Chapter Text
It was one thing to be naked at home, in a bedroom, with her partners. This . . . this was different, no matter how much Jack said it didn't matter, it was just skin. It wasn't her clothes they were taking; it was her dignity.
Rose favoured the aliens and their spears with a glare that could have curdled milk as she removed her clothing. They were varying shades of blue and violet under remarkably plain jumpsuits, and their skins were covered in something that looked faintly fuzzy, much the way velvet did. Jack had called it "pettable" shortly before they'd been seized and carted away. Rose had called them "swollen-headed" when she and Jack had been ordered to strip--the tops of their heads did, in fact, swell out beyond their ears and go up a considerable ways, like the top of a muffin. She wasn't sure if it was that or her refusal to remove her clothing that had gotten her stuck with a spear, but the thing had delivered enough charge to flatten her and make her lose a couple of minutes.
When she knew where she was again (as much as any of them knew where they were), Jack was kneeling protectively over her, suggesting that her skin was lovely, the room was warm, and they were more likely to make any escape naked than with him carrying her. She knew he'd try, too, and those spears had a wicked bite. So she and Jack folded their clothing neatly and left it in a pile on the floor. She stopped at her bra and knickers, folding her arms across her chest and trying to convince herself the heat in her face was anger, not embarrassment.
"Continue," one of the guards said. He sounded bored and forcedly patient, as if he were talking to a particularly slow child.
Rose had never been so glad to land on her bum in her whole life. She skinned her elbow on the console room's grating and that was okay, too, as long as they were materialized somewhere--anywhere--on solid ground and in one piece. She wondered, vaguely, just how bad that crash had looked from the outside. Not that the Doctor would ever admit they'd crashed. If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it's probably a duck.
She wondered if there were ducks on this planet. Always assuming they were on a planet.
Jack groaned melodramatically. "Not that I don't like a rough ride, but that can't have been any fun for the TARDIS."
Rose sat up to find him clambering to his knees while the Doctor was standing--still or again, she wasn't sure which--over one of the console's displays. "Yeah. What's wrong with her, Doctor?"
He pressed a couple of buttons and stared glumly at a set of read-outs. He even flicked them with his fingertip a couple of times, like it would make something change. "The polylobate chronotic equalizer's gone," he said, darkly. "Have to take a look, but I'll be surprised if there's enough intact to repair. That wasn't just any rough landin'--the TARDIS was operating on emergency protocols, headin' to the nearest time and place likely to have replacement parts. Or somethin' we can fashion into replacement parts." He was silent a moment, which was its own kind of bad sign, and stroked a bit of the console bare of dials and switches. "Hope she managed somewhere good enough." Rose's stomach sank to somewhere around her knees.
Jack stood. "Tough replacement?" he asked.
The Doctor stared distractedly off into space. "What? Oh, no. Nothin' I can't make for the TARDIS, given enough time. And, well, certain raw materials. But we can get those anywhere, mostly. Except . . . well, the chullunath slurry's a bit difficult to manufacture. But as long as she's got us to a place with at least a level six technology threshold, we'll be just fine."
Rose looked at Jack. "That mean anything to you?" she asked.
Jack was frowning. "Not entirely, but I get the feeling we can't afford to be choosey."
Rose sighed. "Right, then. You two are goin' to go look under the bonnet; I'll get my coat."
Jack groaned and looked longingly at the low cushion occupying most of the cell's floor, but he stood beside Rose while the guards activated the force grid that sealed this cell off from the hallway. "Sonic showers are not my favorite thing," he said, "but that's because they lack a certain sybaritic, well . . . anything sybaritic, I guess. I didn't know you could turn one up so high it made your eyeballs feel like runny eggs."
"'s ridiculous," Rose seethed. Her arms hung stiffly at her sides, as if she'd like to cover herself with them but refused to show anything that might look like weakness in front of their captors. "We didn't do anything. Why arrest us? An' why put us through this?"
