Fic: Sphere of Influence 3/5?
Story: Sphere of Influence
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler
Rated: PG13
Summary: He’s like a magnet. A gravity well, sucking in everything within his sphere of influence, drawing them to him whether they like it or not.
Written for space_monkey52 in return for an extremely generous donation to the Queensland flood appeal. Thank you SO much for your generosity. Many thanks also to dark_aegis for BRing.
Chapter 1: Clean-up Duty l Chapter 2: Amusements
Chapter 3: Drop-off Point
Stranded.
Just what he was afraid of earlier. Why did he let his guard down, even for one second?
Early twenty-first century, two millennia before working time-travel and at least a century before passenger space-travel. Primitive, compared to what he’s used to. Oh, the Doctor really wanted to punish him.
So much for apologising for accusing him of theft. The guy was probably just pretending to believe him, biding his time until he could do this.
Right. Options. Jack flips open the cover of his Vortex manipulator and taps a couple of buttons, simultaneously holding his breath. But the unit remains stubbornly unresponsive.
Damnit. The rest of his device works perfectly - well, he hasn’t tried the teleport yet, but that’s not going to do him any good in this situation - but the time-travel function is as broken as it’s been for the past six months.
His shoulders slump. But just standing here cursing the Doctor and his own broken technology will get him nowhere. Short-term, he’s got to find some kind of shelter and a means of earning a living. Medium-term, if he can set his device to send out a distress signal, then maybe he could attract the attention of a time-traveller if any happens to come anywhere near this time and pl-
“Lose your way, Captain, did you?”
He spins around instantly and, yes, it’s the Doctor standing a few feet away, looking amused. Part of him wants to be furious, but the overwhelming emotion rushing through him is relief. He hasn’t been abandoned.
“TARDIS is this way,” the Doctor adds, gesturing back out to the street and turning to walk back the way he came. Jack follows. Back on the cobblestoned street, the Doctor walks about ten paces, then turns right, and there it is. Another alley, looking just like the one he went into, only there’s a blue police box standing right there.
“Well, go on, then,” the Doctor says as Jack hesitates for a moment, just staring at the ship he thought he wouldn’t see again. “Can’t hang about here all night.”
He steps forward and pushes at the door, but it’s locked. But then there’s a click and it’s opened from the inside by Rose. “Jack! We wondered where you’d got to. Thought you must’ve got lost in the crowd.” She stands back to let him in. “Doctor said he’d go and look for you an’ told me to stay in case you found the TARDIS on your own.”
“Thanks.” He’s not sure if he’s saying it out of obligation or real sentiment - because he can’t help suspecting that the Doctor did this on purpose.
Did the Doctor know, or guess, that he was worried that he might be abandoned in 2005? Given the guy’s amused smirk when he appeared in the alley, Jack wouldn’t be surprised.
He waits until the ship’s dematerialised and in the Vortex, then comes around the console until he’s just a few feet from the Doctor. “I think it’s time we talked about what you’re intending to do with me, isn’t it?”
***
Ah. It would help if he’d decided that himself.
Of course, the easiest thing would be just to do what Harkness asked: take him somewhere with a space station and leave him to it. None of his business, after all, what Captain Jack Harkness does from there, is it?
But he’s hesitating. And not for the reason he was this morning - that he still didn’t know if the bloke could be trusted, and he didn’t want to unleash an unrepentant conman back on the universe. Who knows what planet or species Harkness might near-destroy next in the quest for his perfect self-cleaning con?
Today, though, has shown him that he could well be wrong about the bloke. Jack did what he was told. He spent the whole day on what was a completely filthy, smelly job, and he did it properly. And then, after being wrongly accused of theft, he put his obvious - and justified - anger behind him and behaved like the perfect guest for the evening.
So, yes, the Doctor should do the decent thing and take Jack to Fy Ndu as he asked. But he’s still hesitating, and now it’s, incredibly, because he finds that he’s concerned about Jack himself. Two years of memories missing. No idea what he did, but it bothered him so much he resigned from a job he clearly loved and turned to conning to try to get the memories back. Because he hates having a gap in his head - or because the thought of what he could have done in that time is really eating away at him?
But if it is, what’s the Doctor prepared to do about it?
Nothing, he answers instantly. Why would he? He doesn’t get involved. None of his business. If Jack wants his memories back, he’ll find a way to get them. He’s a big boy; he can take care of himself.
The Doctor drums his fingers on the console, and then finally raises his head to meet Jack’s gaze. His long silence has disconcerted the lad, that’s obvious.
Slowly, he smiles. “Fy Ndu, you said? Think I can manage that. Tomorrow all right for you?” He shrugs. “You humans look like you need a good night’s sleep first.”
He meant Rose, though, actually, a careful look at Jack reveals bone-deep weariness in the Captain’s eyes, and in the slump of his shoulders. Course, the bloke didn’t sleep well last night; he did notice that, even if he wasn’t inclined to offer any sympathy at the time.
“Go on.” He makes a shooing motion. “You can give me the date coordinates you want later, Captain. Don’t want to see either of you again until you’ve had at least seven hours’ sleep.”
It’s not gratitude in the look Jack gives him before he turns to leave the console room; it’s surprise and disbelief.
***
Jack’s already disappeared around the corner by the time she leaves the console room. For some reason, she doesn’t think it’s because he’s so tired he’s desperate to reach his bedroom.
He thought they’d left him. That was obvious as soon as she saw him walk through the door. He had the look of someone who’d never expected to see the inside of this ship again. Add to that the day he’s had, and the fact that she knows he barely slept last night, and it all adds up to Jack really needing a friend right now.
Trouble is, as far as he knows, he doesn’t have any friends here. Does he have any friends anywhere? Yeah, he was pretty friendly with that army officer, but that was superficial, only intended to last as long as Jack stayed in 1941, right? He was on the run, he hinted, and that ship of his was only big enough for one person.
