DW Fic - No Looking Back Part III
Title: No Looking Back 3/6
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Summary: Donna Noble meets a man who calls himself John Smith.
Characters: The Doctor, Jack Harkness
Part III
One sound Jack will never forget, no matter how far he runs from Earth: the wheezing, grinding noise of the TARDIS. It is the only thing from his life back then that he allows himself to admit to missing. So when he hears it, or thinks he hears it, he feels his heart leap in his chest.
He dives for the door, hauling it open and staring, momentarily speechless, as he sees a blue box slowly take shape on the ground outside his house. His heart begins to race as the engines shut off, remembering the last time, in that bar, the day he met Alonzo.
The look on the Doctor’s face.
The definite sense of farewell.
Jack had wondered then if he would ever see the Doctor again. But here he is at last - or, at least, here is the TARDIS. The great unknown is the occupant, or occupants.
So he waits, on the doorstep of his house on the Boeshane Peninsula, rather than running to the blue box. Curious to see just which incarnation of the Doctor has tracked him down here, and, more importantly, what he wants.
The door gives its familiar creak, but the foot that steps out is clad in a brown boot, not a converse sneaker, and Jack has to swallow a lump in his throat. But then he remembers when the Doctor wore a leather jacket and the pain fades a little. After all, change for the Doctor is as natural as coming back from death is for him. Perhaps it’s time for him to move on, too.
And yet, despite his new-found resolution, he can’t help but stare at the youthful figure who steps out of the tardis, looking oddly anachronistic in his old-fashioned vest with a watch-chain glittering beneath his jacket, but with his hair flopping long over his broad forehead.
“Jack.”
“Doctor.” Jack is unable to help the slight reserve in his voice, and sees as the Time Lord picks up on it at once.
“Ah, it’s the face, isn’t it,” he complains, tugging at his cheeks with both hands. “Strange timey-wimey new face. Well, not new for me. I’ve had a couple of hundred years to get used to it.”
Jack frowns a little as he watches the Doctor cover the ground between them. “That long, huh?”
Somehow that knowledge of passing time stings. Maybe because it feels like abandonment, as if he wasn’t important enough for the Doctor to go back and check on after he regenerated.
Then again, he was the one who left the Earth. And the Doctor did track him down to that bar. Did send him Alonzo, who helped, at least for a while, to make his life less lonely. Jack lets out a long, slow breath and meets his visitor’s gaze.
He finds the Doctor looking directly into his eyes, and he is suddenly hit by the realisation of the age and the pain he has always known was inside the Time Lord. His previous body, of course, would scoff and bluster and never admit it. And the first man, the one Jack met with Rose, tried to be as unreadable as possible. But now Jack can see just how much this version of the Doctor is hurting. Maybe this face would deny it, too, if asked, or maybe Jack is just better at looking. He’s been thinking of himself and his loss, but only now does he consider that the Doctor will have lost people, too.
“Jack,” the Doctor says softly, “I need your help.”
* * *
“I still haven’t remarked on the bow-tie,” Jack remarks once he has complimented the redecorated TARDIS interior.
“It’s cool,” the Doctor says confidently, readjusting it.
“’Course it is!” Jack manages to look as if he means it for almost ten whole seconds before his expression cracks and he has to grin. “Yeah, no,” he says. “It really, really isn’t. Still, at least it’s not some crazy headwear.”
He ignores the Doctor’s hurt expression and glances at one of the monitors, which shows their destination, even if he can’t make sense of it thanks to the Gallifreyan alphabet. His host fills him in with one word.
“Earth.”
Jack starts, noting a subdued and wary tone in the Doctor’s voice, and turns to stare at the TARDIS pilot, whose eyes are fixed on the ship’s instruments.
“Why?” he asks almost resentfully. Surely the Doctor will understand how much he wants to leave that place behind - won’t he?
“Because,” the Doctor straightens, his hands behind his back, and fixes his eyes on Jack’s face, “there’s nobody else who can do what you can, Jack. Not this time. Not now.”
“What, is there another radiation-filled room I have to go and die in back there?” demands Jack bitterly. “Another Time Lord who gets to kill me over and over for a year? How do I have to come back to life this time? Hunt down my own head and put it back on, I suppose. That would be a first, at least for a couple of centuries.”
