Finding Judas 5/9
Story: Finding Judas
Author: WMR
Rated: Mainly PG13, mostly for language. This chapter rated R
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Jack, Martha Jones, others
Spoilers: New series DW all the way to Doomsday, Torchwood more or less to Small World; Greeks Bearing Gifts if you squint. Note: I have made some assumptions about things hinted at in Torchwood, fully expecting to be Russelled at some point fairly soon ;)
Summary: He’s a different Jack Harkness now, though. Not at all the same man who considered that ship his home once upon a time.
With many thanks and much love to dark_aegis and nnwest for BRing. Dedicated to christn7 for nagging and the icons ;)
Chapter 1: Seeing the Impossible l Chapter 2: Questions l Chapter 3: Surprises l Chapter 4: Following the Captain
Chapter 5: Advance and Retreat
It’s a second or two before it actually dawns on him what he’s doing. Kissing the Doctor. Not kissing him the way he did that one other time, when he said goodbye, but lips pressed hard, fiercely against the Time Lord’s, tongue forcing its way into the Doctor’s mouth.
And, too, the Doctor’s kissing him back. Lips part willingly; a cool tongue meets his, playing with it and invading his own mouth in return. Arms wrap around him, pulling him closer, pressing their bodies together.
The Doctor’s thinner than he used to be. Slighter, even if almost the same height. And, for a second, that makes him falter. This isn’t the Doctor he knew. Not the same man he fell -
No. Never that.
He was a fool. Let the Doctor make a fool of him. He allowed himself to be seduced into caring, into believing that he was cared about in return. And he was betrayed.
But this, what’s happening now, has nothing to do with caring. Nothing to do with emotions. It’s passion, pure and simple. It’s sex.
Sex. Yes. Hands are pushing his coat off his shoulders. Hard thighs, strong despite their owner’s slightness, are pressing into his. And grinding into his crotch is the unmistakable evidence of arousal.
Before, he was never even sure if the Doctor could... no, he was pretty sure about that. What he didn’t know was if the Doctor would. The man felt attraction; that was always obvious, in his eyes, in the way his gaze would follow Rose and even, on occasion, follow him. In the way his flirting was sometimes an unsubtle attempt to draw attention back to himself. But he never followed through; never even gave any hint that he might follow through.
Now, he’s giving every sign of intending to follow through.
He won’t give the Doctor time to change his mind. Hands busy themselves with zips and fasteners, pushing clothes out of the way. Cool hands are doing the same to him.
If he opens up the manhole in the floor, he could take this to his bed - a comfortable surface, plenty of room to move around. But that involves deliberate intent. It gives both of them time to change their minds.
No. No delay. No thinking about it. And definitely no comfortable environment, nothing that suggests that this is any more than it is. Just a fuck. Something that’s been a long time coming; an itch he’s wanted to scratch for a very long time.
He catches the Doctor by the waist and pushes him back down to the desk, face up - though he was so tempted to take him face-down - shoving aside the objects in the way. Ianto can tidy up later.
They’re both still almost fully dressed, only the essential items of clothing pushed out of the way. That’s all that matters.
Serendipity has something on the desk that’ll do as lube, and seconds later he’s fucking the Time Lord, his actions rewarded by moans and murmurs of encouragement, and by the half-pleasure, half-pain expression on the Doctor’s face. Together, too, they’re stroking the Doctor’s hard cock, hands brushing and getting in each other’s way until the Doctor links their fingers together, guides and controls their movements.
And then he’s not thinking about his fingers on the Doctor’s erection any more, because the pressure’s building, building in a way it’s not done for so damn long, and fuck he’s coming, he’s coming...
He cries out, and hears his cry echoed. It’s only then that he realises the Doctor’s come too.
A strong hand pulls his head down; hard, cool lips press against his once more. He kisses back, but then the lips under his gentle and he hears his name murmured against his mouth.
Softly, almost tenderly. “Jack.”
