[fic][pre-dp] A Pretty How Town
Title: A Pretty How Town
Author: magistrate (draegonhawke)
Sliding Scale of Slash: Gen. Alternately, DENIED!
Rating: T
Fandoms: Doctor Who
Summary: A history. Jack's first night on the TARDIS, just after the Blitz, is more of a paradigm shift than even he expected.
The first night on the TARDIS was the worst, even though in some ways it ended the best day of Jack's life.
The Time Agency had accorded Time Lords either awe or disdain, depending on whether or not Time Lord activities directly conflicted with their own. Having never been thwarted by their inconsistent meddling, Jack mostly fell onto the "awe" side of the equation.
They'd traded stories, with the airs of those whose facts would never be checked, about them. That their homeworld occupied a unique dimension in time. That they couldn't die. That their ships were planet-destroyers powered by black holes. It was safe to say anything, because none of them would ever meet one--the Time Lords were mythic figures, not real breathing beings. Jack had believed it without knowing he did.
Until circumstance had dropped the Doctor on him, at least. Then dropped the TARDIS into his lap, just to round things off.
And now here he was, and half of the legends weren't good enough and half of them were just wrong. And the Doctor was walking around his TARDIS, a king in his kingdom, calling it old girl and never seeming to notice that most Time Agents would kill for the technology that went into creating one room.
Jack had never felt so much like a stray dog.
And it didn't help that he'd been found where he had been--conning the Earth to death, to all appearances. And the Doctor had swept in and fixed everything and left Jack with nothing to do but clean up odds and ends, and there were moments when he would have lain down and kissed this man's feet and begged for forgiveness, if he hadn't had enough of that already. But he didn't think it would help--the Doctor had come as close to forgiving him as he ever would when he'd looked up at him and the bomb and smiled, when he'd let him on his ship and closed the door behind him.
And then there were moments like these, when he'd checked on the computer to see which room was Rose's, and arrived only to find the Doctor leaning with his back to the doorframe, waiting like a cat outside a mousehole.
Jack stopped, trying on half a dozen excuses before he realized that he had no idea what sort of rule he was breaking. None of this had come with a manual. "Doctor?"
"Late-night stroll?" the Doctor asked, with a voice too genial to be venomous and too dark to be genial.
"Not so late."
He tilted his head. "Rose is asleep."
"Oh," Jack said, and wasn't sure if he was just supposed to turn around and walk away. "...fast asleep?"
The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you should bother her."
"I just wanted to check in with her," Jack protested. "She said she'd like--"
The Doctor didn't even have to raise his voice to shut him up. "She's nineteen and human. She doesn't know what she wants."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "Really," he said, and could have mentioned age-of-consent laws for all sorts of planets, including the one they'd just left. Instead, he was thinking You were quick enough to steal my dance, too. "Is the problem that she's nineteen and human, or is the problem that she's yours?"
The Doctor echoed his expression. "She's not," he said. "Not yours, either."
"Never said she had to be."
The Doctor's face changed. All the muscles required for smiling tensed or relaxed, but the result was the least smile-like thing Jack had ever seen. It made his blood run cold. Jack raised his palms.
"Hands off."
"Good boy," the Doctor said, except he hadn't actually said "boy." Jack had appended that on his own. The Doctor turned, business complete, and walked off.
Jack had the feeling that he'd narrowly escaped something immensely unpleasant.
A second later he started after the Doctor, jogging to catch him. "Hey! Wait up."
The Doctor glanced back over his shoulder, and kept moving without adjusting his pace.
Jack fell in a few steps behind him, trying to keep track of the halls they passed through. The TARDIS was immense--they passed doors the size of shuttles, spiral staircases as tall as telephone poles, and more branches and turns in the hallway than he'd seen in some royal courts.
Eventually they came to the center--or what Jack assumed was the center; he didn't know why, except that it felt center-like: a vast garden, dotted with benches and footpaths, with arched marble walls and pillars. High above, light from some unnamable source spilled through crystal and stained-glass windows; a bell obscured most of the ceiling, and all Jack knew was that he wouldn't want to be under it if and when it rang.
