Entry tags:

fic, jack/master, redux-verse, slash

Title: Decision
Author: becky_h
Character(s): Jack Harkness, Professor Yana, and Jacobi!Master.
Genre: Slash
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers Utopia, The Sound of Drums, Last of the Time Lords.
Warnings: Alternate-Universe.
Word Count: 2,700
Beta: Many, many thanks to jadesfire2808, for not just correcting what needed correcting and making the story better, but for holding my hand and making me smile.
Prompt: set2music Prompt 20: This is the night we capture forever.
Summary: Jack's reached the end of the universe the hard way. Now he's got a decision to make, and it's not an easy one. What he does could change everything - or nothing at all.
Author's Notes: This story can be read as a standalone, but it is the continuation and conclusion to Redux-verse. The link will take you to the first of three previous (short) stories, each part is linked to the next.
Author's Notes II: If anyone would like to write in this universe -- consider it your playground, permission granted, and formal invitations issued.


He's been at the end of the universe for months.

He's dying. Sunrise and sunset aren't much more than periods when black and gray change places. It's cold, all the time. His fingers and knees ache constantly, he's got a few new lines around his eyes, and his hair's got some new threads of silver.

They don't have enough of anything - food, water, supplies or space - and more people are finding their way to the silo every day. Everyone's dirty, everyone's cold, everyone's hungry. Everyone is scared, and they're fighting for their lives.

It's like being at war, only they're not battling enemy troops and they're not looking down the barrel of a gun. They're going head-to-head with time itself, and looking into a void so complete it defies both comprehension and explanation.

It's madness to expect anything - anything at all, even death - but they're all mad. Tired to the point of near delirium, caught up in the fevered pitch of activity and desperation, they're making hope out of need, and hanging it on a couple of old men and gluten.

Jack doesn't know when he got caught up in it. He doesn't know when he started wanting the Professor to succeed. Hell, he doesn't even know when he stopped wanting to kill the man. He just knows that, right now, tonight, in the cold air, with fingers so cold they hurt, the last thing he wants is for Yana to fail, or die.

He wants to know what Utopia is. He wants to know if that signal's coming from the 21st century, and he wants to know what's sending it. He even wants to know if, having left his team to chase his dream and the Doctor, Torchwood's somehow responsible. He wants that rocket to take off before the Doctor can send him, the Professor, and the entire human population - past and present- straight to hell. He wants to know, and he wants to win.

He wants to live.

He wants a cup of coffee. He doesn't even care what kind of coffee; as long as it's hot, he doesn't care if it's made out of dirt and camel spit.

Unfortunately, if he wants it, he's going to have to get it himself- Chantho's already turned in. Jack wonders what the hell happened to the Master's TARDIS. He wonders, too, if Chantho knows. No way in hell for him to ask that question, though.

He goes to the cobbled-together coffee machine, turns it on to heat the water, and finds a cup. He keeps his eyes on the machine while he waits, but he's not seeing it. He's still lost in his thoughts.

The Professor turning into the Master is starting to seem less like a problem and more like a solution to him, though. If he could get the Master out of here before the Doctor shows up....

The Master might be able to get the rocket off the ground and get what's left of humanity out of here. Without the Doctor's TARDIS dropping him in the twenty-first century and trapping him there, no Doctor to drive him even madder, maybe even a time machine that worked - provided the Master knew where he'd hidden his TARDIS, and it worked or was repairable - it might just pan out.

His original intent was to kill the Professor, and the Doctor's starting to look like the bad guy. That he's flipped so completely should scare him more than it does. Divided loyalties and emotional involvement as aside as they can be, he knows he'll do whatever it takes to get this machine off the ground and keep the Professor from getting into the TARDIS.

Questions swirl through his mind. What if he kills the Professor? What if he kills the Doctor? What if he opens the watch? What if he destroys the watch? What if he can find the Master's TARDIS? What if he disables the Doctor's? What if he does nothing?

What if, What if, What if? Uncountable possibilities, each with the potential to destroy or save the world, to create new universes and to forever alter realities. It's a bit like being God. Knowledge really is power and he's finding that while he doesn't relish the idea, there's a certain amount of freedom in knowing that he can't make it worse.

He's got no idea how long he's been standing there, staring vacantly and waiting on water to boil, when he's shaken out of his reverie by a hand on his back.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you that a watched pot never boils?"

