Gift for timelord1
To: timelord1
From: trobadora
Title: A Time For Lasts
Characters and/or Pairings: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Even when the end of time itself is looming, some things are not to be denied. - Set during the beginning of The End of Time Part 1.
Author's Note: Many thanks to my betas, W. and M.!
Word Count: 2,321 words
~*~
It is returning, and he is returning, and they are returning. - You should not have delayed.
The Oods' warning rang in his mind, a constant echo as he ran all the way from the Ood gathering to the TARDIS. No time. No time at all. He skidded inside, slammed against the console, and within a moment he was hurtling through the Vortex.
Time is bleeding.
His hearts were beating in his throat. No time.
When the TARDIS came to a stop with a violent lurch, he picked himself up from the floor and ran to the door, threw it open - -
- - and caught himself on the frame before he could tumble out into the blackness of deep space. They were far out, the closest sun but a pinprick in the dark.
"What?"
~*~
The TARDIS was silent in his mind. One of the console monitors blinked at him obstinately, showing a nondescript metal box drifting in space. It was rectangular and tapered, and he had no time for this.
The Ood's voice rang in his mind, warning: You should not have delayed. You should not delay.
But no matter how much he was in a hurry to get to Earth, to catch up with whatever was going on with Wilf and Donna, Lucy Saxon, and - yes - the Master ... the TARDIS refused to move. He scowled at her. She was silent at him.
His eyes kept straying to the blinking image of the box. He didn't have to guess what was in it; if he concentrated just a little, he could sense it clear as day.
He just didn't want to.
On the other hand ...
On the other hand, if he ran now, he would run forever. He'd have left forever. He knew it in his bones, didn't need the prophecy that had kept nagging at him since that first day: He will knock four times.
And now he was coming, as the Ood said. He was coming, he would knock, and it would be over. There was no place far enough to run.
He no longer had all the time in the world.
"Fine!" he huffed, and set coordinates to materialise the TARDIS around the box. This time, she co-operated smooth as anything, as if she'd never refused to obey at all.
~*~
The TARDIS had a walk-in freezer. He'd never been in it, but it was as large as a swimming pool. Tiled walls - might have been the swimming pool, actually, in a previous incarnation. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the swimming pool in a while ...
At any rate, it was empty. Empty except for the metal box - the coffin. The Doctor drew his sonic screwdriver and popped out the screws that held the lid in place, one by one. He slid it aside.
The Doctor leaned over the coffin and stared down at Jack's frozen face. None of that cheeky, charming smile now. But even frosted over, white and lifeless, there was still something thrumming, something vibrantly alive inside the ice. It prickled against his time sense like a frozen limb coming back to life.
Always alive.
The Doctor's lip twitched, despite himself. "Forever," he told Jack's frozen corpse seriously. His breath condensed in the cold air. "People use that word so easily. But you? I could shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces, and it wouldn't change a thing."
He paced, up and down, three steps in this direction, three in the other. He stuffed his fists into the pockets of his coat. Jack wasn't the only person he'd run from, of course. Far from it. It was a habit. A good one, if he did say so himself - it had worked for him for centuries, hadn't it? Worked quite well, thank you very much.
All those offers never accepted, all those visits never paid. All his friends were still out there, somewhere in the stream of time. All of them, always within reach, always just a single journey away. At any time, he could choose to go and visit. He could change his mind at any time.
He wouldn't. He never would, because once he did, he'd become part of the time flow. He'd become part of their lives, their small, short, linear lives. Once he did, he'd be one step closer to seeing them die. So long as he kept his distance, they'd always be there, just a push of a lever away.
Well, in theory.
Well, up until now.
Now, time was up, and he was out of options.
But there was this. This, right here, right now. He shouldn't be delaying, he knew it in his bones, but there was this.
Last exit, he thought wryly. Last chance.
Decisively, he strode over to the tiled wall, slid aside a panel and pulled out a brass contraption with a large crank. He put some muscle into it, and after a moment it began to move with an ear-piercing metal screech. Once, twice, thrice he turned it clockwise. He scowled at the flip clock display next to it and looked around. Ah! A small hammer was conveniently hanging just to the left of the mechanism. He slammed it against the casing with a satisfying THUNK, then applied himself to the crank again. It screeched again as it began to turn, but this time the display changed with it as it moved. Better.
After a while, the clock displayed the proper defrosting settings, and he nodded at the readout. His face expressionless and his mind as blank as he could make it, he settled back against the wall and waited, keeping an eye on Jack as the frost retreated.
A time for lasts.