The Doctor turned. "This is the Cloister Room. I come here to think," he said, putting a hand on one pillar and brushing aside the leaves of what appeared to be Venusian ivy, "so I'd appreciate it if you didn't come here often."
Jack snatched his gaze back from the cloister's windows. "Look, Doctor, I appreciate your coming to save me. But if you don't want me around, there are plenty of places you could drop me off--"
"I didn't say I didn't want you around," the Doctor said flatly. "I said I didn't want you in here."
Jack watched him. Wondered if he should find a literal leash for the Doctor to jerk him around on. "Why did you save me?"
The Doctor looked surprised. It was a surprisingly genuine expression. "Because I did."
"Because you did?" The Time Agency had been, at times, one extended lesson in how not to answer questions. Because I did was an evasion if ever he'd heard one.
The Doctor stared at him, and Jack couldn't even guess at what went on in his mind. He'd heard the legends of Gallifrey; the Time Lords had seemed fey and distant. Elevated. He looked at the Doctor and thought of clockwork, wheels within wheels clicking away.
"Because you deserved a chance," the Doctor said eventually, and he said it flatly, like a statement of fact. No emotion, no compassion. Jack nodded. Better than some alternatives.
"Fine, then." He spread his hands. "Chance to prove myself. So tell me. What should I do? How should I act?"
The Doctor sneered at him. At least, Jack assumed it was a sneer; his mouth didn't move, and his eyes had the same strange regard that they usually did. "You want me to set up your morality?"
"I want--"
"You want me to tell you what you can and can't do. Write out a neat little list accounting for all circumstance." He shook his head. "Well, that's sad, because I'm not going to."
Jack shifted, though what he wanted to do was hunch up or argue or beg. He'd learned to negotiate, both in his time as a Time Agent and his time as a con man, but the Doctor totally locked him up inside. "Why not?"
"Because I've got no use for people who can't look at something and work out what's right or wrong," the Doctor said.
He folded his arms, deliberately belligerent. "And if I get it wrong?"
"Then you try harder the next time."
"And if I never get it right?"
The Doctor's voice changed, and Jack couldn't tell how. "Then I've made a mistake letting you on this ship."
Jack swallowed.
"Of course, if that's the case, that shouldn't concern you," the Doctor said, and Jack tried to unravel the ethics there and didn't know how. The Doctor leaned back. His eyes narrowed, but his lips quirked up. It wasn't a human amusement. "What do you want, Captain?"
For a moment, it seemed like an easy question. "I want--"
He stopped. Riches, power, fame--or infamy. Either works. Another ship would be nice. Glory? ...I want my memories back. I want to see how far Rose wants to go. I want to see how far you--do I? He looked at the Doctor's eyes. They were cool and alien as comets between stars. Do I ever want to know how far you'll go?
"To be honest, I want a lot of things."
"Good." The Doctor's voice was unexpectedly decisive. "Honesty. Good place to start."
"What?" Jack tried not to gape. "And you're--you're satisfied by that? That wasn't even an answer."
"And I'm not likely to get one soon, am I? You can go now," the Doctor said, and tilted his head toward the door. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as if listening to every hum and creak of the TARDIS around him.
Jack left.
He traced his footsteps back through the hallways--always did have a good head for directions--and paused as he passed by Rose's room.
Under any other circumstances, with the Doctor presumably occupied, he might have knocked or just slipped in. Easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. But his mind was still reeling, and it felt like he couldn't expect anything--the Doctor made no sense, and he was in control. Best not to try his patience, or to try not to try him.
He walked past the door, poked his head into a few more rooms, and eventually selected one with a long couch and a set of Andromedan rugs. Left his coat hanging on the wall and stretched out, staring at the ceiling and wondering where he was going to go from here.
It wasn't the first time he'd had no idea, but it was the first time he hadn't felt lost. That alone was enough to frighten him.
What do I want?
He closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep for a long time.