“Actually, I don’t expect you to die at all this time.” The Doctor inhales deeply and turns back to the console, starting to fiddle with things, giving Jack the distinct impression that he may not be being entirely truthful. This sensation increases when the Time Lord hurries on. “I need some of your other skills - like your ability to find out what’s going on without being seen, and to come back to me with every single salacious detail.”
“Have you met me?” demands Jack incredulously, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of demonstration. “Do I look like the subtle undercover type to you?”
“Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.” The Doctor shakes his head in apparent disappointment and flaps a hand in his direction before moving his arms in wide sweeping motions as his fingers wiggle. “Bigger picture. Concentrate. Gossip. That’s what I want from you. Every juicy titbit of information.”
“About an alien invasion?” Jack stares at him, confusion growing with every passing second. “Some threat to humankind is about to take over Earth and you’re after gossip?”
The Doctor leans against the console and flaps at him again. Jack has already realised that that is one of this body’s tics.
“Don’t be so ridiculous!” He rolls his eyes and his head in a theatrical gesture. “When did I ever mention alien invasions?”
This brings Jack up short and he thinks back through their conversation, forced to admit that the exact reason for the Doctor coming to get him has never actually been detailed.
“What is it then?”
“It - could be dangerous,” the Doctor admits slowly.
“Gee, what a surprise,” Jack drawls in sarcastic tones, leaning against the console and folding his arms over his chest.
“Actually, I don’t mean it like that, but - think of it like a party.”
“A party?” Jack is both mystified and intrigued. “Go on.”
“Okay, so there’s a whole room full of people, some you know and some you don’t.” The Doctor frowns a little. “And there’s some people you know, maybe you dated them once, or kissed them or something. So you’d like to go up and say hi, but you also know you really shouldn’t speak to them because you just don’t know how they might react.”
“So you’re sending me in because you can’t talk to them,” says Jack knowingly.
“Actually forget parties,” the Doctor says hurriedly. “Rubbish analogy. I’m not sending you in because I can’t talk to them. I’m sending you in because you can’t talk to them either.”
“What?” Jack demands, completely confused.
“They won’t know you,” the Doctor continues, apparently ignoring this, “but you’ll know them, which is why you’re so perfect for this. And you can get out easily if things become too messy. Which they might. I think. Possibly.”
“And how am I meant to do that?” Jack pushes up his sleeves to reveal his bare arms. “I left all that behind after - after Torchwood.”
“Yes, you left it behind,” the Doctor agrees, and even as he speaks, a panel slides up on the console to reveal the battered leather strap and bulky contraption that Jack remembers so well. “And I rescued it. Out of the Black Archive. Well, I say ‘I’. It was actually Clara. She used it to escape from a group of Zygons. I made sure to get it back from her. Can’t let UNIT keep hold of it, not know they’ve got the activation code. They could do anything with it!”
Long before the Doctor has finished speaking, Jack has retrieved the vortex manipulator and attached it to the accustomed place on his left wrist. Funny, after all this time, he can’t even remember how and where he lost it. Maybe that doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he has it back.
“Clara?” he asks rather disinterestedly as he checks it over, feeling the familiar warm buzz against his arm.
“My current companion. Part-time companion. Evenings, weekends and bank holidays. Which is why she’s not here now.”
“And why are you here now?” Jack decides it’s time to get down to business. “It’s been years since the stolen planets and the 456 and everything. I’d have expected you to have moved on. So why have you come back now?”
The Doctor sighs and, for the first time, steps away from the console. He sags against a row of controls off to the side and looks up at Jack almost miserably.
“Things - have happened,” he says slowly. “I met someone. Things were said. About me.”
“And how is that different from any other day?”
“I stood in judgement,” the Doctor admits, “and I didn’t like the result. The One Who Forgets. That was the verdict.”
“No.” Jack shakes his head. “Not you. Not the Doctor. You’d never really forget.”
The Doctor manages a faint smile. “Perhaps not,” he agrees. “I tried though. So hard. Didn’t want to remember how much everything hurt. But I can’t move on, can’t get away from this. And now it’s been pointed out to me, I want to set things right.”
