Title: Don't Speak
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Ten.5/John Hart
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: NC-17
Table: 3
Prompt: 42, Psychotic
Note: Continuation of Welcome To Your Nightmare.
Author's Note: The human version of the Doctor is being referred to as John Smith in this fic, since it's the Doctor's human alias and his clone needed a name.
Author's Note: Spoilers for Journey's End, somewhat. This is an completely alternate take on the ending of Season Four.
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 his human clone. Please do not sue.

***

John tipped his head back to look up at his wrists, bound together above his head. It felt as though he'd spent the past several hours -- no, several days -- struggling against those bonds, and maybe he had. His wrists felt numb, the skin scraped red and raw, his arms aching from being held above his head for so long.

He'd tried to ignore John Hart's words, the innuendoes, the threats. He'd closed his mind to what the other man said to him; it wasn't anything he wanted to hear, especially the threats against the Doctor. He coudn't bring himself to listen to those words. They frightened him too much.

But those threats were getting harder to ignore -- and Hart was close to implementing them, he was sure. The other man's words had gotten more and more graphic, hissed into his ear, putting images into his mind that he didn't want to think about.

Hart was capable of torturing and killing him -- and John had reluctantly acknowledged the fact that he probably wouldn't come out of this alive. But as long as the Doctor was safe and unharmed, it didn't matter. He would more than willingly give his life for the Time Lord.

But what would that do to the Doctor? The Gallifreyan would be bent on revenge against Hart if his human self was killed -- and he wouldn't consider protecting himself in his quest for that revenge. John was absolutely positive that the Doctor would seek to avenge his death, and that Hart would be ready for that. He would even expect it.

He didn't want to think of the man he loved falling into some kind of trap that he wouldn't be able to escape from. John knew the Doctor too well to believe that the Time Lord wouldn't come after Hart -- and no matter how his mind turned and twisted to try to think of some way to avoid that, he always came up against a mental brick wall.

Either way, they were doomed. He didn't want to think that; he wanted to believe that the Doctor would find some way to rescue him without putting himself at risk, that the two of them would get out of this and find a place where they would be safe.

But at the moment, given the situation that he was in, that seemed far from possible. The Doctor didn't even know where Hart had taken him, and John had no idea if his abductor had given the Time Lord any sort of clue. All he could do was wait .... and hope.

Hope that the Doctor was prepared for whatever might happen. Hope that this psychotic man who'd kidnapped him wasn't planning to kill him and leave his body for the Time Lord to find. Hope that the Doctor would be able to rescue him without sacrificing himself in the process.

His attention was drawn towards the opening door of his prison; Hart was coming back, to pour more threats and invective against the Doctor into his ear. John's body tensed, his breath rasping in his throat as he fought to steady his nerves.

"Hello, my beauty," Hart purred as he crossed the room to stand in front of John, his eyes roving over the other man's body. "You don't look much the worse for wear yet. I'm surprised at that -- you must have more of the Doctor in you than I'd thought. I would have expected you to be cringing in fear by now."

John managed to look his captor in the eye, shaking his head. "No, I'm not. And I'm not going to be," he hissed, trying to sound as defiant as he could. "There's more of him in me than you could ever guess. He's not a coward -- and neither am I."

Hart raised an eyebrow, a smile quirking his thin lips. "Oh, really now? I would think there's more of you in him, given that I believe he's never the one to be the dominant partner." Hart's eyes traveled down John's body, then back up again, their eyes meeting. "And given that you're an exact duplicate of him, I'm sure he quite enjoys that."

"What we've done together is none of your business," John told him, twisting his wrists in a futile attempt to loosen his bonds. "You wouldn't know anything about the sort of relationship we have. You're not capable of loving anyone in the way that we love each other."

"Ah, there you would be wrong." Hart moved closer to him, reaching out to trail a finger down John's chest, circling his nipples, moving down to his stomach before placing the flat of his palm against John's belly. "Those are remarkably brave words for a man in your position."

"Those words are true," John spat, his temper starting to rise. "You may think you loved Jack Harkness, but you didn't. You aren't capable of love. You only want to control people and use them. That isn't love -- it's some sort of bizarre master and slave relationship."

Hart raised an eyebrow, that smirk still on his lips as his hand moved lower down John's body. The slender man gasped when Hart's fingers curled around his cock, the man's other hand moving around John's body to rest on his ass. He didn't know what Hart had in mind, but he could guess -- and he prayed to whatever deity might exist that it wasn't going to happen.

"I'll definitely enjoy myself with you," Hart purred, leaning close to John so that his lips brushed his captive's ear. "I've spent time studying him, you know -- and you're so much like him. Just as defiant as he would be, I'm sure. And just like him in every other way."

"Other than the fact that I'm human," John gasped out, cursing himself for those words the moment they were out of his mouth. Why couldn't he learn to keep silent? He hadn't responded to Hart's taunting yet; and now, it seemed that he'd let himself respond at precisely the wrong time.