~*~
A jerking gasp - a first breath, jolted back to life, and Jack was sitting up, eyes wide, instantly alert.
The Doctor smirked. "Sleeping Beauty awakes."
"See? You do appreciate my beauty." Jack's comeback was reflexive, ingrained, but his eyes were confused. He shivered, rubbed his hands together. "Where is this? It's cold in here, did someone forget to put the heating on?"
"Cold in space." The Doctor shrugged. "You spent quite a while there, you know. Drifting. Space burials can be inconvenient like that."
Jack shuddered again, but not merely from the cold. "Damn, they must have been quick. It was an accident, as far as I know - decompression. But they must have sent me out before I could revive." His eyes trailed across the room, lingered for a moment on the crank at the wall, then at the ornamental tiles with their circular pattern rimming the ceiling high up above. "TARDIS?" he asked succinctly.
The Doctor nodded, but offered no other explanation. This Jack was rather a lot older than the Jack he'd last seen; their timelines might intersect, but they were far from synchronous. Better not to ask or answer too many questions.
Jack must understand that too; he asked nothing more. He climbed out of his coffin, stared down at it for a moment with a bemused expression, then shrugged. "Can we get out of here? I'm still cold." He drew his coat tighter around him as if for emphasis. Then he leered at the Doctor and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Considering how pale he still was, it looked a bit ridiculous. "Unless you want to huddle together for warmth."
"Oh, stop it," the Doctor said without heat and considered the man. The temperature should have been comfortable for a human; Jack shouldn't still be cold. Coming back to life hadn't fixed everything, it seemed. The Doctor turned to a second wall panel, fiddling with it for a moment before he produced a steaming goblet. "Drink this first."
Jack looked down at it sceptically. "It's green."
"Yes!" The Doctor gave him a somewhat exaggerated grin. "Good colour for a drink, green. I always thought so. Much better than red, or yellow, or" - he shuddered - "fuchsia."
"Hm." Jack turned to his no doubt considerable memory of drinks of all colours, recalling the green ones. "There's Pallarian Shivth, I grant you - best aphrodisiac I ever tried. And of course absinthe is always good for a bit of fun." He considered for a moment. "Does that still count when it's louched?"
"Yes! Well, no." The Doctor made a face. "But yes." He waved the question away. "Speaking of absinthe - there was this fantastic little café in Paris; I was there just the other day. They had those marvellous little spigot things with ice water. I used one of them to fight off an Amarthax. They hate water, you know."
Jack laughed.
"Anyway!" The Doctor made an impatient gesture. "Drink up!"
With a shrug, Jack downed the steaming concoction.
"... whoa," he said a moment later. His colour was healthy again, and after a moment he shrugged off his coat. His perception of temperature seemed to have returned to normal; he seemed comfortable in shirtsleeves. Jack pursed his lips at the Doctor. "Now I've got heat to spare."
Everything was an excuse for flirtation with Jack. "Stop it," he muttered, and thought, Never change, Jack. Never change.
Jack mimed an expressive pout at him. There was every chance that part of him never would change. But the Doctor ...
He will knock four times.
Gooseflesh brushed up the Doctor's arms. Another offer never accepted, and never was a harsh word.
Time for a first, then. Even if it must also be a last.
Because, a treacherously honest part of himself whispered. He ignored it.
Jack was standing close. The Doctor could lift a hand and touch him, just like that. He did. Pressing a hand against Jack's chest, he felt his warmth, the steady beat of his single heart. Good.
Jack stared down, comically surprised by the touch. Then his eyes snapped up, searching the Doctor's face. The Doctor grinned at him, mischievous, and slid a hand up Jack's shirt-clad chest, over his shoulder and up to his cheek. Buried fingers in Jack's hair. Jack's lips opened a little. A thumb stroked Jack's cheekbone almost by its own leave. Slowly, so slowly. There was no urgency; this wasn't driven by need. There was only this, a moment out of time.
After a moment, Jack met his grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling in well-established lines. He reached up and cupped the Doctor's cheek with his right hand. They drew closer, closer still until their foreheads rested against each other. They stayed that way for a long moment, their mouths inches from each other, breathing each other's breath. But they did not kiss. Their bodies moulded themselves against each other, the way the Doctor always had known they would.
Jack brushed his lips against the Doctor's jaw. Warm breath ghosted against his skin.
The TARDIS was still floating in space, right where the Doctor had found Jack. He hadn't bothered to bring them back into the Vortex. He suppressed the voice at the back of his head that kept repeating Ood Sigma's warning at him: You should not have delayed. This was a time machine after all; he could still arrive at the same time and place as he'd originally planned.
