Fic: Faith and Hope 1/1
Story: Faith and Hope
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor (Pete's World), Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: PG13
Summary: "This is your idea of a fun holiday? I get more R&R on a field mission."
For honorh, who wanted to see Jack and the Doctor happy together after Seeing Face To Face; this is set immediately following that story. While this story stands alone, knowledge of the Through A Glass Darkly universe is helpful for it to make sense; in summary, in Pete's World, Jack and the Doctor have known each other for about half of Jack's life and occasionally travel together. With very many thanks to dark_aegis and yamx for very helpful BRing.
Faith and Hope
“This is your idea of a fun holiday?” Jack ducks to avoid another pellet being fired his way by an angry Nagratn. The pellets are tiny, so they’re not instantly lethal, but if more than one penetrated a vital organ he could still bleed to death. “I get more R&R on a field mission.”
They’re standing back to back, surrounded by several dozen Nagratns, furious at some perceived insult to their sacred land. Behind him, the Doctor laughs. Already, Jack’s in love with that rough bark. “Maybe, but it’s not half as exciting, is it?”
“True.” He weaves to the side as another pellet whistles past his shoulder. The Doctor’s taking evasive action as well, and their shoulders brush. With a grin, Jack arches backwards, deliberately rubbing his backside against the Doctor’s. He’s finding there are plenty of advantages to the two of them being the same height for the first time since he’s known the Doctor.
“Oi!” the Doctor grunts, but the protest’s half-hearted. “How about lookin’ for a way out of here instead of gropin’ me?”
“You thought that was a grope?” Jack retorts in return. “Just wait till we get back to the TARDIS and I’ll show you gropes.”
“Promises, promises,” the Doctor taunts. There’s a high-pitched sound suddenly; the Doctor’s finally gone for the sonic screwdriver. Instantly, the Nagratns’ weapons lock.
“What kept you so long?” Jack demands, taking advantage of the lack of pellets being fired his way to glance around at the Doctor.
“Was givin’ you a chance to come up with a solution for a change,” the Doctor replies, his tone a dry drawl. “Got bored waiting.”
He cuffs the Doctor’s shoulder lightly. “Supercilious git.” It’s a familiar, and affectionate, insult.
The Doctor smirks. “Oi! ‘Stead of standin’ around insulting me, might be a better use of your time to - I dunno, run!”
Right. The Nagratns, now that they’ve figured out that their guns aren’t going to work, are starting to close in on the two of them. Flipping open his wrist computer, he presses a combination of keys, and immediately a loud, high-pitched screech sounds. The Doctor’s not the only one with fancy toys, and he does like having the opportunity to remind his friend of that.
“Could’ve warned me!” the Doctor yells as the Nagratns cover their ears.
“Run?” Jack reminds him with a smirk.
They run.
***
They’re laughing like loons as they run back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind them and reaching the console in three strides. With teamwork of long-standing practice, they take the TARDIS into the Vortex, then step back and just grin at each other.
“Nice trick, that,” the Doctor says, gesturing at Jack’s wrist computer. Course, he could have done the same thing with the sonic screwdriver, if he’d thought about it. His own fault for letting himself get distracted by Jack’s physical closeness - well, more specifically, by Jack grinding their arses together.
This body seems to like physical pleasure just as much as his last one. He had wondered, all that time he procrastinated about going to see Jack. Never made the effort to find out, though. What if he’d discovered that he did like sex in this body, but Jack didn’t want him?
Still, worked out all right, didn’t it?
“You’re not the only one with a few tricks up your sleeve,” Jack comments, and for a second the Doctor’s taken aback, questioning whether he actually said any of that stuff aloud, before he realises that Jack’s only referring to what he said about what Jack did outside.
“Never said I-” He’s cut off mid-sentence by Jack snogging him - not that he’s got any objection whatsoever to that. Nor to the hands that wander over every part of his body Jack can reach - after all, Jack did promise gropes, didn’t he?
When the kiss breaks, the Doctor gestures at the console. “Well, go on, then. Since you were so unimpressed by my choice of destination, you pick.”
For a moment, Jack looks thoughtful; then he smiles and his eyes light up. “You know, there is one place I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Oh? Should’ve said.” His fingers pause over the coordinate settings as he waits for Jack to continue.
Jack shrugs. “Never really thought it’d be your kind of place. Now, though...” He gives the Doctor an assessing look. “Might be, you never know.”
“Don’t tell me it’s a pleasure planet,” he grumbles. Though, yeah, he’d still take them there if it’s somewhere Jack really wants to go. And he’d try to enjoy it, or pretend to, anyway.
“You really think I’d ask you to take me somewhere like that?” Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m not taking the chance that you’d decide to throw me out an airlock.”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” he retorts, but his lips are twitching.
Never one to pass up an opportunity, Jack leans in and kisses him, deliberately sensual and provocative. “Bet I could make you change your mind,” he says as he pulls away, leaving them both breathless - though the Doctor less so, given his more advanced physiology. “Anyway, yeah,” Jack continues, all teasing gone from his expression. “Place I wanted to go to - it’s called Xinith.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” He frowns and starts to search the database, though at the same time there’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Just a faint hint that might be a memory or might not. He concentrates for a moment, but nothing comes. Ah, well. Not important. He glances up at Jack again, silently asking a question.
Jack’s face is as sober as he’s ever seen it. “There’s a museum there I’d like to see. The Intergalactic Museum of Lost Civilisations, it’s called. Got a section on casualties of war and genocide.”
His eyebrows shoot upwards. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this.
Jack acknowledges his reaction with a wry smile. “Yeah, I know with time-travel there’s hardly anywhere I can’t get to see if I really want to, but that’s not the point. I’m a soldier. Been one most of my life. And the more I see war, the more I think everyone - especially the ones who make the decisions - should have to see the consequences.”
Balancing his weight on the console, he continues to meet Jack’s gaze. “Not gonna disagree with you there. Why’d you think I wouldn’t want to go to this museum?”
“Gallifrey,” Jack says simply. “Lost civilisation, right? Didn’t think you’d want to see it.”
“Oh.” Funny how that didn’t even occur to him. “Doubt Gallifrey’d be part of the exhibition,” he adds with a shake of his head. “Was wiped out of time. Not sure anyone even remembers it now except me.”
Jack nods slowly. “And me, from what you’ve told me. Gotta confess, I hope it is there. Cause I’d like to see what it was like, so I can remember it too.”
For you. The words are unspoken, but he hears them all the same.
He swallows, then nods once, slowly. “Xinith, you said? Right, then.”
***
As the sound of materialisation fades away, Jack pulls on the leather jacket he’s kept on the TARDIS for the last half-dozen years or so. It’s not the first time that he’s suggested a destination for one of their trips, of course, but this is the most meaningful.
“Don’t suppose you know where this place is?” the Doctor asks as they exit.
