Cruel as the Winter 3/4
Story: Cruel as the Winter
Author: wmr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Look, if they were mine we'd have had a lot more episodes between The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf, just put it that way.
Summary: The Doctor seems to have got it a bit wrong. Again.
Written for the Anywhere But Cardiff ficathon on
time_and_chips. Beta-read by the awesome
dark_aegis.
Chapter 1: Cold as Snow l Chapter 2: The Deed and the Plan l
Chapter 3: The Judgement of Man
It’s not working. They’re calling his name until they’re practically hoarse, shivering uncontrollably, and he’s still unconscious. His breathing’s slowing, and she knows, even if neither she or Jack’s saying it aloud, that he’s getting paler. Colder, too.
So’s she. So are both of them. She can barely feel Jack’s hand in hers any more, and the Doctor’s hand is like a block of ice against her own.
“So... cold,” she manages, teeth chattering, and she stares at Jack, a lump in her throat, barely holding back tears.
He nods. “I know.” He’s shivering badly, too, yet he releases the Doctor’s hand and hers and begins, awkwardly, to unfasten his coat.
“What d’you think... you’re doing?” Her teeth are chattering so badly she bites her tongue mid-sentence.
“Giving you... coat.”
“No!” She shoves awkwardly at him. “You’re frozen... too.”
“I’ll... be fine.”
He bloody well won’t, and he knows it as well as she does. “ ‘M not lettin’ you die for me, Jack Bloody Harkness.” Anger makes the words flow freely this time. Determined now, she looks around the dim interior of the hut. “We’ve got to stay warm. What can we do?”
“Not much.” Jack’s fastening his coat again, fumbling with the zip. “Thought about... a fire, but there’s only the grass and stuff to burn. And nowhere... for the smoke to go. We’d choke.”
“Body heat,” she decides. Lying down, she presses her body close to the Doctor’s, but of course he’s colder than she is.
Jack immediately imitates her, moving his head to the Doctor’s chest so part of his upper body is half-lying on top of the Doctor. She copies him, and he wraps his arm around hers. Better. Still cold, but the comfort of having the two of them close helps.
If they’re going to die, better like this, in each other’s arms.
“...ose! Rose!”
Huh? She only closed her eyes for a second, right? But Jack’s shaking her, and his voice is alarmed in her ear. “Wha’? So... tired.”
“You can’t sleep, Rose!” He’s leaning up on his elbow now, staring down at her, worry in his gaze. “You’re cold. We’re all -”
“ ‘M not cold any more.” She smiles at him. “Just want to sleep.”
“You can’t!” Why’s he looking at her like that, so angry and agitated? “You can’t, Rose. You’ve got hypothermia! If you fall asleep, you might never wake up!” Suddenly, he’s got her by the shoulders, dragging her into a sitting position, and he’s shaking her.
“Right. Yeah.” She swallows, and immediately shivers violently. Feeling cold again. That’s good, isn’t it?
“Come on.” He’s standing suddenly, gripping her hands and pulling her to her feet. She resists - the Doctor needs them, doesn’t Jack realise that? - but he won’t let her, pulling her more roughly until she’s up. Standing feels awkward; she can’t feel her toes, and her balance is unsteady. “This is gonna hurt, but we need to do it.”
“What?” she’s asking, but he’s already showing her, running on the spot, swinging his arms vigorously, if stiffly.
He’s right. Activity, the more strenuous the better. The Doctor... well, helping him, assuming anything they can do will help him at all, will have to wait for a few minutes. They’ve got to warm up. Won’t be any use to him if they’re unconscious or dead, will they?
It hurts; her feet are tingling badly, and her arms don’t want to move. She almost falls over several times, but manages to find her balance, just about, each time. She’s lost count of how many times she’s had reason to be grateful for that gymnastics talent of hers since travelling with the Doctor.
Warmed from the physical exertion at last, she drops back down beside the Doctor, reaching for his hand again and pressing her free palm against his forehead. Cold. So cold. Surely, even with her own sense of temperature completely out of whack, his skin’s not normally this chilled?
“He’s getting worse, Jack,” she says, and has to swallow halfway through the sentence.
He’s dropped down beside her, and now he’s wrapping one arm around her shoulders while reaching for the Doctor’s free hand with the other. “Then we’ll just have to try harder.”
“Yeah.” A shiver runs through her again. Damnit. The effect of that warm-up session didn’t last long.
And harder how? But, yeah, Jack’s right. There’s got to be a way, and they haven’t found it yet.
“Gotta find a way to break the hold it’s got on his mind. Whatever it is,” Jack continues.
She nods. Get through to him. Yeah. Whoever or whatever’s got the Doctor, they can’t know him as well as she does. As she and Jack do. Or at least she hopes not. That means they’ve got the advantage here, don’t they?
Gripping the Doctor’s hand tightly, she takes a deep breath, coughing as the freezing-cold oxygen makes its way down her throat. “Doctor. You’ve gotta come back to us. An’ you know why? Cause I’m glad I met you, Doctor. So glad. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if we don’t get out of this, I don’t regret a single minute. I just... You’ve got to come back, even if it’s just so we can say goodbye.”