Jack wasn't sure if "this" was the nudity, the general treatment, or the cleansing that left his teeth aching and his cells feeling like they might rattle apart. He shrugged. "No idea. We'll either figure it out and get out of here, or the Doctor'll turn up and tell us we stepped on the sacred flower of their highest holy personage or something. Might as well try to get comfortable in the meantime." There were no guards in the hall, no one for him to try to con or persuade. Nothing but a force grid he couldn't argue with, not even with his hold-out laser.
"I'll feel nakeder sitting down," Rose muttered.
Usually, the thought of naked Rose with her legs sprawled apart on a bed was a delightful mental image, but her dignity was bruised and the parts of Jack that usually responded to delightful mental images felt about the same. There was no cover in the cell, not unless they hid under the cushion--and if her joints felt anything like Jack's did after their stroll through the sonic shower room, lying on the hard floor was somewhere near the bottom of her list of things to do just now. He thought about it for a minute and nudged her toward the cushion. "Lie down next to the wall," he offered. "I'll lie on this side. Best I can do for you, sweetheart--you know it doesn't bother me."
Rose made a rude noise, but surrendered, walking unsteadily toward the cushion. "Never wanted to be part of one of your stories where you end up naked," she said. As jokes went, it was weak, but at least she was trying.
There was no graceful way to get down on the cushion. Jack stood between her and the force grid. At least the hallway was empty when she glanced over her shoulder to check. She walked into the cushion and sat, and then lay down.
Jack chuckled. "There's always a silver lining," he said, kneeling and then crawling onto the cushion beside her. He rolled onto his side and draped an arm over her ribs. "Look at it this way: How often do we get to have a nice lie-in without the Doctor wanting us to get up so we can be off somewhere?" That remark really called for a nicely-timed feel of a gorgeous breast, but Rose didn't need that kind of reminder right now.
"There is that," she muttered, but her heart wasn't in it. After a minute she sighed and rolled toward him, letting him hold her close. "They've left us nothing to use on that force grid," she whispered, "and the rest of the cell looks solid. Can you think of anythin' more clever than waitin' for the Doctor to rescue us?"
Jack stroked her back, soothingly, and tried to sound carefree. "Not a thing," he said.
The first time the muffin-headed aliens came by to gawk at them, Rose wanted to die on the spot. "You've put the two of them together?" the taller alien asked. "Aren't you worried they'll procreate?"
The TARDIS rendered him as a bloke with a posh accent. It made it easier to be less embarrassed and more angry. "Oi!" she complained from behind the sheltering breadth of Jack's chest and hips. "Would you want to 'procreate' in a room with a glass wall?"
It was like he couldn't hear her, though she knew the force screen didn't block sound. "Someone's fitted the male with a prophylactic implant," the shorter one said. "Though I can't see why--the pair appear to be in fine health."
Jack, damn his eyes, was laughing silently as the pair wandered off. "What?" she snapped.
He kissed her lips and then her cheek. "That's the Rose I fell in love with," he said.
Another pair came by a bit later. A woman and a man, by the sound of them. They didn't really stop, only walked slowly by as the man explained, "They appear to have some affection for each other. It seemed cruel to separate them."
"Affection?" Rose hissed. "For my . . . my . . . " God, she hated that. "Boyfriend" sounded so adolescent and "partner" didn't always seem adequate. "Man" was just awful--especially since it was usually in the context of "men," and it always made her think of the time she'd been kidnapped into a harem on Tuleeq.
"You know, you're cute when you stammer," Jack said. She swatted his hip.
Time passed slowly. Jack told scandalous stories to amuse her. She told fairy tales in return, surprised as always by the holes in his understanding of the twenty-first century.
By the time the third pair came by, Rose was beginning to recognize one of the muffin-heads. He seemed to work here, and she rather thought that jumpsuit was some kind of a uniform. "We'll hold them for a week to see if the owner claims them, of course. But they're strong and healthy, despite the lack of proper pelts--that's normal for them. We'd really prefer to see them go as a set . . . "
Rose felt cold despite the warm air in the cell. When the aliens were well gone, she whispered, "Jack . . . are we meant to be slaves, then?"
He hesitated. She felt it in his body, as he tried to decide whether to lie to her. "It won't come to that, sweetheart. Do you really think it could possibly take the Doctor a week to find us?"
