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fangrrl_squeesTitle: Emotional Politics Makes For Strange Bedfellows
Summary: Despite being in captivity, Jack does his best to make new friends while aboard the Valiant. Unfortunately, Lucy Saxon has a strange idea of what constitutes 'friendship'.
Pairing: none (genfic)
Featured characters: Lucy Saxon, Jack Harkness
Rating: 15, for violence and language.
Spoilers: Sound of Drums/Last Time Lord, but only if you squint and have been living under a rock, DW-wise.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the BBC, not me. This is all homage.
Additional warning: Unbeta'd. Spellchecked, yes, but not beta'd as this is another one of those 'Desperately written to get it out of my head' fics. Another in this month's (apparent) theme of being generally nasty to Jack Harkness.
***
Now...
Jack returned to life with his usual abruptness. Only the memory of bullets tearing through him remained - that and a overwhelming anger.
You idiot, Jack, he thought. You weren't the only surrogate in that relationship...
***
Then...
"Look at him, love." Saxon gestured grandly, moving closer to Jack and dragging Lucy behind him. "Not so frightening, is he? A freak, but a harmless one - makes me wonder why the Doctor was so quick to leave you behind. You're unpleasant, yes, but..." he grinned. "Potentially so very useful, too."
Jack hadn't liked the sound of that.
With a flourish, Saxon produced a long, thin-bladed knife from inside his suit. For a moment, he admired how the light played along it, and then sinuously stepped around and behind Lucy, dropping the knife into her right hand and wrapping his left arm around her waist.
Lucy regarded the knife, uncertainly, and it seemed to Jack that she wriggled for just a moment against her husband's grasp.
"Don't be a silly goose." he chided softly, wrapping his right hand over his, ensuring that her hold on the knife remained firm. "It's really very simple." He insisted.
Lucy's mouth trembled for a moment, until Saxon whispered something in her ear. Jack couldn't hear it over the engine noise but, whatever it was, it strengthened her resolve.
"Right there." Saxon murmured, guiding her close. "Just like I said."
Jack tried to back away, but the chains only allowed him so much movement. The tip of the knife caught on his shirt, between the third and fourth ribs.
"Come on," Jack protested. "I like this shirt. It's the only one I have."
"Harry can get you another," Lucy decided. "He gives me all sorts of clothes."
Irritation flashed in Saxon's eyes for a moment, but his voice belied it. "That's because I like it when you look pretty for me, my love. I'm afraid that handsome Jack, here, will have to take his chances. Now, no more delays."
Jack felt the knife push against his skin for just a moment, then hesitate.
"Why are you doing this?" He addressed the question to Lucy.
"Harry says it's easy to kill," Lucy replied, brightly. "He snaps his fingers and thousands die."
"I want her to share my interests, freak." Saxon snapped. "Now, Lucy. Do it now." The Master's voice suggested all sorts of consequences for disobedience.
Eyes wide, as if shocked at her audacity, Lucy shoved the knife deep into Jack's body, and right into his heart. Before the blackness overcame him - mercifully swiftly - he heard Lucy's voice. She sounded disappointed.
"See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
"Oh." Lucy sounded disappointed. "There's not much blood..."
---
Jack blinked and rolled his head about on his shoulders, making sure they myriad pieces were back where they belonged. Besides, it was just about the only form of movement available to him, chained as he was, so he figured he might as well make use of it.
"Are you afraid that you might not come back... properly?" Lucy Saxon looked like a child asking where the family goldfish had gone.
"There's a first time for everything." Jack tried to sound casual. Why give someone the satisfaction of knowing that they were getting to you? "Although I wouldn't mind there being a last." Jack admitted. Lucy had lately acquired a deep curiosity about casual murder, and Jack was the ideal educational aide, she had decided. "I don't suppose I could convince you to take up knitting?"
"Harry wanted me to share his interests," Lucy sighed, looking a little nonplussed.
"But he's not here, now." Which Jack supposed he should consider a sort of mercy. God only knew what Saxon might encourage his wife to do.
Lucy stared at Jack, her eyes wide and solemn. "I don't think he likes you very much."
Big surprise. "That's okay. I like me enough for both of us." Jack took a deep breath and added with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "I like you, too."
Lucy looked shocked and then laughed. "Really?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Even after... this?" She waved the length of electrical cord recently employed as a garrote.