Jack hugs her, one-armed, and nods at her to keep going. “But we’re not gonna die,” she adds, new resolve filling her. “Unbeatable team, us, remember? You an’ me an’ Jack. All for one and -”
“And one for all,” Jack finishes. “Anyway, Doctor, you owe me a driving lesson. Don’t think this is gonna get you out of that.”
Right. She’d forgotten that bet - well, Jack made the bet, though the Doctor never actually accepted it. Couple of weeks ago, it was - they were supposed to be going to Russixa, a planet the Doctor said had the best chocolate in the universe. Instead, they ended up somewhere she never even found out the name of, right on the edge of a swamp. She and Jack, first out of the TARDIS, landed face-first in foul-smelling mud.
Once they showered and changed - and it took a long time to get the smell completely out of her hair - Jack fixed the Doctor with a challenging stare and said, “Just teach me to fly the TARDIS properly. I swear I can do a far better job of getting us where we’re supposed to be going than you.”
“That’s what you think,” the Doctor retorted.
“Let’s make it a bet,” Jack said instantly. “Take it in turns. First one to get it wrong loses. Forfeit of the other’s choice.” The wicked grin on his face left no doubt about what that forfeit might be.
“Yeah, you never normally miss a chance to prove Jack wrong, Doctor,” she says now, running her hand over his short-cropped hair. His head’s cold, so very cold. She shivers again.
“Besides,” Jack adds, and she can hear the humour in his voice - and the chattering of teeth he’s trying to control, “you stay unconscious, then what’s gonna stop me proving that your screwdriver’s sonic in ways you never even imagined?”
But, looking at him lying there, comatose and slowly freezing, it’s getting harder and harder to imagine his voice giving Jack the sarcastic quip his tease merits. Harder to believe that the Doctor’s ever going to wake up again.
“Doctor.” She bends over him again, and it’s only when a bead of moisture falls onto his face that she realises she’s crying. “Please... please wake up. I need you. I - I lo -”
She can’t finish the word, even with Jack hugging her and pressing a kiss to her temple. Instead, she bends and presses a kiss to the Doctor’s lips, so cold and still it feels like she’s kissing a statue.
She’s still crying as Jack leans down and kisses the Doctor’s cheek, still hugging her.
***
No. They’re not dead. He won’t believe that. Can’t believe it. Because if they’re dead, then he might as well be, too.
No. He doesn’t really believe that, has never believed it. Life isn’t over just because someone you care about is dead. And especially not for him, nine hundred and more years old and all.
But besides that, he won’t, can’t, doesn’t believe that Rose and Jack are dead. Because - well, it’s simple, really. Because he believes in them.
Yes. He fixes an image of the two of them in his mind: Rose laughing at some joke Jack’s just told, Jack with the merry, lighthearted smile they’ve seen more and more of over the last few weeks. His companions, utterly reliable, staunchly loyal and his.
His companions, who have every bit as much faith in him as he does in them. Why he deserves their faith, he has no idea; it makes no sense to him. Yet it’s there. It’s all around him, protecting him, calling to him.
And, as the sensation of kisses he never remembers receiving filters through to his mind, he laughs.
There it is. It’s as simple as that. He’s found his way out. No; they’ve found it for him.
“You laugh, Doctor? The prospect of your death amuses you?”
If he had his body, he’d be smiling, a glittery, feral smile with no emotion other than triumph in his eyes. “Nah. Got no intention of dying, me.”
Now he can sense their alarm. They know something’s wrong, but they have no idea what. And that only makes him laugh all the more, as he reaches out with his mind for his companions, for the hope and faith and... yes, love they’re sending him. Uses it to anchor him and to draw himself up and out, away from this place.
“There’s one thing you didn’t take into account about humans an’ emotions,” he tells his captors, feeling himself grow stronger by the second, their grip on him loosening, the threads snapping one by one. “There’s one thing that’s stronger than hate an’ pain an’ fear, an’ that’s love.”
And, in a single blink, he’s back in his body and staring up into the worried, desperate eyes of Rose and Jack.
***
It happens so quickly he barely realises what he’s seeing at first. One second, he’s staring down at the unmoving, barely breathing body of the Doctor, knowing, yet refusing to believe, that his friend is dying.
The next second, he’s looking into sharp, assessing blue-grey eyes, unable to believe this is real.
The spell’s broken after a second as the Doctor speaks. “Hello.”
Rose reacts first. “Oh, god, Doctor!”
Sitting up abruptly, the Doctor reaches for her, tugging her hard against his chest. His free arm reaches for Jack, pulling him in too.
“Welcome back, Doctor,” he says, once the Doctor lets him breathe again. “Where’d you disappear to?”
The Doctor’s withdrawal is both physical and emotional. “Nowhere that matters.”
“We thought... you were dying.” Rose’s teeth are chattering again. Damnit. They’ve got to find a way to warm up. As cold as all of them are, they’ll never make it back to the TARDIS.