Yeah, it all adds up. The casual flirting with no intention of forming a real relationship. The way he uses compliments and innuendo to deflect serious questions, and the sarcasm when anyone gets a little too close to guessing the truth about him. He’s used to pushing people away, though whether it’s because he doesn’t trust anyone or because he believes he can’t risk getting close to anyone in case he gets them hurt she can’t be sure.
What she does know beyond doubt, though, is that he needs not to be alone.
She detours to the kitchen and gets busy. Within a few minutes, she has two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, with Flakes melting into the liquid.
Finding Jack’s room is a bit more of a challenge. She knows the Doctor won’t have put him anywhere near her bedroom, so she sets off down the opposite hallway, walking slowly, alert for any clues the TARDIS might care to give her. It sounds mad, expecting a ship to help her, but this is the Doctor’s ship, and she’s learned over time that the Doctor wasn’t kidding when he said the TARDIS gets into her head. It’s huge inside the TARDIS, and she’s got lost several times. After the first time, though, when she ran around for what felt like hours trying to find her way back to the console room, she learned to slow down and just listen. It never fails; the TARDIS never lets her down.
And the ship doesn’t this time, either. A sense of rightness in her head has her stopping next to a plain doorway in a perfectly undistinguished corridor. She balances the tray carefully on one hand and knocks.
No answer. But this is the right room; she’s sure of it. So she knocks again. Still nothing.
“Jack? It’s me, Rose.”
Still no reply. But she knows he’s there, and he’s awake. Just after she spoke, there was a faint sound, as if he’d been startled into some kind of movement.
“Jack? You better be decent, ‘cause I’m coming in.”
This time, there’s definitely movement. Footsteps, in fact, and seconds later the door’s pulled open. Jack’s there, hair rumpled as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over, and he’s barefoot. “Rose, it’s a bit late.”
She gives him a disbelieving look. “Bet it’s the first time you’ve said that to a girl who came to your room.”
His eyes widen very slightly, but then he sighs. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive. In any other circumstances, I’d love to, but...” He’s clearly reaching for an excuse, and he quickly finds one. “I’d like to keep all my extremities intact, and I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen if your friend found out I’d laid a finger on you.”
Rose pushes her way past him and sets the mugs down on the desk before turning back to Jack, giving him a deliberately cheeky grin. “Doubt that’s ever stopped you before.”
Exasperation seems to war with something that she suspects is admiration; then he smiles, and it’s definitely approval. “Point.” But then his expression changes again. “Rose, what are you doing here?”
She’s prepared for the question; she thought it through on her way to his room. Jack, if her guess is right, isn’t going to respond well to I thought maybe you needed to talk. So she shrugs and assumes an embarrassed look. “Mum an’ I used to do this when we went on a day-trip to the sea. Usually Brighton, though, not Blackpool. We’d get home late, change into pyjamas, curl up on the sofa an’ drink hot chocolate.”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing pyjamas. Besides,” he adds, “I’d have thought you’d prefer to... curl up... with the Doctor?”
“Nah.” She pulls a face. “Too human for him. Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind.”
He doesn’t respond for a second or two, and she wonders if he’s going to send her away after all. But then his expression relaxes, and she knows he’s not. “Course not. No sofa here, though.”
“You take the bed, I’ll take the chair,” she recommends immediately, and brings a mug of chocolate to him as he takes her advice.
***
He’s seen right through her, of course. Oh, it probably wasn’t a lie about what she and her mother used to do, but coming to him bearing drinks? Nah. This is all about feeling sorry for him. Thinking he needs comfort, or company, or something like that. Making up for the Doctor’s behaviour, as if she was able to see right through him earlier and knows how much it bothered him.
But, really, what does it matter? He’s going to be out of here tomorrow, one way or another. Even if the Doctor doesn’t keep his word and take him to Fy Ndu, he’s leaving anyway the first stop this ship makes. He’s not going to see either of these two again, so why should he care if Rose does feel sorry for him?
He gets comfortable on the bed, then gives her a practised smile. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
She sips her chocolate, looking at him over the rim, and then says, “The Doctor’s only taken me to the future once, an’ I didn’t get to see much, really. What’s it like in the fifty-first century?”
Jack can’t help it; a cold feeling starts to spread across his gut. If he never went back to his own century, it’d be too soon. “Boring.” He forces the word out, and although he tries to make it sound nonchalant he’s only too well aware that he’s failed.
The faint widening of Rose’s eyes shows him that she noticed, too. Damn.
But, to his surprise, she doesn’t push. Instead, she smiles at him and curls her tongue impishly around her teeth before asking, “What about the people? Is everyone... flexible...” She grins wickedly. “...like you?”
Oh, so she is curious about his sexuality. He’s wondered; after all, he made his interest in her only too clear up on his spaceship, even if he did reveal it to be - mostly - about getting her to negotiate with him. It wasn’t all about the negotiating, though, and he knows she was well aware of that. They were dancing very closely, after all. But then she seemed completely shocked when he went off to flirt with Algie, and he couldn’t help hearing the Doctor’s amused explanation to her.
The flirtatious grin that comes to his lips isn’t at all feigned. “Most are, yeah. So many people, so little time...” He winks. “Relationships are different too,” he continues, wondering how much this will shock her. “Triads and quads are quite normal. More, too, sometimes.”
Rose’s forehead creases in puzzlement. “Tri... Wait. You mean like three people? Shagging? Married?”
Well, they don’t call it marriage in the fifty-first century, but the nomenclature’s not important. “Yeah. That.”
Oh, yeah, he’s shocked her, all right. But... wait. Interesting. She’s looking intrigued. Very intrigued.
It’s almost a shame he’s not sticking around - but then, it’s not like the Doctor’d ever be interested in that kind of fun anyway, and Jack likes his body intact too much to try to play with Rose on her own.