“Not a clue,” he replies cheerfully, looking around at open countryside and low-lying buildings that look to be about half an hour’s walk away. The Doctor said he took them close to the biggest centre of population on the planet. “Won’t be too hard to find out, though.”
“Knowing you, it’ll be on the other side of the planet,” the Doctor grumbles, though his lips are twitching.
“And that’s a problem how?” Jack nods back at the TARDIS. He slings an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “Come on - gorgeous day, a walk through scenery as beautiful as this, the pleasure of my company; what more could you want?”
“A little less ego from you?” the Doctor quips, but his hand comes to rest on Jack’s shoulder.
Closer to the town, a couple of locals come into view. Humanoid, Jack identifies at a glance; a little shorter than him and the Doctor, though that could be because they’re female. Skin a pale green in colour, with long, rippling multicoloured hair, and definitely human features.
As they get closer, the women eye the two of them with interest, and Jack returns their stares, giving them one of his sexiest smiles. “Well, hello, ladies.”
“Stop it,” the Doctor mutters.
“I’m just-”
“Saying hello. I know,” the Doctor grumbles.
The women give the Doctor a wary look and pick up their pace until they’re past the Doctor and Jack. Jack shakes his head. “You know I’m not really interested, don’t you.” He shrugs. “And anyway, I’d never seriously come on to someone in front of you.”
He knows the Doctor knows - well, at least the last Doctor did. This one... is it possible he still believes that Jack doesn’t feel the same way about him as he used to?
But the Doctor gives him a cheerful grin. “Course I do. Still doesn’t mean I want to see you flirt with every pretty girl - or boy - who crosses our path.”
He frowns, wondering just how serious the Doctor is and if he needs to make an effort to change his behaviour, but then the Doctor speaks again. “Oh, you’re gonna flirt, I know that. Just lettin’ you know I’m gonna chew your ear off about it every time, that’s all.”
Jack rubs his ear. “Think I can cope with that.” He glances around; it looks like they’re right on the edge of the town now. The buildings are closer together and there are more people moving around, going about their daily business. “Hey, let’s see if this place has anything like a tourist information office.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Might as well, I supp-”
His words are abruptly cut off as a siren blares. Too late, Jack realises that they’ve tripped some kind of alarm; his wrist computer’s alerting him that they’ve just walked through an invisible scanner. Too late.
The very next second, they’re surrounded.
Droids of some sort, not real life-forms. His brain recognises that, even as he switches into automatic defence-mode, drawing the weapon that even now the Doctor complains about. But his blaster’s no sooner in his hand than his body’s immobilised. He can’t move, can’t speak. Can barely see, the swarm of droids around him is so dense.
Then there’s a blinding flash of light and the air’s filled with smoke, taking away what tiny bit of visibility he had left.
When the smoke clears and he can see again, two things are immediately obvious. One, he’s handcuffed and chained from neck to ankles.
And two, the Doctor is nowhere in sight.
***
“Tell me where my friend is and I’ll think about answering your questions. Not before.”
It’s at least the sixth time Jack’s said it, and every time he’s got the same answer from his captors: impassive, emotionless stares and no verbal response at all.
His wrists are already bleeding from trying to break the bonds around them; whatever they’re made of, they’re far too strong. He hasn’t been able to loosen them even slightly.
Not that there’s any chance of escape even if he could free himself. He’s in a windowless room with only one door, and there’s no way that door’s not both locked and guarded. Besides, there are six of them between him and the door, and they’re all carrying weapons - concealed as well as visible, he’d bet his Agency credentials on that.
Military? Police? Or military police? Military of some sort, most likely. It’s not just the uniforms; police would have those too. It’s the identical short haircuts, so different from the people he saw walking around earlier - but not only that. It’s the look in their eyes: a cold, hard, emotionless stare he recognises. The stare of trained, ruthless killers.
His fear for the Doctor grows.
If one strategy isn’t working, find another one. That was a favourite saying of one of his instructors at the Time Agency. Time to find out if it works. He meets his captors’ gazes head-on and waits.
“What is your business on Xinith?”
He hangs his head, giving the impression of defeat. “We just wanted to see the museum.”
Suddenly, the impassive expression’s gone, from all their faces. The one in command, or that he assumes is in command - he’s been asking all the questions - blinks, then says, sceptical, “What museum?”
Jack frowns. “The Intergalactic Museum of Lost Civilisations. I don’t know where on the planet it is, but you must have hea-”
He’s interrupted by laughter. Not just from the commander, but all of them: rusty wheezes, accompanied by nudges and grins. “Okay, what’s so funny?” he demands, doing his best to stare them down from his sitting, confined position.
“That is on Xinithx.” The commander gives him a superior, aren’t you a dimwit? stare. He feels like telling the bloke that he’s got nothing on the Doctor. One thing that’s never changed, from body to body, is the Doctor’s ability to make someone feel two inches tall from just one look.
The wrong planet. He took them to the wrong planet. Well, damn it anyway. Yeah, he is an idiot. More than an idiot - this was an amateur mistake, something he wouldn’t even expect from an Agency cadet. People have been kicked out of training for less.
“So now you know,” he says, adopting a conciliatory tone; he won’t let any of this get to him. “We’re just harmless tourists. We got the wrong place. So if you’ll just let us go back to our ship we’ll be out of your hair, and I promise we won’t come back.”
“Harmless?” the guard, soldier or whatever he is standing to the commander’s right retorts. “You were carrying a weapon. You drew it at the site of the security breach, blatantly attempting to resist arrest.”
“I didn’t know what was going on! Those droids, or whatever they were, came out of nowhere!” he protests - but at the same time his brain’s kicked into overdrive again. Was it the fact that he was armed that set the siren off? If he’d left his weapons behind for once, would they have been all right? “And of course I carry a weapon. My friend and I go all over the place. We’re sightseers. But you gotta be prepared for anything these days. I only have it for self-defence.”
“He speaks the truth.” A soldier standing at the back, who’s said nothing since Jack regained consciousness and found himself here, but who’s been watching him like a hawk all along, speaks. A psychic? Or thinks himself one, anyway, since what Jack said isn’t completely true, of course.
Not that he’s going to admit that. “I am. Come on, guys. We’re no threat to you. Let me and my friend go and we’ll never bother you again.”
The commander shrugs, his expression back to impassive. “Your friend presented a hazard. He has already been disposed of.”
***
Disposed of.
The words echo in his head for at least the two hundredth time since he heard them spoken and his world crumbled around him. His captors wouldn’t give any more information than that, but it’s not hard to figure out what they meant.
Disposed of. Killed. Murdered.
They wouldn’t tell him what they did with the Doctor’s body, or where they left him. What they did with his body matters. The Doctor can only regenerate under certain conditions, or so he told Jack. His friend wasn’t sure about all of those conditions, but he was pretty certain that a body is needed for regeneration to occur. So what if these bastards destroyed the Doctor’s body? Or what if they’re guarding his body? When he regenerates they’ll just kill him all over again.