For a moment Jack considers the man in front of him, thinking back over their time together. “Memory,” he says slowly, “and that person not being able to see you. Sounds like what you told me about Donna Noble.” The Doctor flinches, telling Jack he is correct. “So,” he goes on before the Time Lord can speak, “how come you had to come and get me? What’s wrong with Martha? She was good friends with Donna, after all. Or if you want news, what about Sarah Jane?”
“I can’t ask Martha.” The Doctor frowns, rapping his fingers on the edge of the control panel. “She was - no, not after I had to tell her what I did to Donna. They were such good friends,” he adds miserably, “that there’s a risk the sight of her might trigger something in Donna, too. And Sarah - no. Not now. It’s too late.”
His expression sags and Jack forbears asking anything else, although he makes up his mind to investigate what happened to that woman when he is back on Earth, and perhaps offer what help he can to Luke if the news is as bad as he fears.
“Doctor,” he says after a moment of painful silence, “why me?” he asks again, adding the obvious question, “Why not you?”
The expression on the other man’s face changes instantly to something like discomfort. “Tried that,” he admits, fiddling with his bow tie again, which Jack suspects is a nervous habit. “I turned up on her doorstep. Thought there was no way she’d recognise me with this face, and I could find out how things were. It didn’t go well.”
“Why?” Jack asks suspiciously. “Her husband opened the door?”
“No, and actually,” the Doctor frowns, “that’s a little strange. Mental note, find out what happened to Shaun Temple and why there was another man there.”
“So who was this other man?” prompts Jack, suspecting that this is at the heart of the problem. “Someone you know?”
“Someone you know.” The Time Lord is serious again. “Me. The first ‘me’ you ever met. Leather jacket, big flappy ears and all.”
“I don’t get why that’s a problem.” Jack shrugs carelessly. “You’ve met yourself before. You told me about that. So what’s stopping you introducing yourself now?”
“Because I don’t remember being there.”
This unexpected response stops Jack dead and he stares at the Doctor, who, in turn, is gazing at the floor.
“I remember everything else about Donna,” he says softly. “Every single moment. Since she can’t remember herself, I do it for her. But this - I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember ever having met Donna before she appeared in the TARDIS. So,” he finally raises his eyes to Jack, “how have I forgotten, and how can I - that version of me - possibly be there now?”
“But why did you run away?” Jack persists, intrigued by this idea. “Why not stay and help your earlier self take care of Donna? If you’ve forgotten being there, you can forget what’s going to happen to her - and why would you send me in?” he adds, suddenly considering his own role in this. “He’s going to know me right away!”
“I don’t think so.” The Doctor frowns. “It’s likely that this happened right after I regenerated, so he won’t have met you yet, which is why you should be safe. But then,” he begins pacing the floor, “I don’t remember meeting you either, before 1941, so I don’t know that I’m the most reliable witness.”
“Which is why you’re sending me in,” Jack finishes for him. “Because you’re too afraid of what you might do to yourself.”
The Doctor looks delighted and points at him with enthusiasm. “That’s it exactly!”
“Coward!”
There is a moment of silence.
“This is my future, Jack.” The Doctor’s voice is quiet. “My future and, if it goes wrong, yours and Rose’s and Martha’s and Donna’s and everyone’s. Think about it, Time Agent.” There is the faintest hint of scorn in his tones. “This is the Doctor just after he regenerated, after the Time War. Think of everything you know he’s done between then and now. Multiply that by a thousand - a million! More! Time unravels. Everything since that moment is undone. That’s what is at risk if this goes wrong.”
Jack spends a long moment studying this Doctor, this face, remembering the time he spent with other incarnations of the man. The thought of that somehow ceasing to happen seems inconceivable, and yet he knows all too well how such things can change.
“Perception filter,” he says at last, holding out his hand.
The Doctor picks up a key resting on the console and holds it out, his tense expression lightening.
“And I promise,” Jack goes on, a grin breaking across his face as he pockets the key, “to deliver as much juicy, delightful, delicious, salacious gossip as I can find.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes and nods at the doors, which are standing open to reveal the road outside. Jack crosses the threshold without a single look back.
Next Part
Author: katherine_b
Rating: PG
Summary: Donna Noble meets a man who calls himself John Smith.