As if burned, he jerks back, disengaging, whirling away from the Doctor.
The new Doctor. Not the man he knew first; the man he used to lie awake at nights wanting. Not the man he... god, the man he died for.
But the man who dumped him, who didn’t care if he was alive or dead, who never even came back to check, who abandoned him to this barren existence, alive yet not.
“Jack.” There’s a hand on his shoulder.
He pulls away. “Don’t touch me.”
He hears a sigh. “Actually, you’re the one who touched me to begin with. Not that I’m complaining, as such, but it’s a bit late to be telling me not to touch you now, you know.”
He refuses to turn around. Busying himself with finding a cloth to wipe his hands, and adjusting his clothes, he says curtly, “That was a mistake.”
The voice from behind him is quiet. “Maybe it was. I’m sorry, Jack. I’m so sorry.”
He whirls around again. The Doctor’s clothes are in perfect order; only his hair is rumpled. But then it’s been rumpled pretty much since he first saw this Doctor. No-one could guess that five minutes ago the two of them were shagging fit to break his desk, if it wasn’t made of solid oak.
He wants to tell the Doctor again to stuff his apologies. But this time, somehow, he can’t. Maybe because it’s very obvious that the apology is sincere. Maybe because of what they’ve just done. Maybe, too, because of something in those new brown eyes...
Something in his eye makes him blink, and he ducks his head, staring at the floor. “Thought you wanted to get to Rose,” he says curtly.
“Oh, I want a lot of things, Jack.” There’s a sad, resigned note in the Doctor’s voice. “Too many, really. My people alive; my planet back... everyone I’ve lost alive again, for a start. Rose and Jackie back in this universe, even if they’ve got a better life now - but then I can be selfish, too. I want to undo everything bad that’s happened to you, everything that’s all my fault. I want you not to hate me. Oh, yes, I want a lot of things. Just have to accept I can’t have most of them.”
How has he managed to forget that the Doctor was always a master at guilt? That’s clearly not changed with his new body. He exhales slowly and raises his head to meet the Doctor’s gaze.
The words feel like they’re being dragged out of him, but he has to say them. “I don’t hate you.”
The Doctor’s whole demeanour changes. Tension visibly leaks from his body and a tentative smile crosses his face. “No?”
He shakes his head. “Even I wouldn’t shag someone I hated.” Not even in the old days. Now, of course, he rarely has sex at all. What’s the point, when not even sex can make him feel remotely alive any more?
Oddly, he felt more during that brief fuck over his desk than he has in such a long time. But then he’s never fucked a Time Lord before. Different energy signatures, of course. Far more experienced, too, with his nine hundred and more years of life, than most people he’s ever screwed before. So he shouldn’t be surprised.
“Right,” the Doctor says softly. Then, in a different tone, he adds, “So, what’s the plan?”
The plan. Right. The reason they’re here. “Remember the Rift?”
The Doctor’s eyes widen. “How could I forget?”
“Yeah. It’s not just a Rift between time and space in this universe - you did know that, right?”
And, impossibly, the Doctor’s eyes widen further, until they’re almost bulging. “Of course!”
***
Of course. The Rift’s another potential route to parallel universes. And he did know that; he just forgot. Or, maybe, chose to ignore it - because, if he let himself remember, then he might have risked something he shouldn’t.
Shouldn’t, because he has no idea what using the Rift to cross between universes could do. And because he has no idea what Rose is doing now. What sort of life she’s built for herself. Whether she’s happy. Settled. Maybe even with someone. Married, with kids perhaps. Whether his turning up would be an incredibly bad idea, be a reminder of a past best forgotten. Whether he’d just destroy everything she’s worked to build for herself since that day on Darlig Ulv Stranda.
Now, though, it’s different. Now, he knows that she could be harmed, damaged in some way by the lingering effect of the Vortex. She could have become what Jack is. And he can’t abandon her to that.
“I need to run some tests,” he says, urgency in his voice now.