No. He won’t believe that - or he won’t let it happen. He’s going to find the Doctor and save him, even if it is too late to save the body he’s known for less than twenty-four hours.
With a warning to go straight to his ship and not come back, the guards dumped him on the side of the road just outside the city five minutes ago. He’s taken his time since then, shuffling along slowly as if he’s injured, but making sure that anyone who’s watching him can see he’s heading away from the city.
Not that he’s got much choice. They didn’t give him his blaster back, and although it’s not his only weapon and they didn’t find the other ones he’s not foolish enough to rush back into enemy territory without the most effective weapons at his disposal. He might have lost his best blaster, but there are weapons on the TARDIS.
So, back to the TARDIS, find a good selection of guns and grenades, and then find the Doctor and blast those bastards off the face of the planet. Sounds like a plan, all right.
And if the Doctor’s dead, permanently dead, they’ll regret they ever laid hands on him.
What the hell was their problem, anyway? He and the Doctor were only visiting. What, just walking into their city is grounds for arrest, detention and disposal? And why kill the Doctor and not him? What’s so special about him that he got to be set free?
My fault. The words echo with each step he takes. My fault, my fault, my fault. Why couldn’t he have got the fucking planet’s name right? Why couldn’t he have checked, or got the Doctor to look the museum up on the TARDIS databanks, instead of just assuming that he knew it?
If... No. He’s not going to admit defeat before he’s even started to look for the Doctor. Why assume his lover’s dead? At worst, surely, he’ll have regenerated again. And, sure, he’d prefer that not to happen - after all, he’s only known this new Doctor less than a day, which isn’t anywhere near long enough to get to know him properly, much less to feel okay about losing him to yet another body - but regeneration’s far better than the alternative.
The Doctor is alive. He believes that, he genuinely does. Not because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about, but because the Doctor’s no fool, and he doesn’t die easily. For someone who never carries a weapon and always believes in giving his enemy a chance, he’s got a hell of a survival record. He’s told Jack enough hair-raising stories of narrow escapes, times when he should have died and didn’t, and those will only be a fraction of the number of close shaves he’s really had.
If he survived all those times without regenerating, then why should this be so much worse? Of course the Doctor has to be alive. Is alive - because he believes in the Doctor.
Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, he stares into the distance, trying to work out how far it is back to the TARDIS. Damn pity he didn’t save the ship’s coordinates when they left, or he could have teleported back, instead of spending an hour walking there and all the way back to town again.
Abruptly, he stops dead in his tracks and slaps himself on the forehead. Hard. Is this his day for being a complete moron?
With a hand that’s far steadier than his thoughts, he opens the flap on his wrist computer, then types in instructions. What better way to find the Doctor than to track his unique biology?
Bingo. The trace is almost instantaneous. And it means the Doctor’s alive, though in what condition - or form - remains to be seen. Relief slams into him, and he has to catch his breath.
He’s nowhere nearby, though; at a guess, he’s on the other side of the city. Dumped there? Or did he make his own way there for some reason? No matter. Now that the Doctor’s location is flashing on his wrist computer, Jack can teleport straight to him.
Two simple commands, and he’s on his way.
***
If someone doesn’t stop banging that rock against his head, he’s going to dump them on an uninhabited planet in the next galaxy over.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, only to close them again immediately as brilliant sunlight dazzles him. He’s lying on rough ground, bound practically from head to toe, with no way of moving or loosening the bonds. And his head aches.
How-? But bits are starting to come back. A uniformed man in a palatial room, making accusations that hid deep-rooted fear. The man refusing to listen to reason. Jack nowhere in sight. Things that didn’t really make a lot of sense, and then...
A blinding flash of light even penetrates his closed lids, and then a familiar voice shouts, filled with relief, “Doctor!”
“ ‘Bout time you got here,” he mumbles, forcing his eyes to open again. Good. Where Jack’s standing, he’s blocking the worst of the sunlight.
“They said they disposed of you.” Jack drops down on his haunches by the Doctor’s side. “Thought that meant they’d killed you.”
“Not easy to kill, me.”
Jack’s lips curve into a smile. “Yeah. I know. That’s what I was clinging to. Still thought you might have regenerated, though.” Jack’s hand’s on his thigh, sliding upwards to groin-level.
“Oi! Time and a place!”
“I’m looking for the sonic,” Jack says, raising one eyebrow. “Don’t know where you keep it any more, do I?”
Oh. “Left jacket pocket.”
Two seconds later, Jack’s pressing buttons to get the right setting. He really has taught his Captain well. Several bleeps later, the bonds fall away and Jack stands, offering him a hand. It feels good to be standing, even if his legs are wobbly and his head still feels like someone’s using it as a percussion kit.
“Give me that.” He reaches for the screwdriver. Good job he programmed it with several first-aid settings last time he rebuilt it. A quick application to his forehead and the pain’s numbed for now.
“What happened to you?” Jack asks. “I got taken into custody and questioned by a bunch of morons about what we were doing here, and they wouldn’t tell me anything about you. Except that they disposed of you.”
He shrugs. Everything’s still a bit hazy, which suggests that more was done to him than a thump on the head. “They must’ve decided I was a bit more important than you. I got to speak to the president.” Now that his head’s not hurting any more, bits are coming back to him. “Well, president... military dictator, more like.”
“Yeah?” Jack’s waiting for more information.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “We were trespassing, or so they said. Doesn’t explain why you were taken into custody and I got the privilege of an audience with the president.” Freeing one hand, he taps his thigh as he assembles all the information, trying to make sense of it. “Must’ve decided we weren’t a threat, though. I mean, they let us go.”
“No.” Jack shakes his head. “They let me go.”
He frowns. “What d’you mean?”
Jack’s brows draw together and his expression darkens. “They might not have killed you, but they still wanted you dead.”
His eyes widen. “Why’d you say that?”
“Look at what they did! They left you tied up out here, in the middle of nowhere - and, in case you didn’t realise, we’re to the north of the city here. The TARDIS is south of the city. They left me south of the city - and they didn’t leave me tied up. I wasn’t supposed to be able to find you. You’ve got the sun shining down on you at the moment, and later it’d be cold. Unless someone found you, you’d have been dead in a couple of days.” Jack’s eyes narrow, and fury burns in his expression. “Look around.”
He does. Here and there in the scrubland, there are the remains of bones, picked clean by predators, turned white by the sun and sand. So he’s not the first to have been left out here - and Jack was right. He was left here to die.
And he’d have regenerated, and then died again and again unless someone rescued him. Jack’s right. Course, if he was thinking straight and his head wasn’t full of fuzz, he’d know that, and he’d have told Jack so before the bloke even got started.
“Why’d they want you dead and not me? What’s so different about you?”
He’s already starting to pace as apparently unconnected facts start to come together, and that glimmer of something familiar from earlier starts to nag at him again. “Oh, I’m just special, I am.”
“How?” Jack’s looking oddly ashamed, which doesn’t make any sense.
