Jack looked shocked by River's sudden outburst. But he didn’t even really see it.
Oona did not seem shocked. She made sure her surface thoughts were not lies, but buried her own worry under her sympathy and wish to shield the child.
"A mind’s walls should never be breached without permission, sweetling. There are often reasons for it being there. Sometimes the person doesn't even know why it's there." Oona had a momentary flash of delving into something ephemeral and misty, another's terrors, and pulling them away, into some sort of crystal. But as she tried to connect that flash with anything it was lost.
Jack was still trying to grappling with a memory that had surfaced before River had screamed and acted as if she were attacked. He had been screaming for them to stop. His best friend was being tortured while he was made to watch, his eyes forced open, his head immobile, but he was unharmed. He had the information someone wanted and they knew Ayndi would break, and that he wouldn’t. He watched, his screams blending with Ayndi’s. Yet he told them nothing. He uttered not one word that would save his friend or spare him having his fingers pulled out one by one then cauterized with an open flame. His teeth shattered by slow compression, one by one, for hours. Ayndi’s eyes pleading with him as he screamed his name.
Jack could still hear his own screams blending as Ayndi screamed what sounded like “Jacks, tell them. Jacks, oh God, please. Jacks, you son of a bitch, help me. Please, you got me into this.” The pleading interspersed with screams of agony, an animalistic cry anguish and torment.
He couldn’t remember who he was. He couldn’t remember who the bastards wielding the instruments were, or what the information was. He knew it could end the world, even the universe if they knew. Why they were there or his past with this best friend. He had been no more than twenty, and Ayndi nineteen. He knew that.
He also remembered wielding the instruments, causing the pain. He knew not only how to cause pleasure, but the most pain. The sharp smell of blood and burnt flesh. Calmly asking the questions.
Why that horror of those memories were the ones to surface he didn’t know. But the sudden clarity of them, the immersion in of being there, back in them hit him like a blow. Bile swelled, then he found himself doubling over, his knees hitting the floor as he vomited.
Oona now looked alarmed. She clasped River’s shoulder. “He experienced it. Whatever you uncovered.”
Jack held out his hand as he realized what had just happened. “It’s all right. She didn’t mean it.”
(OOC: Jack died once, killed by the Dalek. Rose, as the Time Goddess, brought him back. But he can’t die now. Only for a minute or two, like a Highlander immortal, only no buzz or Game. But he appears like a dead void to psychics, because of this. The torture scene and Jack’s stint as a torturer were mentioned in Torchwood briefly. I elaborated.)
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timeasmymeasure
[Jack/Oona]
Date: 2007-04-30 11:17 pm (UTC)Oona did not seem shocked. She made sure her surface thoughts were not lies, but buried her own worry under her sympathy and wish to shield the child.
"A mind’s walls should never be breached without permission, sweetling. There are often reasons for it being there. Sometimes the person doesn't even know why it's there." Oona had a momentary flash of delving into something ephemeral and misty, another's terrors, and pulling them away, into some sort of crystal. But as she tried to connect that flash with anything it was lost.
Jack was still trying to grappling with a memory that had surfaced before River had screamed and acted as if she were attacked. He had been screaming for them to stop. His best friend was being tortured while he was made to watch, his eyes forced open, his head immobile, but he was unharmed. He had the information someone wanted and they knew Ayndi would break, and that he wouldn’t. He watched, his screams blending with Ayndi’s. Yet he told them nothing. He uttered not one word that would save his friend or spare him having his fingers pulled out one by one then cauterized with an open flame. His teeth shattered by slow compression, one by one, for hours. Ayndi’s eyes pleading with him as he screamed his name.
Jack could still hear his own screams blending as Ayndi screamed what sounded like “Jacks, tell them. Jacks, oh God, please. Jacks, you son of a bitch, help me. Please, you got me into this.” The pleading interspersed with screams of agony, an animalistic cry anguish and torment.
He couldn’t remember who he was. He couldn’t remember who the bastards wielding the instruments were, or what the information was. He knew it could end the world, even the universe if they knew. Why they were there or his past with this best friend. He had been no more than twenty, and Ayndi nineteen. He knew that.
He also remembered wielding the instruments, causing the pain. He knew not only how to cause pleasure, but the most pain. The sharp smell of blood and burnt flesh. Calmly asking the questions.
Why that horror of those memories were the ones to surface he didn’t know. But the sudden clarity of them, the immersion in of being there, back in them hit him like a blow. Bile swelled, then he found himself doubling over, his knees hitting the floor as he vomited.
Oona now looked alarmed. She clasped River’s shoulder. “He experienced it. Whatever you uncovered.”
Jack held out his hand as he realized what had just happened. “It’s all right. She didn’t mean it.”
(OOC: Jack died once, killed by the Dalek. Rose, as the Time Goddess, brought him back. But he can’t die now. Only for a minute or two, like a Highlander immortal, only no buzz or Game. But he appears like a dead void to psychics, because of this. The torture scene and Jack’s stint as a torturer were mentioned in Torchwood briefly. I elaborated.)