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Lost Boys	By : Turkaholic Category: 1 through F > Doctor Who Views: 3820 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who, any of its characters or trademarks. I make no money from the writing of this fanfiction

Chapter List
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- 2
Note:
Does anybody ever have those niggling little ideas? Like worms inside your head; an itch just begging you to scratch it? Well, this is mine, and has been drifting round my eccentric little head for years, nagging me to write it out. The Master was always my favourite Doctor Who character, and I only hope that my writing does him (and, of course the Doctor) some justice.
                My writing, I am well aware, has flaws, and always will do; However, constructive criticism is always welcome. I only ask that you be patient, as one of these flaws is that the first chapter or so always sucks ass.
    This isn't just about sex! Don't get me wrong: there will be a fair few Master/Doctor sexy bits, but this is basically an epic story covering their relationship.
AND FINALLY I would just like to say - without spoilers - that nothing from the Moffat era has any bearing on this story! I am rather angry and saddenned by recent... developments (trying to write this without spoilers is frustrating). For many many reasons, my fandom lies solely within the era of the first 10 Doctors.
                Anyway, if you like it, enjoy and review!

The Lost Boys
Prologue
Captain Jack Harkness sat alone at the bar. He couldn’t remember which bar, or even which planet he was on. Stubble covered his once clean-shaven chin, and he rubbed at it morosely as he listened to the chatter of alien tongues around him. He looked at himself in the mirror: red-eyed, sleep-deprived, but still attractive. Or at least he thought so. Maybe it was the alcohol talking.
                Over his shoulder he stared at the strange creatures huddled in their booths, muttering. Most of them looked familiar: some had faces like Slitheen, others moved like Weevils. Each one brought back a memory, like an electric shock through his stomach. He forced his eyes away, and swallowed his drink like an elixir, feeling the burning numbness filter through him.
                “Hey, big fella!”
                Jack swayed on his stool as he raised his hand in the air to get the barman’s attention. The green, scaled creature turned, seemed to click its mandibles impatiently, and walked over, staring at Jack’s unshaven face.
                Jack grinned. “Ah, the strong and silent type, huh? I can work with that.”
                The stool beside him screeched as somebody sat. He felt a new pair of eyes on him as he clutched at the edge of the counter, trying not to fall off his stool. Watching eyes were nothing new, people either thought he was attractive or insane – or both. In any case, Jack Harkness was in no mood to entertain strangers.
                He slid his empty glass towards the lizard-man. “Fill her up, would ya? I’m feeling a little dry here.”
                The bartender’s pupils narrowed into slits. He clicked his mandibles together, ignoring the empty glass in front of him.
                “Pay.”
                Jack sighed and slid a hand through his unwashed hair. “Put it on my tab.”
                “Tab now closed. Pay.”
                “Ah, I thought we might come to this. Sorry, big guy. Looks like I left my wallet in my other coat.”
                A flash of green. Silence fell on the bar as Jack felt webbed hands clench around his throat. A deafening crash echoed around the room as his stool toppled backwards, and Jack was hoisted into the air. The bartender’s eyes flashed red.
                “I’ll pay.” Said a quiet voice beside him. Eyes both human and alien watched as a hand slid across the bar between them, pushing a hand full of credits towards the barman. Jack’s careless grin slid from his face. Hair stood up on the back of his neck. He recognised that voice.
                The barman chattered, mandibles clicking together thoughtfully. A moment later Jack was on the floor, head spinning more than usual, and the barman had moved away, credits chinking in his hand.
                Shakily, Jack pulled himself back to his feet. He clutched the lip of the bar like a crutch, still frowning. Perhaps he’d begun hallucinating. He’d never actually asked what was in those drinks, maybe that voice – that impossible voice – had been alcohol, and wishful thinking.
                “You keep drinking like that, Jack, you’ll kill yourself.” Came the voice again. Jack stared down at the floor, almost too scared to look up. He smirked ironically. “Yeah, and wouldn’t that be a crying shame.” Jack rubbed at his bruised neck silently for a moment. “I thought you were dying.”
                There was a sigh. “Yeah, well… a lot of that going round. A- are you just going to stand there swaying all night?”
                Jack laughed. “Not exactly my choice. Unfortunate side effect.”
                “It just it’s a bit… well… off-putting.”
                “What, it doesn’t add something to my masculine charm?”