A yawn creeps up on him and, belatedly, he covers his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. Guess I’m sleepy after all.”
The smile Rose gives him tells him that she knows very well he didn’t sleep last night. She stands. “Night, Jack. Sleep well.”
His eyes are already closing by the time his door closes silently behind her.
***
Jack’s wearing his stolen RAF uniform again when he appears in the kitchen the next morning. The Doctor puts his almost-empty mug down on the counter and turns to leave the room. As he passes the Captain, he can’t help himself. “Thought I told you not to wear that?”
Jack’s reaction is surprised, rather than irritated. “Figured I shouldn’t wear anything I borrowed from you, since I’m leaving today.”
Ah. That does actually make sense - well, at least that the bloke would see it that way. “You can keep anything you found in your size. TARDIS put them there for you.”
For a moment, the lad looks tempted; but then he shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Suit yourself.” If the bloke wants to cut off his nose to spite his face, it’s his look-out.
In the console room, he sets the coordinates for Fy Ndu, in a period where Jack’s likely to find the bustling spaceport he’s looking for, and slams down the lever to set the TARDIS in motion.
Jack comes in a few minutes later, the RAF cap in his hand. Leaving with exactly what he came on board with. Stubborn idiot. The Doctor sighs and bends down to rummage underneath the console.
“Got any local currency?” he asks as he straightens.
Harkness shakes his head. “Gonna look for a job on one of the cruisers. Shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Probably not,” he agrees. “Still, never a good idea not to have resources.” He throws Jack the small wallet he just dug out. “Couple of credit chips in there. You won’t starve, even if you don’t find someone to take you on immediately.”
At first, it looks as if the bloke’s going to be stubborn enough to refuse this as well. But he seems to see sense after a few moments, picking up the wallet and putting it in his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll return it if we ever run into each other again.”
The Doctor just grunts and returns his attention to the controls. Shortly after, Rose arrives, hair still damp from her shower, a piece of toast in her hand. “Wondered when you’d get up,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Sleep half the day away, you would.”
She ignores his comment, instead starting to take a bite of toast. But her hand falls away as she looks at Jack. “You’re really leaving, then?” she says after a pause.
Jack shrugs. “I don’t belong here. You guys saved my life, and I appreciate it, but I’m not gonna outstay my welcome.”
She’s not going to make a fuss, is she? She looks at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression, and then back at Jack - then, finally, nods.
Walking over to Jack, she says, “Look after yourself, then.” As she reaches him, she stretches up with one hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t go stealing any more ambulances.”
Jack flushes and he dips his head. Interesting; he actually does seem ashamed of himself. “I promise, my ambulance-stealing days are over,” he says, wrapping his arm briefly around Rose’s shoulders in a hug.
The Doctor slams down the materialisation lever. “Fy Ndu,” he announces, gesturing towards the doors.
***
So this is it; Jack’s leaving.
She shouldn’t be surprised. The Doctor really doesn’t like having other blokes around. She noticed it first with Mickey, and then with Adam. Admittedly, both times he had grounds to be scathing: Mickey did call him a thing, and then he ran away when it looked like they were going to be arrested. But Mickey helped him to save the planet. She’d have thought the Doctor would have had a better opinion of him after that.
As for Adam, the least said the better.
“Where are we, anyway?” she asks as Jack turns towards the door. “Fun...?”
“Fy Ndu,” the Doctor repeats. She’s none the wiser, and gives him a questioning look, head tilted to one side. He sighs. “Major trading planet in the Karin galaxy, especially important in the forty-eight century by Earth dating. TARDIS has landed in Gantr, the biggest hub, and the year’s 4765. That all right for you, Captain?”
“It’s perfect.” She can hear the surprise in Jack’s voice as he pauses. He mustn’t have thought the Doctor would be this helpful.
As far as she’s concerned, though, it’s the least he could do after accusing Jack so unfairly yesterday.
She looks back at the Doctor, excitement building as one piece of information sinks in. “4765? Can we go an’ take a look? I’ve never been this far in the future, an’ an alien planet as well.” True, she’s been to the year five billion, but that barely counts. A space station full of bland corridors and a homicidal bouncy trampoline isn’t exactly her idea of seeing the future, even if there were plenty of exotic aliens as well.
“Should be safe enough,” Jack says, his hand on the doorknob. “Pretty peaceful time around about now.”
Part of her wants to smack him; she’s not some kid who needs to be protected. On the other hand, a quick glance at the Doctor’s face shows her that Jack’s intervention seems to be working. He’s actually thinking about it.
Then, abruptly, a wide smile splits the Doctor’s face. “Well, hurry up, then!” He waves her impatiently towards the door. “Can’t wait around all day.”
Outside, the early morning sun’s shining on a cityscape that looks disappointingly similar to the American city skylines she’s seen on TV: New York, Chicago and other places with skyscrapers and monster-sized glass-fronted buildings. The Doctor nudges her with his elbow and nods towards the entrance of the nearest building, and she realises: it’s not the same at all.
“It’s all automated. Not just the doors and security, but everything. If you’re wet or wind-blown, scanners and sensors sort it as soon as you step through the door. If you’ve been there before, they already know your favourite drink an’ how you take it, so before you even get to the lift your coat’s taken and you already have a coffee. And that’s just the superficial stuff.”
“And look up,” Jack says, pausing next to her. “See that?”
She follows the direction of his finger. It’s a small dot slowly cruising through the sky above the building across the road. As she watches, another comes in the opposite direction.
“Public transport,” the Doctor says. “Forty-eighth century equivalent of the Tube. Well, and alien.”
“Public... You mean there’s people travelling inside those things, whatever they are?”
“On top of,” the Doctor corrects her. “They’re like flat discs. An anti-grav forcefield stops people from falling off. There’ll be stops on all the major buildings. Watch.”
As she watches, one of the discs descends slowly to a skyscraper a few yards away. She can’t see it land, but a few minutes later it climbs again and continues moving.
