning, but there was a familiar humming in his head. He relaxed, marginally. The TARDIS. They’d made it. And he still had a warm hand in his own — Rose hadn’t let go. He squeezed it, and tried to blink his eyes open.
“Jack?” She sounded tentative. “If you can hear me, we just made it back.”
He succeeded in opening his eyes, and was greeted by more bright lights. What was it with the lights today? At least this time, he knew where he was — on a gurney in the medbay. That’s why it was so bright. He was safe, as safe as he could possibly be, anyway.
Rose came into focus next to him, and her face relaxed into a smile when she met his eyes.
”Just another second,” she said, and jerked her head towards the counter. “Himself is still looking for something.”
”Oi!” The Doctor called from somewhere outside his field of vision. “Not exactly the common cold, is it?”
And then he was there on his other side with a hypo. “I don’t know who told you there was no antidote. Must’ve been the fever. That, or that Time Agency of yours is hopelessly behind on biomedicine.” He pressed the hypo to the uninjured side of his throat. “It’ll take a few minutes to kick in, and then your voice’ll be rough for a couple days. But you’ll be back to chattin’ everybody up soon enough.”
Jack rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at the way he phrased it, and Rose let out a giggle. God, it was good to see her laugh, even if the motion jarred his muscles.
Despite the verbal jab, the Doctor’s hands were still gentle, pressing another hypo to his throat.
“Painkiller,” he explained, and yes, the ache in his throat was ebbing away. When Jack looked up at him, there was relief in his eyes, too, and something twisted inside him. Both of them had been worried about him, worked to get him out, even though it had been his own stupid decision…
“None of that,” the Doctor said, firmly, and Jack wondered how he knew. “It wasn’t the smartest idea, flirtin’ with the Varrodian high prince, but it’s over and done with.” He had a jar of something in his hand. “Let’s see that injection site.”
He silently thanked him for giving him some warning before he started putting the regenerative gel on the wound, because, despite the painkiller, he felt himself twitch involuntarily at having someone near his throat. Rose squeezed his hand again.
“We’ve got you,” she said, simply, gently, and she got a silent thank-you, too, before the drugs finally kicked in.
—
When he drifted back up from the hazy mixture of analgesics and adrenaline crash again, the lights were much lower. There was a soft blanket covering him, his coat was settled neatly on the table next to him, and his throat only stung a little bit.
Rose was asleep next to him, looking like she’d had a shower and a session with a dermal regenerator. The Doctor was sitting on the other side of the bed. Jack couldn’t quite make out what he was doing, but it seemed to involve fiddling with the sonic.
On instinct, Jack contemplated faking sleep, but he decided he’d have to test his voice one way or another.
“What’cha doing?” he tried, and grinned when the words came out. His voice was thin, rough, but it was audible and nearly painless.
The Doctor didn’t seem fazed. “Recalibrating. A couple of the settings were off.” He looked at him appraisingly. “How do you feel?”
“I can talk, if that answers your question.” Well, he could, but he could tell it wasn’t going to last. The stinging had increased since he started talking again.
“Suppose in this situation, it does, yeah. Just don’t overdo it yet.” He passed him a mug from the table. “Should help with some of the leftover dysfunction.”
The tea was warm and sweet, and did soothe the pain in his throat. He swallowed the sip before asking. “Are you and Rose all right?”
“I said, don’t overdo it.” The Doctor looked at him and sighed, then softened his voice. “Rose got a bit roughed up, but nothing I couldn’t fix. They didn’t touch me. Like I said, it’s over and we’re safe.”
He sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything else. Neither of them must have been feeling safe, not yet, and Jack had an idea. He drank the rest of the tea, put it down on the table, and shifted over on his other side, in between him and Rose.
“Doc…come here.”
“Will you stop talking before you tear your larynx?” He didn’t sound angry, just concerned. Jack just shifted over again, staring at him and wondering vaguely if he was serious.
“Humans…tactile apes,” he heard the Doctor mutter without any malice whatsoever. The jacket and boots came off, and he climbed into the spot Jack had made for him. Rose grumbled a little in her sleep and curled into him.
“Just me,” he said, much more gentle now, and settled her against him. “Jack wanted me with you too.”
Jack couldn’t help it. “Blame me.”
“Shh.” His other hand pulled him in closer, and Jack rested his head on his shoulder again. “Go back to sleep, now.”
They were finally safe.