“Not sure. It’ll come to me, but... What else do you know? Doesn’t matter how unimportant it seems. Might be important to me.”
“Okay.” Jack hands back the sonic. “First thing, this is all my fault. We’re on the wrong planet. The museum’s on Xinithx, not Xinith.”
That nagging reminder’s back, but where has he heard of Xinith before? But the lad’s looking guilty and remorseful. He waves his hand. “Easy mistake to make. Anything else?”
“Think it might’ve been my fault they arrested us. Remember that alarm we tripped? It probably detected that I was carrying.”
Weapons. Right. Could be. But, wait... “No,” he says abruptly as the haze starts to clear a bit more. “That’s not it. The president said...” Yes, that’s it. “It detected my biology.” And there’s something wrong about that, but what? Oh, his head’s like cotton wool. They must have drugged him or something as well as hitting him over the head. Think!
“They did what?”
“You are a Time Lord. There is no point in denying it. Our system detected you.”
“Binary vascular system.” He pats his chest. “That’s what the president said. They recognised what I am when I passed through their scanner.” And the man was terrified.
“Wait a minute - he knew you were a Time Lord?” Jack’s frowning, and everything about him’s on full alert. “Thought you said no-one remembered your people any more, not since the War.”
“Of course! That’s it!” That’s what was wrong. “They shouldn’t, but they do. So why would people on this tiny planet, all the way out here in a galaxy hardly anyone’s ever heard of-” And that being so, he should have known all along that Jack’s museum was unlikely to be here. “-know about Time Lords? And be afraid of them?”
And just like that, suddenly the haze clears and it all falls into place. He remembers. He knows.
“Doctor?” Jack’s seen his expression change, darken.
“They were involved. It was the early days of the Time War, before I was called home. I only heard about it afterwards,” he explains, pacing. “Xinith joined the wrong side. Got in league with the Daleks - I think they thought it’d protect them. Some of my people visited. Told this lot’s leaders just what they were letting themselves in for, an’ that the Daleks would never stand by them in the long run. Didn’t do any good, so the delegation took more effective action.”
He’s not seeing the scrubland surrounding them any more; he’s back in the Great Hall of the Citadel, being briefed by the Lord President. “Gave them a demonstration of Time Lord power.” His tone’s scathing; for all his people were known for non-interference, when they did interfere, they weren’t always nice about it. “Disabled all their weapons and made clear what would happen if they ever re-armed or joined forces with an enemy side again.”
“Right.” Jack comes closer and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Guess that’s why they wanted you dead.”
“And why they didn’t kill me themselves. Still obeying the letter of the law.” He meets Jack’s gaze. “The alarm system, too. They probably arrest an’ interrogate every stranger they find. It’s a fortress mentality.”
“So what are we gonna do about it?” A smile’s starting to form on Jack’s face.
Right. Jack always was a man after his own hearts. “We’re gonna tell them a few things they need to know. And make sure they listen.”
***
With the combined power of the sonic and Jack’s mini-blaster, the Doctor creates a sonic shield for them, and then teleports the two of them back into the city, to the Presidential chamber.
And, protected by the shield, knowing that they can’t be captured or teleported away, the Doctor turns into the Oncoming Storm.
“The Time War’s over, Mr President,” he says, getting right into the guy’s face. “It ended a long time ago.” Well, in as far as a war that was waged through time as well as space can be said to have happened in any particular time. “The Time Lords are gone. So are the Daleks. You lot’ve locked yourself into a fortress, protectin’ yourselves from enemies that don’t exist any more.”
The President, eyes wide with fear, doesn’t say a word.
“An’ because you’re afraid, because you’re actin’ like the past’s gonna repeat itself, you treat every visitor to your planet with suspicion. As if everyone who comes here wants to invade, or hurt your people in some way. So you arrest first an’ ask questions later. You don’t kill, oh no - because the Time Lords told you what would happen if you did. An’ you let some people go. But you leave others to die, slowly and painfully, and prob’ly only because you’re scared that they might mean you harm. Well, it stops here.”
“You can’t-” the President begins.
“Oh, yes, I can.” The Doctor might be just one man, but at times like this he can be the most terrifying man in the universe. “And I just have.” He taps the sonic against his palm. “Your transmit technology? Disabled. An’ so’s your scanning tech. ‘Bout time you started to accept people as they are. Get to know visitors. Put up a few welcome signs. You never know - might actually get to meet some interesting people that way. Make friends, influence people, even start some interplanetary trade. Would do you a lot of good.”
“The Time Lords said-” the President tries to protest.
“An’ this Time Lord is tellin’ you to forget all that an’ start again. War’s over. There’s a whole universe out there, an’ you’re missing out, sitting here in your castle scared of everyone an’ everything that happens to stumble on it.”
The look on the faces of the staff surrounding the President start to change suddenly. The fear melts away, to be replaced by something that looks a lot like hope. “See?” the Doctor says. “They like the idea. Give it a try, go on. Oh, you can still have an army,” he adds, tone impatient. “Course you can. They can even have weapons. But armies are for defence - after someone’s shown themselves as hostile.” He takes a step back. “All right? Can we leave you to it now?”
It seems they can. The two of them are already being ignored as advisors surround the President and excited conversation fills the room. The Doctor meets Jack’s gaze, grins and reaches for the teleport control on Jack’s Vortex manipulator.
Two seconds later, they’re standing outside the TARDIS.
***
“I’m sorry,” Jack says as soon as they’re inside the ship.
“What for?”
“We’d never have been here if I hadn’t got the place wrong.” He’s looking contrite and ashamed. “You almost died because I didn’t check.”
Two steps take him close to the bloke, and he takes Jack by the shoulders, holding his gaze. “Told you, easy mistake to make. ‘Sides, was a good thing in the end. That lot needed to change their ways. It’s gonna happen now.” At Jack’s questioning look, he grins and, freeing one hand, taps his temple. “Time Lord. Can see the timelines.”
Jack grins in return. “Smug bastard.”
His smile widens. “That’s me. An’ anyway, I didn’t die. Wouldn’t have. You found me, didn’t you? You looked, even though you thought I might’ve been dead.”
“I thought you might have regenerated, yes,” Jack says. “But I hoped you hadn’t. There are advantages to you being a clever bastard. Anyway, if you think I’d just leave you-”
“Course I don’t.” He ruffles Jack’s hair, accepts the brief hug he knows Jack needs, then runs up to the console. “So, Xinithx this time?”
“If you’re sure.”
He nods. “I’m sure. Probably about time, especially if they have Time War exhibits.” It’s not likely, but given what’s happened today it is possible. Yes, he’s over the War and has been for a long time, but he hasn’t exactly been seeking out reminders. Might be good for him.
Jack comes to stand beside him, reaching out to flip switches and slide levers into position. “Good.”
He lays his hand over Jack’s, pressing briefly, and smiles. “Yep.”
- end
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor (Pete's World), Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: PG13
Summary: "This is your idea of a fun holiday? I get more R&R on a field mission."