“Early shift and workaholics,” the Doctor says. “Morning rush should start in an hour or so.”
“That’s... wow.” She continues staring, fascinated. “Doctor, can we...?”
“Maybe later,” the Doctor says, taking her hand and starting to walk on - and, abruptly, she’s reminded of why they’re there. The Doctor rubs it in a moment later, addressing Jack. “Spaceport’s left here, then second right, fourth left, over the bridge an’ round the corner.”
“Right.” Jack nods, then turns to face the two of them. “I guess this is-”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because just then there’s a loud boom, followed by a massive, sickening rumble.
***
Jack’s running even before the rumbling’s stopped. It took him a split second to turn and identify the building - twenty-storey or thereabouts, a bit past the turning the Doctor pointed out to him - that had collapsed, and he waited only to make sure that nothing else around was moving.
Not a bomb or an explosion, he reasons as he runs. The force seemed to go downwards, not outwards. An explosion would have sent bits of the building flying around in a huge radius, depending on the force of the blast. But instead it’s collapsed in on itself. Well, not completely collapsed. The building’s still standing, but it’s as if it’s lost half a dozen or so floors. Despite what has to be advanced engineering - even if not as advanced as his own time - windows are shattered and internal spurs and struts are visible. The building itself is sloped drunkenly to one side, clearly badly damaged.
Just as well it’s early in the day. Shouldn’t have been many people inside, and if they’re lucky they’ll... Yes. A few office workers and a security drone manage to shove the broken automated door aside and stagger out as he watches. They look relatively unharmed - a few minor cuts, superficial bleeding, one of them’s limping slightly. Nothing like the kind of disaster this could have been if it’d happened an hour later.
Everyone’s shouting at once, the survivors demanding to know what happened and recounting their stories, passers-by stopping and adding to the confusion. Somewhere close to him, the Doctor’s saying something, and he’s vaguely conscious of Rose running up to one of the injured office workers and putting an arm around her, encouraging her to sit and be checked over.
But... “Quiet!” he yells suddenly. There’s a noise; it sounded like a shout...
Yes. In the ensuing silence, the sound repeats. Someone’s calling for help.
And now he can see her; a woman leaning out of a shattered window about three floors up. There’s blood over her face and shoulders, and she sounds panicky. In shock.
There’s a lot of people here now. If she jumps, they can catch her safely. He shouts that up to her, but the terror on her face doesn’t abate. “Leg’s... trapped,” she shouts back, and he makes his decision.
Several taps on his wrist computer get him a rough diagram of the building’s structure. It’ll be enough to guide him, and once inside he can adjust for obstacles, missing floors and so on.
“Jack, you can’t-” He ignores the Doctor’s attempt to stop him and marches straight through the now-open doors. This is nothing; he’s been involved in dozens of search-and-rescue missions before and lived to tell the tale. Okay, usually he’s got protective clothing and a full back-up team, but she’s only a few floors up.
Inside, it’s bad. Pieces of the building’s walls and ceiling lie everywhere, blocking passageways and making the route precarious. The stairwell, when he finally finds it, seems to have escaped relatively unscathed, however; looks like the engineers did something right there.
He follows the diagram on his computer, and after a while adds a search for a heat signature. It beeps louder when he gets to the fourth floor, and he exits the stairwell, finding that he has to shove hard to get the door open. A large piece of ceiling has forced furniture to move and pile up. There’s barely any light, thanks to blinds on the windows and a power failure.
“Where are you?” he calls, trying to follow the heat signature. “My name’s Jack. I’m here to get you out.”
“Oh, thank the gods! Over here!” the woman calls, her voice shaky but still fairly strong. Good; whatever her state, it’s not life-threatening.
He has to walk carefully around debris, collapsed ceiling and large, gaping holes where parts of the floor used to be, using only the backlight on his computer to aid his vision. But it’s still easier than he expects, because the place where the woman’s trapped is more or less a straight line from the stairs.
The problem’s immediately apparent. She’s kneeling on the floor by the broken window, and a piece of the frame is among several heavy items that have her leg pinned down. He talks reassuringly to her - her name’s Sal - as he works, carefully and systematically removing all the obstructions, all the time checking her breathing and circulation. She’s in shock, and might have a fracture or two in her leg, but there’s nothing life-threatening.
“Captain!” The Doctor’s voice makes him pause to poke his head out of the window and look down. By the look of the guy’s body language, he’s been shouting for a while.
“Yeah? Almost got her free.”
“You’re gonna have to lower her down to us and get out. Building’s not stable.”
Ah. Right. He’s been ignoring the rumbling and occasional shifting around him while he’s been working, but of course that’s what it is. This situation’s still very dangerous.
A quick glance shows him that the Doctor’s got bystanders holding some kind of large sheet between them. Good. He turns back to Sal. “Okay, Sal, I’m gonna have to move you. I’m gonna send you out the window. There are people below and they’ll catch you. All right?”
Her terrified eyes stare back at him, and it’s obvious that she wants to say no. He grips her hand. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Without giving her time to object, he picks her up and eases her gently through the window. The Doctor gives him a thumbs-up, and he lowers Sal as far as he can before letting go of her. She falls with a piercing scream, but lands on the makeshift safety-net and is instantly, carefully lowered to the ground, then carried away after a few seconds by one of the people below.
“Now you, Captain!” the Doctor shouts. “Hurry!”
The creaking and groaning’s getting louder. He grips the window, ignoring the jagged edges of broken glass cutting into his palm, and starts to swing one leg over.
Then his stomach lurches as there’s an almighty roar and the ground disappears from beneath him. Something hits him on the head, knocking him over, and everything goes black.
***
tbc in Chapter 4
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler
Rated: PG13
Summary: He’s like a magnet. A gravity well, sucking in everything within his sphere of influence, drawing them to him whether they like it or not.