"Yeah, even after that. I get better, eventually. But I don't get much company, and you're the only person who talks to me," Jack admitted.
"What about... that girl? The one who feeds you?"
"Tish? She's too scared of your husband to say anything."
Lucy frowned, suddenly withdrawing into herself.
"But you're braver than she is." Jack insisted, then added with a smile. "Prettier, too."
She cheered visibly at that. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"
"Totally."
Lucy grew suspicious. "Why are you being nice to me? You shouldn't be nice. I'm horrible to you. I'm a horrible person." Her voice wavered, uncertain. "Horrible and ugly and stupid."
"That's not true. I've been all over time and space, had all sorts of things happen to me - get done to me," he couldn't help a slightly bragging tone, "And believe me, they were done by much uglier, much stupider beings. And horrible? Don't get me started."
Lucy almost smiled at that, but it didn't last. "I should go. Harry... wouldn't like it."
"Don't. Please." As soon as he said, Jack realized it was a mistake. The vestiges of sanity - and pity - drained away from Lucy's face. She stared at Jack for almost a minute, pulling at the length of cord still in her hands, violently twisting it. Without another word, she turned and ran.
---
"That's a new dress." Jack told Lucy, three days later. It was a long summer dress, a bright print of red and blue, with a halter neck and gathered skirt. "Very pretty, although I don't think it matches the decor." Jack glanced at the steam pipes and bare metal that surrounded them.
"Harry likes buying me clothes." Her voice was brittle, like her smile. "He's always giving me things."
"Like that?" Jack looked at Lucy's upper arm, at the bruises describing the shape of a hand that had grabbed too tightly. He frowned at the sight of it.
She noticed Jack's gaze, and her cheerful facade wavered, giving Jack a glimpse of misery and fear before she visibly pulled herself together.
"For better and for worse, Jack." she stated, before picking up a nearby wrench and bashing his skull in.
---
Dying of thirst was one of Jack's least favorite ways to die, but as he had been left alone - completely alone - for over two weeks, he didn't have much choice. No guards, no Tish, not even Lucy.
Jack contemplated the ceiling - it was more interesting than the floor - for the umpteenth time and wished he could slash an artery with his teeth. Anything to avoid feeling his blood gelatinizing in his veins again.
A door clanged open, taking Jack's attention from the ceiling. Lucy Saxon strolled in, carrying a small hamper. Without a word, she sat down on the floor - just beyond Jack's reach, assuming he had the strength to kick anything over - and set out a red-check tablecloth, a sealed Tupperware-type container, a loaf of French bread and several large bottles of water.
Jack tried not to stare at this strange picnic, and failed.
Lucy uncapped a bottle of water, and pulled some roast chicken out of the Tupperware tub, placing it carefully on a paper plate. She sliced some bread and, returning to the hamper, found a jar of mayonnaise and a plastic knife. Being careful to avoid getting grease on her fingers, she made a simple sandwich.
"Hungry?"
Jack nodded, but his eyes were riveted on the water bottles.
"Oh!" She put the sandwich aside and picked up a bottle.
At first, Jack feared that Lucy was just expanding her repertoire into full-blown torture but, to his surprise, she let him drain the bottle dry, and half of another, before feeding him half a sandwich. She continued like this until the provisions were gone, not saying a word.
Jack sighed, feeling some energy return. He didn't know why, frozen in time as he was, he still needed to eat and drink but that was time for you. Linear but illogical.
"Thank you." He said, warily.
Lucy packed up the remains of the meal, carefully fastidious. "I missed you." she whispered, more at the hamper than to Jack.
Jack shook his head, not sure that he'd just heard her correctly. "What?"
She smothered her admission with anger. "I was bored of seeing you starve." she snapped. "It was boring."
Jack didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry?"
Her mood changed with frightening speed. She accepted the apology with bonhomie. "That's alright, Jack. No-one's perfect."
"In better circumstances," Jack shrugged as best he could. When in doubt, flirt. "I'm pretty good."
A gleam of conspirital delight appeared in Lucy's eyes. "I've heard the rumors. Handsome Jack," she said it in a remarkably accurate impersonation of Saxon's cadence. "He always says it like that. When he's not calling you a freak, that is."
"There's no arguing with the truth." Jack admitted. "It could have been worse. Imagine being an ugly freak. I'd have to make my living at a carnival - wait, I did for a while, scratch that."
