FIC: Solitas Deus - Doctor Who - R
This fic was my assignment for loneraven's Tenth Doctor Ficathon. It was written for dark_aegis. She requested an impossible choice, angst, and the return of Jack Harkness. Hopefully, what The Muse put in my head is sufficent. Thanks hon, it was a blast. :)
Solitas Deus
Doctor Who - Ten/Jack - Hard R for swearing and sexual situations
Spoilers for the Pertwee era, the TV Movie, PotW, CiN, Tooth & Claw, Doomsday, and Torchwood
1,457 Words
Betaed by iseult_variante and enigel
Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, the last 10 seconds or so of Doomsday do not exist. There is no "Bride". The Doctor is still as emo as ever. :)
You are lonely, aren’t you?
And no matter how many people you bring along on your adventures, you will still be lonely. One could say it’s your fault, an idiosyncrasy that will follow you for eternity, but you want to believe that’s a complete and utter lie. But you can’t.
Somewhere in those two hearts of yours, you know it.
We know how it is to be lonely. We know it hurts, Doctor. We, your audience, know.
We’re human.
--
You know you’re not supposed to, but you go to find Jack. He’ll understand the pain you’re going through; hell, he wanted you once… maybe he’ll want you again. We doubt it, though. You left him behind. You knew he was alive (you told her so yourself), and you left him behind with a hand wave and an excuse. She accepted it. He won’t.
At least the two of you can mourn together. Mourn… for someone who still breathes. We can expect that from him, he’s human like us (at least he got to say goodbye, you tried and fucked it up), but from not you, Doctor. Should we expect you to be stoic? Ever moving forward? Never standing still or going back? Of course! That’s your nature.
But you are going back… and we don’t know what to think.
--
It’s back to Cardiff with that old soul of yours; a pizza delivery box in both hands and grief written all over your face. Somehow, you catch the right cues, say the right lines, and you find yourself in The Hub, the beating heart of this little part of the Torchwood Institute, this… thing created to bring forth your destruction.
And hers, you remember all too well.
And there he is, our Captain Jack. The smile you remember isn’t there. There’s no familiarity in the eyes staring you down. It’s only then you remember that he’s never seen this body before. In some ways, it makes you bolder. You stand toe-to-toe with this person who entrusted his life to you once (and look how that turned out). Words are shared. Things get heated. Guns are raised by soldier and scientist alike… and then he smiles. That smile, the one you were looking for.
It’s the smile he gives you before throwing a right hook to your jaw.
The blood trickling down from the corner of your mouth speaks volumes. As you slip into unconsciousness, you note that your blood doesn’t taste of iron.
--
We knew that would happen. You knew it too and tried to ignore it. What did you expect, Doctor? A joyful reunion? You left him in the middle of Armageddon! Alone! You expect one Time Agent to rebuild an entire world, and not come out a little worse for wear on the other side? You complete and utter fool.
As far as we can see, you deserve that growing bruise that Jack gave you. Maybe that will teach you something about human emotions and how they can grow over time.
We know you’ll never learn any other way.
--
You wake up in a barren cell to see a nameless medic patching you up, no doubt with some alien tech they’ve managed to poke and prod until it turned on. You thank her - she scurries away. She’s wary of you, Doctor - it's the Institute’s training doing its job.
Only Jack knows of the true, destructive power that you possess.
A power you, a coward (instead of a killer, any day), didn’t use.
He comes to see you 4 hours, 23 minutes, and 53 seconds later (of course, you would know that so precisely) and the anger is still there.
He asks questions, questions that hurt where they shouldn’t. You answer with no ulterior motive. You want to get past this shite.
You want to heal.
But first: the Game Station. The Daleks.
Why did you leave me behind?
Where’s Rose?
The insane laugh you gave her after your regeneration is just a memory. The feelings it should conjure lie dormant.
You want to tell him everything, but it’s two weeks before Doomsday. What can you say? What can you tell this man that you… that won’t pollute the timeline? Would he take the next train to London? Would he try and save her?
Would he succeed where you failed?
She’s gone someplace I couldn’t follow, you say. She saved the world again, Jack, like she did before. She’s safe with Jackie and Mickey. I gave her a family, I gave her that much. Oh Jack… she was glorious. She truly was.
He wants to believe you; you can see it in his eyes. That desperate look that says he wants her to be safe (which she is) and happy (which she is absolutely not)…
But why come here, Doc? Why now, after all this time?
Your answer is as clear as day - I needed a friend.
--
That half-human side of yours is showing. You want to forget. You want to go out to some bar with the only man in this era that knows you better than anyone. You want to get fucking knackered. You want to fuck or be fucked.
You just want to forget. Forget that you let her down. Feel as raw as your throat did after… forget that even in her shining moment, you failed her.
Just like all the others. Just like the man standing before you.
I’m sorry, Jack. For leaving you. All you went through, it got you here. Where you’re supposed to be. I couldn’t change that. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.