Written for space_monkey52 in return for an extremely generous donation to the Queensland flood appeal. Thank you SO much for your generosity. Many thanks also to dark_aegis for BRing.
Chapter 1: Clean-up Duty l Chapter 2: Amusements
Chapter 3: Drop-off Point
Stranded.
Just what he was afraid of earlier. Why did he let his guard down, even for one second?
Early twenty-first century, two millennia before working time-travel and at least a century before passenger space-travel. Primitive, compared to what he’s used to. Oh, the Doctor really wanted to punish him.
So much for apologising for accusing him of theft. The guy was probably just pretending to believe him, biding his time until he could do this.
Right. Options. Jack flips open the cover of his Vortex manipulator and taps a couple of buttons, simultaneously holding his breath. But the unit remains stubbornly unresponsive.
Damnit. The rest of his device works perfectly - well, he hasn’t tried the teleport yet, but that’s not going to do him any good in this situation - but the time-travel function is as broken as it’s been for the past six months.
His shoulders slump. But just standing here cursing the Doctor and his own broken technology will get him nowhere. Short-term, he’s got to find some kind of shelter and a means of earning a living. Medium-term, if he can set his device to send out a distress signal, then maybe he could attract the attention of a time-traveller if any happens to come anywhere near this time and pl-
“Lose your way, Captain, did you?”
He spins around instantly and, yes, it’s the Doctor standing a few feet away, looking amused. Part of him wants to be furious, but the overwhelming emotion rushing through him is relief. He hasn’t been abandoned.
“TARDIS is this way,” the Doctor adds, gesturing back out to the street and turning to walk back the way he came. Jack follows. Back on the cobblestoned street, the Doctor walks about ten paces, then turns right, and there it is. Another alley, looking just like the one he went into, only there’s a blue police box standing right there.
“Well, go on, then,” the Doctor says as Jack hesitates for a moment, just staring at the ship he thought he wouldn’t see again. “Can’t hang about here all night.”
He steps forward and pushes at the door, but it’s locked. But then there’s a click and it’s opened from the inside by Rose. “Jack! We wondered where you’d got to. Thought you must’ve got lost in the crowd.” She stands back to let him in. “Doctor said he’d go and look for you an’ told me to stay in case you found the TARDIS on your own.”
“Thanks.” He’s not sure if he’s saying it out of obligation or real sentiment - because he can’t help suspecting that the Doctor did this on purpose.
Did the Doctor know, or guess, that he was worried that he might be abandoned in 2005? Given the guy’s amused smirk when he appeared in the alley, Jack wouldn’t be surprised.
He waits until the ship’s dematerialised and in the Vortex, then comes around the console until he’s just a few feet from the Doctor. “I think it’s time we talked about what you’re intending to do with me, isn’t it?”
***
Ah. It would help if he’d decided that himself.
Of course, the easiest thing would be just to do what Harkness asked: take him somewhere with a space station and leave him to it. None of his business, after all, what Captain Jack Harkness does from there, is it?
But he’s hesitating. And not for the reason he was this morning - that he still didn’t know if the bloke could be trusted, and he didn’t want to unleash an unrepentant conman back on the universe. Who knows what planet or species Harkness might near-destroy next in the quest for his perfect self-cleaning con?
Today, though, has shown him that he could well be wrong about the bloke. Jack did what he was told. He spent the whole day on what was a completely filthy, smelly job, and he did it properly. And then, after being wrongly accused of theft, he put his obvious - and justified - anger behind him and behaved like the perfect guest for the evening.
So, yes, the Doctor should do the decent thing and take Jack to Fy Ndu as he asked. But he’s still hesitating, and now it’s, incredibly, because he finds that he’s concerned about Jack himself. Two years of memories missing. No idea what he did, but it bothered him so much he resigned from a job he clearly loved and turned to conning to try to get the memories back. Because he hates having a gap in his head - or because the thought of what he could have done in that time is really eating away at him?
But if it is, what’s the Doctor prepared to do about it?
Nothing, he answers instantly. Why would he? He doesn’t get involved. None of his business. If Jack wants his memories back, he’ll find a way to get them. He’s a big boy; he can take care of himself.
The Doctor drums his fingers on the console, and then finally raises his head to meet Jack’s gaze. His long silence has disconcerted the lad, that’s obvious.
Slowly, he smiles. “Fy Ndu, you said? Think I can manage that. Tomorrow all right for you?” He shrugs. “You humans look like you need a good night’s sleep first.”
He meant Rose, though, actually, a careful look at Jack reveals bone-deep weariness in the Captain’s eyes, and in the slump of his shoulders. Course, the bloke didn’t sleep well last night; he did notice that, even if he wasn’t inclined to offer any sympathy at the time.
“Go on.” He makes a shooing motion. “You can give me the date coordinates you want later, Captain. Don’t want to see either of you again until you’ve had at least seven hours’ sleep.”
It’s not gratitude in the look Jack gives him before he turns to leave the console room; it’s surprise and disbelief.
***
Jack’s already disappeared around the corner by the time she leaves the console room. For some reason, she doesn’t think it’s because he’s so tired he’s desperate to reach his bedroom.
He thought they’d left him. That was obvious as soon as she saw him walk through the door. He had the look of someone who’d never expected to see the inside of this ship again. Add to that the day he’s had, and the fact that she knows he barely slept last night, and it all adds up to Jack really needing a friend right now.
Trouble is, as far as he knows, he doesn’t have any friends here. Does he have any friends anywhere? Yeah, he was pretty friendly with that army officer, but that was superficial, only intended to last as long as Jack stayed in 1941, right? He was on the run, he hinted, and that ship of his was only big enough for one person.
Yeah, it all adds up. The casual flirting with no intention of forming a real relationship. The way he uses compliments and innuendo to deflect serious questions, and the sarcasm when anyone gets a little too close to guessing the truth about him. He’s used to pushing people away, though whether it’s because he doesn’t trust anyone or because he believes he can’t risk getting close to anyone in case he gets them hurt she can’t be sure.