The Doctor’s expression softens. “Not dyin’ today, me. An’ you had a lot to do with that. Both of you.”
And that’s definitely a story he wants to know more of, but it’s pretty damn obvious the Doctor’s not telling. Not now, anyway.
“Right, then.” In one awkward movement, the Doctor’s leapt to his feet, though he rocks a little and almost loses his balance before steadying. “Time we were gettin’ back to the TARDIS. Might take a bit,” he continues as he makes for the doorway. “Sorry. I know you’re both cold, but it’s better if we keep movin’ rather than sittin’ round here getting colder still. So let’s go.”
They’re both beside him as the Doctor pulls the screen away. And it’s immediately obvious that they’re going nowhere for the time being. The snow’s thicker than ever; they can’t see more than an inch or two in front of their noses.
“Well, that settles that, then,” Rose comments, shrugging faintly. “Anyone know any other ways to keep warm?” Another shiver wracks her body as Jack and the Doctor pull the screen back into place. “We’ve tried... sharin’ body heat. But we’re all as cold as each other...”
The Doctor leans against the wall of the hut, arms folded, staring down at the ground. “Could try a fire. Not much to burn, though, an’ there’s not really anywhere for the smoke to go.”
“Yeah, already thought of that, thanks,” he points out, stamping his feet and swinging his arms to try to generate some heat. “There is one thing we haven’t tried. Kissing,” he adds in response to Rose’s questioning look.
It’s actually a serious option - for once, he’s not flirting or playing the seduction game. Whether Rose - or the Doctor - will see it that way’s another story, of course. And even if Rose does accept that it’s one of the very, very few options left to them now to stay warm until they can get out of here, there’s no guarantee she’ll want to go along with it.
Oh, she flirts with him, and not always solely at his instigation. Enjoys it, too - she’s an expert at flirtation games, and it’s no wonder she has the Doctor wound around her little finger. But any time he’s even hinted at anything more than flirting - and not even with the serious intention of getting her into his bed - she’s shied away, retreated, making clear that there’s so far he can go and no further.
Now, though, she’s shivering badly, face pale and lips tinged with blue as she tries jumping jacks in an attempt to get her circulation going. His suggestion’s obviously taken her by surprise, though, and she stares at him.
“Kissing? It’s hardly the time, Jack - ”
The Doctor’s head shoots up, and he interrupts her, speaking calmly, though with an air of distance in his voice.
“Crazy as it sounds, Jack’s right. ‘S not just an excuse to have his way with you - not this time. Kissin’ gets the circulation going. Blood pumping around the body an’ all. Soon get you warm. An’, yeah, right now we’re stuck here an’ there’s not a lot of other options. So - ‘s up to you, Rose.”
***
Kissing to keep warm? That’s a new one. Certainly sounds more appealing, too, than trying to jump up and down on legs that don’t really want to work any more.
“Yeah?” Even with teeth chattering and fingers and toes she can barely feel now, the humour and sheer potential of the situation’s enough to make her smile. “So you gonna kiss us too, Doctor?”
He won’t, of course. He always acts as if he’s completely above all this human stuff: snogging and love and sex - sex, now, that’d probably get them even warmer than kissing, but she’s not going to be the one to suggest it. Oh, he’ll flirt, and he’ll even occasionally offer an affectionate or joyful hug, but that’s it for physical contact. They’re humans, anyway, her and Jack, so as species they’re beneath him.
“Wouldn’t do you any good if I did,” he says, and his mouth’s twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “My core body temperature’s a lot lower than yours. Wouldn’t do anything to warm you up.”
“You’re cold too, though, Doctor.” Jack, still swinging his arms vigorously and making brisk circuits of the interior of the hut, pauses and gives the Doctor an assessing look. “You were freezing back there when you were out cold. And you’re still shivering now.”
“I’ll live.” The Doctor shrugs. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with this.
“Not sure I will.” She smiles, trying to show that she’s joking, but she’s not really. She’s had to put her gloves on again, but her hands are stinging with pain, and she’s lost all feeling in her feet.
“Less talking, more action,” Jack declares, and suddenly he’s standing right in front of her. He breathes on his hands - he’s still got his gloves off - and then cups her face between his reddened palms, his still-chilled skin cool against her own cold face.
Jack kisses like he does everything else: with enthusiasm and full-body participation. And he’s good at it. Too bloody good, not that she can complain when it really is warming her up. Blood pumping around the body - yeah, that sounds about right. Blood pumping to certain parts of both of their bodies, actually, and it’s just as well it’s way too cold here to shed clothing.
Yes, this is why she’s never let Jack get close enough to do this before. Because it’s too good, way too good for her peace of mind, especially when Jack’s the original it was fun, but... bloke. Back in five minutes: wasn’t that what he told the owner of that time-ship he stole?
And it’s not fair, because she’s cold yet fire’s running through her, and all because Jack bloody Harkness is an expert at snogging, and how’s she ever going to go back to treating him as just a mate after this?