                Jack continued to stare at the spinning tiled floor as he heard the figure stoop to pick up the overturned bar stool. A moment later he was being pushed back into his seat by a pair of sturdy hands. Hands he recognised. Hands that made it real. Finally, Jack had the courage to look up. He gulped.
                “I thought you regenerated.”
                The Doctor stood with a long-fingered hand on Jack’s shoulder, the same hand that had led him and others through the doors of the Tardis so many times. Keen brown eyes met Jack’s soft blue, eyes that had watched planets burn, people live and die. It was the same old Doctor. No new face.
                The Doctor cleared his throat. “No… well, yes. Well, yes and no. Sort of. Long story.”
                “Isn’t it always?”
                The Doctor’s face lightened a little, the ghost of a smile on his lips as he leaned back against the bar. Even then, Jack could sense something like sadness lurking behind. “It’s good to see you.”
                The Tardis stood in an alleyway across from the bar. Not far, but far enough for Jack to stumble and trip several times over nothing but air. Each time the Doctor – his Doctor – had to steady him, chastising him in the same old way. When the Tardis doors swung open to meet them, it felt as though Jack were walking into warm sunlight. The Doctor deposited him on the Tardis floor.
                “Sorry Jack, but you’re far too heavy to carry all the way to the bedrooms.”
                “I’ve slept in worse places in my time. But still… what a disappointment for a guy.”
                The tall, thin Doctor’s lip twitched momentarily into a smile, but even as Jack’s eyes closed the Doctor’s smile fell away, and he realised that he looked almost as tired as Jack did himself.
                ***
                For the first time in months, Jack woke up sober. Every inch of him ached, inside and out. The sound of the Tardis hammered in his ears, making his head feel as though it were ready to explode, and footsteps on clanging metal seemed to thud behind his eyes. He clawed himself up the wall, eyes still tightly shut.
                “Ouch.” He muttered redundantly. The pacing footsteps stopped.
                “Bit of an understatement, I reckon.” Came an amused voice, carrying over the throbbing engines. “You look half dead. Exactly how much did you drink last night?”
                Jack peered an eye open, still clinging to the Tardis wall. The light burned into his eyes like a Sun, but there stood the Doctor, a look of incredulity and amusement mixed in his face. Jack gasped in pain. “Enough. Enough to pick a fight with a lizard man, if I remember right.”
                “Oh, no no no no no that wasn’t a lizard. Hybrid race Sauraphore. Mix between a lizard and an insect, hence the mandibles. Really useful when they’re eating seafood, rips the shells right off… anyway –“
                The Doctor suddenly vaulted the railings around the control console and jumped down to stand next to the reeling jack. The thud made Jack’s teeth clench. “You, Jack Harkness, need to clean yourself up. You stink of… booze and… dirt. The fumes off you are enough to make the Tardis woozy. Don’t want that to happen - again.”
                It hurt to think. Jack’s mind whirled with questions, but he knew the Doctor’s moods too well. There was no way he’d get a straight answer right now.
                “…right.” Jack dared to open his other eye to the burning light, staring into the Doctor’s impossible face. “Washrooms… still opposite the swimming pool?”
                The Doctor simply patted him on the shoulder and winked playfully, then turned back towards the control panel, leaving Jack both amused and annoyed, and stumbling blindly towards the corridor.
                The Doctor listened carefully, pretending to press buttons and watch the screens until he heard Jack’s footsteps echo into the distance. He stopped suddenly, hunching over the console, long pale fingers clutching to the controls tightly as he stared vacantly into thin air. He could hear his hearts pounding furiously in his ears. The time was coming, and Jack was the only one who could possibly understand.

                The Tardis seemed different. Bigger; more vibrant than Jack had ever seen it. Every surface seemed to radiate energy, every light seemed to bathe him in something… else; something more fulfilling. And yet the Tardis was the same. It was Jack that had changed. What had once been an adventure was a need.
The Tardis wasn’t just the Tardis anymore. She was salvation.
                Jack took his time returning to the control room; exploring each side-passage as if it were new, and urging his headache into submission. By the time he arrived back, the engines had stopped.
                “We landed?” He called up. The Doctor looked away from the screen and surveyed him. A benevolent smile spread across his face.
                “Oh, now that’s better.” The smile spread into a manic grin. All Jack could do was grin back. The Doctor’s grins were always infectious. “Clean face… hair back where it should be…” The Doctor gave him a mock salute. “Welcome back, Captain.”