What she does know beyond doubt, though, is that he needs not to be alone.
She detours to the kitchen and gets busy. Within a few minutes, she has two mugs of steaming hot chocolate, with Flakes melting into the liquid.
Finding Jack’s room is a bit more of a challenge. She knows the Doctor won’t have put him anywhere near her bedroom, so she sets off down the opposite hallway, walking slowly, alert for any clues the TARDIS might care to give her. It sounds mad, expecting a ship to help her, but this is the Doctor’s ship, and she’s learned over time that the Doctor wasn’t kidding when he said the TARDIS gets into her head. It’s huge inside the TARDIS, and she’s got lost several times. After the first time, though, when she ran around for what felt like hours trying to find her way back to the console room, she learned to slow down and just listen. It never fails; the TARDIS never lets her down.
And the ship doesn’t this time, either. A sense of rightness in her head has her stopping next to a plain doorway in a perfectly undistinguished corridor. She balances the tray carefully on one hand and knocks.
No answer. But this is the right room; she’s sure of it. So she knocks again. Still nothing.
“Jack? It’s me, Rose.”
Still no reply. But she knows he’s there, and he’s awake. Just after she spoke, there was a faint sound, as if he’d been startled into some kind of movement.
“Jack? You better be decent, ‘cause I’m coming in.”
This time, there’s definitely movement. Footsteps, in fact, and seconds later the door’s pulled open. Jack’s there, hair rumpled as if he’s been running his hands through it over and over, and he’s barefoot. “Rose, it’s a bit late.”
She gives him a disbelieving look. “Bet it’s the first time you’ve said that to a girl who came to your room.”
His eyes widen very slightly, but then he sighs. “It’s not that I don’t think you’re attractive. In any other circumstances, I’d love to, but...” He’s clearly reaching for an excuse, and he quickly finds one. “I’d like to keep all my extremities intact, and I’m pretty sure that wouldn’t happen if your friend found out I’d laid a finger on you.”
Rose pushes her way past him and sets the mugs down on the desk before turning back to Jack, giving him a deliberately cheeky grin. “Doubt that’s ever stopped you before.”
Exasperation seems to war with something that she suspects is admiration; then he smiles, and it’s definitely approval. “Point.” But then his expression changes again. “Rose, what are you doing here?”
She’s prepared for the question; she thought it through on her way to his room. Jack, if her guess is right, isn’t going to respond well to I thought maybe you needed to talk. So she shrugs and assumes an embarrassed look. “Mum an’ I used to do this when we went on a day-trip to the sea. Usually Brighton, though, not Blackpool. We’d get home late, change into pyjamas, curl up on the sofa an’ drink hot chocolate.”
Jack raises an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing pyjamas. Besides,” he adds, “I’d have thought you’d prefer to... curl up... with the Doctor?”
“Nah.” She pulls a face. “Too human for him. Thought maybe you wouldn’t mind.”
He doesn’t respond for a second or two, and she wonders if he’s going to send her away after all. But then his expression relaxes, and she knows he’s not. “Course not. No sofa here, though.”
“You take the bed, I’ll take the chair,” she recommends immediately, and brings a mug of chocolate to him as he takes her advice.
***
He’s seen right through her, of course. Oh, it probably wasn’t a lie about what she and her mother used to do, but coming to him bearing drinks? Nah. This is all about feeling sorry for him. Thinking he needs comfort, or company, or something like that. Making up for the Doctor’s behaviour, as if she was able to see right through him earlier and knows how much it bothered him.
But, really, what does it matter? He’s going to be out of here tomorrow, one way or another. Even if the Doctor doesn’t keep his word and take him to Fy Ndu, he’s leaving anyway the first stop this ship makes. He’s not going to see either of these two again, so why should he care if Rose does feel sorry for him?
He gets comfortable on the bed, then gives her a practised smile. “So, what did you want to talk about?”
She sips her chocolate, looking at him over the rim, and then says, “The Doctor’s only taken me to the future once, an’ I didn’t get to see much, really. What’s it like in the fifty-first century?”
Jack can’t help it; a cold feeling starts to spread across his gut. If he never went back to his own century, it’d be too soon. “Boring.” He forces the word out, and although he tries to make it sound nonchalant he’s only too well aware that he’s failed.
The faint widening of Rose’s eyes shows him that she noticed, too. Damn.
But, to his surprise, she doesn’t push. Instead, she smiles at him and curls her tongue impishly around her teeth before asking, “What about the people? Is everyone... flexible...” She grins wickedly. “...like you?”
Oh, so she is curious about his sexuality. He’s wondered; after all, he made his interest in her only too clear up on his spaceship, even if he did reveal it to be - mostly - about getting her to negotiate with him. It wasn’t all about the negotiating, though, and he knows she was well aware of that. They were dancing very closely, after all. But then she seemed completely shocked when he went off to flirt with Algie, and he couldn’t help hearing the Doctor’s amused explanation to her.
The flirtatious grin that comes to his lips isn’t at all feigned. “Most are, yeah. So many people, so little time...” He winks. “Relationships are different too,” he continues, wondering how much this will shock her. “Triads and quads are quite normal. More, too, sometimes.”
Rose’s forehead creases in puzzlement. “Tri... Wait. You mean like three people? Shagging? Married?”
Well, they don’t call it marriage in the fifty-first century, but the nomenclature’s not important. “Yeah. That.”
Oh, yeah, he’s shocked her, all right. But... wait. Interesting. She’s looking intrigued. Very intrigued.
It’s almost a shame he’s not sticking around - but then, it’s not like the Doctor’d ever be interested in that kind of fun anyway, and Jack likes his body intact too much to try to play with Rose on her own.
A yawn creeps up on him and, belatedly, he covers his mouth with his hand. “Sorry. Guess I’m sleepy after all.”