Jack looks over to the Professor, and one corner of his mouth twitches up in a lopsided grin. "I was never good at listening to my-" He lifts his eyebrow, when he realizes what he's going to say. "Professors."

"I believe that. I've been calling your name for the past five minutes. I was starting to think you'd fallen asleep standing up, with your eyes open." His voice is warm, but there's a glint of something in his eyes that isn't. Something that would have scared Jack a month ago, but now just makes him wonder.

"Just about," he admits, covering his contemplation with a grin that he hopes is dazzling enough to be distracting. "It's been a long day."

"Has it?" the Professor sounds startled, then looks around. "I suppose it must've been."

Jack laughs, because he has to. Some Time Lord. "Lose track of time again?" he teases. "Your other assistant gave up and went to bed hours ago. Have a little mercy on the one with staying power, would you?"

"Mm." For a moment Yana just looks like he's thinking, very hard. Then he smiles, and that calculating, suspicious glint is gone. "You're not half-bad for an old man. I don't suppose there's enough of that for two, is there?"

"Who are you calling old?" Jack asks, voice pitched deliberately offended.

"You," the Professor says, unapologetically. "Now, are you going to share your coffee or not?"

Jack sighs, heavy and put-upon, and pours a cup for the Professor and hands it over. "You're lucky I like you."

Jack pours his own cup of coffee, hot liquid into a chipped mug and the warming ceramic feels amazing against his hands, but he's pretty sure that the Professor's watching over the rim of his cup.

When he lifts his eyes with his mug, he was right. The Professor's eyes are on his, glinting with wicked humor and intelligence. "Finish your coffee, and I'll show you who's lucky they're liked."

Jack's eyebrows lift. "Really."

He finishes his coffee and sets his mug aside. The Professor laughs, quiet and warm, and seems to be in no hurry to reach the bottom of his mug.

It's worth the wait; the Professor always takes his time finishing, and Jack's not the only old man with staying power.

In the dark and cold, wrapped in wool and sweat and the sleeping Professor, Jack lies awake.

He's not eliminating options, only adding them. He's further from making a decision than he was when he first laid eyes on the wizard at the end of the universe. His only course of action then had been kill him or not, the only emotion involved had been hate.

He doesn't know what he's going to do. He doesn't want to think about it. They're at war, they're facing the end of everything, but he's alive again. He feels more human than he has for millennia. He feels more than he has in millennia, period. He doesn't want to lose that. He doesn't want to lose the Professor.

He doesn't know what he's going to do, but he's absolutely sure of one thing.

The Professor was right. He is damned lucky he's liked.

_________________________________________________

Days - weeks - later, he still hasn't acted, and he's getting damned annoyed at his own indecisiveness. The more he thinks, the more the situation complicates itself, tangles of emotion and justification that turn his mind into a maze he can't find his way out of.

He can convince himself that every option is right, and in the next moment that it's wrong.

It's not until the Doctor arrives, Martha and a younger, stupider version of himself in tow, and time is out that Jack stops thinking and starts doing.

He hides himself in the crowds until they've passed him, and makes his way through to the workroom. He's able to get there, with pushing and shoving and no small amount of snarling to get through the packed throng of humanity, before the Professor can meet the Doctor.

He grabs the Professor and physically yanks him into the small room they've been sharing for the past several months.

The Professor's barely had time to splutter and growl in protest before Jack's hands are sliding over his waistcoat, looking for the watch.

"What are you doing?" he finally manages, all confused indignity and, blatant anger at being manhandled.

"Shut up and trust me," Jack snaps, as quietly as he can. "And keep your voice down."

He pulls the watch out, and presses hard on the fob. When it doesn't open immediately, he snarls, finds the catch and starts to pry at it.

"It doesn't work." The Professor says. He sounds more angry and less human than Jack thinks he's ever heard him.

Jack stops fighting with the watch for just long enough to glance up at the Professor and meet his eyes. There's silence for a moment, as Jack looks into the flare of heat and inhumanity in those eyes, of awareness trying to break free. He wonders if he's doing the right thing. He can't afford not to.

"Be quiet," Jack says, and turns back to the watch.

The Professor intercepts him, tries to take the watch from Jack and says, "Let me do it."

Jack doesn't let go, but Yana's got his hands on it anyway, thumb over Jack's on the button at the top. When he pushes down, with more strength than Jack knew was there, it opens.

For a moment, and just for a moment, Jack's stunned by the blinding flare of light and whisper of voices against his psychic shields. Then he remembers what he's doing, what he has to do, and he shakes himself into action. There's no time for doubt or awe.