“Already ahead of you there, Doctor.” Jack’s tone is dry. He’s gesturing to a piece of equipment, the thing he was looking at earlier, when they first came into the office and he saw the hand - his hand - in the jar. That was before they got sidetracked, of course.
Right. The less said about that the better. It’s been a long time since he’s shagged a companion, or even a former companion. And he’s not entirely sure, but he doesn’t think anyone’s ever shagged him in anger before. New experiences. Yeah. He did think, at one point, that he was all about new experiences in this body. But some new experiences simply aren’t worth experiencing, really.
Not the sex thing - in all honesty, there was an inevitability about that. Not that he ever would have let it happen in his previous life, but the possibility was always there, lurking beneath the surface of his and Jack’s friendship, the flirtation they engaged in almost on a daily basis. He has no regrets about shagging Jack; only about the reason for it. About Jack’s state of mind, the anger that leaked from every single pore, as they did it. And more: about the aching loneliness he could see in Jack’s eyes and that he could sense as they touched.
The loneliness that’s still there now as they examine the Rift monitor side by side.
Just what sort of life has Jack been living? Of course, the glimpses he got of Jack’s life told him that, since having to leave behind the woman he loved, his one-time friend’s tried to avoid emotional connections. Does he have friends, even? He works with people, clearly - he’s head of this Torchwood, and there has to be employees. There are desks outside in the main office. Does Jack connect with them? Socialise with them? Have sex with them? With anyone?
No man is an island. Even an immortal man who doesn’t age. That’s something he recognised himself a long time ago. Is it a lesson Jack hasn’t learned?
But he pushes that thought aside for now. Much as he wants to fix Jack, there’s too much here that he can’t undo. All he can do, and he’ll do it as soon as he’s able, is give Jack back his humanity. The ability to wither and die.
Later. For now, they’ve both agreed that the priority is getting to Rose.
Oh, he’s missed Jack’s technical know-how. This machine monitors the Rift even better than the TARDIS can. How the scar’s holding up, whether there are things leaking through, when there’s higher levels of activity around the Rift. What energy signals are being given off, and even their source.
Alien things get dumped in Cardiff all the time, Jack comments as they go through the readings. He’s more matter-of-fact now as they talk; the angry bitterness has faded, or at least been pushed aside. Maybe that little interlude on his desk was an outlet for some of Jack’s hostility?
Now, it almost feels as if they’re re-establishing the working relationship they fell into after Jack’s first couple of weeks in the TARDIS, once things settled down and he learned to accept the man without preconceptions or prejudice. They always worked so well together, anticipating each other’s next move and often supplying what was needed without having to be asked. They were a team, especially in danger.
Jack takes him to a storeroom to show him some of the stuff that’s come through the Rift. Scrap, most of it. Flotsam and jetsam. The junk of the universe. Except for one thing - one item Jack saves for last, handles with latex gloves and lays on a sterile surface for him to look at.
On the surface, there’s nothing at all different about it. Nothing special. It’s just part of an ordinary human communication device, something like a Blackberry. Yet it feels different. Something about it’s calling to him; some kind of energy’s flowing from it that’s not the same as everything else here.
He doesn’t need the sonic screwdriver to tell him what that is. But he uses it anyway. And his guess is confirmed. Yes. Completely different energy signal. Different mass.
It’s not from this universe.
He holds his breath as he selects another setting on the screwdriver. One that’ll record, measure and identify the energy signal. In seconds, he has his reading.
Not that he needs it. Because Jack turns the broken Blackberry over and, across the top, there’s a name. Cyb_s _nd__tries.
***
“Cybus Industries.”
The Doctor’s tone is harsh, yet at the same time disbelieving.
“That means something to you?” he asks immediately. He worked out himself what the words had to be, of course, but there’s no Cybus Industries on Earth, nor has there been. And it’s too human, too English a name to be alien - not that the Blackberry-like device could be anything other than human.