The smile Rose gives him tells him that she knows very well he didn’t sleep last night. She stands. “Night, Jack. Sleep well.”
His eyes are already closing by the time his door closes silently behind her.
***
Jack’s wearing his stolen RAF uniform again when he appears in the kitchen the next morning. The Doctor puts his almost-empty mug down on the counter and turns to leave the room. As he passes the Captain, he can’t help himself. “Thought I told you not to wear that?”
Jack’s reaction is surprised, rather than irritated. “Figured I shouldn’t wear anything I borrowed from you, since I’m leaving today.”
Ah. That does actually make sense - well, at least that the bloke would see it that way. “You can keep anything you found in your size. TARDIS put them there for you.”
For a moment, the lad looks tempted; but then he shakes his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got everything I need.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Suit yourself.” If the bloke wants to cut off his nose to spite his face, it’s his look-out.
In the console room, he sets the coordinates for Fy Ndu, in a period where Jack’s likely to find the bustling spaceport he’s looking for, and slams down the lever to set the TARDIS in motion.
Jack comes in a few minutes later, the RAF cap in his hand. Leaving with exactly what he came on board with. Stubborn idiot. The Doctor sighs and bends down to rummage underneath the console.
“Got any local currency?” he asks as he straightens.
Harkness shakes his head. “Gonna look for a job on one of the cruisers. Shouldn’t be difficult.”
“Probably not,” he agrees. “Still, never a good idea not to have resources.” He throws Jack the small wallet he just dug out. “Couple of credit chips in there. You won’t starve, even if you don’t find someone to take you on immediately.”
At first, it looks as if the bloke’s going to be stubborn enough to refuse this as well. But he seems to see sense after a few moments, picking up the wallet and putting it in his pocket. “Thanks. I’ll return it if we ever run into each other again.”
The Doctor just grunts and returns his attention to the controls. Shortly after, Rose arrives, hair still damp from her shower, a piece of toast in her hand. “Wondered when you’d get up,” he says, raising an eyebrow. “Sleep half the day away, you would.”
She ignores his comment, instead starting to take a bite of toast. But her hand falls away as she looks at Jack. “You’re really leaving, then?” she says after a pause.
Jack shrugs. “I don’t belong here. You guys saved my life, and I appreciate it, but I’m not gonna outstay my welcome.”
She’s not going to make a fuss, is she? She looks at him for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression, and then back at Jack - then, finally, nods.
Walking over to Jack, she says, “Look after yourself, then.” As she reaches him, she stretches up with one hand on his shoulder and presses a kiss to his cheek. “Don’t go stealing any more ambulances.”
Jack flushes and he dips his head. Interesting; he actually does seem ashamed of himself. “I promise, my ambulance-stealing days are over,” he says, wrapping his arm briefly around Rose’s shoulders in a hug.
The Doctor slams down the materialisation lever. “Fy Ndu,” he announces, gesturing towards the doors.
***
So this is it; Jack’s leaving.
She shouldn’t be surprised. The Doctor really doesn’t like having other blokes around. She noticed it first with Mickey, and then with Adam. Admittedly, both times he had grounds to be scathing: Mickey did call him a thing, and then he ran away when it looked like they were going to be arrested. But Mickey helped him to save the planet. She’d have thought the Doctor would have had a better opinion of him after that.
As for Adam, the least said the better.
“Where are we, anyway?” she asks as Jack turns towards the door. “Fun...?”
“Fy Ndu,” the Doctor repeats. She’s none the wiser, and gives him a questioning look, head tilted to one side. He sighs. “Major trading planet in the Karin galaxy, especially important in the forty-eight century by Earth dating. TARDIS has landed in Gantr, the biggest hub, and the year’s 4765. That all right for you, Captain?”
“It’s perfect.” She can hear the surprise in Jack’s voice as he pauses. He mustn’t have thought the Doctor would be this helpful.
As far as she’s concerned, though, it’s the least he could do after accusing Jack so unfairly yesterday.
She looks back at the Doctor, excitement building as one piece of information sinks in. “4765? Can we go an’ take a look? I’ve never been this far in the future, an’ an alien planet as well.” True, she’s been to the year five billion, but that barely counts. A space station full of bland corridors and a homicidal bouncy trampoline isn’t exactly her idea of seeing the future, even if there were plenty of exotic aliens as well.
“Should be safe enough,” Jack says, his hand on the doorknob. “Pretty peaceful time around about now.”
Part of her wants to smack him; she’s not some kid who needs to be protected. On the other hand, a quick glance at the Doctor’s face shows her that Jack’s intervention seems to be working. He’s actually thinking about it.
Then, abruptly, a wide smile splits the Doctor’s face. “Well, hurry up, then!” He waves her impatiently towards the door. “Can’t wait around all day.”
Outside, the early morning sun’s shining on a cityscape that looks disappointingly similar to the American city skylines she’s seen on TV: New York, Chicago and other places with skyscrapers and monster-sized glass-fronted buildings. The Doctor nudges her with his elbow and nods towards the entrance of the nearest building, and she realises: it’s not the same at all.
“It’s all automated. Not just the doors and security, but everything. If you’re wet or wind-blown, scanners and sensors sort it as soon as you step through the door. If you’ve been there before, they already know your favourite drink an’ how you take it, so before you even get to the lift your coat’s taken and you already have a coffee. And that’s just the superficial stuff.”
“And look up,” Jack says, pausing next to her. “See that?”
She follows the direction of his finger. It’s a small dot slowly cruising through the sky above the building across the road. As she watches, another comes in the opposite direction.
“Public transport,” the Doctor says. “Forty-eighth century equivalent of the Tube. Well, and alien.”
“Public... You mean there’s people travelling inside those things, whatever they are?”
“On top of,” the Doctor corrects her. “They’re like flat discs. An anti-grav forcefield stops people from falling off. There’ll be stops on all the major buildings. Watch.”
