Title: Sacrificial Lamb
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: R
Table: 12
Prompt: 20, Sacrifice
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

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How did the two of them manage to get themselves into these situations? Jack asked himself, peering out from his hiding place behind a pillar. The Doctor had sworn that they wouldn't get into trouble here -- but how could they fail to do just that when they had landed right in the middle of some sacrificial rite that needed a sacrifice?

Just why the priest of whatever religion this was -- if it was a religion at all, Jack said to himself with a mental snort -- had decided that the Doctor would be a perfect human sacrifice was something Jack would never understand. They'd both been taken by surprise, with no chance to defend themselves, and the Doctor had been taken captive. Jack, surrounded by three men, had only been able to glimpse them throwing the bound and gagged Doctor over the back of a horse and galloping away.

So much for having "a nice little camping trip in a quiet wooded area." Another one of the Doctor's bright ideas that had somehow gone horribly wrong. Jack didn't blame him, of course -- the Doctor had an unquenchable curiosity that had to be sated, and the immortal had to admit that his own curiosity could get the better of him at times. But this was something he should never have agreed to.

He'd managed to track them down to this stone building, their "temple," where he was sure they were holding the Doctor prisoner. Jack knew that he had a finite amount of time to locate the captive Time Lord -- he had no idea how long these people would keep him alive before they decided it was the proper time for their human sacrifice. Jack hoped he had more time than he thought he did, but it was always best to err on the side of caution.

He'd been shocked when he'd heard them talking and realized just what they intended to do with the two men they'd found in the forest. If he'd thought about it, he would have realized that human sacrifices weren't uncommon in the time the Doctor had decided to land them in -- well, he wasn't entirely sure of the time, but he put it at somewhere in the heyday of the Druids -- but he really should have known better than to think they'd be safe, no matter where they were.

Why had they chosen the Doctor? Jack had felt a cold shiver of fear run down his spine when the leader of the men who'd descended on them had cupped the Doctor's chin in one hand and studied his features before pronouncing him the "perfect sacrifice" and ordering two other men to take him with them. Jack had been helpless to stop them, surrounded as he was.

The Doctor had kicked and struggled, doing a fairly good job of nearly putting one man's eye out with a well-placed elbow before he'd been overpowered, his hands bound behind his back, a cloth shoved into his mouth when he'd berated them for restraining him. Jack would have laughed at the words the Doctor had used, if their situation hadn't been so desperate.

And now, here he was, in the temple that he was certain they'd taken the Doctor to for whatever they intended to do with him. He had no idea where the Time Lord was, or how much time he had before the Doctor would become the next sacrificial lamb for some religion that was destined to fade away into dust long before either of them had ever come into being.

Jack's hands clenched into fists, his heart clutching in his chest. He had to find the Doctor and get them out of here. He didn't know enough about the Tardis to be able to pilot her by himself. And the ship was bound to the Doctor -- what if he died, and the Tardis somehow died with him? Jack would be stuck here, in a time that wasn't his, a time that he had no intention of settling down in while he waited patiently for the years to speed by.

He was grateful that the rite they'd interrupted had somehow been unable to be completed using the Doctor as a sacrifice then and there. But the certainty that the Time Lord had a limited life span unless Jack found him, and found him quickly, chilled him to the bone. He wasn't going to lose the Doctor in that way, he told himself fiercely. He'd find the Gallifreyan, free him, get them back to the Tardis, and get the hell out of here.

How the hell was he going to find the Doctor in this place? It was huge, rooms opening into other rooms in a labyrinth that he was sure he'd get lost in within five minutes of searching. But he had no choice. He had to find the other man, had to make sure he was all right. His hands clenched again, thinking of what might possibly have been done to the helpless Time Lord during the time it had taken Jack to find this place. If the Doctor was hurt in any way, every one of those men was going to get a quick trip to hell, courtesy of Jack Harkness.

.... Wait. That had been a noise, hadn't it? It had sounded like someone being dragged along unwillingly, dragging their feet in the hopes of making enough noise to be heard. Heard by someone who might be searching for them .... Jack's heartbeat quickened, and he moved forward into the room that he was sure he'd heard the sound come from.

A soft groan, the sound of flesh hitting flesh. A muffled cry -- as if the person who'd been struck was gagged and unable to cry out.

Jack's heart leapt into his throat, his stomach clenching, his muscles tightening. It was the Doctor. He'd heard the man he loved moan enough times to have a word for every kind of moan that beautiful throat could utter. He'd heard the Doctor moan with passion, with arousal, with every sort of sound that a human voice could make. And he'd heard the sound he was hearing now before, too. The moan that meant the Doctor was in pain.