He could take this one moment out of time, even without literally hovering outside of time.
He could.
He used his tongue to finally close the small distance between them, licking first his own, then Jack's lips. Jack's small gasp was gratifying. Their mouths met, and he explored Jack's mouth - so much hotter than his - with diligence, pulling Jack's shirt out of his trousers at the same time. With reluctance he let Jack separate them enough to rid himself of his own coat, which pooled on the floor around his feet. Then they were against each other again, his hands under Jack's shirt, then inside his trousers, cupping Jack's arse. Jack gasped a laugh into his ear.
Jack's fingers were not even a little cold when they pushed into the Doctor's trousers, which meant they were hot to his senses. Heat wrapped around his cock, and he couldn't have helped the involuntary little thrust forward if he'd tried.
The Doctor didn't try, and Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up. Jack visibly thought about making a lewd comment, but in the end didn't break their silence.
Eventually they found themselves on the tiled floor - cool, but not uncomfortably so. Or at least the Doctor assumed that much; by some convenient accident Jack had ended up on his back against the tile, while the Doctor had Jack's warmth to lie on top of. Only his legs and hands touched the floor, hips between Jack's thighs and hands braced beside his shoulders as he pushed down, cock against cock. Jack's arms were around him, providing leverage as they ground against each other.
Everything else had melted away. There was only this: the Doctor and Jack, moving in unison, here and now in this very moment.
~*~
"Need some company for a while?" Jack asked afterwards, his head pillowed on the Doctor's shoulder, his nose pressed into the Doctor's neck. Their legs were tangled.
The Doctor bit back the instinctive No. But his silence must have spoken for itself; after a moment, Jack continued, "I can be gone any time, you know." He huffed against the Doctor's neck, then moved back a little. Instantly the air seemed a little colder. "If you don't break my Vortex Manipulator again."
So. The Doctor didn't have to answer anything; he could let Jack go on with his own life, and return to the chase the TARDIS had so abruptly interrupted. It was easy. Jack would not ask again.
Or ...
He pulled Jack close again, a firm hand against the small of his back. Jack didn't resist, but hummed an inarticulate question.
"Actually," the Doctor said quietly, remembering something he'd almost let himself forget, "most things are better with two."
~end~
From: trobadora
Title: A Time For Lasts
Characters and/or Pairings: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Even when the end of time itself is looming, some things are not to be denied. - Set during the beginning of The End of Time Part 1.
Author's Note: Many thanks to my betas, W. and M.!
Word Count: 2,321 words
~*~
It is returning, and he is returning, and they are returning. - You should not have delayed.
The Oods' warning rang in his mind, a constant echo as he ran all the way from the Ood gathering to the TARDIS. No time. No time at all. He skidded inside, slammed against the console, and within a moment he was hurtling through the Vortex.
Time is bleeding.
His hearts were beating in his throat. No time.
When the TARDIS came to a stop with a violent lurch, he picked himself up from the floor and ran to the door, threw it open - -
- - and caught himself on the frame before he could tumble out into the blackness of deep space. They were far out, the closest sun but a pinprick in the dark.
"What?"
~*~
The TARDIS was silent in his mind. One of the console monitors blinked at him obstinately, showing a nondescript metal box drifting in space. It was rectangular and tapered, and he had no time for this.
The Ood's voice rang in his mind, warning: You should not have delayed. You should not delay.
But no matter how much he was in a hurry to get to Earth, to catch up with whatever was going on with Wilf and Donna, Lucy Saxon, and - yes - the Master ... the TARDIS refused to move. He scowled at her. She was silent at him.
His eyes kept straying to the blinking image of the box. He didn't have to guess what was in it; if he concentrated just a little, he could sense it clear as day.
He just didn't want to.
On the other hand ...
On the other hand, if he ran now, he would run forever. He'd have left forever. He knew it in his bones, didn't need the prophecy that had kept nagging at him since that first day: He will knock four times.
And now he was coming, as the Ood said. He was coming, he would knock, and it would be over. There was no place far enough to run.
He no longer had all the time in the world.
"Fine!" he huffed, and set coordinates to materialise the TARDIS around the box. This time, she co-operated smooth as anything, as if she'd never refused to obey at all.
~*~
The TARDIS had a walk-in freezer. He'd never been in it, but it was as large as a swimming pool. Tiled walls - might have been the swimming pool, actually, in a previous incarnation. Come to think of it, he hadn't seen the swimming pool in a while ...
At any rate, it was empty. Empty except for the metal box - the coffin. The Doctor drew his sonic screwdriver and popped out the screws that held the lid in place, one by one. He slid it aside.