"And now you're being silly." Lucy chided, apparently enjoying Jack's babble.
"It's something to do." Jack decided to take a risk. "But if you're in a good mood?" he summoned up his most potent puppy-eyed expression, which had been known to have a significant area of effect under the right circumstances.
Lucy might have known better, but she wasn't immune to Harkness trying to be his best. "What?"
"Come here." Jack didn't quite flutter his eyelashes, but it was a near thing.
Lucy took a step towards him, then hesitated. "I'm not going to unchain you." she warned him.
"I'm not asking you for that." Jack spoke quietly, forcing Lucy to come closer, just to hear him. "Just come here and I'll tell you. Please?" he wheedled.
That did the trick. How often did Lucy have someone beg her for something? She moved towards him, close enough for him to whisper in her ear.
Instead of speaking, he kissed Lucy's neck - just once, very gently.
She jumped as if she'd received an electric shock. She stared at him, consternation and suspicion fighting for dominance in her expression.
"Please don't get mad." the words tumbled quickly out of Jack's mouth. "You've been nice to me and so I wanted to be nice to you. My options are kinda limited, so..."
Lucy's eyes narrowed. She slapped Jack - not very hard, but hard enough to sting. "Still think I'm nice?" She demanded, looking uncertain.
Jack's mind raced. "Yes."
"I... I hurt you and you think I'm nice?" her voice rose, incredulous.
"Yes!" Jack insisted. "Even when you're hurting me, you show some mercy. It's quick and clean. I told you before, I know a lot of nasty ways to die. You haven't come close." Please don't ask me to describe any of them, Jack thought, fervently. "And then that," he indicated the picnic hamper with a nod. "You might show it a little differently but, yes, I like you. Besides," he added, lamely. "You're the only company I have."
"Any attention is better than none?" It wasn't a sneer - just a question.
Jack looked ashamed. "I suppose so," he muttered.
Lucy raised her hand again, and Jack flinched. She looked satisfied, and, instead, stroked his face with a gentle touch. "So that's what it feels like." She mused.
Several seconds ticked by as Lucy - Jack hesitated to consider the expression on her face as thoughtful, as her gaze seemed focused on the middle distance, but he supposed she must have been lost in thought.
Abruptly, some sort of conclusion was reached. "Alright, Jack." She announced. "I'll let you be nice to me, as long as I can be nice to you."
Jack tried not to worry too much about that gleam in Lucy's eye...
---
For the next several weeks, Jack took his cues from stories of undeservedly loyal dogs - the ones that always went back to their owner, no matter how terribly they were treated. Every one of Lucy's new dresses, each shiny new piece of jewelry earned some compliment from Jack - along with a significant glance at whatever bruises had prompted the present. Sometimes Lucy would let Jack 'kiss things better', without ever quite commenting (or perhaps even noticing) that Jack literally made things better. Not all of the bruises vanished, not so much that her husband might suspect anything, but enough so that she kept coming back.
Sometimes she would just leave, sometimes she'd kill him - some sort of twisted tit-for-tat, although Jack suspected it was part of her defense mechanism, a way to avoid feeling too close to him, not matter what happened. Jack tried hard to maintain a certain equanimity, but it was difficult. But he took heart from the fact that the progress seemed generally upward - aside from the occasional death.
Jack gasped after catapulting back to consciousness from an encounter with the mains. Electrocution had become a favorite of Lucy's lately. She liked watching the anxiety on Jack's face as she approached his shackles with an exposed wire in hand. For his part, he'd long since gotten tired of the smell of burning skin.
Reaching desperately for some conversational gambit to stave off another bout, he said: "Your husband hasn't been around to gloat, lately. Busy, is he?"
Immediately, Jack berated his mouth for getting ahead of his brain as Lucy's unfocused amusement solidified into distinct dislike.
"I don't know. Ask Marie, or maybe Theresa. Or there's Emily." She snapped, throwing the wire aside - much to Jack's relief. Her decision to punctuate each name with a solid blow to his stomach was a veritable benediction, in comparison "Or Barbara, or Angela, or Heather." She scowled with effort. "Or Nicole, or Ginger." This last person seemed to be the object of particular dislike and Jack yelled as Lucy's heel came down on his instep, snapping several small bones. This broke Lucy out of her rhythm and she looked quizzically at him.