The light hasn't even faded before he's got the Professor - the Master - by the shoulders and is asking, urgently, "Where is your TARDIS?"

There's no answer, just the Time Lord who used to be the Professor looking around, stunned stupid and with madness in his eyes. Jack shakes him lightly and repeats himself, more slowly and with more demand in his voice. "Where. Is. Your. TARDIS?"

The Professor - Master - whatever- finally finds his focus. He shakes Jack's hands off his shoulders with a glare, looks and then pivots around, apparently finding his bearings and orienting himself. "Two levels down."

Jack can hear footsteps approaching, and the first low murmur of voices. One of those voices is his own. "Great. Got your key on you?"

The Master - no doubt about that now - rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. "Of course I have my key, what kind of idiot -"

"Stuff it, we don't have time." Jack cuts him off, and walks to the door. He opens it carefully, checks to make sure the way is clear of the Doctor and crew. "Let's go."

He holds his arm out for the Master, who glares for a split second before apparently deciding Jack knows what he's on about and moves past him. He doesn't look to see if Jack is following, and heads straight for the door to the rickety, metal, maintenance stairs.

Jack falls in behind him anyway, and stays close enough that Jack's able to reach over the Professor's shoulder to open the door. He doesn't even wait for the door to be all the way open before he's shoving the Time Lord through and closing it carefully behind them.

There's another glare, and a snarl that Jack can't miss the danger in. Not that he's worried about it now. "Keep moving," he says, his voice soft but still solid. "And keep quiet."

"Are you kidnapping me?" the Master asks, and Jack can't tell if he's offended, amused , pissed off, or possibly all three.

Probably all three, he decides. "It's the end of the universe, and the Doctor's hot on your heels. You want to quibble about the help, you might want to save it for later."

The Master straightens his waistcoat and the cuffs of his shirt, and draws himself up while he considers Jack. Jack stares back, refusing to back down. The Master doesn't say a word before he turns and starts heading down the stairs again.

Either the Master's less insane than Jack remembers, or Jack's closer to mad. The issue doesn't bear closer examination, because there's no way to know for sure, and the answer wouldn't matter, anyway. He follows, careful not to let his footsteps clatter on the way down.

Two flights of stairs and another door, and Jack's still behind the Master, but close enough to do the opening and pushing.

"This way," the Master says, as he heads off down the hall.

"Like I couldn't have figured that out." There's time for sarcasm now, and less need to keep his voice down. The Doctor's two floors up, probably being awed by the gluten wiring.

The Master looks over his shoulder and looks Jack up and down with disdain. "I have horrible taste in men."

"Your taste in clothes is pretty lousy, too. Let's go." They don't have that much time, and he wants out of here. The sooner, the better.

The Master stops in front of a steel support beam and pulls the watch off; the key was apparently part of the pin that held the watch. Just as apparently, since there's a door being opened in that pillar of steel, the Master's chameleon circuit works just fine.

Jack grabs the edge of the door, puts his hand between the Master's shoulder-blades and pushes him in.

The Master stumbles before he catches himself, and Jack follows him into the TARDIS and pulls the door shut behind him.

It's different than the Doctor's. Smoother, sleeker, and the hum and purr of the engine's entirely different - more mechanical. The light - everything about it - is colder, but there's no doubt that it's in better repair.

The Master turns, slowly, eyes up and on Jack. There's no mistaking the menace now, even in a face lined by laughter and weathered by love.

"Don't even think about it," Jack says, firmly.

"What are you?" The warmth of his mind may have been eclipsed by the heat of insanity, but there's no doubt that behind it all the curiosity and intellect are still very much intact.

"I'll explain later. After you get us out of here."

The Master considers Jack, spins a dial and pulls the lever.

Jack realizes two things, in that moment. The Doctor can still save everyone. He can make the rocket work and find Utopia, or he can bundle them all into the TARDIS and take them anywhere in space and time. The second thing he realizes, with the engine changing pitch and carrying them away, is that it doesn't matter if the Master kills him, and it doesn't matter where they're going.

He won't stay dead and, wherever they end up, it won't be at the end of everything. Whatever happens from here, whatever the consequences of his decision, he'll have time to face them. He has the future stretched out before him again, and it is alive with possibility.

He looks at the Master, catches his eyes, throws his head back and laughs.

_______

Continues in Careful Manipulation