For honorh, who wanted to see Jack and the Doctor happy together after Seeing Face To Face; this is set immediately following that story. While this story stands alone, knowledge of the Through A Glass Darkly universe is helpful for it to make sense; in summary, in Pete's World, Jack and the Doctor have known each other for about half of Jack's life and occasionally travel together. With very many thanks to dark_aegis and yamx for very helpful BRing.
Faith and Hope
“This is your idea of a fun holiday?” Jack ducks to avoid another pellet being fired his way by an angry Nagratn. The pellets are tiny, so they’re not instantly lethal, but if more than one penetrated a vital organ he could still bleed to death. “I get more R&R on a field mission.”
They’re standing back to back, surrounded by several dozen Nagratns, furious at some perceived insult to their sacred land. Behind him, the Doctor laughs. Already, Jack’s in love with that rough bark. “Maybe, but it’s not half as exciting, is it?”
“True.” He weaves to the side as another pellet whistles past his shoulder. The Doctor’s taking evasive action as well, and their shoulders brush. With a grin, Jack arches backwards, deliberately rubbing his backside against the Doctor’s. He’s finding there are plenty of advantages to the two of them being the same height for the first time since he’s known the Doctor.
“Oi!” the Doctor grunts, but the protest’s half-hearted. “How about lookin’ for a way out of here instead of gropin’ me?”
“You thought that was a grope?” Jack retorts in return. “Just wait till we get back to the TARDIS and I’ll show you gropes.”
“Promises, promises,” the Doctor taunts. There’s a high-pitched sound suddenly; the Doctor’s finally gone for the sonic screwdriver. Instantly, the Nagratns’ weapons lock.
“What kept you so long?” Jack demands, taking advantage of the lack of pellets being fired his way to glance around at the Doctor.
“Was givin’ you a chance to come up with a solution for a change,” the Doctor replies, his tone a dry drawl. “Got bored waiting.”
He cuffs the Doctor’s shoulder lightly. “Supercilious git.” It’s a familiar, and affectionate, insult.
The Doctor smirks. “Oi! ‘Stead of standin’ around insulting me, might be a better use of your time to - I dunno, run!”
Right. The Nagratns, now that they’ve figured out that their guns aren’t going to work, are starting to close in on the two of them. Flipping open his wrist computer, he presses a combination of keys, and immediately a loud, high-pitched screech sounds. The Doctor’s not the only one with fancy toys, and he does like having the opportunity to remind his friend of that.
“Could’ve warned me!” the Doctor yells as the Nagratns cover their ears.
“Run?” Jack reminds him with a smirk.
They run.
***
They’re laughing like loons as they run back into the TARDIS, slamming the door behind them and reaching the console in three strides. With teamwork of long-standing practice, they take the TARDIS into the Vortex, then step back and just grin at each other.
“Nice trick, that,” the Doctor says, gesturing at Jack’s wrist computer. Course, he could have done the same thing with the sonic screwdriver, if he’d thought about it. His own fault for letting himself get distracted by Jack’s physical closeness - well, more specifically, by Jack grinding their arses together.
This body seems to like physical pleasure just as much as his last one. He had wondered, all that time he procrastinated about going to see Jack. Never made the effort to find out, though. What if he’d discovered that he did like sex in this body, but Jack didn’t want him?
Still, worked out all right, didn’t it?
“You’re not the only one with a few tricks up your sleeve,” Jack comments, and for a second the Doctor’s taken aback, questioning whether he actually said any of that stuff aloud, before he realises that Jack’s only referring to what he said about what Jack did outside.
“Never said I-” He’s cut off mid-sentence by Jack snogging him - not that he’s got any objection whatsoever to that. Nor to the hands that wander over every part of his body Jack can reach - after all, Jack did promise gropes, didn’t he?
When the kiss breaks, the Doctor gestures at the console. “Well, go on, then. Since you were so unimpressed by my choice of destination, you pick.”
For a moment, Jack looks thoughtful; then he smiles and his eyes light up. “You know, there is one place I’ve always wanted to go.”
“Oh? Should’ve said.” His fingers pause over the coordinate settings as he waits for Jack to continue.
Jack shrugs. “Never really thought it’d be your kind of place. Now, though...” He gives the Doctor an assessing look. “Might be, you never know.”
“Don’t tell me it’s a pleasure planet,” he grumbles. Though, yeah, he’d still take them there if it’s somewhere Jack really wants to go. And he’d try to enjoy it, or pretend to, anyway.
“You really think I’d ask you to take me somewhere like that?” Jack rolls his eyes. “I’m not taking the chance that you’d decide to throw me out an airlock.”
“Don’t think I wouldn’t,” he retorts, but his lips are twitching.
Never one to pass up an opportunity, Jack leans in and kisses him, deliberately sensual and provocative. “Bet I could make you change your mind,” he says as he pulls away, leaving them both breathless - though the Doctor less so, given his more advanced physiology. “Anyway, yeah,” Jack continues, all teasing gone from his expression. “Place I wanted to go to - it’s called Xinith.”
“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” He frowns and starts to search the database, though at the same time there’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind. Just a faint hint that might be a memory or might not. He concentrates for a moment, but nothing comes. Ah, well. Not important. He glances up at Jack again, silently asking a question.
Jack’s face is as sober as he’s ever seen it. “There’s a museum there I’d like to see. The Intergalactic Museum of Lost Civilisations, it’s called. Got a section on casualties of war and genocide.”
His eyebrows shoot upwards. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t this.
Jack acknowledges his reaction with a wry smile. “Yeah, I know with time-travel there’s hardly anywhere I can’t get to see if I really want to, but that’s not the point. I’m a soldier. Been one most of my life. And the more I see war, the more I think everyone - especially the ones who make the decisions - should have to see the consequences.”
Balancing his weight on the console, he continues to meet Jack’s gaze. “Not gonna disagree with you there. Why’d you think I wouldn’t want to go to this museum?”
“Gallifrey,” Jack says simply. “Lost civilisation, right? Didn’t think you’d want to see it.”
“Oh.” Funny how that didn’t even occur to him. “Doubt Gallifrey’d be part of the exhibition,” he adds with a shake of his head. “Was wiped out of time. Not sure anyone even remembers it now except me.”
Jack nods slowly. “And me, from what you’ve told me. Gotta confess, I hope it is there. Cause I’d like to see what it was like, so I can remember it too.”
For you. The words are unspoken, but he hears them all the same.
He swallows, then nods once, slowly. “Xinith, you said? Right, then.”
***
As the sound of materialisation fades away, Jack pulls on the leather jacket he’s kept on the TARDIS for the last half-dozen years or so. It’s not the first time that he’s suggested a destination for one of their trips, of course, but this is the most meaningful.
“Don’t suppose you know where this place is?” the Doctor asks as they exit.
“Not a clue,” he replies cheerfully, looking around at open countryside and low-lying buildings that look to be about half an hour’s walk away. The Doctor said he took them close to the biggest centre of population on the planet. “Won’t be too hard to find out, though.”