                “Good to be back. Hey, I could say the same to you.” Jack ran up the walkway. “Last time I saw you, it looked like you were saying goodbye.”
                “Well plans change… especially mine. Like I said – long story.”
                Jack shrugged. “Not exactly running out of time.”
                The Doctor’s face changed; only slightly. His grin faded a fraction. Jack took the hint. He turned towards the doors. “So, where have we landed?”
                The Doctor glanced momentarily towards the doors, then back at the screen. “Nowhere. Not yet.”
                “But the engines have stopped.”
                “We’re… currently floating in space.”
                Jack frowned. Something in the Doctor’s voice sounded wrong.
                “…Where in space?”
                There was a pause. The Doctor sniffed, walking around the controls, checking screens.
                “The… Medusa Cascade.”
                The Doctor cleared his throat, trying to look busy. Jack spun around on the spot, his brow furrowed.
                “The Medusa Cascade? But Doctor, that’s –“
                “I know.”
                “But – but why?”
                There was a moment of silence. The only sounds were those of the Tardis: soft sighs in the pipes below their feet; the twitter and click of information appearing and vanishing from screens. The Doctor seemed unable to look Jack in the face.
                “Oh… Jack.” The Doctor sighed, his face falling into a deep frown. “Humans always do ask questions in the wrong order. The question you should have asked is this:” He looked at him over his glasses, staring into the Captain’s eyes with that serious gaze. “Why did I come back for you? No offense, but you’re not one of my first choices as a travelling companion. Donna… Martha… even -”
                Another word hung in the air; unspoken, but in both their minds. Jack felt his stomach drop, but as usual he shrugged it off with a smile. “Ok, I get it. I’m not in your top ten. Then… why did you come back for me?”
                The Doctor hesitated before he answered, apparently looking for the right words. He focused his gaze upon the screens again. “Because… you’re the only one left.” He sighed, sadness filtering through his eyes. “They’ve all moved on, but you? You’re stuck in the past, just like me. Reliving a thousand regrets, unable to move forward. Paralysed by your past.”
                The words winded Jack. His eyes glazed over, and he placed his hands in his pockets uncomfortably, all too aware of the sympathy in the Doctor’s voice.
                “I heard about Ianto Jones. I’m so sorry.”
                “Yeah.” Jack nodded, bowing his head. “Me too.”
                “But that’s why I came back for you. You’re the only one that can possibly understand what I’m about to show you. And – it’s a very long story but - I can’t move on until I’ve shared it.”
                Jack felt a shiver on the back of his neck, though he knew the Doctor well enough not to show it. The Doctor’s words seemed to echo inside the empty walls of the Tardis, as though she too knew that something was wrong; something was missing.
                “Okay, Doctor. You’ve done way more than your fair share for the rest of the universe. Maybe it’s time I returned the favour.”
                The Doctor removed his glasses, placing them gently on the console. He took a deep breath and stood upright.
                “We’re in the centre of the Medusa Cascade because I need its energy to make this work.”
                “Make what work?”
                “Places have memories: that’s why there are ghosts; why your hair stands up on end when you visit somewhere you have strong connections with. It’s the energy contained within your memories synchronising with those contained in the area. Those memories synchronise and react – like atoms fusing together.”
                Jack nodded, his brow furrowed. “So your memories of the Medusa Cascade are reacting with those already here.”
                “Yes. Right now, the air is charged with energy. Memory energy. Useless, and undetectable. Unless you’re a Timelord.”
                Jack’s head was spinning, and not just through his headache. The Doctor wasn’t making sense. But then, he thought, when did he ever?
                “So what does ‘memory energy’ do?”
                The Doctor looked at him, raising his eyebrows incredulously. “What?”
                Jack rolled his eyes. “Memory energy, Doctor. What does it do?”
                “Haven’t you been listening?” He pulled a lever. The Tardis shrieked into life. “It recreates memories.”
                Jack clung on to the handrail as the Tardis rocked, hissing and wailing painfully, every wall and floor groaning with the sheer pressure. Jack felt adrenaline surge through his tired body as he clutched to the metal, trying desperately not to be flung into the air. A reminiscent smile stretched his face. He’d missed this. All of it.
                “Where are we going?”
                “Into my memories.” Shouted the Doctor, concentrating on the control console. He swayed with every lurch unconsciously, like a captain aboard a ship. “Nine-hundred and eighty-four days ago. Exactly.”