The Doctor leaned over the coffin and stared down at Jack's frozen face. None of that cheeky, charming smile now. But even frosted over, white and lifeless, there was still something thrumming, something vibrantly alive inside the ice. It prickled against his time sense like a frozen limb coming back to life.
Always alive.
The Doctor's lip twitched, despite himself. "Forever," he told Jack's frozen corpse seriously. His breath condensed in the cold air. "People use that word so easily. But you? I could shatter you into a thousand tiny pieces, and it wouldn't change a thing."
He paced, up and down, three steps in this direction, three in the other. He stuffed his fists into the pockets of his coat. Jack wasn't the only person he'd run from, of course. Far from it. It was a habit. A good one, if he did say so himself - it had worked for him for centuries, hadn't it? Worked quite well, thank you very much.
All those offers never accepted, all those visits never paid. All his friends were still out there, somewhere in the stream of time. All of them, always within reach, always just a single journey away. At any time, he could choose to go and visit. He could change his mind at any time.
He wouldn't. He never would, because once he did, he'd become part of the time flow. He'd become part of their lives, their small, short, linear lives. Once he did, he'd be one step closer to seeing them die. So long as he kept his distance, they'd always be there, just a push of a lever away.
Well, in theory.
Well, up until now.
Now, time was up, and he was out of options.
But there was this. This, right here, right now. He shouldn't be delaying, he knew it in his bones, but there was this.
Last exit, he thought wryly. Last chance.
Decisively, he strode over to the tiled wall, slid aside a panel and pulled out a brass contraption with a large crank. He put some muscle into it, and after a moment it began to move with an ear-piercing metal screech. Once, twice, thrice he turned it clockwise. He scowled at the flip clock display next to it and looked around. Ah! A small hammer was conveniently hanging just to the left of the mechanism. He slammed it against the casing with a satisfying THUNK, then applied himself to the crank again. It screeched again as it began to turn, but this time the display changed with it as it moved. Better.
After a while, the clock displayed the proper defrosting settings, and he nodded at the readout. His face expressionless and his mind as blank as he could make it, he settled back against the wall and waited, keeping an eye on Jack as the frost retreated.
A time for lasts.
~*~
A jerking gasp - a first breath, jolted back to life, and Jack was sitting up, eyes wide, instantly alert.
The Doctor smirked. "Sleeping Beauty awakes."
"See? You do appreciate my beauty." Jack's comeback was reflexive, ingrained, but his eyes were confused. He shivered, rubbed his hands together. "Where is this? It's cold in here, did someone forget to put the heating on?"
"Cold in space." The Doctor shrugged. "You spent quite a while there, you know. Drifting. Space burials can be inconvenient like that."
Jack shuddered again, but not merely from the cold. "Damn, they must have been quick. It was an accident, as far as I know - decompression. But they must have sent me out before I could revive." His eyes trailed across the room, lingered for a moment on the crank at the wall, then at the ornamental tiles with their circular pattern rimming the ceiling high up above. "TARDIS?" he asked succinctly.
The Doctor nodded, but offered no other explanation. This Jack was rather a lot older than the Jack he'd last seen; their timelines might intersect, but they were far from synchronous. Better not to ask or answer too many questions.
Jack must understand that too; he asked nothing more. He climbed out of his coffin, stared down at it for a moment with a bemused expression, then shrugged. "Can we get out of here? I'm still cold." He drew his coat tighter around him as if for emphasis. Then he leered at the Doctor and waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Considering how pale he still was, it looked a bit ridiculous. "Unless you want to huddle together for warmth."
"Oh, stop it," the Doctor said without heat and considered the man. The temperature should have been comfortable for a human; Jack shouldn't still be cold. Coming back to life hadn't fixed everything, it seemed. The Doctor turned to a second wall panel, fiddling with it for a moment before he produced a steaming goblet. "Drink this first."
Jack looked down at it sceptically. "It's green."
"Yes!" The Doctor gave him a somewhat exaggerated grin. "Good colour for a drink, green. I always thought so. Much better than red, or yellow, or" - he shuddered - "fuchsia."
"Hm." Jack turned to his no doubt considerable memory of drinks of all colours, recalling the green ones. "There's Pallarian Shivth, I grant you - best aphrodisiac I ever tried. And of course absinthe is always good for a bit of fun." He considered for a moment. "Does that still count when it's louched?"