It’s a shock when he breaks the kiss and leans away from her; she’s grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back without any conscious effort on her part. It’s a devastating realisation, when she hears Jack speak, that she almost forgot the Doctor’s in the room.
“Come on, you need this too, Doctor.”
She shoots her gaze around to the Doctor, still leaning against the wall of the hut - and he has to be frozen, because those stones are ice-cold. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, which could be because he’s cold - though she’s seen him do that before. It’s protective. Defensive; keeping others at a distance. He’s looking at them, his expression impassive - yet his eyes are bleak, empty in a way she’s not seen since they were leaving Utah after the Dalek died.
And that’s when it hits her. He hasn’t told them. He avoided the question when Jack asked. What happened to him? Why was he unconscious for so long? Were they right? Was it some kind of alien possession? And is he all right now? He doesn’t look all right.
She pulls away from Jack and goes to him, taking his hand. She knows better than to ask, of course; he won’t tell her anything. If he says anything at all, he’ll have some idiotic story as an excuse, or he’ll find a way to twist the conversation to humans always needing to know about things that aren’t important or any of their business.
His fingers tighten around hers, and he stares down at her. “Warmer?”
“A bit.”
His gaze flicks to Jack. “Only a bit? Thought you were better at it than that, Captain.”
Jack strolls closer, hands now shoved deep into his coat pockets for warmth, a devilish smile on his face. “Maybe you should see if you can do better, Doctor.”
“What, to you or to Rose?” There’s a sardonic bite to his voice, but there’s something underneath it and she can’t make it out. Hurt that she was kissing Jack? He’s always been a bit possessive of her. Or is it because of what happened to him?
She moves closer, pressing her body against him, sliding her arms around him in a hug. He might not accept the gesture, but he’s bloody well going to get it anyway.
But his arms come around her, holding her against him, and his gaze meets hers, a be careful what you wish for look in his eyes. “You cold, Rose Tyler?”
She nods. “My feet’re like blocks of ice.”
He rolls his eyes. “I am not kissing your feet.”
He’s teasing her again, so she pushes the line a bit further. “What are you gonna kiss, Doctor?”
His head dips, and her breath catches. Is this it? Is he actually going to...? After all this time, the blowing hot and cold, the way they’ve been dancing around each other all these months, that intense moment in the store-room at the Albion Hospital when he seemed finally to be responding to her flirting, is this it?
Cold lips touch her forehead, and immediately he releases her, digs in his pocket and produces, triumphantly, the sonic screwdriver. He tweaks, then points it at her feet. A tingling, warming sensation spreads through them.
“Sonic thermal waves. You think this reattaches barbed wire without producing heat?” He’s raising an eyebrow at her, smiling in amusement at her reaction. “Catch.” He throws the screwdriver to Jack.
The fact that she can feel her feet again is good... but, as the Doctor gently pushes her away from him and strides to the door, her heart’s still thumping and crushing disappointment’s filling her.
So close. But she should have known he wouldn’t follow through, right?
Jack catches her gaze, giving her a sympathetic smile. In the same moment, the Doctor’s voice attracts both their attentions. “Snow’s almost stopped. Time we left.”
***
Of course he knows what she was expecting. What she wants. What Jack wants, too, for that matter. He’s not stupid. And that’s exactly why he didn’t follow through. It’s tempting, of course it is; they’re both extremely attractive specimens of the human race, though that’s far less important than the fact that they care about him and their presence has helped distract him from his bleak, lonely existence as the last living Time Lord.
Tempting, yes, but completely stupid. They’re human. Mortal, with tiny life-spans. And full of all sorts of silly human tendencies such as the urge to mate, to pair up, to confuse sex with love and everything that goes along with that. Well, okay, Jack’s far less inclined towards that kind of thing, but he’s noticed a neediness in the Captain which, in the right - wrong - circumstances could prove difficult to deal with.
The screwdriver’s a convenient distraction, though he should have remembered that setting before now. What Jackie Tyler’d do to him if he let her daughter get frostbite doesn’t bear thinking about.
But the snow’s stopping at last. Fantastic. About time something went right for him today.
As Jack and Rose join him by the doorway, he holds out his hand for the screwdriver. Get the two of them safely back to the TARDIS and provide whatever medical treatment they need for exposure, frostbite, hypothermia and the rest, then leave them sleeping while he sorts out the telepathic aliens. Once he’s worked out who they are, of course, and what they want.
There are clues, of course. A species who suffered during the Time War. Narrows it down a little, but there are other things that’ll help narrow it down further.
But first, the TARDIS.
He extends one hand to Rose, his screwdriver wielded in the other. “Hang onto me. Jack, hold her other hand. These drifts are deep.”
Deep, but at least the fresh snow is powdery, easier to walk through. The older snow is mostly frozen, so they’re not sinking too far. Mid-calf, for him. Close to knee height for Rose. But he and Jack can support her if she needs it, and the TARDIS really isn’t that far. Maybe fifteen minutes, walking like this.
“Did you think you’d escaped us, Time Lord? As you destroyed us, we will destroy you.”