Characters: The Doctor, Jack Harkness
Part III
One sound Jack will never forget, no matter how far he runs from Earth: the wheezing, grinding noise of the TARDIS. It is the only thing from his life back then that he allows himself to admit to missing. So when he hears it, or thinks he hears it, he feels his heart leap in his chest.
He dives for the door, hauling it open and staring, momentarily speechless, as he sees a blue box slowly take shape on the ground outside his house. His heart begins to race as the engines shut off, remembering the last time, in that bar, the day he met Alonzo.
The look on the Doctor’s face.
The definite sense of farewell.
Jack had wondered then if he would ever see the Doctor again. But here he is at last - or, at least, here is the TARDIS. The great unknown is the occupant, or occupants.
So he waits, on the doorstep of his house on the Boeshane Peninsula, rather than running to the blue box. Curious to see just which incarnation of the Doctor has tracked him down here, and, more importantly, what he wants.
The door gives its familiar creak, but the foot that steps out is clad in a brown boot, not a converse sneaker, and Jack has to swallow a lump in his throat. But then he remembers when the Doctor wore a leather jacket and the pain fades a little. After all, change for the Doctor is as natural as coming back from death is for him. Perhaps it’s time for him to move on, too.
And yet, despite his new-found resolution, he can’t help but stare at the youthful figure who steps out of the tardis, looking oddly anachronistic in his old-fashioned vest with a watch-chain glittering beneath his jacket, but with his hair flopping long over his broad forehead.
“Jack.”
“Doctor.” Jack is unable to help the slight reserve in his voice, and sees as the Time Lord picks up on it at once.
“Ah, it’s the face, isn’t it,” he complains, tugging at his cheeks with both hands. “Strange timey-wimey new face. Well, not new for me. I’ve had a couple of hundred years to get used to it.”
Jack frowns a little as he watches the Doctor cover the ground between them. “That long, huh?”
Somehow that knowledge of passing time stings. Maybe because it feels like abandonment, as if he wasn’t important enough for the Doctor to go back and check on after he regenerated.
Then again, he was the one who left the Earth. And the Doctor did track him down to that bar. Did send him Alonzo, who helped, at least for a while, to make his life less lonely. Jack lets out a long, slow breath and meets his visitor’s gaze.
He finds the Doctor looking directly into his eyes, and he is suddenly hit by the realisation of the age and the pain he has always known was inside the Time Lord. His previous body, of course, would scoff and bluster and never admit it. And the first man, the one Jack met with Rose, tried to be as unreadable as possible. But now Jack can see just how much this version of the Doctor is hurting. Maybe this face would deny it, too, if asked, or maybe Jack is just better at looking. He’s been thinking of himself and his loss, but only now does he consider that the Doctor will have lost people, too.
“Jack,” the Doctor says softly, “I need your help.”
* * *
“I still haven’t remarked on the bow-tie,” Jack remarks once he has complimented the redecorated TARDIS interior.
“It’s cool,” the Doctor says confidently, readjusting it.
“’Course it is!” Jack manages to look as if he means it for almost ten whole seconds before his expression cracks and he has to grin. “Yeah, no,” he says. “It really, really isn’t. Still, at least it’s not some crazy headwear.”
He ignores the Doctor’s hurt expression and glances at one of the monitors, which shows their destination, even if he can’t make sense of it thanks to the Gallifreyan alphabet. His host fills him in with one word.
“Earth.”
Jack starts, noting a subdued and wary tone in the Doctor’s voice, and turns to stare at the TARDIS pilot, whose eyes are fixed on the ship’s instruments.
“Why?” he asks almost resentfully. Surely the Doctor will understand how much he wants to leave that place behind - won’t he?
“Because,” the Doctor straightens, his hands behind his back, and fixes his eyes on Jack’s face, “there’s nobody else who can do what you can, Jack. Not this time. Not now.”
“What, is there another radiation-filled room I have to go and die in back there?” demands Jack bitterly. “Another Time Lord who gets to kill me over and over for a year? How do I have to come back to life this time? Hunt down my own head and put it back on, I suppose. That would be a first, at least for a couple of centuries.”