Jack knew what to say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he insisted. "He's awful to you. I shouldn't have asked."
"He is awful," Lucy admitted, suddenly on the verge of tears. "And I'm awful." Realization of some new idea crept on to her face. "And so are you, trying to take me away from him. How could you?"
Oh, shit. Jack had hoped this wouldn't happen. "Lucy-"
She hit him again. "Shut up! How could you?" She repeated, hitting Jack over and over again. "How could you?"
Jack shouted at her, trying to penetrate her hysteria. "I love you!"
That stopped her cold, as Jack hoped it would. "What?" she sniffed as she wiped her eyes.
"I love you." He insisted. "And I want to get us out of here. That's why."
She stared at Jack, confused. Finally, she stepped up to him, as if suddenly afraid of being overheard. "Both of us?" she whispered. "How?"
Jack rubbed his cheek against hers. "I have an idea. Listen..."
***
Saxon lounged against a convenient bulkhead, looking for all the world as if he was simply out and about, enjoying an afternoon's stroll.
"Is this the best you could do, Jack? Take the wife hostage and try to bargain your way out of here?"
Jack bit back a curse. "It seems to be working, so far." Indeed, they'd made it past two levels of security, already. Saxon's potential wrath would be bad enough, without bearing the responsibility for killing his wife, as Jack had gambled.
Saxon was apparently unconcerned. "So kill her," he suggested.
"Jack, don't." Lucy's voice trembled.
"I'm not kidding."Jack's grip tightened on the purloined firearm in his hand. "I'll do it." he insisted, trying to overcome the growing seed of doubt planted by Saxon's insouciance. What did Saxon know that he didn't?
Jack heard feet running down the corridor. With a sinking feeling, he watched half a dozen guards come up behind Saxon and flank him, their guns pointing at Jack.
"Did Lucy happen to mention that she told me all, last night?"
Jack stared at the Time Lord, not wanting to believe what he heard. "What the hell?"
"I know my wife very well. I suppose you thought that you were just some sort of punching bag for her, someone she could hit back." He appeared unashamed by the implication. "But you were only half right."
"You were right, darling." Lucy's voice rang with a fervor Jack hadn't heard in months as she addressed her husband. "He is stupid."
"Just like you." Jack muttered.
"Yes, Just like you." Saxon parroted, looking at his wife. "But Lucy has already made her big decision for the day - whether or not to support me. Now it's your turn. Can you come here, Lucy?"
Saxon's wife struggled and squirmed, but couldn't break free of the grip Jack stubbornly maintained. She shook her head.
"There you have it, Jack. I can tell them," he looked at the guards, "To shoot right now. You'll live on, in your freakish way, but she won't. Get yourself a bit of revenge, at least."
"Harry!" Lucy shrieked, astounded. Saxon merely shook his head, waving off her concern.
That did it. With a grimace of disappointment, Jack shoved Lucy towards her husband and dropped his gun. Murder for survival, Jack could understand - but killing for revenge, he couldn't.
"You see, my pet." Saxon wrapped an arm around Lucy, who flinched slightly at his touch. "I told you that he wouldn't be able to do it. He's been around The Doctor too long."
Jack spoke to Lucy, not sure where the words came from. "I treated you better than he does. Even like this. He's willing to kill you, I'm not."
"A touch of Stockholm syndrome, Jack?" Saxon looked at him, curiously. "It doesn't matter." He spoke to the security personnel. "Get him back to his cell, I don't care how."
Lucy flinched at the sound of gunfire. Saxon led her away from Jack's body, which the guards were already dragging down the corridor. "There, there, pet. Everything will be better from now on, I promise. And I think that you deserve a special treat. How do you feel about Ginger snaps..?"
***
Now.
Jack grimaced and wondered by what cosmic device his clothes always regenerated along with his body. It wasn't like he had much modesty to protect...
He sighed. He should have realized that Lucy's betrayal was inevitable. She'd taken on too much of Saxon's role in her abuse of him to let Jack win - even at the cost of her own freedom.
A familiar figure appeared at the hatchway, accompanied by a pair of guards. Tish Jones, clad in a bedraggled maid's uniform, kept her eyes downcast and pretended not to listen as Jack dodged a spoonful of boiled mush and began to speak.
"I just wasted four months trying to fool Lucy." Jack said quietly. "Here's why you shouldn't bother trying to do it, yourself..."