If he was hurt, if there was one scratch, one bruise on his body .... Jack wanted to let out a war cry and run into the room, but he didn't dare. They might have a knife to the Doctor's throat, ready to spill his blood on some altar. He'd have to be careful, figure out just what the situation was and how he was going to rescue the Doctor. He could only hope that they wouldn't run out of time and he'd have to do something out of desperation.

Jack could see shadows flickering on the wall of the other room, which meant that they'd lit a fire. Oh god -- could they be planning to burn the Doctor? He raised a shaking hand to his mouth, his face going white. There would be no coming back from that, no regenerating. And he couldn't bear to think of the body he loved being subjected to that kind of torture ....

No. They had clearly mentioned an altar, and blood being spilled. They were probably lighting fires as part of the ritual. Which meant that Jack probably had a very limited amount of time to assess the situation and get the Time Lord out of there. Who knew how many of those black-robed priests were in that room, blocking his way to the man he loved? He'd just have to take his chances, and hope that he could overpower them all.

Jack peeked around the door frame, brow furrowing as he took in the scene. There were, amazingly, only four priests in the room, and two of them seemed preoccupied with lighting fires in sconces all around the perimeter of the stone walls. One of the others was knelt on the floor in the corner, apparently preparing something they intended to use in their sacrifice. The fourth was securing the ropes that bound the Doctor to the sacrificial altar.

They'd removed his clothes, leaving him wearing nothing but a loincloth that barely covered the naughty bits. Jack couldn't help letting his eyes roam over the Doctor's exposed flesh, admiring the sleek lines of that gorgeous body. Clothed, the Doctor was a handsome man. Naked, he was .... magnificent.

The Time Lord was spread-eagled over the altar, his wrists and ankles bound to the four corners of the stone slab. His body was stretched taut between the four points, the rough ropes cutting into his skin as he struggled to free himself. Jack winced at the sight; when they got out of this, he could foresee a lot of nights of holding the Doctor and soothing away nightmares.

If they got out of this, he told himself grimly, hoping he'd be able to play the all-conquering hero. The only way out that he could see was to take on all four of those priests, and hope that no others turned up before he could untie the Doctor and they could make their way out of the temple and back to the Tardis. There was no other option.

What worried him the most was the man tightening the ropes around the Doctor's wrists. The man had a knife in one hand; he was probably the priest who had the "honor" of spilling the blood of the sacrificial victim. Jack's blood boiled when the man twined his fingers through the Doctor's tawny hair and jerked the Time Lord's head back, laying the blade of the knife against the exposed column of that slender throat.

That swine, Jack thought, his hands curling into fists. He dared to touch the Doctor, dared to put his hands on the Time Lord. He'd get a quick trip to hell, Jack assured himself, his hand going to his gun. He didn't give a damn about all the Doctor's rules about "not interfering" with the times they found themselves in. He wasn't going to stand back and watch somebody paw the man he loved -- or do anything else to him, either.

The first shot took out one of the two men lighting the fires, the second felled the one who had been kneeling, a puzzled look on his face as he hit the floor. The other man who had been helping to light the sconces had fled, and Jack was positive he was bringing reinforcements. All the more reason to take out the other man, untie the Doctor, and get out.

There was only one problem. In the few seconds that it had taken him to shoot the other two men, the tip of that evil-looking knife was poised against the base of the Doctor's throat. A small drop of ruby-red blood welled up, beading and running slowly down the Doctor's pale chest. Jack trained his gun on the man, scowling and holding up a hand.

"You're not going to gain anything by killing him. He's supposed to be a sacrifice, remember. Only he's not going to be. You'll have to find another one, because I'm untying him and we're getting out of here. Now, drop the knife and step away from him."

The man only smiled, pressing the knife more firmly against the Doctor's skin. The Time Lord made a sound behind his gag that sounded suspiciously like a squeak, his dark eyes wide and frightened. Jack knew that he didn't want to regenerate. Not here, not now, not like this. He wouldn't be able to stop it if it started -- but hopefully, he wouldn't have to.

He couldn't shoot. His finger was frozen on the trigger. If he was just one centimeter off -- that bullet could slam into the Doctor. He could so easily kill the man he loved, instead of rescuing him. One slip of his finger, just a bit of a bad aim, and it would be all over. Jack swallowed hard, wanting to cry with frustration. This couldn't be happening.

Do it, Jack. The Doctor's voice, in his head, but seeming to echo all around him. If you don't, we may never get out of here. I don't want to die in this place! Just do it. You've lived your entire life taking chances. Do it now. Do it!

The knife in the man's hand moved, raising into the air. In a split second, it would come down -- plunging directly into one of the Doctor's hearts. Jack didn't know if that would be enough to kill him; Time Lords could survive a much greater blood loss than humans. But that was a chance that he wasn't willing to take, no matter what the Doctor's mental voice was screaming inside his mind.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Aimed. And fired.