It may not be much, but you get an A for effort. It softens the edges that have formed around this con-man since the last time you saw him. You may get that drink (fuck) after all.
--
It pays to have friends in high places, it always did for you. We know about your tour of duty at UNIT. They must have moved heaven and earth to keep the Institute off your back during your “exile”.
It pays now, because you’re no longer in a cell. You’re in Jack’s apartment overlooking the Bay. You have a home-cooked meal in your belly. A can of Brains Bitter on a coaster to your left. There’s the sound of dishes being washed in the kitchen behind you.
It’s a picture of domesticity.
She would be disappointed it wasn’t with her.
It’s a very foreign thing, but you sincerely want to try, if only for her sake. And if you’re honest with yourself, it’s a welcome change from all the destruction you’ve left in your wake as of late. But if you're really honest with yourself, this could never be your life.
Jack sits on the sofa beside you. Both of you are as nervous as schoolchildren. You take the initiative.
Your head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s arm around your back. You shed more tears, although not as many as she would have done for you.
Then it turns into comfort of another sort (we won’t say “sympathy fuck” because that’s just crude), but we’ll be blunt and say we were waiting for this.
Sloppy kisses. Your tie being ripped off. Hands along skin. Untucked shirts.
This is what you wanted, right, he says between kisses. I’ll give it to you. You know me. I died for you, once.
I do. I know.
You’re the one pushed backwards into the darkened bedroom. You’re the one that gets to sprawl on the sheets. The fingers in your ass. The cock in your ass. The heavy weight of Jack surrounding you until you can’t breathe. That eager mouth of his memorizing every plane of this new body of yours.
It’s pain. It’s pleasure. It’s forgetting who you are for just a moment before it crashes in on your conscience -
This was what she wanted, too. The intimacy. The physicality of it all.
The love.
Somehow, you’re healed and broken again all at the same time.
--
It’s still dark out. You’re still all sorts of tangled limbs and tangled sheets. And your human side is getting the best of you, Doctor. You’re getting attached. Again.
I honestly don’t expect you to say yes, but you’re all I’ve got now.
Come with me.
Please.
You know that human cliché about a moment lasting a lifetime? You’re living it right now. You don’t really expect this man that you abandoned (with the heart that you broke) to come back to you. You changed him, Doctor. You made him into a hero, a hero carved out of hardship, despair, and most of all, loneliness.
Both of you are lonely. We see that. Maybe that’s enough for a half-human bastard and a con-man. Maybe it’s not.
But at least you tried.
fin
--
Solitas (Latin) - loneliness, solitude, being alone
Deus (Latin) - god
Solitas Deus
Doctor Who - Ten/Jack - Hard R for swearing and sexual situations
Spoilers for the Pertwee era, the TV Movie, PotW, CiN, Tooth & Claw, Doomsday, and Torchwood
1,457 Words
Betaed by iseult_variante and enigel
Author's Note: For the purposes of this story, the last 10 seconds or so of Doomsday do not exist. There is no "Bride". The Doctor is still as emo as ever. :)
You are lonely, aren’t you?
And no matter how many people you bring along on your adventures, you will still be lonely. One could say it’s your fault, an idiosyncrasy that will follow you for eternity, but you want to believe that’s a complete and utter lie. But you can’t.
Somewhere in those two hearts of yours, you know it.
We know how it is to be lonely. We know it hurts, Doctor. We, your audience, know.
We’re human.
--
You know you’re not supposed to, but you go to find Jack. He’ll understand the pain you’re going through; hell, he wanted you once… maybe he’ll want you again. We doubt it, though. You left him behind. You knew he was alive (you told her so yourself), and you left him behind with a hand wave and an excuse. She accepted it. He won’t.
At least the two of you can mourn together. Mourn… for someone who still breathes. We can expect that from him, he’s human like us (at least he got to say goodbye, you tried and fucked it up), but from not you, Doctor. Should we expect you to be stoic? Ever moving forward? Never standing still or going back? Of course! That’s your nature.
But you are going back… and we don’t know what to think.
--
It’s back to Cardiff with that old soul of yours; a pizza delivery box in both hands and grief written all over your face. Somehow, you catch the right cues, say the right lines, and you find yourself in The Hub, the beating heart of this little part of the Torchwood Institute, this… thing created to bring forth your destruction.
And hers, you remember all too well.
And there he is, our Captain Jack. The smile you remember isn’t there. There’s no familiarity in the eyes staring you down. It’s only then you remember that he’s never seen this body before. In some ways, it makes you bolder. You stand toe-to-toe with this person who entrusted his life to you once (and look how that turned out). Words are shared. Things get heated. Guns are raised by soldier and scientist alike… and then he smiles. That smile, the one you were looking for.
It’s the smile he gives you before throwing a right hook to your jaw.
The blood trickling down from the corner of your mouth speaks volumes. As you slip into unconsciousness, you note that your blood doesn’t taste of iron.
