for quitehomoerotic: Welcome to Rupert
It has been 10 years since the Doctor has seen Jack Harkness. He's not quite at the point where he's putting things away or hiding them in the places of his closet, though he has cleaned up little things like coffee mugs and old shoes. He's also not at the point where he's properly accepted that he's gone. It's just something that happened. It won't be goodbye. It's...it's never goodbye. Not really. Not for them. They always find each other.
Of course, there's that voice in the back of his head, the one that tells him that this is the last time, that Jack won't seek him out, or forgive him if they ran into each other. Not now, not a hundred years from now. Never.
The blue light around the console flickers a little. The TARDIS keeps it lit, mostly for the Doctor's benefit. He thinks she might've given up on Jack, too. She might even hate the Doctor just a little for it (though being as she always is, she loves him too much to hate him too much.)
Still, he's got a lot to think about. He needs to find milk, fix the rotator cufflink on the console (again), and find himself another companion. He's at the point where any old humanoid will do. It's a somewhat cold way to think of his companions, but he knows he needs one. No time for sentimentality. Sentiment leads to loneliness.
He pulls the hand brake on the console and starts for the door. He hasn't the faintest idea where he is, but the TARDIS has decided it is precisely where he needs to go.
Of course, there's that voice in the back of his head, the one that tells him that this is the last time, that Jack won't seek him out, or forgive him if they ran into each other. Not now, not a hundred years from now. Never.
The blue light around the console flickers a little. The TARDIS keeps it lit, mostly for the Doctor's benefit. He thinks she might've given up on Jack, too. She might even hate the Doctor just a little for it (though being as she always is, she loves him too much to hate him too much.)
Still, he's got a lot to think about. He needs to find milk, fix the rotator cufflink on the console (again), and find himself another companion. He's at the point where any old humanoid will do. It's a somewhat cold way to think of his companions, but he knows he needs one. No time for sentimentality. Sentiment leads to loneliness.
He pulls the hand brake on the console and starts for the door. He hasn't the faintest idea where he is, but the TARDIS has decided it is precisely where he needs to go.