“Knowing you, it’ll be on the other side of the planet,” the Doctor grumbles, though his lips are twitching.
“And that’s a problem how?” Jack nods back at the TARDIS. He slings an arm around the Doctor’s shoulders. “Come on - gorgeous day, a walk through scenery as beautiful as this, the pleasure of my company; what more could you want?”
“A little less ego from you?” the Doctor quips, but his hand comes to rest on Jack’s shoulder.
Closer to the town, a couple of locals come into view. Humanoid, Jack identifies at a glance; a little shorter than him and the Doctor, though that could be because they’re female. Skin a pale green in colour, with long, rippling multicoloured hair, and definitely human features.
As they get closer, the women eye the two of them with interest, and Jack returns their stares, giving them one of his sexiest smiles. “Well, hello, ladies.”
“Stop it,” the Doctor mutters.
“I’m just-”
“Saying hello. I know,” the Doctor grumbles.
The women give the Doctor a wary look and pick up their pace until they’re past the Doctor and Jack. Jack shakes his head. “You know I’m not really interested, don’t you.” He shrugs. “And anyway, I’d never seriously come on to someone in front of you.”
He knows the Doctor knows - well, at least the last Doctor did. This one... is it possible he still believes that Jack doesn’t feel the same way about him as he used to?
But the Doctor gives him a cheerful grin. “Course I do. Still doesn’t mean I want to see you flirt with every pretty girl - or boy - who crosses our path.”
He frowns, wondering just how serious the Doctor is and if he needs to make an effort to change his behaviour, but then the Doctor speaks again. “Oh, you’re gonna flirt, I know that. Just lettin’ you know I’m gonna chew your ear off about it every time, that’s all.”
Jack rubs his ear. “Think I can cope with that.” He glances around; it looks like they’re right on the edge of the town now. The buildings are closer together and there are more people moving around, going about their daily business. “Hey, let’s see if this place has anything like a tourist information office.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Might as well, I supp-”
His words are abruptly cut off as a siren blares. Too late, Jack realises that they’ve tripped some kind of alarm; his wrist computer’s alerting him that they’ve just walked through an invisible scanner. Too late.
The very next second, they’re surrounded.
Droids of some sort, not real life-forms. His brain recognises that, even as he switches into automatic defence-mode, drawing the weapon that even now the Doctor complains about. But his blaster’s no sooner in his hand than his body’s immobilised. He can’t move, can’t speak. Can barely see, the swarm of droids around him is so dense.
Then there’s a blinding flash of light and the air’s filled with smoke, taking away what tiny bit of visibility he had left.
When the smoke clears and he can see again, two things are immediately obvious. One, he’s handcuffed and chained from neck to ankles.
And two, the Doctor is nowhere in sight.
***
“Tell me where my friend is and I’ll think about answering your questions. Not before.”
It’s at least the sixth time Jack’s said it, and every time he’s got the same answer from his captors: impassive, emotionless stares and no verbal response at all.
His wrists are already bleeding from trying to break the bonds around them; whatever they’re made of, they’re far too strong. He hasn’t been able to loosen them even slightly.
Not that there’s any chance of escape even if he could free himself. He’s in a windowless room with only one door, and there’s no way that door’s not both locked and guarded. Besides, there are six of them between him and the door, and they’re all carrying weapons - concealed as well as visible, he’d bet his Agency credentials on that.
Military? Police? Or military police? Military of some sort, most likely. It’s not just the uniforms; police would have those too. It’s the identical short haircuts, so different from the people he saw walking around earlier - but not only that. It’s the look in their eyes: a cold, hard, emotionless stare he recognises. The stare of trained, ruthless killers.
His fear for the Doctor grows.
If one strategy isn’t working, find another one. That was a favourite saying of one of his instructors at the Time Agency. Time to find out if it works. He meets his captors’ gazes head-on and waits.
“What is your business on Xinith?”
He hangs his head, giving the impression of defeat. “We just wanted to see the museum.”
Suddenly, the impassive expression’s gone, from all their faces. The one in command, or that he assumes is in command - he’s been asking all the questions - blinks, then says, sceptical, “What museum?”
Jack frowns. “The Intergalactic Museum of Lost Civilisations. I don’t know where on the planet it is, but you must have hea-”
He’s interrupted by laughter. Not just from the commander, but all of them: rusty wheezes, accompanied by nudges and grins. “Okay, what’s so funny?” he demands, doing his best to stare them down from his sitting, confined position.
“That is on Xinithx.” The commander gives him a superior, aren’t you a dimwit? stare. He feels like telling the bloke that he’s got nothing on the Doctor. One thing that’s never changed, from body to body, is the Doctor’s ability to make someone feel two inches tall from just one look.
The wrong planet. He took them to the wrong planet. Well, damn it anyway. Yeah, he is an idiot. More than an idiot - this was an amateur mistake, something he wouldn’t even expect from an Agency cadet. People have been kicked out of training for less.
“So now you know,” he says, adopting a conciliatory tone; he won’t let any of this get to him. “We’re just harmless tourists. We got the wrong place. So if you’ll just let us go back to our ship we’ll be out of your hair, and I promise we won’t come back.”
“Harmless?” the guard, soldier or whatever he is standing to the commander’s right retorts. “You were carrying a weapon. You drew it at the site of the security breach, blatantly attempting to resist arrest.”
“I didn’t know what was going on! Those droids, or whatever they were, came out of nowhere!” he protests - but at the same time his brain’s kicked into overdrive again. Was it the fact that he was armed that set the siren off? If he’d left his weapons behind for once, would they have been all right? “And of course I carry a weapon. My friend and I go all over the place. We’re sightseers. But you gotta be prepared for anything these days. I only have it for self-defence.”
“He speaks the truth.” A soldier standing at the back, who’s said nothing since Jack regained consciousness and found himself here, but who’s been watching him like a hawk all along, speaks. A psychic? Or thinks himself one, anyway, since what Jack said isn’t completely true, of course.
Not that he’s going to admit that. “I am. Come on, guys. We’re no threat to you. Let me and my friend go and we’ll never bother you again.”
The commander shrugs, his expression back to impassive. “Your friend presented a hazard. He has already been disposed of.”
***
Disposed of.
The words echo in his head for at least the two hundredth time since he heard them spoken and his world crumbled around him. His captors wouldn’t give any more information than that, but it’s not hard to figure out what they meant.
Disposed of. Killed. Murdered.
They wouldn’t tell him what they did with the Doctor’s body, or where they left him. What they did with his body matters. The Doctor can only regenerate under certain conditions, or so he told Jack. His friend wasn’t sure about all of those conditions, but he was pretty certain that a body is needed for regeneration to occur. So what if these bastards destroyed the Doctor’s body? Or what if they’re guarding his body? When he regenerates they’ll just kill him all over again.