She shivered in his arms, not comforted.
It was the kind of civilization the Doctor hated: orderly, peaceful, and dull. He was sure they aspired to lofty enterprises and felt themselves the pinnacle of sapient evolution. A lot like home, it was, only less colourful.
"What kind of race paints all their buildings beige?" Rose complained.
"I don't think it's paint," Jack said, thoughtfully. "I think that's the color of the building material." He scratched the side of the information kiosk. "Huh. Not a resin. Not a concretion. I wonder if it's that color naturally or if they add it to the--"
"Putty," Rose complained. "It looks like putty."
The Doctor scowled at the information kiosk's screen. The well-ordered information very carefully kept him away from anything he actually needed to know. He aimed his sonic screwdriver at it. "Most advanced cultures go through an ascetic period where the mind is valued above the body, Rose. Architecture tends to become minimalist and functional . . . " That did it. There couldn't be more than one or two facilities on the planet capable of manufacturing the chullunath slurry; he could track them down based on their consumption of certain rare raw materials.
"And bland," Rose summarized.
He looked up from the screen for a second, grinning. "Got a way with words, you have." He poked through geological maps, shipping details, and business records. "Aha! We're in luck. There are two major plants on the planet that can do a chullunath slurry. One of 'em's got an office nearby. Probably have to be a custom order. May take a couple of days."
Rose pulled a face. Jack wrapped an arm around her waist. "Come on, Rose, it's not like we're not good at keeping ourselves entertained."
She ignored his leer. "You're goin' to go order custom something-or-other. What other parts d'you need?" The Doctor stared at her. Since when did Rose care about TARDIS parts? "It's not like it's goin' to mean anything to me, but Jack'll understand." She elbowed their partner, who obligingly complained, "Hey!" Rose shrugged and went on. "Get that thing to give us a location for the right kind of market and we can be lookin' for the other parts." She sighed. "Never thought there'd be a day when shoppin' for TARDIS parts sounded more interestin' than anything else I could be doin'."
"Oi!" the Doctor said as he got the kiosk to give him a directory. "What's not interesting about TARDIS parts?"
"If you can't wear it and you can't eat it, it's mostly not interesting to Rose," Jack said. It got him another elbow in the ribs and a look that could have melted glass.
"I'd be more polite if I were you," the Doctor said dryly. "You're the one that's goin' to be spendin' the afternoon with her."
Jack wasn't sure how much time passed before a slender sapient floated a trolley up in front of their cell and stopped there. "Well aren't you two sweet," the woman crooned.
It was a tone of voice people used when they talked to babies, but it was more interaction than they'd had with their captors all day. Rose stiffened. Jack fought the urge to walk over to the force grid and chat the woman up. He rolled to face her instead, letting Rose hide herself against his back. "'Sweet' isn't a word I've heard before," he told her, "but if it makes you happy, I'm willing to try it on for size." He smiled.
"Jack," Rose said, tartly.
He ignored it, watching the woman outside the cell. "Such a good boy," she soothed, unpacking boxes from inside the trolley. "And your little friend--isn't she just lovely? I can't imagine why anyone would have abandoned you this way." She set two boxes on the floor, shoving them at the force screen. Jack watched with interest as they passed right through it.
"We weren't abandoned," Rose growled. "We were looking for supplies. Ship's crew. Do that sometimes, you know?"
The woman clucked her tongue and pressed some trolley control that Jack couldn't see. "Never you fear," she said, warmly. "If your owner doesn't take better care of you, we'll see to it you're placed in a good home." There had to be some kind of key, either embedded in the boxes or part of their structure, itself, that let them through the force grid. Jack couldn't wait for her to leave so he could inspect those boxes and see if it was something he could re-purpose to get them out of the cell. "I swear," she murmured to herself as she started the trolley moving again, "sometimes it's the people that need to be in the cages."
Jack watched her go. He'd already drawn a leg up to scramble across the cell when he felt a strange dampness on the back of his shoulder. He rolled back to Rose and saw her trying to dash the tears away. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
She swallowed hard. "Jack--we're not in a jail. We're in the animal shelter."