Author: magistrate (draegonhawke)
Sliding Scale of Slash: Gen. Alternately, DENIED!
Rating: T
Fandoms: Doctor Who
Summary: A history. Jack's first night on the TARDIS, just after the Blitz, is more of a paradigm shift than even he expected.
The first night on the TARDIS was the worst, even though in some ways it ended the best day of Jack's life.
The Time Agency had accorded Time Lords either awe or disdain, depending on whether or not Time Lord activities directly conflicted with their own. Having never been thwarted by their inconsistent meddling, Jack mostly fell onto the "awe" side of the equation.
They'd traded stories, with the airs of those whose facts would never be checked, about them. That their homeworld occupied a unique dimension in time. That they couldn't die. That their ships were planet-destroyers powered by black holes. It was safe to say anything, because none of them would ever meet one--the Time Lords were mythic figures, not real breathing beings. Jack had believed it without knowing he did.
Until circumstance had dropped the Doctor on him, at least. Then dropped the TARDIS into his lap, just to round things off.
And now here he was, and half of the legends weren't good enough and half of them were just wrong. And the Doctor was walking around his TARDIS, a king in his kingdom, calling it old girl and never seeming to notice that most Time Agents would kill for the technology that went into creating one room.
Jack had never felt so much like a stray dog.
And it didn't help that he'd been found where he had been--conning the Earth to death, to all appearances. And the Doctor had swept in and fixed everything and left Jack with nothing to do but clean up odds and ends, and there were moments when he would have lain down and kissed this man's feet and begged for forgiveness, if he hadn't had enough of that already. But he didn't think it would help--the Doctor had come as close to forgiving him as he ever would when he'd looked up at him and the bomb and smiled, when he'd let him on his ship and closed the door behind him.
And then there were moments like these, when he'd checked on the computer to see which room was Rose's, and arrived only to find the Doctor leaning with his back to the doorframe, waiting like a cat outside a mousehole.
Jack stopped, trying on half a dozen excuses before he realized that he had no idea what sort of rule he was breaking. None of this had come with a manual. "Doctor?"
"Late-night stroll?" the Doctor asked, with a voice too genial to be venomous and too dark to be genial.
"Not so late."
He tilted his head. "Rose is asleep."
"Oh," Jack said, and wasn't sure if he was just supposed to turn around and walk away. "...fast asleep?"
The Doctor's eyes narrowed. "I don't think you should bother her."
"I just wanted to check in with her," Jack protested. "She said she'd like--"
The Doctor didn't even have to raise his voice to shut him up. "She's nineteen and human. She doesn't know what she wants."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "Really," he said, and could have mentioned age-of-consent laws for all sorts of planets, including the one they'd just left. Instead, he was thinking You were quick enough to steal my dance, too. "Is the problem that she's nineteen and human, or is the problem that she's yours?"
The Doctor echoed his expression. "She's not," he said. "Not yours, either."
"Never said she had to be."
The Doctor's face changed. All the muscles required for smiling tensed or relaxed, but the result was the least smile-like thing Jack had ever seen. It made his blood run cold. Jack raised his palms.
"Hands off."
"Good boy," the Doctor said, except he hadn't actually said "boy." Jack had appended that on his own. The Doctor turned, business complete, and walked off.
Jack had the feeling that he'd narrowly escaped something immensely unpleasant.
A second later he started after the Doctor, jogging to catch him. "Hey! Wait up."
The Doctor glanced back over his shoulder, and kept moving without adjusting his pace.
Jack fell in a few steps behind him, trying to keep track of the halls they passed through. The TARDIS was immense--they passed doors the size of shuttles, spiral staircases as tall as telephone poles, and more branches and turns in the hallway than he'd seen in some royal courts.
Eventually they came to the center--or what Jack assumed was the center; he didn't know why, except that it felt center-like: a vast garden, dotted with benches and footpaths, with arched marble walls and pillars. High above, light from some unnamable source spilled through crystal and stained-glass windows; a bell obscured most of the ceiling, and all Jack knew was that he wouldn't want to be under it if and when it rang.