No. He won’t believe that - or he won’t let it happen. He’s going to find the Doctor and save him, even if it is too late to save the body he’s known for less than twenty-four hours.
With a warning to go straight to his ship and not come back, the guards dumped him on the side of the road just outside the city five minutes ago. He’s taken his time since then, shuffling along slowly as if he’s injured, but making sure that anyone who’s watching him can see he’s heading away from the city.
Not that he’s got much choice. They didn’t give him his blaster back, and although it’s not his only weapon and they didn’t find the other ones he’s not foolish enough to rush back into enemy territory without the most effective weapons at his disposal. He might have lost his best blaster, but there are weapons on the TARDIS.
So, back to the TARDIS, find a good selection of guns and grenades, and then find the Doctor and blast those bastards off the face of the planet. Sounds like a plan, all right.
And if the Doctor’s dead, permanently dead, they’ll regret they ever laid hands on him.
What the hell was their problem, anyway? He and the Doctor were only visiting. What, just walking into their city is grounds for arrest, detention and disposal? And why kill the Doctor and not him? What’s so special about him that he got to be set free?
My fault. The words echo with each step he takes. My fault, my fault, my fault. Why couldn’t he have got the fucking planet’s name right? Why couldn’t he have checked, or got the Doctor to look the museum up on the TARDIS databanks, instead of just assuming that he knew it?
If... No. He’s not going to admit defeat before he’s even started to look for the Doctor. Why assume his lover’s dead? At worst, surely, he’ll have regenerated again. And, sure, he’d prefer that not to happen - after all, he’s only known this new Doctor less than a day, which isn’t anywhere near long enough to get to know him properly, much less to feel okay about losing him to yet another body - but regeneration’s far better than the alternative.
The Doctor is alive. He believes that, he genuinely does. Not because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about, but because the Doctor’s no fool, and he doesn’t die easily. For someone who never carries a weapon and always believes in giving his enemy a chance, he’s got a hell of a survival record. He’s told Jack enough hair-raising stories of narrow escapes, times when he should have died and didn’t, and those will only be a fraction of the number of close shaves he’s really had.
If he survived all those times without regenerating, then why should this be so much worse? Of course the Doctor has to be alive. Is alive - because he believes in the Doctor.
Shading his eyes against the afternoon sun, he stares into the distance, trying to work out how far it is back to the TARDIS. Damn pity he didn’t save the ship’s coordinates when they left, or he could have teleported back, instead of spending an hour walking there and all the way back to town again.
Abruptly, he stops dead in his tracks and slaps himself on the forehead. Hard. Is this his day for being a complete moron?
With a hand that’s far steadier than his thoughts, he opens the flap on his wrist computer, then types in instructions. What better way to find the Doctor than to track his unique biology?
Bingo. The trace is almost instantaneous. And it means the Doctor’s alive, though in what condition - or form - remains to be seen. Relief slams into him, and he has to catch his breath.
He’s nowhere nearby, though; at a guess, he’s on the other side of the city. Dumped there? Or did he make his own way there for some reason? No matter. Now that the Doctor’s location is flashing on his wrist computer, Jack can teleport straight to him.
Two simple commands, and he’s on his way.
***
If someone doesn’t stop banging that rock against his head, he’s going to dump them on an uninhabited planet in the next galaxy over.
Slowly, he opens his eyes, only to close them again immediately as brilliant sunlight dazzles him. He’s lying on rough ground, bound practically from head to toe, with no way of moving or loosening the bonds. And his head aches.
How-? But bits are starting to come back. A uniformed man in a palatial room, making accusations that hid deep-rooted fear. The man refusing to listen to reason. Jack nowhere in sight. Things that didn’t really make a lot of sense, and then...
A blinding flash of light even penetrates his closed lids, and then a familiar voice shouts, filled with relief, “Doctor!”
“ ‘Bout time you got here,” he mumbles, forcing his eyes to open again. Good. Where Jack’s standing, he’s blocking the worst of the sunlight.
“They said they disposed of you.” Jack drops down on his haunches by the Doctor’s side. “Thought that meant they’d killed you.”
“Not easy to kill, me.”
Jack’s lips curve into a smile. “Yeah. I know. That’s what I was clinging to. Still thought you might have regenerated, though.” Jack’s hand’s on his thigh, sliding upwards to groin-level.
“Oi! Time and a place!”
“I’m looking for the sonic,” Jack says, raising one eyebrow. “Don’t know where you keep it any more, do I?”
Oh. “Left jacket pocket.”
Two seconds later, Jack’s pressing buttons to get the right setting. He really has taught his Captain well. Several bleeps later, the bonds fall away and Jack stands, offering him a hand. It feels good to be standing, even if his legs are wobbly and his head still feels like someone’s using it as a percussion kit.
“Give me that.” He reaches for the screwdriver. Good job he programmed it with several first-aid settings last time he rebuilt it. A quick application to his forehead and the pain’s numbed for now.
“What happened to you?” Jack asks. “I got taken into custody and questioned by a bunch of morons about what we were doing here, and they wouldn’t tell me anything about you. Except that they disposed of you.”
He shrugs. Everything’s still a bit hazy, which suggests that more was done to him than a thump on the head. “They must’ve decided I was a bit more important than you. I got to speak to the president.” Now that his head’s not hurting any more, bits are coming back to him. “Well, president... military dictator, more like.”
“Yeah?” Jack’s waiting for more information.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “We were trespassing, or so they said. Doesn’t explain why you were taken into custody and I got the privilege of an audience with the president.” Freeing one hand, he taps his thigh as he assembles all the information, trying to make sense of it. “Must’ve decided we weren’t a threat, though. I mean, they let us go.”
“No.” Jack shakes his head. “They let me go.”
He frowns. “What d’you mean?”
Jack’s brows draw together and his expression darkens. “They might not have killed you, but they still wanted you dead.”
His eyes widen. “Why’d you say that?”
“Look at what they did! They left you tied up out here, in the middle of nowhere - and, in case you didn’t realise, we’re to the north of the city here. The TARDIS is south of the city. They left me south of the city - and they didn’t leave me tied up. I wasn’t supposed to be able to find you. You’ve got the sun shining down on you at the moment, and later it’d be cold. Unless someone found you, you’d have been dead in a couple of days.” Jack’s eyes narrow, and fury burns in his expression. “Look around.”
He does. Here and there in the scrubland, there are the remains of bones, picked clean by predators, turned white by the sun and sand. So he’s not the first to have been left out here - and Jack was right. He was left here to die.
And he’d have regenerated, and then died again and again unless someone rescued him. Jack’s right. Course, if he was thinking straight and his head wasn’t full of fuzz, he’d know that, and he’d have told Jack so before the bloke even got started.
“Why’d they want you dead and not me? What’s so different about you?”
He’s already starting to pace as apparently unconnected facts start to come together, and that glimmer of something familiar from earlier starts to nag at him again. “Oh, I’m just special, I am.”
“How?” Jack’s looking oddly ashamed, which doesn’t make any sense.