Hart's eyebrows raised a bit, the smile on his face growing wider. "Oh, don't believe I'd forgotten that little bit of information," he said, his tone smug. "That makes it all the easier to know how you'll react -- and just how far I can push you. It's the one thing about him that I could never be sure of -- which is why you make such an excellent substitute."

Substitute for what? John wanted to ask, but he kept his mouth shut, refusing to rise to the obvious bait. He wasn't going to give Hart the satisfaction of seeing how terrified he was -- though the other man could probably already tell from the way he was trembling.

"How does it feel to know that you're never going to see your lover again?" Hart's voice was ringing in his ears, the words hissed out; he had to bite down savagely on his lower lip to keep himself from crying out and trying to pull away from that unwanted touch.

"He's going to find you eventually, you know," Hart continued, that voice relentless in his ear. "I haven't decided yet if he'll be able to recognise you when I'm done with you. He may have to put quite a few pieces back together. Though it would be better if he could actually see your pain, and not just the aftermath ...."

John squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the words, and also ignore the sensations that Hart's hand on his cock was sending through his body. He didn't want to respond like this; he didn't want to give this monster the satisfaction of knowing that such a touch could arouse his body even while those words made him want to cower away from the man touching him.

"You can't fool me into thinking you're not afraid," Hart's voice continued, seeming to assault him from all sides. "You're terrified. I can smell the fear on you, whether you choose to show it or not. And I know that he's feeling that same fear, wondering what's happening to you."

"He's going to kill you," John whispered, unable to make his trembling voice come out at a louder level. "He'll hunt you down and put an end to you. And he'll make you suffer for what you're doing to him. He's that kind of man. He'll make you pay."

"Oh, I don't doubt that he'll try," Hart told him, smiling broadly as he pulled away. "I'm sure that once he finds you and he realises what you've been through before your .... untimely demise, he'll come looking for me. But I'll be ready for him. More than ready."

John struggled not to let his fear for the Doctor show on his face, not to give this monster standing in front of him with that smug smile on his face the satisfaction of knowing how those words sapped his strength, his hope. But all he could do was swallow hard and close his eyes; he couldn't keep up the pretense any longer. He was terrified. There was no use pretending that he wasn't.

"Look at you. So frightened, and so aroused at the same time." Hart's voice was satisfied as he backed away from John, looking his captive up and down and nodding. "Oh yes, I'm certainly going to enjoy myself with you."

John didn't answer him; he was trying not to look directly at Hart, not wanting the other man to see the fear in his eyes. He cursed the responsiveness of his body; he didn't want to be aroused by any man but the Doctor, but his traitorous body had its own ideas.

"I'm going to enjoy myself with you before I finish you off," Hart sneered, starting to remove his shirt. "I'll make sure the Doctor can tell exactly what you've been through -- it shouldn't be too hard. The evidence will be there on your body -- and perhaps he'll be angry enough to come after me with the idea of taking revenge. I'll certainly enjoy that."

John gritted his teeth, still refusing to look at Hart. So this was how it began. All he could do was try to hold on to his sanity -- and hope that he would survive this. And if he didn't .... he had to hope that the Doctor wouldn't be completely destroyed, by Hart and by his own emotions.

"You don't want to speak, do you?" Hart stepped closer to him, taking John's chin in his hand and forcing the other man to look at him. "It doesn't really matter, lovely. I don't need you to speak. You'll be screaming before too long."

John closed his eyes, trying not to let the fear that was threatening to take him over make him do anything foolish. Begging would be no use; Hart would only laugh at anything he said. He couldn't beg for his own life, or for the Doctor's. He would just have to take whatever was meted out to him -- and pray that the Doctor wouldn't fall into another trap.

If the Doctor didn't try to rescue him, maybe the Time Lord would be spared. I would have liked to see him again, John thought to himself, bringing the Doctor's face to his mind and focusing on those features, the face of the man who he loved more than he would have thought possible. Just one last time. To say goodbye.

He hoped that the Doctor wouldn't find him, that the Time Lord wouldn't suffer the pain of finding his lover's lifeless body in whatever condition Hart decided to leave him in. Whatever happened to him, he wanted the Doctor to at least be spared that pain.

But that wasn't likely to happen, he told himself, swallowing hard and trying to turn his thoughts away from the inevitable. Hart would go out of his way to cause the Doctor as much anguish as possible. If only he hadn't been this psychopath's key to doing so ....

There was no use focusing on "what ifs." He was going to die here, away from his love, without ever seeing the Doctor again. He only hoped that the Time Lord realized how much he'd been loved, how much he'd meant to John during the short life he'd had, and the little time they'd been together. He hoped that the Doctor wouldn't let this destroy him.

John Hart had moved behind him, his hands moving down John's sides as though exploring his body. He held his breath, waiting for whatever might come. There was no way for him to prepare himself, but maybe it would be over with quickly.

Within a few moments, all he could do was scream.

***