"Yes! Well, no." The Doctor made a face. "But yes." He waved the question away. "Speaking of absinthe - there was this fantastic little café in Paris; I was there just the other day. They had those marvellous little spigot things with ice water. I used one of them to fight off an Amarthax. They hate water, you know."
Jack laughed.
"Anyway!" The Doctor made an impatient gesture. "Drink up!"
With a shrug, Jack downed the steaming concoction.
"... whoa," he said a moment later. His colour was healthy again, and after a moment he shrugged off his coat. His perception of temperature seemed to have returned to normal; he seemed comfortable in shirtsleeves. Jack pursed his lips at the Doctor. "Now I've got heat to spare."
Everything was an excuse for flirtation with Jack. "Stop it," he muttered, and thought, Never change, Jack. Never change.
Jack mimed an expressive pout at him. There was every chance that part of him never would change. But the Doctor ...
He will knock four times.
Gooseflesh brushed up the Doctor's arms. Another offer never accepted, and never was a harsh word.
Time for a first, then. Even if it must also be a last.
Because, a treacherously honest part of himself whispered. He ignored it.
Jack was standing close. The Doctor could lift a hand and touch him, just like that. He did. Pressing a hand against Jack's chest, he felt his warmth, the steady beat of his single heart. Good.
Jack stared down, comically surprised by the touch. Then his eyes snapped up, searching the Doctor's face. The Doctor grinned at him, mischievous, and slid a hand up Jack's shirt-clad chest, over his shoulder and up to his cheek. Buried fingers in Jack's hair. Jack's lips opened a little. A thumb stroked Jack's cheekbone almost by its own leave. Slowly, so slowly. There was no urgency; this wasn't driven by need. There was only this, a moment out of time.
After a moment, Jack met his grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling in well-established lines. He reached up and cupped the Doctor's cheek with his right hand. They drew closer, closer still until their foreheads rested against each other. They stayed that way for a long moment, their mouths inches from each other, breathing each other's breath. But they did not kiss. Their bodies moulded themselves against each other, the way the Doctor always had known they would.
Jack brushed his lips against the Doctor's jaw. Warm breath ghosted against his skin.
The TARDIS was still floating in space, right where the Doctor had found Jack. He hadn't bothered to bring them back into the Vortex. He suppressed the voice at the back of his head that kept repeating Ood Sigma's warning at him: You should not have delayed. This was a time machine after all; he could still arrive at the same time and place as he'd originally planned.
He could take this one moment out of time, even without literally hovering outside of time.
He could.
He used his tongue to finally close the small distance between them, licking first his own, then Jack's lips. Jack's small gasp was gratifying. Their mouths met, and he explored Jack's mouth - so much hotter than his - with diligence, pulling Jack's shirt out of his trousers at the same time. With reluctance he let Jack separate them enough to rid himself of his own coat, which pooled on the floor around his feet. Then they were against each other again, his hands under Jack's shirt, then inside his trousers, cupping Jack's arse. Jack gasped a laugh into his ear.
Jack's fingers were not even a little cold when they pushed into the Doctor's trousers, which meant they were hot to his senses. Heat wrapped around his cock, and he couldn't have helped the involuntary little thrust forward if he'd tried.
The Doctor didn't try, and Jack grinned, his eyes lighting up. Jack visibly thought about making a lewd comment, but in the end didn't break their silence.
Eventually they found themselves on the tiled floor - cool, but not uncomfortably so. Or at least the Doctor assumed that much; by some convenient accident Jack had ended up on his back against the tile, while the Doctor had Jack's warmth to lie on top of. Only his legs and hands touched the floor, hips between Jack's thighs and hands braced beside his shoulders as he pushed down, cock against cock. Jack's arms were around him, providing leverage as they ground against each other.
Everything else had melted away. There was only this: the Doctor and Jack, moving in unison, here and now in this very moment.
~*~
"Need some company for a while?" Jack asked afterwards, his head pillowed on the Doctor's shoulder, his nose pressed into the Doctor's neck. Their legs were tangled.
The Doctor bit back the instinctive No. But his silence must have spoken for itself; after a moment, Jack continued, "I can be gone any time, you know." He huffed against the Doctor's neck, then moved back a little. Instantly the air seemed a little colder. "If you don't break my Vortex Manipulator again."
So. The Doctor didn't have to answer anything; he could let Jack go on with his own life, and return to the chase the TARDIS had so abruptly interrupted. It was easy. Jack would not ask again.
Or ...
He pulled Jack close again, a firm hand against the small of his back. Jack didn't resist, but hummed an inarticulate question.
"Actually," the Doctor said quietly, remembering something he'd almost let himself forget, "most things are better with two."
~end~