Inside My Head - 1/1 - All Ages
Title: Inside My Head (1/1)
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters belong to the BBC.
Summary: Jack, the man he’d thought had died back at the station, the man who’d given his life for him, was standing right in front of him.
Word Count: 1069.
A/N: For rubychan05.
His mouth went dry, and his hearts suddenly stopped beating. Jack, the man he’d thought had died back at the station, the man who’d given his life for him, was standing right in front of him.
“You left me.”
“Jack.” The Doctor wished that he could find the words. For once in this life, the Doctor didn’t know what to say. This was Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. Former Time Agent and conman. What was he supposed to say? “I’m so sorry.” The words fell flat on his ears, though, and he didn’t want to see Jack’s reaction. How would he feel if he had those words said to him?
“You left me. So many dead bodies. Corpses and dust. So much dust. Dust in my lungs, Doctor.”
Jack steps forward and the Doctor can see him better. His skin is grey, ashen, as though he’s been dead for the week. The Doctor swallows, his mouth still dry. “No,” he says, “you’re not dead. You’re alive. Rebuilding. Why are you dead? You’re not supposed to be dead!”
The Doctor glares, looking around angrily. “Where am I? What’s going on and what have you done with Rose?” The buzz of an extermination rings in his ears. “Where’s Rose?” he demands. He turns on Jack, pointing an accusing finger. “Who are you? I’ve got plenty of questions swarming around my head, but maybe we should start with that one.”
He’s found his words again, found his control. His words are his weapons and he turns them full-blast on Jack. “You’re inside my head, that much is obvious. Question is, why?” The Doctor narrows his eyes. “You want to know something. Something you think I know.”
Jack flashed his Broadway smile. Ping.
“Something to do with Jack. That’s why you look like him. You think I know something about Jack, so you’ve taken his form to make me confess.” He walks over to the wall, touching it. It feels like steel beneath his palm but, when he lowers his head and licks it, it just buzzes on his tongue. Definitely not steel.
“This is all in my head. None of it’s real. You’re manipulating my memories.” Jack’s skin changes from dead to alive, his eyes bright and teasing as the Doctor processes what he knows. “I mean, this is, what, fifty-first century technology? Fifty-first century people, wanting to know things about Jack.”
The Doctor’s expression hardened. “Time agents.” Jack’s old employers.
Everything the Doctor can see shifts and it’s like a scream inside his head. He winces, closing his eyes and covering his ears, but it doesn’t stop the shot of pain. When he opens his eyes, he’s in a cold room with bright blue walls. “You took my suit!” he wails, realising that he’s dressed in clinical green pyjamas. “That’s my favourite suit and you took it!” His mind was still reeling from what they had done to him and it took a couple of moments for him to remember where he was.
“Right,” he said, getting a grip on the situation. The Doctor wheeled around, almost expecting his captor to be standing behind him. “Oh, come on. You can see me, but can’t I see you? Go on. Unless you’ve got warts or something. That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve got warts all over your face, haven’t you? That’s why you looked like Jack.”
The Doctor grinned. “Handsome chap, that Jack. But I bet you knew that. Is it all natural?” he asked. “I mean, teeth like his, he’s bound to have had some work done, hasn’t he? Go on, you can tell me. I won’t tell as anyone.” Slightly quieter, he added, “There’s no-one here to tell.”
Pacing the room, he stopped, looking straight up at the camera. It whirred, focusing on him. “Are you bored yet?” he asked. “Because if you’re going to put me in a room with nothing to do, there’s only really one thing I can do.” Pausing, he continued, “Well, two, I suppose, but I’m just going to stick to the first one. Talking. And oh can I talk.” His grin was somewhat fiendish.
A small panel slid open on the blue wall and the Doctor peered curiously at it. He cried out when a small dart hit his neck. Plucking out the dart, the Doctor blinked at it. He felt terribly offended as the anaesthetic started to fill his system. “Oh,” he said, annoyed as his knees gave way, “that’s just not cricket.”
“Doctor! Doctor, wake up!”
He winced; Rose’s voice could be awfully grating at times. Opening his eyes, he was seeing double, so he blinked again. He was aching all over and was apparently lying on the flood of the control room. The flood of the control room was generally not the most comfortable place to lie.
Rose sighed. “Oh, thank god. I was thinking that I’d have to throw a bucket of water over you or something.”
The Doctor sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Why would you want to do a thing like that?” He groaned, feeling as though he had been kicked in the head.
“’Cause you wouldn’t wake up.” Rose frowned, holding out a hand to help him up. Standing up made him dizzy and he grabbed hold of the control console. “D’you remember what happened?”
“I might need you to remind me.”
“We went down to explore that village. The locals took a dislike to your shoes or something.” She twisted a feathered dart between her fingers. “They shot you with this. It must’ve been poisoned.”
“Or something like that,” he agreed.
Rose frowned. “I had to drag you back to the TARDIS. Literally. My arms are sore.” She put her hand on his arm. “Are you alright? You were murmuring something in your sleep.”
The Doctor glanced darkly at her. “Well,” he lied, “I don’t really remember. I could do with a cup of tea, though.” He smiled brightly at her; Rose looked slightly doubtful, but she nodded. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”
Had it been sleep? A dream? A hallucination? A trip? Or maybe it was a guilty conscience. The Doctor had enough guilt on his conscience to last him the rest of his lives, so maybe it was time they found Jack.
He swallowed, his mouth still feeling dry. What was it Rose had called it? Closure. That sounded about right.
Closure.
