Title: Where There's A Will
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: gen
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: PG
Table: 50ficlets
Prompt: 19, Will
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor. Please do not sue.

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He'd been forced to do far too many things against his will, the Doctor reflected, his fists clenching in the manacles that held his arms above his head. And he wasn't going to let that happen again. Not now, not at any time.

The Master might think that he had the upper hand, that he could force him to give in to torture and physical threats. But he wouldn't -- not even if he had to make the ultimate sacrifice and regenerate into some new body.

That was the last thing he wanted to do, he thought, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. But if he was forced to it to save Earth, then he'd make that sacrifice if he was pushed to it. He could do no less for the planet he'd come to love.

Even if he had to give his life in order to stop this, he'd do it. But hopefully, if it came to that, he would at least be able to take the Master with him.

He had no choice but to do that. If he was forced to sacrifice his life to save this planet, then there was no way he could leave the Master alive to run amok in the universe. Whatever he did, whatever this came down to, if he went -- so did the other Time Lord.

If he was lucky, that wouldn't have to happen, he told himself, trying to look on the positive side. He wasn't dead, he wasn't horribly weakened, and he wasn't in a completely helpless postion. Not yet. He had his allies, and hopefully, they were still free.

Jack was here somewhere, with the rest of the Torchwood team. The Master knew about them, of course, but he might know just where they were, or what they could have planned. And they might be able to free him.

That was what he would have to hope for, though at the moment, things looked very bleak indeed for the future of Earth and everyone on it.

The Doctor looked up at the shackles around his wrists, grimacing as he did so. At least he was still fully clothed; that was something new for the Master. Presumably, the physical torture would come later, when he felt that he was unstoppable.

Though the Doctor certainly intended to prove him wrong about that thought, and to turn the tables on him. He'd learned from their long centuries of doing battle with each other that his will could always manage to top the other man's.

Sighing, he tugged experimentally at the iron cuffs, realizing that no matter how strong his will to escape and survive might be, that alone wasn't going to get him out of here. For that, he'd more than likely need Torchwood's help.

He almost allowed himself a wry smile at the thought. Asking Torchwood for help, when they had been created decades ago to hunt him down and capture him.

That was a strange irony, wasn't it? As well as the fact that he was expecting Jack, his former lover, to help him get out of this situation. Though really, at this point, Jack and Torchwood were the only help that he could turn to.

Where there was a will, there was a way, but he needed more than just his will; he'd need help from outside himself. And another thing he'd learned over the long centuries of his life was that he couldn't be too proud to admit that he might need help at times.

He wasn't some sort of all-powerful entity. There were times when he needed assistance, and it was unfortunate that he didn't have a companion at the moment and had to call on an organization that he'd rather not tangle with.

Though with Jack at their helm, maybe he could count on Torchwood. He'd just have to push aside his misgivings and try to trust them.

After all, Jack wouldn't let him down. Their relationship might be far behind them, but their friendship was still there, even if it might be a bit strained and uneasy at times. The Doctor was sure that Jack would be there when he was needed.

The immortal could never resist a challenge, he thought, grimacing as he twisted his wrists again. He really should stop doing that; it wasn't getting him any results but raw, chafed skin, and an ever-growing panic building inside him.

What if Torchwood couldn't get here in time? What if he was counting on help that, for some reason, never arrived? He should have some sort of contingency plan for situations like this; but of course, he had no way of knowing when he might need a plan like that.

This wasn't something he'd expected to happen. It was a bolt from the blue, and it was a particularly unpleasant one at that.

But, with any luck, help was on its way -- and he would be able to gather all of his willpower and face down the Master, even if he had to make a sacrifice that he didn't want to make, one that would always leave a bitter taste when he looked back on it.

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes for a moment; they flew open again only a few moments later when he heard the screech of protesting hinges as a door creaked open. It was starting now -- and he had to trust in his will and his wits to bring him out safely through.

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