“Not sure. It’ll come to me, but... What else do you know? Doesn’t matter how unimportant it seems. Might be important to me.”
“Okay.” Jack hands back the sonic. “First thing, this is all my fault. We’re on the wrong planet. The museum’s on Xinithx, not Xinith.”
That nagging reminder’s back, but where has he heard of Xinith before? But the lad’s looking guilty and remorseful. He waves his hand. “Easy mistake to make. Anything else?”
“Think it might’ve been my fault they arrested us. Remember that alarm we tripped? It probably detected that I was carrying.”
Weapons. Right. Could be. But, wait... “No,” he says abruptly as the haze starts to clear a bit more. “That’s not it. The president said...” Yes, that’s it. “It detected my biology.” And there’s something wrong about that, but what? Oh, his head’s like cotton wool. They must have drugged him or something as well as hitting him over the head. Think!
“They did what?”
“You are a Time Lord. There is no point in denying it. Our system detected you.”
“Binary vascular system.” He pats his chest. “That’s what the president said. They recognised what I am when I passed through their scanner.” And the man was terrified.
“Wait a minute - he knew you were a Time Lord?” Jack’s frowning, and everything about him’s on full alert. “Thought you said no-one remembered your people any more, not since the War.”
“Of course! That’s it!” That’s what was wrong. “They shouldn’t, but they do. So why would people on this tiny planet, all the way out here in a galaxy hardly anyone’s ever heard of-” And that being so, he should have known all along that Jack’s museum was unlikely to be here. “-know about Time Lords? And be afraid of them?”
And just like that, suddenly the haze clears and it all falls into place. He remembers. He knows.
“Doctor?” Jack’s seen his expression change, darken.
“They were involved. It was the early days of the Time War, before I was called home. I only heard about it afterwards,” he explains, pacing. “Xinith joined the wrong side. Got in league with the Daleks - I think they thought it’d protect them. Some of my people visited. Told this lot’s leaders just what they were letting themselves in for, an’ that the Daleks would never stand by them in the long run. Didn’t do any good, so the delegation took more effective action.”
He’s not seeing the scrubland surrounding them any more; he’s back in the Great Hall of the Citadel, being briefed by the Lord President. “Gave them a demonstration of Time Lord power.” His tone’s scathing; for all his people were known for non-interference, when they did interfere, they weren’t always nice about it. “Disabled all their weapons and made clear what would happen if they ever re-armed or joined forces with an enemy side again.”
“Right.” Jack comes closer and lays a hand on his shoulder. “Guess that’s why they wanted you dead.”
“And why they didn’t kill me themselves. Still obeying the letter of the law.” He meets Jack’s gaze. “The alarm system, too. They probably arrest an’ interrogate every stranger they find. It’s a fortress mentality.”
“So what are we gonna do about it?” A smile’s starting to form on Jack’s face.
Right. Jack always was a man after his own hearts. “We’re gonna tell them a few things they need to know. And make sure they listen.”
***
With the combined power of the sonic and Jack’s mini-blaster, the Doctor creates a sonic shield for them, and then teleports the two of them back into the city, to the Presidential chamber.
And, protected by the shield, knowing that they can’t be captured or teleported away, the Doctor turns into the Oncoming Storm.
“The Time War’s over, Mr President,” he says, getting right into the guy’s face. “It ended a long time ago.” Well, in as far as a war that was waged through time as well as space can be said to have happened in any particular time. “The Time Lords are gone. So are the Daleks. You lot’ve locked yourself into a fortress, protectin’ yourselves from enemies that don’t exist any more.”
The President, eyes wide with fear, doesn’t say a word.
“An’ because you’re afraid, because you’re actin’ like the past’s gonna repeat itself, you treat every visitor to your planet with suspicion. As if everyone who comes here wants to invade, or hurt your people in some way. So you arrest first an’ ask questions later. You don’t kill, oh no - because the Time Lords told you what would happen if you did. An’ you let some people go. But you leave others to die, slowly and painfully, and prob’ly only because you’re scared that they might mean you harm. Well, it stops here.”
“You can’t-” the President begins.
“Oh, yes, I can.” The Doctor might be just one man, but at times like this he can be the most terrifying man in the universe. “And I just have.” He taps the sonic against his palm. “Your transmit technology? Disabled. An’ so’s your scanning tech. ‘Bout time you started to accept people as they are. Get to know visitors. Put up a few welcome signs. You never know - might actually get to meet some interesting people that way. Make friends, influence people, even start some interplanetary trade. Would do you a lot of good.”
“The Time Lords said-” the President tries to protest.
“An’ this Time Lord is tellin’ you to forget all that an’ start again. War’s over. There’s a whole universe out there, an’ you’re missing out, sitting here in your castle scared of everyone an’ everything that happens to stumble on it.”
The look on the faces of the staff surrounding the President start to change suddenly. The fear melts away, to be replaced by something that looks a lot like hope. “See?” the Doctor says. “They like the idea. Give it a try, go on. Oh, you can still have an army,” he adds, tone impatient. “Course you can. They can even have weapons. But armies are for defence - after someone’s shown themselves as hostile.” He takes a step back. “All right? Can we leave you to it now?”
It seems they can. The two of them are already being ignored as advisors surround the President and excited conversation fills the room. The Doctor meets Jack’s gaze, grins and reaches for the teleport control on Jack’s Vortex manipulator.
Two seconds later, they’re standing outside the TARDIS.
***
“I’m sorry,” Jack says as soon as they’re inside the ship.
“What for?”
“We’d never have been here if I hadn’t got the place wrong.” He’s looking contrite and ashamed. “You almost died because I didn’t check.”
Two steps take him close to the bloke, and he takes Jack by the shoulders, holding his gaze. “Told you, easy mistake to make. ‘Sides, was a good thing in the end. That lot needed to change their ways. It’s gonna happen now.” At Jack’s questioning look, he grins and, freeing one hand, taps his temple. “Time Lord. Can see the timelines.”
Jack grins in return. “Smug bastard.”
His smile widens. “That’s me. An’ anyway, I didn’t die. Wouldn’t have. You found me, didn’t you? You looked, even though you thought I might’ve been dead.”
“I thought you might have regenerated, yes,” Jack says. “But I hoped you hadn’t. There are advantages to you being a clever bastard. Anyway, if you think I’d just leave you-”
“Course I don’t.” He ruffles Jack’s hair, accepts the brief hug he knows Jack needs, then runs up to the console. “So, Xinithx this time?”
“If you’re sure.”
He nods. “I’m sure. Probably about time, especially if they have Time War exhibits.” It’s not likely, but given what’s happened today it is possible. Yes, he’s over the War and has been for a long time, but he hasn’t exactly been seeking out reminders. Might be good for him.
Jack comes to stand beside him, reaching out to flip switches and slide levers into position. “Good.”
He lays his hand over Jack’s, pressing briefly, and smiles. “Yep.”
- end