It’s from a parallel Earth, he concluded not long after it was brought in. Not just because of the untraceable name, but the energy readings he got from it.
Now, he suspects he knows where it comes from.
“Yeah. Bloke called John Lumic owned it. Media and communications networks? All his. Complete control. You think Murdoch controls too much on this Earth? Nothing to Lumic. But you’ll be more familiar with his last big project.” The Doctor’s lips are twisting.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Cybermen.” Anger and bitterness flashes in the Doctor’s eyes. “He created his own - and they’re the Cybermen that came through your Torchwood One friends’ ghost machine.”
“Not any friends of mine,” Jack objects immediately. “And if I’d had any clue what they were up to I’d have put a stop to it.” He slumps back against a desk. “God. Wish I had. Rose’d still be here, right?”
“Probably.” The Doctor doesn’t look at him. “Though there was still the Void ship.”
“Void ship?”
“That’s where the Daleks came from. Torchwood found a Void ship. The remnants of the Cult of Skaro were inside, and a prison ship. They’d all been stuck in the Void after the Time War. Millions of Daleks inside. And Torchwood managed to free it.”
“Right.” That was a shock, too, seeing Daleks on Earth in the middle of the Battle of Canary Wharf - well, what’d almost turned into a world-wide war against Daleks and Cybermen. He’d thought there were no Daleks left, between the Time War and what the Doctor did on Satellite Five. Though, of course, he now knows that wasn’t the Doctor. It was Rose.
A memory flashes into his mind. The Doctor - the old Doctor - staring at a dead Dalek inside the TARDIS, just after they rescued Rose. Eyes blank, horror and despair on his face as he acknowledged that his people’s sacrifice was in vain. And, just minutes later, slumping against the TARDIS door, shaking, after taunting the Dalek emperor.
He had to face Daleks again in Torchwood One. And then the loss of Rose.
Yvonne Hartmann and her stupid playing around with things she had no knowledge of had done that. And at the same time almost destroyed the Earth. The universe, probably - Daleks never stopped at just one race.
“She was Cyberised,” he says abruptly. “Did you know that?”
“Who?”
“Hartmann. It’s in the official report.”
The Doctor nods, just once. “Jackie told me. They were together at the time. She only just escaped.”
Jackie? Right. Rose’s mom. “She was all right?” But then the Doctor did say that Jackie’s in the other universe too.
Again, a nod. “She’s fine. Was fine. Terrified, at the time, of course. Didn’t help that I promised her I’d get her and Rose out of there alive. Stupid thing to say, of course. Can’t ever guarantee to keep that kind of promise.”
No, and it’s not a promise the Doctor would ever have made before. It’s not just the body that’s different. Though in so many ways he knows that the Doctor’s the same, too. He feels it, in some of the things the Time Lord says, but mostly in the way the man looks at him. Behind the brown eyes there’s still what used to lurk behind the blue. And, too, when he touches the Doctor there’s still that sense of trying to grab hold of eternity.
“So this is from the universe Rose ended up in.” Best to get back to the issue at hand. He can’t let things get too personal.
The Doctor nods again, a little jerkily. “Has to be.”
“Good. We can use it as a directional beacon.”
“Yes. Should be easy to feed that energy signature into the TARDIS. At least I should end up in the right place first time.”
And then the Doctor’s looking straight at him, expression serious and searching. “You don’t have to come with me, you know. You’ve helped more than I could’ve imagined already. I can take the Vortex from you and be out of your way.”
It should be easy to say yes. Yes, he wants the Doctor out of his sight, never to return. No, he doesn’t want to tag along on this rescue mission for the woman who did this to him, condemned him to a never-ending existence he’s hated for almost as long as he’s lived it. The woman who always mattered to the Doctor more than anyone else; the woman he always made clear he’d sacrifice almost anything for.
“Told you. I’m coming. You ever taken the TARDIS through the Rift before? You’re gonna need me.”