The Doctor turned. "This is the Cloister Room. I come here to think," he said, putting a hand on one pillar and brushing aside the leaves of what appeared to be Venusian ivy, "so I'd appreciate it if you didn't come here often."
Jack snatched his gaze back from the cloister's windows. "Look, Doctor, I appreciate your coming to save me. But if you don't want me around, there are plenty of places you could drop me off--"
"I didn't say I didn't want you around," the Doctor said flatly. "I said I didn't want you in here."
Jack watched him. Wondered if he should find a literal leash for the Doctor to jerk him around on. "Why did you save me?"
The Doctor looked surprised. It was a surprisingly genuine expression. "Because I did."
"Because you did?" The Time Agency had been, at times, one extended lesson in how not to answer questions. Because I did was an evasion if ever he'd heard one.
The Doctor stared at him, and Jack couldn't even guess at what went on in his mind. He'd heard the legends of Gallifrey; the Time Lords had seemed fey and distant. Elevated. He looked at the Doctor and thought of clockwork, wheels within wheels clicking away.
"Because you deserved a chance," the Doctor said eventually, and he said it flatly, like a statement of fact. No emotion, no compassion. Jack nodded. Better than some alternatives.
"Fine, then." He spread his hands. "Chance to prove myself. So tell me. What should I do? How should I act?"
The Doctor sneered at him. At least, Jack assumed it was a sneer; his mouth didn't move, and his eyes had the same strange regard that they usually did. "You want me to set up your morality?"
"I want--"
"You want me to tell you what you can and can't do. Write out a neat little list accounting for all circumstance." He shook his head. "Well, that's sad, because I'm not going to."
Jack shifted, though what he wanted to do was hunch up or argue or beg. He'd learned to negotiate, both in his time as a Time Agent and his time as a con man, but the Doctor totally locked him up inside. "Why not?"
"Because I've got no use for people who can't look at something and work out what's right or wrong," the Doctor said.
He folded his arms, deliberately belligerent. "And if I get it wrong?"
"Then you try harder the next time."
"And if I never get it right?"
The Doctor's voice changed, and Jack couldn't tell how. "Then I've made a mistake letting you on this ship."
Jack swallowed.
"Of course, if that's the case, that shouldn't concern you," the Doctor said, and Jack tried to unravel the ethics there and didn't know how. The Doctor leaned back. His eyes narrowed, but his lips quirked up. It wasn't a human amusement. "What do you want, Captain?"
For a moment, it seemed like an easy question. "I want--"
He stopped. Riches, power, fame--or infamy. Either works. Another ship would be nice. Glory? ...I want my memories back. I want to see how far Rose wants to go. I want to see how far you--do I? He looked at the Doctor's eyes. They were cool and alien as comets between stars. Do I ever want to know how far you'll go?
"To be honest, I want a lot of things."
"Good." The Doctor's voice was unexpectedly decisive. "Honesty. Good place to start."
"What?" Jack tried not to gape. "And you're--you're satisfied by that? That wasn't even an answer."
"And I'm not likely to get one soon, am I? You can go now," the Doctor said, and tilted his head toward the door. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as if listening to every hum and creak of the TARDIS around him.
Jack left.
He traced his footsteps back through the hallways--always did have a good head for directions--and paused as he passed by Rose's room.
Under any other circumstances, with the Doctor presumably occupied, he might have knocked or just slipped in. Easier to beg forgiveness than to ask permission. But his mind was still reeling, and it felt like he couldn't expect anything--the Doctor made no sense, and he was in control. Best not to try his patience, or to try not to try him.
He walked past the door, poked his head into a few more rooms, and eventually selected one with a long couch and a set of Andromedan rugs. Left his coat hanging on the wall and stretched out, staring at the ceiling and wondering where he was going to go from here.
It wasn't the first time he'd had no idea, but it was the first time he hadn't felt lost. That alone was enough to frighten him.
What do I want?
He closed his eyes, but he didn't sleep for a long time.