Author: silvernatasha
Rating: All Ages
Disclaimer: Doctor Who and all related characters belong to the BBC.
Summary: Jack, the man he’d thought had died back at the station, the man who’d given his life for him, was standing right in front of him.
Word Count: 1069.
A/N: For rubychan05.
His mouth went dry, and his hearts suddenly stopped beating. Jack, the man he’d thought had died back at the station, the man who’d given his life for him, was standing right in front of him.
“You left me.”
“Jack.” The Doctor wished that he could find the words. For once in this life, the Doctor didn’t know what to say. This was Jack. Captain Jack Harkness. Former Time Agent and conman. What was he supposed to say? “I’m so sorry.” The words fell flat on his ears, though, and he didn’t want to see Jack’s reaction. How would he feel if he had those words said to him?
“You left me. So many dead bodies. Corpses and dust. So much dust. Dust in my lungs, Doctor.”
Jack steps forward and the Doctor can see him better. His skin is grey, ashen, as though he’s been dead for the week. The Doctor swallows, his mouth still dry. “No,” he says, “you’re not dead. You’re alive. Rebuilding. Why are you dead? You’re not supposed to be dead!”
The Doctor glares, looking around angrily. “Where am I? What’s going on and what have you done with Rose?” The buzz of an extermination rings in his ears. “Where’s Rose?” he demands. He turns on Jack, pointing an accusing finger. “Who are you? I’ve got plenty of questions swarming around my head, but maybe we should start with that one.”
He’s found his words again, found his control. His words are his weapons and he turns them full-blast on Jack. “You’re inside my head, that much is obvious. Question is, why?” The Doctor narrows his eyes. “You want to know something. Something you think I know.”
Jack flashed his Broadway smile. Ping.
“Something to do with Jack. That’s why you look like him. You think I know something about Jack, so you’ve taken his form to make me confess.” He walks over to the wall, touching it. It feels like steel beneath his palm but, when he lowers his head and licks it, it just buzzes on his tongue. Definitely not steel.
“This is all in my head. None of it’s real. You’re manipulating my memories.” Jack’s skin changes from dead to alive, his eyes bright and teasing as the Doctor processes what he knows. “I mean, this is, what, fifty-first century technology? Fifty-first century people, wanting to know things about Jack.”
The Doctor’s expression hardened. “Time agents.” Jack’s old employers.
Everything the Doctor can see shifts and it’s like a scream inside his head. He winces, closing his eyes and covering his ears, but it doesn’t stop the shot of pain. When he opens his eyes, he’s in a cold room with bright blue walls. “You took my suit!” he wails, realising that he’s dressed in clinical green pyjamas. “That’s my favourite suit and you took it!” His mind was still reeling from what they had done to him and it took a couple of moments for him to remember where he was.
“Right,” he said, getting a grip on the situation. The Doctor wheeled around, almost expecting his captor to be standing behind him. “Oh, come on. You can see me, but can’t I see you? Go on. Unless you’ve got warts or something. That’s it, isn’t it? You’ve got warts all over your face, haven’t you? That’s why you looked like Jack.”
The Doctor grinned. “Handsome chap, that Jack. But I bet you knew that. Is it all natural?” he asked. “I mean, teeth like his, he’s bound to have had some work done, hasn’t he? Go on, you can tell me. I won’t tell as anyone.” Slightly quieter, he added, “There’s no-one here to tell.”
Pacing the room, he stopped, looking straight up at the camera. It whirred, focusing on him. “Are you bored yet?” he asked. “Because if you’re going to put me in a room with nothing to do, there’s only really one thing I can do.” Pausing, he continued, “Well, two, I suppose, but I’m just going to stick to the first one. Talking. And oh can I talk.” His grin was somewhat fiendish.
A small panel slid open on the blue wall and the Doctor peered curiously at it. He cried out when a small dart hit his neck. Plucking out the dart, the Doctor blinked at it. He felt terribly offended as the anaesthetic started to fill his system. “Oh,” he said, annoyed as his knees gave way, “that’s just not cricket.”
“Doctor! Doctor, wake up!”
He winced; Rose’s voice could be awfully grating at times. Opening his eyes, he was seeing double, so he blinked again. He was aching all over and was apparently lying on the flood of the control room. The flood of the control room was generally not the most comfortable place to lie.
Rose sighed. “Oh, thank god. I was thinking that I’d have to throw a bucket of water over you or something.”
The Doctor sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Why would you want to do a thing like that?” He groaned, feeling as though he had been kicked in the head.
“’Cause you wouldn’t wake up.” Rose frowned, holding out a hand to help him up. Standing up made him dizzy and he grabbed hold of the control console. “D’you remember what happened?”
“I might need you to remind me.”
“We went down to explore that village. The locals took a dislike to your shoes or something.” She twisted a feathered dart between her fingers. “They shot you with this. It must’ve been poisoned.”
“Or something like that,” he agreed.
Rose frowned. “I had to drag you back to the TARDIS. Literally. My arms are sore.” She put her hand on his arm. “Are you alright? You were murmuring something in your sleep.”
The Doctor glanced darkly at her. “Well,” he lied, “I don’t really remember. I could do with a cup of tea, though.” He smiled brightly at her; Rose looked slightly doubtful, but she nodded. “I’ll go put the kettle on.”
Had it been sleep? A dream? A hallucination? A trip? Or maybe it was a guilty conscience. The Doctor had enough guilt on his conscience to last him the rest of his lives, so maybe it was time they found Jack.
He swallowed, his mouth still feeling dry. What was it Rose had called it? Closure. That sounded about right.
Closure.