Jack's eyes flew open when he heard the thud. The black-robed man was lying on the ground, the knife glinting silver on the altar by the Doctor's shoulder. It was quivering in the air, the point buried in the stone slab. Less than half an inch, and it would have been buried in the Time Lord's flesh, leaving a scar that might not heal. Not a scar of the body, but of the mind. Another memory that would make the Doctor wake up screaming in the dead of night.

Stumbling forward, Jack fell to his knees beside the altar, jerking his knife from his pocket and sawing at the ropes that bound the Doctor's ankles. It only took a few seconds to free first one, then the other, and move to the head of the slab. Jack knelt, gently removing the gag from the Doctor's mouth, silently watching as the other man ran his tongue over swollen lips and tried to form words.

"The others will be coming. Quickly, Jack. We've got to get out here. You wouldn't have happened to bring a change of clothes along with you, would you? I don't fancy running away from here nearly naked. They could at least have left my pants, considering that they didn't plan to do anything sexual with me."

"They probably wanted to see just what their sacrificial lamb looked like," Jack said, quickly freeing the Doctor's wrists. He scowled when he saw the way that the ropes had bitten into the tender flesh of the Time Lord's wrists, raising one thin hand to his lips. "They're going to pay for what they did to you. I swear they will."

"No, Jack." The Doctor placed his fingers against Jack's mouth, shaking his head. "Forget about that. Let's just grab a couple of horses and get the hell out of here, while we still have the chance. You can worry about my physical state later, when we're safely aboard the Tardis and away from here. I can assure you that other than raw skin and a lot of bruises in uncomfortable places, I'm quite all right."

"If you say so." Jack pulled the Doctor to his feet, looking worried. "Can you walk? Or do I need to carry you?"

"I'm perfectly capable of walking -- or running, as the case may be. Come on, Jack." The Doctor headed for the door, looking back over his shoulder as he went. "And you can stop looking at my arse and gawking, thank you. You'll have enough chances to do whatever you please to my arse when we're out of this situation."

"You can't blame me for looking at perfection," Jack murmured, moving behind the Doctor as they headed out into the next room, making their way to the front of the temple as quickly as they could, both hoping that they wouldn't be seen. Jack couldn't resist reaching out and squeezing the Doctor's ass, eliciting a soft squeak from the Time Lord.

"If you don't stop that, Jack Harkness, then my arse is off limits for a damned long time. I mean it. Stop thinking with your cock and concentrate on the problem at hand."

"Sorry." He wasn't, not really, Jack told himself, sprinting out of the temple after the Doctor and heading for the horses that were tethered just outside. And he was sure that the Time Lord wasn't going to declare his ass off limits, either -- only a few nights of being deprived of sex, and he'd be the one thinking with his cock, Jack told himself as the two of them swung themselves up onto the horses and turned them in the direction Jack pointed out.

Within moments they were back at the Tardis, swinging down off the horses and swatting the beasts to send them galloping back in the direction of the temple. Just in time, too, Jack thought, hearing what were undeniably hoofbeats coming in their direction.

The Doctor was already at the door of the Tardis, opening it and gesturing to Jack to get inside quickly. When the door was safely locked behind the two of them, he went to the console, pressing buttons and moving a few levers before he leaned against the control panel, his breath coming out in what sounded like a cross between a groan and a sigh.

"That was a rather close call. Little did I know that I look like a sacrifice to some pagan god -- or goddess. I never quite caught the name of just what I was going to be sacrificed to, but I believe that I came close to seeing what some might refer to as heaven. Closer than I want to be. I hope that's a situation I'm not in again any time soon."

"You're still going to be sacrificed," Jack said softly, coming up behind the Doctor and wrapping strong arms around the other man. "Considering how you look in that lovely getup, I think you're the perfect sacrifice for what I have in mind."

"And what would that be?" the Doctor inquired, craning his neck and turning his head to look at his lover, a small smile curving his lips.

"You're going to be sacrificed on the altar of my unquenchable lust," Jack intoned in a mock growl, his lips twitching. It was hard to say things like that without laughing, but he was determined to keep up the sense of relief and make-believe that he'd started. Maybe that would keep this experience from turning into another nightmare for the Doctor to deal with.

"Am I going to be tied to your bed, oh great god of lust?" Was he mistaken, or was the Doctor actually laughing under his breath? That was good. Very, very good.

"I think you just might be." Jack turned the other man to face him, bending and hooking one arm around the Doctor's knees, lifting the slender man onto his shoulder and heading for their sleeping quarters. He didn't know just where they'd end up next, but he hoped it would be a good long time before they got there.

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