“Actually, I don’t expect you to die at all this time.” The Doctor inhales deeply and turns back to the console, starting to fiddle with things, giving Jack the distinct impression that he may not be being entirely truthful. This sensation increases when the Time Lord hurries on. “I need some of your other skills - like your ability to find out what’s going on without being seen, and to come back to me with every single salacious detail.”
“Have you met me?” demands Jack incredulously, spreading his hands wide in a gesture of demonstration. “Do I look like the subtle undercover type to you?”
“Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack, Jack.” The Doctor shakes his head in apparent disappointment and flaps a hand in his direction before moving his arms in wide sweeping motions as his fingers wiggle. “Bigger picture. Concentrate. Gossip. That’s what I want from you. Every juicy titbit of information.”
“About an alien invasion?” Jack stares at him, confusion growing with every passing second. “Some threat to humankind is about to take over Earth and you’re after gossip?”
The Doctor leans against the console and flaps at him again. Jack has already realised that that is one of this body’s tics.
“Don’t be so ridiculous!” He rolls his eyes and his head in a theatrical gesture. “When did I ever mention alien invasions?”
This brings Jack up short and he thinks back through their conversation, forced to admit that the exact reason for the Doctor coming to get him has never actually been detailed.
“What is it then?”
“It - could be dangerous,” the Doctor admits slowly.
“Gee, what a surprise,” Jack drawls in sarcastic tones, leaning against the console and folding his arms over his chest.
“Actually, I don’t mean it like that, but - think of it like a party.”
“A party?” Jack is both mystified and intrigued. “Go on.”
“Okay, so there’s a whole room full of people, some you know and some you don’t.” The Doctor frowns a little. “And there’s some people you know, maybe you dated them once, or kissed them or something. So you’d like to go up and say hi, but you also know you really shouldn’t speak to them because you just don’t know how they might react.”
“So you’re sending me in because you can’t talk to them,” says Jack knowingly.
“Actually forget parties,” the Doctor says hurriedly. “Rubbish analogy. I’m not sending you in because I can’t talk to them. I’m sending you in because you can’t talk to them either.”
“What?” Jack demands, completely confused.
“They won’t know you,” the Doctor continues, apparently ignoring this, “but you’ll know them, which is why you’re so perfect for this. And you can get out easily if things become too messy. Which they might. I think. Possibly.”
“And how am I meant to do that?” Jack pushes up his sleeves to reveal his bare arms. “I left all that behind after - after Torchwood.”
“Yes, you left it behind,” the Doctor agrees, and even as he speaks, a panel slides up on the console to reveal the battered leather strap and bulky contraption that Jack remembers so well. “And I rescued it. Out of the Black Archive. Well, I say ‘I’. It was actually Clara. She used it to escape from a group of Zygons. I made sure to get it back from her. Can’t let UNIT keep hold of it, not know they’ve got the activation code. They could do anything with it!”
Long before the Doctor has finished speaking, Jack has retrieved the vortex manipulator and attached it to the accustomed place on his left wrist. Funny, after all this time, he can’t even remember how and where he lost it. Maybe that doesn’t matter as much as the fact that he has it back.
“Clara?” he asks rather disinterestedly as he checks it over, feeling the familiar warm buzz against his arm.
“My current companion. Part-time companion. Evenings, weekends and bank holidays. Which is why she’s not here now.”
“And why are you here now?” Jack decides it’s time to get down to business. “It’s been years since the stolen planets and the 456 and everything. I’d have expected you to have moved on. So why have you come back now?”
The Doctor sighs and, for the first time, steps away from the console. He sags against a row of controls off to the side and looks up at Jack almost miserably.
“Things - have happened,” he says slowly. “I met someone. Things were said. About me.”
“And how is that different from any other day?”
“I stood in judgement,” the Doctor admits, “and I didn’t like the result. The One Who Forgets. That was the verdict.”
“No.” Jack shakes his head. “Not you. Not the Doctor. You’d never really forget.”
The Doctor manages a faint smile. “Perhaps not,” he agrees. “I tried though. So hard. Didn’t want to remember how much everything hurt. But I can’t move on, can’t get away from this. And now it’s been pointed out to me, I want to set things right.”