***
tbc
Author: wmr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Look, if they were mine we'd have had a lot more episodes between The Doctor Dances and Bad Wolf, just put it that way.
Summary: The Doctor seems to have got it a bit wrong. Again.
Written for the Anywhere But Cardiff ficathon on
time_and_chips. Beta-read by the awesome
dark_aegis.
Chapter 1: Cold as Snow l Chapter 2: The Deed and the Plan l
Chapter 3: The Judgement of Man
It’s not working. They’re calling his name until they’re practically hoarse, shivering uncontrollably, and he’s still unconscious. His breathing’s slowing, and she knows, even if neither she or Jack’s saying it aloud, that he’s getting paler. Colder, too.
So’s she. So are both of them. She can barely feel Jack’s hand in hers any more, and the Doctor’s hand is like a block of ice against her own.
“So... cold,” she manages, teeth chattering, and she stares at Jack, a lump in her throat, barely holding back tears.
He nods. “I know.” He’s shivering badly, too, yet he releases the Doctor’s hand and hers and begins, awkwardly, to unfasten his coat.
“What d’you think... you’re doing?” Her teeth are chattering so badly she bites her tongue mid-sentence.
“Giving you... coat.”
“No!” She shoves awkwardly at him. “You’re frozen... too.”
“I’ll... be fine.”
He bloody well won’t, and he knows it as well as she does. “ ‘M not lettin’ you die for me, Jack Bloody Harkness.” Anger makes the words flow freely this time. Determined now, she looks around the dim interior of the hut. “We’ve got to stay warm. What can we do?”
“Not much.” Jack’s fastening his coat again, fumbling with the zip. “Thought about... a fire, but there’s only the grass and stuff to burn. And nowhere... for the smoke to go. We’d choke.”
“Body heat,” she decides. Lying down, she presses her body close to the Doctor’s, but of course he’s colder than she is.
Jack immediately imitates her, moving his head to the Doctor’s chest so part of his upper body is half-lying on top of the Doctor. She copies him, and he wraps his arm around hers. Better. Still cold, but the comfort of having the two of them close helps.
If they’re going to die, better like this, in each other’s arms.
“...ose! Rose!”
Huh? She only closed her eyes for a second, right? But Jack’s shaking her, and his voice is alarmed in her ear. “Wha’? So... tired.”
“You can’t sleep, Rose!” He’s leaning up on his elbow now, staring down at her, worry in his gaze. “You’re cold. We’re all -”
“ ‘M not cold any more.” She smiles at him. “Just want to sleep.”
“You can’t!” Why’s he looking at her like that, so angry and agitated? “You can’t, Rose. You’ve got hypothermia! If you fall asleep, you might never wake up!” Suddenly, he’s got her by the shoulders, dragging her into a sitting position, and he’s shaking her.
“Right. Yeah.” She swallows, and immediately shivers violently. Feeling cold again. That’s good, isn’t it?
“Come on.” He’s standing suddenly, gripping her hands and pulling her to her feet. She resists - the Doctor needs them, doesn’t Jack realise that? - but he won’t let her, pulling her more roughly until she’s up. Standing feels awkward; she can’t feel her toes, and her balance is unsteady. “This is gonna hurt, but we need to do it.”
“What?” she’s asking, but he’s already showing her, running on the spot, swinging his arms vigorously, if stiffly.
He’s right. Activity, the more strenuous the better. The Doctor... well, helping him, assuming anything they can do will help him at all, will have to wait for a few minutes. They’ve got to warm up. Won’t be any use to him if they’re unconscious or dead, will they?
It hurts; her feet are tingling badly, and her arms don’t want to move. She almost falls over several times, but manages to find her balance, just about, each time. She’s lost count of how many times she’s had reason to be grateful for that gymnastics talent of hers since travelling with the Doctor.
Warmed from the physical exertion at last, she drops back down beside the Doctor, reaching for his hand again and pressing her free palm against his forehead. Cold. So cold. Surely, even with her own sense of temperature completely out of whack, his skin’s not normally this chilled?
“He’s getting worse, Jack,” she says, and has to swallow halfway through the sentence.
He’s dropped down beside her, and now he’s wrapping one arm around her shoulders while reaching for the Doctor’s free hand with the other. “Then we’ll just have to try harder.”
“Yeah.” A shiver runs through her again. Damnit. The effect of that warm-up session didn’t last long.
And harder how? But, yeah, Jack’s right. There’s got to be a way, and they haven’t found it yet.
“Gotta find a way to break the hold it’s got on his mind. Whatever it is,” Jack continues.
She nods. Get through to him. Yeah. Whoever or whatever’s got the Doctor, they can’t know him as well as she does. As she and Jack do. Or at least she hopes not. That means they’ve got the advantage here, don’t they?
Gripping the Doctor’s hand tightly, she takes a deep breath, coughing as the freezing-cold oxygen makes its way down her throat. “Doctor. You’ve gotta come back to us. An’ you know why? Cause I’m glad I met you, Doctor. So glad. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Even if we don’t get out of this, I don’t regret a single minute. I just... You’ve got to come back, even if it’s just so we can say goodbye.”