Summary: Despite being in captivity, Jack does his best to make new friends while aboard the Valiant. Unfortunately, Lucy Saxon has a strange idea of what constitutes 'friendship'.
Pairing: none (genfic)
Featured characters: Lucy Saxon, Jack Harkness
Rating: 15, for violence and language.
Spoilers: Sound of Drums/Last Time Lord, but only if you squint and have been living under a rock, DW-wise.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to the BBC, not me. This is all homage.
Additional warning: Unbeta'd. Spellchecked, yes, but not beta'd as this is another one of those 'Desperately written to get it out of my head' fics. Another in this month's (apparent) theme of being generally nasty to Jack Harkness.
***
Now...
Jack returned to life with his usual abruptness. Only the memory of bullets tearing through him remained - that and a overwhelming anger.
You idiot, Jack, he thought. You weren't the only surrogate in that relationship...
***
Then...
"Look at him, love." Saxon gestured grandly, moving closer to Jack and dragging Lucy behind him. "Not so frightening, is he? A freak, but a harmless one - makes me wonder why the Doctor was so quick to leave you behind. You're unpleasant, yes, but..." he grinned. "Potentially so very useful, too."
Jack hadn't liked the sound of that.
With a flourish, Saxon produced a long, thin-bladed knife from inside his suit. For a moment, he admired how the light played along it, and then sinuously stepped around and behind Lucy, dropping the knife into her right hand and wrapping his left arm around her waist.
Lucy regarded the knife, uncertainly, and it seemed to Jack that she wriggled for just a moment against her husband's grasp.
"Don't be a silly goose." he chided softly, wrapping his right hand over his, ensuring that her hold on the knife remained firm. "It's really very simple." He insisted.
Lucy's mouth trembled for a moment, until Saxon whispered something in her ear. Jack couldn't hear it over the engine noise but, whatever it was, it strengthened her resolve.
"Right there." Saxon murmured, guiding her close. "Just like I said."
Jack tried to back away, but the chains only allowed him so much movement. The tip of the knife caught on his shirt, between the third and fourth ribs.
"Come on," Jack protested. "I like this shirt. It's the only one I have."
"Harry can get you another," Lucy decided. "He gives me all sorts of clothes."
Irritation flashed in Saxon's eyes for a moment, but his voice belied it. "That's because I like it when you look pretty for me, my love. I'm afraid that handsome Jack, here, will have to take his chances. Now, no more delays."
Jack felt the knife push against his skin for just a moment, then hesitate.
"Why are you doing this?" He addressed the question to Lucy.
"Harry says it's easy to kill," Lucy replied, brightly. "He snaps his fingers and thousands die."
"I want her to share my interests, freak." Saxon snapped. "Now, Lucy. Do it now." The Master's voice suggested all sorts of consequences for disobedience.
Eyes wide, as if shocked at her audacity, Lucy shoved the knife deep into Jack's body, and right into his heart. Before the blackness overcame him - mercifully swiftly - he heard Lucy's voice. She sounded disappointed.
"See? That wasn't so difficult, was it?"
"Oh." Lucy sounded disappointed. "There's not much blood..."
---
Jack blinked and rolled his head about on his shoulders, making sure they myriad pieces were back where they belonged. Besides, it was just about the only form of movement available to him, chained as he was, so he figured he might as well make use of it.
"Are you afraid that you might not come back... properly?" Lucy Saxon looked like a child asking where the family goldfish had gone.
"There's a first time for everything." Jack tried to sound casual. Why give someone the satisfaction of knowing that they were getting to you? "Although I wouldn't mind there being a last." Jack admitted. Lucy had lately acquired a deep curiosity about casual murder, and Jack was the ideal educational aide, she had decided. "I don't suppose I could convince you to take up knitting?"
"Harry wanted me to share his interests," Lucy sighed, looking a little nonplussed.
"But he's not here, now." Which Jack supposed he should consider a sort of mercy. God only knew what Saxon might encourage his wife to do.
Lucy stared at Jack, her eyes wide and solemn. "I don't think he likes you very much."
Big surprise. "That's okay. I like me enough for both of us." Jack took a deep breath and added with uncharacteristic hesitancy. "I like you, too."
Lucy looked shocked and then laughed. "Really?" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Even after... this?" She waved the length of electrical cord recently employed as a garrote.