For a moment Jack considers the man in front of him, thinking back over their time together. “Memory,” he says slowly, “and that person not being able to see you. Sounds like what you told me about Donna Noble.” The Doctor flinches, telling Jack he is correct. “So,” he goes on before the Time Lord can speak, “how come you had to come and get me? What’s wrong with Martha? She was good friends with Donna, after all. Or if you want news, what about Sarah Jane?”
“I can’t ask Martha.” The Doctor frowns, rapping his fingers on the edge of the control panel. “She was - no, not after I had to tell her what I did to Donna. They were such good friends,” he adds miserably, “that there’s a risk the sight of her might trigger something in Donna, too. And Sarah - no. Not now. It’s too late.”
His expression sags and Jack forbears asking anything else, although he makes up his mind to investigate what happened to that woman when he is back on Earth, and perhaps offer what help he can to Luke if the news is as bad as he fears.
“Doctor,” he says after a moment of painful silence, “why me?” he asks again, adding the obvious question, “Why not you?”
The expression on the other man’s face changes instantly to something like discomfort. “Tried that,” he admits, fiddling with his bow tie again, which Jack suspects is a nervous habit. “I turned up on her doorstep. Thought there was no way she’d recognise me with this face, and I could find out how things were. It didn’t go well.”
“Why?” Jack asks suspiciously. “Her husband opened the door?”
“No, and actually,” the Doctor frowns, “that’s a little strange. Mental note, find out what happened to Shaun Temple and why there was another man there.”
“So who was this other man?” prompts Jack, suspecting that this is at the heart of the problem. “Someone you know?”
“Someone you know.” The Time Lord is serious again. “Me. The first ‘me’ you ever met. Leather jacket, big flappy ears and all.”
“I don’t get why that’s a problem.” Jack shrugs carelessly. “You’ve met yourself before. You told me about that. So what’s stopping you introducing yourself now?”
“Because I don’t remember being there.”
This unexpected response stops Jack dead and he stares at the Doctor, who, in turn, is gazing at the floor.
“I remember everything else about Donna,” he says softly. “Every single moment. Since she can’t remember herself, I do it for her. But this - I don’t remember any of this. I don’t remember ever having met Donna before she appeared in the TARDIS. So,” he finally raises his eyes to Jack, “how have I forgotten, and how can I - that version of me - possibly be there now?”
“But why did you run away?” Jack persists, intrigued by this idea. “Why not stay and help your earlier self take care of Donna? If you’ve forgotten being there, you can forget what’s going to happen to her - and why would you send me in?” he adds, suddenly considering his own role in this. “He’s going to know me right away!”
“I don’t think so.” The Doctor frowns. “It’s likely that this happened right after I regenerated, so he won’t have met you yet, which is why you should be safe. But then,” he begins pacing the floor, “I don’t remember meeting you either, before 1941, so I don’t know that I’m the most reliable witness.”
“Which is why you’re sending me in,” Jack finishes for him. “Because you’re too afraid of what you might do to yourself.”
The Doctor looks delighted and points at him with enthusiasm. “That’s it exactly!”
“Coward!”
There is a moment of silence.
“This is my future, Jack.” The Doctor’s voice is quiet. “My future and, if it goes wrong, yours and Rose’s and Martha’s and Donna’s and everyone’s. Think about it, Time Agent.” There is the faintest hint of scorn in his tones. “This is the Doctor just after he regenerated, after the Time War. Think of everything you know he’s done between then and now. Multiply that by a thousand - a million! More! Time unravels. Everything since that moment is undone. That’s what is at risk if this goes wrong.”
Jack spends a long moment studying this Doctor, this face, remembering the time he spent with other incarnations of the man. The thought of that somehow ceasing to happen seems inconceivable, and yet he knows all too well how such things can change.
“Perception filter,” he says at last, holding out his hand.
The Doctor picks up a key resting on the console and holds it out, his tense expression lightening.
“And I promise,” Jack goes on, a grin breaking across his face as he pockets the key, “to deliver as much juicy, delightful, delicious, salacious gossip as I can find.”
The Doctor rolls his eyes and nods at the doors, which are standing open to reveal the road outside. Jack crosses the threshold without a single look back.
Next Part