                The whisper of a memory swept across Jack’s mind, but before he could place it the Tardis had come to a shuddering halt, leaving him seasick and dizzy.
                As Jack untangled himself from the railings, the Doctor pressed a final control and looked up at the monitor, the light casting shadows on his face. He still seemed tired, Jack thought, but like a hologram the effect could only be seen from certain angles. Trepidation replaced Adrenaline, and that uneasy sense of something not quite right crept back into his stomach.
                “Did we make it? Where are these memories?” The Doctor’s eyes flickered towards the doors. Jack turned. “Well? What are we waiting for?” He took a step towards them.
                “Jack, wait.”
                The Captain obeyed, standing still on the spot. The slow footsteps behind him let him know the Doctor was coming to stand beside him. There was a sigh.
                “What you see through those doors will probably… well – no doubt about it really – it’s going to change forever how you see me.” He swept a hand uncertainly through his hair. “Annnd that’s the problem. I don’t know if you’ll understand everything you see, but you have to promise me before you go anywhere near those doors that you’ll stick it out; and that you’ll try your hardest. Try to understand.”
                Jack turned his head, staring. A deep, complex frown adorned the tall man’s face, his hands clenched at his side.
                “Doctor… you changed my life.” The words stuck in Jack’s throat. He reached out and grabbed the tall man’s hand. It twitched momentarily, but didn’t pull away. “Nothing you can ever say or do will change that.” The Doctor stayed silent. Jack bit his lip. “… You have my word.”
                “Good.” He sniffed, still not making eye contact. “Well then… allons-y.”
                And then the doors opened, and Jack was blinded by light.
                                                                                ***
                The Master stood on the deck of the Valiant, his arms folded, and a look of ill-concealed bliss contorted his face.
                “I’m taking control, Uncle Sam; And I’m starting with you. Kill him.”
                Jack averted his face, but he couldn’t block out the scream – nor the memories of what happened that day. The images flashed in front of his face – blood; gore; pain… it was too much to bear.
                The Doctor stood beside him, still subconsciously clutching his hand, digging his bony fingers into Jack’s flesh. He was watching the scene passively, as though it were a movie playing out before them on a television screen.
                “Doctor! Those people are going to die, can’t we save them?”
                “Sorry Jack.” Muttered the tall man, a lump forming in his throat. “This isn’t real. It’s a visual recreation, forged from my memories using the energy of the Medusa Cascade. These people are already dead.” He glanced at the captain, his eyes glazed with tears. “These are shadows; nothing more.”
                “…And look, it’s the girly and the freak. Although… I’m not sure which one’s which.”
                Hairs crept on the back of Jack’s neck as he watched himself staring at the Master. His breath caught in his throat.
                And then he watched himself die.
                “You know…” He breathed, gritting his teeth, “somehow I always thought I’d look all hot and tragic when I died, but –“ He grimaced as the other Jack collapsed to the floor, a tangle of limbs. Martha screamed. “- really. That does not look dignified.”
                The Doctor declined to answer, his eyes wide. He was watching the scene play out intently, his eyes flickering from one player to another, making connections; recalling regrets that Jack couldn’t see or understand. Or, at least: that Jack didn’t understand yet.
                And so Jack and the Doctor watched. The Doctor watched himself beg at the feet of the Master, his hearts beating frantically in his chest. He heard himself scream as the Master manipulated his genetic code; and he saw his own wrinkled, age-worn body collapse to the floor, and saw himself mutter those fatal words into Martha’s ear. Orbs fell to Earth with their razor-sharp blades. Martha escaped. Jack was taken away, and the Doctor was placed in a chair: the Master’s pet. The Master’s trophy. The memory faded to black.
                Jack blinked. He gasped, his lungs raw and burning. He hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath, and warm hot liquid was trickling down his fingers: his fist had clenched. He’d made himself bleed.
                “Doctor, I don’t understand.” He panted. “We’ve already seen this. I was there!”
                “This was the beginning.” Came the reply, thick with restrained emotion. “You saw the beginning and the end of the story, but you never knew the middle. I always hoped that I could hide it, cast it into a dark corner of my mind like so many other things, but now it turns out I can’t.” The Doctor’s voice fell heavy in the nothingness, bitter and sharp on Jack’s ears like a death knell. “I can’t move on until you know.”
                Jack was still holding the Doctor’s hand, thick with mingled sweat. He squeezed it gently.
                “Then show me.”
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Lost Boys