--
We knew that would happen. You knew it too and tried to ignore it. What did you expect, Doctor? A joyful reunion? You left him in the middle of Armageddon! Alone! You expect one Time Agent to rebuild an entire world, and not come out a little worse for wear on the other side? You complete and utter fool.
As far as we can see, you deserve that growing bruise that Jack gave you. Maybe that will teach you something about human emotions and how they can grow over time.
We know you’ll never learn any other way.
--
You wake up in a barren cell to see a nameless medic patching you up, no doubt with some alien tech they’ve managed to poke and prod until it turned on. You thank her - she scurries away. She’s wary of you, Doctor - it's the Institute’s training doing its job.
Only Jack knows of the true, destructive power that you possess.
A power you, a coward (instead of a killer, any day), didn’t use.
He comes to see you 4 hours, 23 minutes, and 53 seconds later (of course, you would know that so precisely) and the anger is still there.
He asks questions, questions that hurt where they shouldn’t. You answer with no ulterior motive. You want to get past this shite.
You want to heal.
But first: the Game Station. The Daleks.
Why did you leave me behind?
Where’s Rose?
The insane laugh you gave her after your regeneration is just a memory. The feelings it should conjure lie dormant.
You want to tell him everything, but it’s two weeks before Doomsday. What can you say? What can you tell this man that you… that won’t pollute the timeline? Would he take the next train to London? Would he try and save her?
Would he succeed where you failed?
She’s gone someplace I couldn’t follow, you say. She saved the world again, Jack, like she did before. She’s safe with Jackie and Mickey. I gave her a family, I gave her that much. Oh Jack… she was glorious. She truly was.
He wants to believe you; you can see it in his eyes. That desperate look that says he wants her to be safe (which she is) and happy (which she is absolutely not)…
But why come here, Doc? Why now, after all this time?
Your answer is as clear as day - I needed a friend.
--
That half-human side of yours is showing. You want to forget. You want to go out to some bar with the only man in this era that knows you better than anyone. You want to get fucking knackered. You want to fuck or be fucked.
You just want to forget. Forget that you let her down. Feel as raw as your throat did after… forget that even in her shining moment, you failed her.
Just like all the others. Just like the man standing before you.
I’m sorry, Jack. For leaving you. All you went through, it got you here. Where you’re supposed to be. I couldn’t change that. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.
It may not be much, but you get an A for effort. It softens the edges that have formed around this con-man since the last time you saw him. You may get that drink (fuck) after all.
--
It pays to have friends in high places, it always did for you. We know about your tour of duty at UNIT. They must have moved heaven and earth to keep the Institute off your back during your “exile”.
It pays now, because you’re no longer in a cell. You’re in Jack’s apartment overlooking the Bay. You have a home-cooked meal in your belly. A can of Brains Bitter on a coaster to your left. There’s the sound of dishes being washed in the kitchen behind you.
It’s a picture of domesticity.
She would be disappointed it wasn’t with her.
It’s a very foreign thing, but you sincerely want to try, if only for her sake. And if you’re honest with yourself, it’s a welcome change from all the destruction you’ve left in your wake as of late. But if you're really honest with yourself, this could never be your life.
Jack sits on the sofa beside you. Both of you are as nervous as schoolchildren. You take the initiative.
Your head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s arm around your back. You shed more tears, although not as many as she would have done for you.
Then it turns into comfort of another sort (we won’t say “sympathy fuck” because that’s just crude), but we’ll be blunt and say we were waiting for this.
Sloppy kisses. Your tie being ripped off. Hands along skin. Untucked shirts.
This is what you wanted, right, he says between kisses. I’ll give it to you. You know me. I died for you, once.
I do. I know.
You’re the one pushed backwards into the darkened bedroom. You’re the one that gets to sprawl on the sheets. The fingers in your ass. The cock in your ass. The heavy weight of Jack surrounding you until you can’t breathe. That eager mouth of his memorizing every plane of this new body of yours.
It’s pain. It’s pleasure. It’s forgetting who you are for just a moment before it crashes in on your conscience -
This was what she wanted, too. The intimacy. The physicality of it all.
The love.
Somehow, you’re healed and broken again all at the same time.
--
It’s still dark out. You’re still all sorts of tangled limbs and tangled sheets. And your human side is getting the best of you, Doctor. You’re getting attached. Again.
I honestly don’t expect you to say yes, but you’re all I’ve got now.
Come with me.
Please.
You know that human cliché about a moment lasting a lifetime? You’re living it right now. You don’t really expect this man that you abandoned (with the heart that you broke) to come back to you. You changed him, Doctor. You made him into a hero, a hero carved out of hardship, despair, and most of all, loneliness.
Both of you are lonely. We see that. Maybe that’s enough for a half-human bastard and a con-man. Maybe it’s not.
But at least you tried.
fin
--
Solitas (Latin) - loneliness, solitude, being alone
Deus (Latin) - god