Jack hugs her, one-armed, and nods at her to keep going. “But we’re not gonna die,” she adds, new resolve filling her. “Unbeatable team, us, remember? You an’ me an’ Jack. All for one and -”
“And one for all,” Jack finishes. “Anyway, Doctor, you owe me a driving lesson. Don’t think this is gonna get you out of that.”
Right. She’d forgotten that bet - well, Jack made the bet, though the Doctor never actually accepted it. Couple of weeks ago, it was - they were supposed to be going to Russixa, a planet the Doctor said had the best chocolate in the universe. Instead, they ended up somewhere she never even found out the name of, right on the edge of a swamp. She and Jack, first out of the TARDIS, landed face-first in foul-smelling mud.
Once they showered and changed - and it took a long time to get the smell completely out of her hair - Jack fixed the Doctor with a challenging stare and said, “Just teach me to fly the TARDIS properly. I swear I can do a far better job of getting us where we’re supposed to be going than you.”
“That’s what you think,” the Doctor retorted.
“Let’s make it a bet,” Jack said instantly. “Take it in turns. First one to get it wrong loses. Forfeit of the other’s choice.” The wicked grin on his face left no doubt about what that forfeit might be.
“Yeah, you never normally miss a chance to prove Jack wrong, Doctor,” she says now, running her hand over his short-cropped hair. His head’s cold, so very cold. She shivers again.
“Besides,” Jack adds, and she can hear the humour in his voice - and the chattering of teeth he’s trying to control, “you stay unconscious, then what’s gonna stop me proving that your screwdriver’s sonic in ways you never even imagined?”
But, looking at him lying there, comatose and slowly freezing, it’s getting harder and harder to imagine his voice giving Jack the sarcastic quip his tease merits. Harder to believe that the Doctor’s ever going to wake up again.
“Doctor.” She bends over him again, and it’s only when a bead of moisture falls onto his face that she realises she’s crying. “Please... please wake up. I need you. I - I lo -”
She can’t finish the word, even with Jack hugging her and pressing a kiss to her temple. Instead, she bends and presses a kiss to the Doctor’s lips, so cold and still it feels like she’s kissing a statue.
She’s still crying as Jack leans down and kisses the Doctor’s cheek, still hugging her.
***
No. They’re not dead. He won’t believe that. Can’t believe it. Because if they’re dead, then he might as well be, too.
No. He doesn’t really believe that, has never believed it. Life isn’t over just because someone you care about is dead. And especially not for him, nine hundred and more years old and all.
But besides that, he won’t, can’t, doesn’t believe that Rose and Jack are dead. Because - well, it’s simple, really. Because he believes in them.
Yes. He fixes an image of the two of them in his mind: Rose laughing at some joke Jack’s just told, Jack with the merry, lighthearted smile they’ve seen more and more of over the last few weeks. His companions, utterly reliable, staunchly loyal and his.
His companions, who have every bit as much faith in him as he does in them. Why he deserves their faith, he has no idea; it makes no sense to him. Yet it’s there. It’s all around him, protecting him, calling to him.
And, as the sensation of kisses he never remembers receiving filters through to his mind, he laughs.
There it is. It’s as simple as that. He’s found his way out. No; they’ve found it for him.
“You laugh, Doctor? The prospect of your death amuses you?”
If he had his body, he’d be smiling, a glittery, feral smile with no emotion other than triumph in his eyes. “Nah. Got no intention of dying, me.”
Now he can sense their alarm. They know something’s wrong, but they have no idea what. And that only makes him laugh all the more, as he reaches out with his mind for his companions, for the hope and faith and... yes, love they’re sending him. Uses it to anchor him and to draw himself up and out, away from this place.
“There’s one thing you didn’t take into account about humans an’ emotions,” he tells his captors, feeling himself grow stronger by the second, their grip on him loosening, the threads snapping one by one. “There’s one thing that’s stronger than hate an’ pain an’ fear, an’ that’s love.”
And, in a single blink, he’s back in his body and staring up into the worried, desperate eyes of Rose and Jack.
***
It happens so quickly he barely realises what he’s seeing at first. One second, he’s staring down at the unmoving, barely breathing body of the Doctor, knowing, yet refusing to believe, that his friend is dying.
The next second, he’s looking into sharp, assessing blue-grey eyes, unable to believe this is real.
The spell’s broken after a second as the Doctor speaks. “Hello.”
Rose reacts first. “Oh, god, Doctor!”
Sitting up abruptly, the Doctor reaches for her, tugging her hard against his chest. His free arm reaches for Jack, pulling him in too.
“Welcome back, Doctor,” he says, once the Doctor lets him breathe again. “Where’d you disappear to?”
The Doctor’s withdrawal is both physical and emotional. “Nowhere that matters.”
“We thought... you were dying.” Rose’s teeth are chattering again. Damnit. They’ve got to find a way to warm up. As cold as all of them are, they’ll never make it back to the TARDIS.
The Doctor’s expression softens. “Not dyin’ today, me. An’ you had a lot to do with that. Both of you.”