As she watches, one of the discs descends slowly to a skyscraper a few yards away. She can’t see it land, but a few minutes later it climbs again and continues moving.
“Early shift and workaholics,” the Doctor says. “Morning rush should start in an hour or so.”
“That’s... wow.” She continues staring, fascinated. “Doctor, can we...?”
“Maybe later,” the Doctor says, taking her hand and starting to walk on - and, abruptly, she’s reminded of why they’re there. The Doctor rubs it in a moment later, addressing Jack. “Spaceport’s left here, then second right, fourth left, over the bridge an’ round the corner.”
“Right.” Jack nods, then turns to face the two of them. “I guess this is-”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because just then there’s a loud boom, followed by a massive, sickening rumble.
***
Jack’s running even before the rumbling’s stopped. It took him a split second to turn and identify the building - twenty-storey or thereabouts, a bit past the turning the Doctor pointed out to him - that had collapsed, and he waited only to make sure that nothing else around was moving.
Not a bomb or an explosion, he reasons as he runs. The force seemed to go downwards, not outwards. An explosion would have sent bits of the building flying around in a huge radius, depending on the force of the blast. But instead it’s collapsed in on itself. Well, not completely collapsed. The building’s still standing, but it’s as if it’s lost half a dozen or so floors. Despite what has to be advanced engineering - even if not as advanced as his own time - windows are shattered and internal spurs and struts are visible. The building itself is sloped drunkenly to one side, clearly badly damaged.
Just as well it’s early in the day. Shouldn’t have been many people inside, and if they’re lucky they’ll... Yes. A few office workers and a security drone manage to shove the broken automated door aside and stagger out as he watches. They look relatively unharmed - a few minor cuts, superficial bleeding, one of them’s limping slightly. Nothing like the kind of disaster this could have been if it’d happened an hour later.
Everyone’s shouting at once, the survivors demanding to know what happened and recounting their stories, passers-by stopping and adding to the confusion. Somewhere close to him, the Doctor’s saying something, and he’s vaguely conscious of Rose running up to one of the injured office workers and putting an arm around her, encouraging her to sit and be checked over.
But... “Quiet!” he yells suddenly. There’s a noise; it sounded like a shout...
Yes. In the ensuing silence, the sound repeats. Someone’s calling for help.
And now he can see her; a woman leaning out of a shattered window about three floors up. There’s blood over her face and shoulders, and she sounds panicky. In shock.
There’s a lot of people here now. If she jumps, they can catch her safely. He shouts that up to her, but the terror on her face doesn’t abate. “Leg’s... trapped,” she shouts back, and he makes his decision.
Several taps on his wrist computer get him a rough diagram of the building’s structure. It’ll be enough to guide him, and once inside he can adjust for obstacles, missing floors and so on.
“Jack, you can’t-” He ignores the Doctor’s attempt to stop him and marches straight through the now-open doors. This is nothing; he’s been involved in dozens of search-and-rescue missions before and lived to tell the tale. Okay, usually he’s got protective clothing and a full back-up team, but she’s only a few floors up.
Inside, it’s bad. Pieces of the building’s walls and ceiling lie everywhere, blocking passageways and making the route precarious. The stairwell, when he finally finds it, seems to have escaped relatively unscathed, however; looks like the engineers did something right there.
He follows the diagram on his computer, and after a while adds a search for a heat signature. It beeps louder when he gets to the fourth floor, and he exits the stairwell, finding that he has to shove hard to get the door open. A large piece of ceiling has forced furniture to move and pile up. There’s barely any light, thanks to blinds on the windows and a power failure.
“Where are you?” he calls, trying to follow the heat signature. “My name’s Jack. I’m here to get you out.”
“Oh, thank the gods! Over here!” the woman calls, her voice shaky but still fairly strong. Good; whatever her state, it’s not life-threatening.
He has to walk carefully around debris, collapsed ceiling and large, gaping holes where parts of the floor used to be, using only the backlight on his computer to aid his vision. But it’s still easier than he expects, because the place where the woman’s trapped is more or less a straight line from the stairs.
The problem’s immediately apparent. She’s kneeling on the floor by the broken window, and a piece of the frame is among several heavy items that have her leg pinned down. He talks reassuringly to her - her name’s Sal - as he works, carefully and systematically removing all the obstructions, all the time checking her breathing and circulation. She’s in shock, and might have a fracture or two in her leg, but there’s nothing life-threatening.
“Captain!” The Doctor’s voice makes him pause to poke his head out of the window and look down. By the look of the guy’s body language, he’s been shouting for a while.
“Yeah? Almost got her free.”
“You’re gonna have to lower her down to us and get out. Building’s not stable.”
Ah. Right. He’s been ignoring the rumbling and occasional shifting around him while he’s been working, but of course that’s what it is. This situation’s still very dangerous.
A quick glance shows him that the Doctor’s got bystanders holding some kind of large sheet between them. Good. He turns back to Sal. “Okay, Sal, I’m gonna have to move you. I’m gonna send you out the window. There are people below and they’ll catch you. All right?”
Her terrified eyes stare back at him, and it’s obvious that she wants to say no. He grips her hand. “You’ll be fine. I promise.”
Without giving her time to object, he picks her up and eases her gently through the window. The Doctor gives him a thumbs-up, and he lowers Sal as far as he can before letting go of her. She falls with a piercing scream, but lands on the makeshift safety-net and is instantly, carefully lowered to the ground, then carried away after a few seconds by one of the people below.
“Now you, Captain!” the Doctor shouts. “Hurry!”
The creaking and groaning’s getting louder. He grips the window, ignoring the jagged edges of broken glass cutting into his palm, and starts to swing one leg over.
Then his stomach lurches as there’s an almighty roar and the ground disappears from beneath him. Something hits him on the head, knocking him over, and everything goes black.
***
tbc in Chapter 4