"Yeah, even after that. I get better, eventually. But I don't get much company, and you're the only person who talks to me," Jack admitted.
"What about... that girl? The one who feeds you?"
"Tish? She's too scared of your husband to say anything."
Lucy frowned, suddenly withdrawing into herself.
"But you're braver than she is." Jack insisted, then added with a smile. "Prettier, too."
She cheered visibly at that. "Yes, I am, aren't I?"
"Totally."
Lucy grew suspicious. "Why are you being nice to me? You shouldn't be nice. I'm horrible to you. I'm a horrible person." Her voice wavered, uncertain. "Horrible and ugly and stupid."
"That's not true. I've been all over time and space, had all sorts of things happen to me - get done to me," he couldn't help a slightly bragging tone, "And believe me, they were done by much uglier, much stupider beings. And horrible? Don't get me started."
Lucy almost smiled at that, but it didn't last. "I should go. Harry... wouldn't like it."
"Don't. Please." As soon as he said, Jack realized it was a mistake. The vestiges of sanity - and pity - drained away from Lucy's face. She stared at Jack for almost a minute, pulling at the length of cord still in her hands, violently twisting it. Without another word, she turned and ran.
---
"That's a new dress." Jack told Lucy, three days later. It was a long summer dress, a bright print of red and blue, with a halter neck and gathered skirt. "Very pretty, although I don't think it matches the decor." Jack glanced at the steam pipes and bare metal that surrounded them.
"Harry likes buying me clothes." Her voice was brittle, like her smile. "He's always giving me things."
"Like that?" Jack looked at Lucy's upper arm, at the bruises describing the shape of a hand that had grabbed too tightly. He frowned at the sight of it.
She noticed Jack's gaze, and her cheerful facade wavered, giving Jack a glimpse of misery and fear before she visibly pulled herself together.
"For better and for worse, Jack." she stated, before picking up a nearby wrench and bashing his skull in.
---
Dying of thirst was one of Jack's least favorite ways to die, but as he had been left alone - completely alone - for over two weeks, he didn't have much choice. No guards, no Tish, not even Lucy.
Jack contemplated the ceiling - it was more interesting than the floor - for the umpteenth time and wished he could slash an artery with his teeth. Anything to avoid feeling his blood gelatinizing in his veins again.
A door clanged open, taking Jack's attention from the ceiling. Lucy Saxon strolled in, carrying a small hamper. Without a word, she sat down on the floor - just beyond Jack's reach, assuming he had the strength to kick anything over - and set out a red-check tablecloth, a sealed Tupperware-type container, a loaf of French bread and several large bottles of water.
Jack tried not to stare at this strange picnic, and failed.
Lucy uncapped a bottle of water, and pulled some roast chicken out of the Tupperware tub, placing it carefully on a paper plate. She sliced some bread and, returning to the hamper, found a jar of mayonnaise and a plastic knife. Being careful to avoid getting grease on her fingers, she made a simple sandwich.
"Hungry?"
Jack nodded, but his eyes were riveted on the water bottles.
"Oh!" She put the sandwich aside and picked up a bottle.
At first, Jack feared that Lucy was just expanding her repertoire into full-blown torture but, to his surprise, she let him drain the bottle dry, and half of another, before feeding him half a sandwich. She continued like this until the provisions were gone, not saying a word.
Jack sighed, feeling some energy return. He didn't know why, frozen in time as he was, he still needed to eat and drink but that was time for you. Linear but illogical.
"Thank you." He said, warily.
Lucy packed up the remains of the meal, carefully fastidious. "I missed you." she whispered, more at the hamper than to Jack.
Jack shook his head, not sure that he'd just heard her correctly. "What?"
She smothered her admission with anger. "I was bored of seeing you starve." she snapped. "It was boring."
Jack didn't know what to say. "I'm sorry?"
Her mood changed with frightening speed. She accepted the apology with bonhomie. "That's alright, Jack. No-one's perfect."
"In better circumstances," Jack shrugged as best he could. When in doubt, flirt. "I'm pretty good."
A gleam of conspirital delight appeared in Lucy's eyes. "I've heard the rumors. Handsome Jack," she said it in a remarkably accurate impersonation of Saxon's cadence. "He always says it like that. When he's not calling you a freak, that is."
"There's no arguing with the truth." Jack admitted. "It could have been worse. Imagine being an ugly freak. I'd have to make my living at a carnival - wait, I did for a while, scratch that."