And that’s definitely a story he wants to know more of, but it’s pretty damn obvious the Doctor’s not telling. Not now, anyway.
“Right, then.” In one awkward movement, the Doctor’s leapt to his feet, though he rocks a little and almost loses his balance before steadying. “Time we were gettin’ back to the TARDIS. Might take a bit,” he continues as he makes for the doorway. “Sorry. I know you’re both cold, but it’s better if we keep movin’ rather than sittin’ round here getting colder still. So let’s go.”
They’re both beside him as the Doctor pulls the screen away. And it’s immediately obvious that they’re going nowhere for the time being. The snow’s thicker than ever; they can’t see more than an inch or two in front of their noses.
“Well, that settles that, then,” Rose comments, shrugging faintly. “Anyone know any other ways to keep warm?” Another shiver wracks her body as Jack and the Doctor pull the screen back into place. “We’ve tried... sharin’ body heat. But we’re all as cold as each other...”
The Doctor leans against the wall of the hut, arms folded, staring down at the ground. “Could try a fire. Not much to burn, though, an’ there’s not really anywhere for the smoke to go.”
“Yeah, already thought of that, thanks,” he points out, stamping his feet and swinging his arms to try to generate some heat. “There is one thing we haven’t tried. Kissing,” he adds in response to Rose’s questioning look.
It’s actually a serious option - for once, he’s not flirting or playing the seduction game. Whether Rose - or the Doctor - will see it that way’s another story, of course. And even if Rose does accept that it’s one of the very, very few options left to them now to stay warm until they can get out of here, there’s no guarantee she’ll want to go along with it.
Oh, she flirts with him, and not always solely at his instigation. Enjoys it, too - she’s an expert at flirtation games, and it’s no wonder she has the Doctor wound around her little finger. But any time he’s even hinted at anything more than flirting - and not even with the serious intention of getting her into his bed - she’s shied away, retreated, making clear that there’s so far he can go and no further.
Now, though, she’s shivering badly, face pale and lips tinged with blue as she tries jumping jacks in an attempt to get her circulation going. His suggestion’s obviously taken her by surprise, though, and she stares at him.
“Kissing? It’s hardly the time, Jack - ”
The Doctor’s head shoots up, and he interrupts her, speaking calmly, though with an air of distance in his voice.
“Crazy as it sounds, Jack’s right. ‘S not just an excuse to have his way with you - not this time. Kissin’ gets the circulation going. Blood pumping around the body an’ all. Soon get you warm. An’, yeah, right now we’re stuck here an’ there’s not a lot of other options. So - ‘s up to you, Rose.”
***
Kissing to keep warm? That’s a new one. Certainly sounds more appealing, too, than trying to jump up and down on legs that don’t really want to work any more.
“Yeah?” Even with teeth chattering and fingers and toes she can barely feel now, the humour and sheer potential of the situation’s enough to make her smile. “So you gonna kiss us too, Doctor?”
He won’t, of course. He always acts as if he’s completely above all this human stuff: snogging and love and sex - sex, now, that’d probably get them even warmer than kissing, but she’s not going to be the one to suggest it. Oh, he’ll flirt, and he’ll even occasionally offer an affectionate or joyful hug, but that’s it for physical contact. They’re humans, anyway, her and Jack, so as species they’re beneath him.
“Wouldn’t do you any good if I did,” he says, and his mouth’s twisted in a self-deprecating smile. “My core body temperature’s a lot lower than yours. Wouldn’t do anything to warm you up.”
“You’re cold too, though, Doctor.” Jack, still swinging his arms vigorously and making brisk circuits of the interior of the hut, pauses and gives the Doctor an assessing look. “You were freezing back there when you were out cold. And you’re still shivering now.”
“I’ll live.” The Doctor shrugs. It’s pretty obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with this.
“Not sure I will.” She smiles, trying to show that she’s joking, but she’s not really. She’s had to put her gloves on again, but her hands are stinging with pain, and she’s lost all feeling in her feet.
“Less talking, more action,” Jack declares, and suddenly he’s standing right in front of her. He breathes on his hands - he’s still got his gloves off - and then cups her face between his reddened palms, his still-chilled skin cool against her own cold face.
Jack kisses like he does everything else: with enthusiasm and full-body participation. And he’s good at it. Too bloody good, not that she can complain when it really is warming her up. Blood pumping around the body - yeah, that sounds about right. Blood pumping to certain parts of both of their bodies, actually, and it’s just as well it’s way too cold here to shed clothing.
Yes, this is why she’s never let Jack get close enough to do this before. Because it’s too good, way too good for her peace of mind, especially when Jack’s the original it was fun, but... bloke. Back in five minutes: wasn’t that what he told the owner of that time-ship he stole?
And it’s not fair, because she’s cold yet fire’s running through her, and all because Jack bloody Harkness is an expert at snogging, and how’s she ever going to go back to treating him as just a mate after this?