"And now you're being silly." Lucy chided, apparently enjoying Jack's babble.
"It's something to do." Jack decided to take a risk. "But if you're in a good mood?" he summoned up his most potent puppy-eyed expression, which had been known to have a significant area of effect under the right circumstances.
Lucy might have known better, but she wasn't immune to Harkness trying to be his best. "What?"
"Come here." Jack didn't quite flutter his eyelashes, but it was a near thing.
Lucy took a step towards him, then hesitated. "I'm not going to unchain you." she warned him.
"I'm not asking you for that." Jack spoke quietly, forcing Lucy to come closer, just to hear him. "Just come here and I'll tell you. Please?" he wheedled.
That did the trick. How often did Lucy have someone beg her for something? She moved towards him, close enough for him to whisper in her ear.
Instead of speaking, he kissed Lucy's neck - just once, very gently.
She jumped as if she'd received an electric shock. She stared at him, consternation and suspicion fighting for dominance in her expression.
"Please don't get mad." the words tumbled quickly out of Jack's mouth. "You've been nice to me and so I wanted to be nice to you. My options are kinda limited, so..."
Lucy's eyes narrowed. She slapped Jack - not very hard, but hard enough to sting. "Still think I'm nice?" She demanded, looking uncertain.
Jack's mind raced. "Yes."
"I... I hurt you and you think I'm nice?" her voice rose, incredulous.
"Yes!" Jack insisted. "Even when you're hurting me, you show some mercy. It's quick and clean. I told you before, I know a lot of nasty ways to die. You haven't come close." Please don't ask me to describe any of them, Jack thought, fervently. "And then that," he indicated the picnic hamper with a nod. "You might show it a little differently but, yes, I like you. Besides," he added, lamely. "You're the only company I have."
"Any attention is better than none?" It wasn't a sneer - just a question.
Jack looked ashamed. "I suppose so," he muttered.
Lucy raised her hand again, and Jack flinched. She looked satisfied, and, instead, stroked his face with a gentle touch. "So that's what it feels like." She mused.
Several seconds ticked by as Lucy - Jack hesitated to consider the expression on her face as thoughtful, as her gaze seemed focused on the middle distance, but he supposed she must have been lost in thought.
Abruptly, some sort of conclusion was reached. "Alright, Jack." She announced. "I'll let you be nice to me, as long as I can be nice to you."
Jack tried not to worry too much about that gleam in Lucy's eye...
---
For the next several weeks, Jack took his cues from stories of undeservedly loyal dogs - the ones that always went back to their owner, no matter how terribly they were treated. Every one of Lucy's new dresses, each shiny new piece of jewelry earned some compliment from Jack - along with a significant glance at whatever bruises had prompted the present. Sometimes Lucy would let Jack 'kiss things better', without ever quite commenting (or perhaps even noticing) that Jack literally made things better. Not all of the bruises vanished, not so much that her husband might suspect anything, but enough so that she kept coming back.
Sometimes she would just leave, sometimes she'd kill him - some sort of twisted tit-for-tat, although Jack suspected it was part of her defense mechanism, a way to avoid feeling too close to him, not matter what happened. Jack tried hard to maintain a certain equanimity, but it was difficult. But he took heart from the fact that the progress seemed generally upward - aside from the occasional death.
Jack gasped after catapulting back to consciousness from an encounter with the mains. Electrocution had become a favorite of Lucy's lately. She liked watching the anxiety on Jack's face as she approached his shackles with an exposed wire in hand. For his part, he'd long since gotten tired of the smell of burning skin.
Reaching desperately for some conversational gambit to stave off another bout, he said: "Your husband hasn't been around to gloat, lately. Busy, is he?"
Immediately, Jack berated his mouth for getting ahead of his brain as Lucy's unfocused amusement solidified into distinct dislike.
"I don't know. Ask Marie, or maybe Theresa. Or there's Emily." She snapped, throwing the wire aside - much to Jack's relief. Her decision to punctuate each name with a solid blow to his stomach was a veritable benediction, in comparison "Or Barbara, or Angela, or Heather." She scowled with effort. "Or Nicole, or Ginger." This last person seemed to be the object of particular dislike and Jack yelled as Lucy's heel came down on his instep, snapping several small bones. This broke Lucy out of her rhythm and she looked quizzically at him.
Jack knew what to say. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he insisted. "He's awful to you. I shouldn't have asked."
"He is awful," Lucy admitted, suddenly on the verge of tears. "And I'm awful." Realization of some new idea crept on to her face. "And so are you, trying to take me away from him. How could you?"
Oh, shit. Jack had hoped this wouldn't happen. "Lucy-"
She hit him again. "Shut up! How could you?" She repeated, hitting Jack over and over again. "How could you?"
Jack shouted at her, trying to penetrate her hysteria. "I love you!"
That stopped her cold, as Jack hoped it would. "What?" she sniffed as she wiped her eyes.
"I love you." He insisted. "And I want to get us out of here. That's why."
She stared at Jack, confused. Finally, she stepped up to him, as if suddenly afraid of being overheard. "Both of us?" she whispered. "How?"
Jack rubbed his cheek against hers. "I have an idea. Listen..."
***
Saxon lounged against a convenient bulkhead, looking for all the world as if he was simply out and about, enjoying an afternoon's stroll.
"Is this the best you could do, Jack? Take the wife hostage and try to bargain your way out of here?"
Jack bit back a curse. "It seems to be working, so far." Indeed, they'd made it past two levels of security, already. Saxon's potential wrath would be bad enough, without bearing the responsibility for killing his wife, as Jack had gambled.
Saxon was apparently unconcerned. "So kill her," he suggested.
"Jack, don't." Lucy's voice trembled.
"I'm not kidding."Jack's grip tightened on the purloined firearm in his hand. "I'll do it." he insisted, trying to overcome the growing seed of doubt planted by Saxon's insouciance. What did Saxon know that he didn't?
Jack heard feet running down the corridor. With a sinking feeling, he watched half a dozen guards come up behind Saxon and flank him, their guns pointing at Jack.
"Did Lucy happen to mention that she told me all, last night?"
Jack stared at the Time Lord, not wanting to believe what he heard. "What the hell?"
"I know my wife very well. I suppose you thought that you were just some sort of punching bag for her, someone she could hit back." He appeared unashamed by the implication. "But you were only half right."
"You were right, darling." Lucy's voice rang with a fervor Jack hadn't heard in months as she addressed her husband. "He is stupid."
"Just like you." Jack muttered.
"Yes, Just like you." Saxon parroted, looking at his wife. "But Lucy has already made her big decision for the day - whether or not to support me. Now it's your turn. Can you come here, Lucy?"
Saxon's wife struggled and squirmed, but couldn't break free of the grip Jack stubbornly maintained. She shook her head.
"There you have it, Jack. I can tell them," he looked at the guards, "To shoot right now. You'll live on, in your freakish way, but she won't. Get yourself a bit of revenge, at least."
"Harry!" Lucy shrieked, astounded. Saxon merely shook his head, waving off her concern.
That did it. With a grimace of disappointment, Jack shoved Lucy towards her husband and dropped his gun. Murder for survival, Jack could understand - but killing for revenge, he couldn't.
"You see, my pet." Saxon wrapped an arm around Lucy, who flinched slightly at his touch. "I told you that he wouldn't be able to do it. He's been around The Doctor too long."
Jack spoke to Lucy, not sure where the words came from. "I treated you better than he does. Even like this. He's willing to kill you, I'm not."
"A touch of Stockholm syndrome, Jack?" Saxon looked at him, curiously. "It doesn't matter." He spoke to the security personnel. "Get him back to his cell, I don't care how."
Lucy flinched at the sound of gunfire. Saxon led her away from Jack's body, which the guards were already dragging down the corridor. "There, there, pet. Everything will be better from now on, I promise. And I think that you deserve a special treat. How do you feel about Ginger snaps..?"
***
Now.
Jack grimaced and wondered by what cosmic device his clothes always regenerated along with his body. It wasn't like he had much modesty to protect...
He sighed. He should have realized that Lucy's betrayal was inevitable. She'd taken on too much of Saxon's role in her abuse of him to let Jack win - even at the cost of her own freedom.
A familiar figure appeared at the hatchway, accompanied by a pair of guards. Tish Jones, clad in a bedraggled maid's uniform, kept her eyes downcast and pretended not to listen as Jack dodged a spoonful of boiled mush and began to speak.
"I just wasted four months trying to fool Lucy." Jack said quietly. "Here's why you shouldn't bother trying to do it, yourself..."