It’s a shock when he breaks the kiss and leans away from her; she’s grabbing his shoulders and pulling him back without any conscious effort on her part. It’s a devastating realisation, when she hears Jack speak, that she almost forgot the Doctor’s in the room.
“Come on, you need this too, Doctor.”
She shoots her gaze around to the Doctor, still leaning against the wall of the hut - and he has to be frozen, because those stones are ice-cold. He’s got his arms wrapped around himself, which could be because he’s cold - though she’s seen him do that before. It’s protective. Defensive; keeping others at a distance. He’s looking at them, his expression impassive - yet his eyes are bleak, empty in a way she’s not seen since they were leaving Utah after the Dalek died.
And that’s when it hits her. He hasn’t told them. He avoided the question when Jack asked. What happened to him? Why was he unconscious for so long? Were they right? Was it some kind of alien possession? And is he all right now? He doesn’t look all right.
She pulls away from Jack and goes to him, taking his hand. She knows better than to ask, of course; he won’t tell her anything. If he says anything at all, he’ll have some idiotic story as an excuse, or he’ll find a way to twist the conversation to humans always needing to know about things that aren’t important or any of their business.
His fingers tighten around hers, and he stares down at her. “Warmer?”
“A bit.”
His gaze flicks to Jack. “Only a bit? Thought you were better at it than that, Captain.”
Jack strolls closer, hands now shoved deep into his coat pockets for warmth, a devilish smile on his face. “Maybe you should see if you can do better, Doctor.”
“What, to you or to Rose?” There’s a sardonic bite to his voice, but there’s something underneath it and she can’t make it out. Hurt that she was kissing Jack? He’s always been a bit possessive of her. Or is it because of what happened to him?
She moves closer, pressing her body against him, sliding her arms around him in a hug. He might not accept the gesture, but he’s bloody well going to get it anyway.
But his arms come around her, holding her against him, and his gaze meets hers, a be careful what you wish for look in his eyes. “You cold, Rose Tyler?”
She nods. “My feet’re like blocks of ice.”
He rolls his eyes. “I am not kissing your feet.”
He’s teasing her again, so she pushes the line a bit further. “What are you gonna kiss, Doctor?”
His head dips, and her breath catches. Is this it? Is he actually going to...? After all this time, the blowing hot and cold, the way they’ve been dancing around each other all these months, that intense moment in the store-room at the Albion Hospital when he seemed finally to be responding to her flirting, is this it?
Cold lips touch her forehead, and immediately he releases her, digs in his pocket and produces, triumphantly, the sonic screwdriver. He tweaks, then points it at her feet. A tingling, warming sensation spreads through them.
“Sonic thermal waves. You think this reattaches barbed wire without producing heat?” He’s raising an eyebrow at her, smiling in amusement at her reaction. “Catch.” He throws the screwdriver to Jack.
The fact that she can feel her feet again is good... but, as the Doctor gently pushes her away from him and strides to the door, her heart’s still thumping and crushing disappointment’s filling her.
So close. But she should have known he wouldn’t follow through, right?
Jack catches her gaze, giving her a sympathetic smile. In the same moment, the Doctor’s voice attracts both their attentions. “Snow’s almost stopped. Time we left.”
***
Of course he knows what she was expecting. What she wants. What Jack wants, too, for that matter. He’s not stupid. And that’s exactly why he didn’t follow through. It’s tempting, of course it is; they’re both extremely attractive specimens of the human race, though that’s far less important than the fact that they care about him and their presence has helped distract him from his bleak, lonely existence as the last living Time Lord.
Tempting, yes, but completely stupid. They’re human. Mortal, with tiny life-spans. And full of all sorts of silly human tendencies such as the urge to mate, to pair up, to confuse sex with love and everything that goes along with that. Well, okay, Jack’s far less inclined towards that kind of thing, but he’s noticed a neediness in the Captain which, in the right - wrong - circumstances could prove difficult to deal with.
The screwdriver’s a convenient distraction, though he should have remembered that setting before now. What Jackie Tyler’d do to him if he let her daughter get frostbite doesn’t bear thinking about.
But the snow’s stopping at last. Fantastic. About time something went right for him today.
As Jack and Rose join him by the doorway, he holds out his hand for the screwdriver. Get the two of them safely back to the TARDIS and provide whatever medical treatment they need for exposure, frostbite, hypothermia and the rest, then leave them sleeping while he sorts out the telepathic aliens. Once he’s worked out who they are, of course, and what they want.
There are clues, of course. A species who suffered during the Time War. Narrows it down a little, but there are other things that’ll help narrow it down further.
But first, the TARDIS.
He extends one hand to Rose, his screwdriver wielded in the other. “Hang onto me. Jack, hold her other hand. These drifts are deep.”
Deep, but at least the fresh snow is powdery, easier to walk through. The older snow is mostly frozen, so they’re not sinking too far. Mid-calf, for him. Close to knee height for Rose. But he and Jack can support her if she needs it, and the TARDIS really isn’t that far. Maybe fifteen minutes, walking like this.
“Did you think you’d escaped us, Time Lord? As you destroyed us, we will destroy you.”
***
tbc