“I think I know how to fly the TARDIS, Jack.” The Doctor’s tone is testy. “Not that I wouldn’t appreciate the company, but you shouldn’t take the risk that we might get stuck on the other side.”
It’s hard to care about that possibility when it’s been so damn long since he’s cared about anything. He shrugs. “Don’t see why that should happen. There’s proof right there that things can come through the Rift from the other side.” He gestures to the broken comm device.
The Doctor, hands stuffed into his pockets, is looking thoughtful. Concerned. After a moment, he says, “You’re not planning on treating Rose to the demonstration you gave me, are you? She might be the one who did this to you, Jack, but she didn’t know what she was doing. How could she? She didn’t have a clue what the Time Vortex is capable of. Blame me all you like, but not Rose.”
See he hasn’t lost that ability to figure out just what people are thinking, even when he’s not using his telepathy mojo. Yeah, he did have some vague notion of maybe confronting Rose with what she’s done to him. Maybe not quite in the same way as he did with the Doctor, but something. Some way of showing her the harsh reality of what his life’s been like because of her actions.
The Doctor’s right, though. Rose won’t have any idea what she did. Wouldn’t have at the time, either. From what the Doctor says, the Time Vortex - the TARDIS, really - was in charge. He might as well blame the TARDIS for his situation as blame Rose.
Besides, he knows, too, what any demonstration would do to the caring, empathetic young woman he remembers. Of course, he knew, too, how the Doctor would react, but that didn’t stop him. Rose... Rose is different, somehow. She always was, not just for the Doctor, but for him too. The two of them always did have a silent agreement to protect her - one he knows that Rose would have torn strips off them had she known about it, but that was there all the same.
Anyway, what gives him the right to rip someone apart from the inside over a mistake? He’s hardly the poster child for mistake-free living. Especially not when it comes to destroying people’s lives. Almost, once, destroying the human race. That’s why, despite his bluster, he does tend to be more forgiving than many in his position would be of mistakes by his subordinates - including mistakes many would class as betrayal.
It’s different with the Doctor. He’s a damn Time Lord. He should know better. Besides, he’d have forgiven the Doctor long ago if the guy had just come back for him. But it became so clear over the long years that the Doctor just didn’t care. He’d forgotten about the ex-Time Agent who volunteered to go off and die for the cause.
He exhales loudly, then meets the Doctor’s all-seeing gaze. “No. I’m not exactly Rose’s biggest fan right now, but I won’t do that to her.”
“Good.” The Doctor rumples his own hair again. “Better me than Rose, if you must take it out on anyone.”
“She’s not a child, Doctor.” Even though he’s already made it clear he won’t take his anger out on Rose, he can’t resist arguing with the Doctor. “You can’t keep protecting her from everything.”
“Protect her?” The Doctor sounds incredulous. “If I’d actually tried to protect her - if I’d even thought about protecting her after she insisted on coming back from Pete’s world - I’d’ve locked her away in the TARDIS while I sent the Daleks and Cybermen into the Void. I’d never have let her stay in the lever room with me. Never. So don’t talk to me about protecting Rose.”
And that reminds him of something, and it makes him furious. “No, you didn’t protect her, did you? You let her stay there with you, with Daleks and Cybermen all around, knowing that they could kill her in a single second while you’ve got a get out of jail free card, didn’t you?”
“What?” Brows drawn together, the Doctor stares at him, his expression incredulous, his tone suggesting that fury’s not far from the surface?
“Regeneration, Doctor.” Contempt laces his voice again now. “Rose gets exterminated, she dies. I get exterminated, back on the Game Station, I die. You - you just change bodies. Get to live all over again.”
“Is that what you think?” There’s a dangerous note in the Doctor’s voice. “You of all people should be the last one to think that’s a get out of jail free card. You die and get to live again, Jack. Do you think it’s so wonderful? Oh, I don’t suppose you do, seeing as you dragged me all the way here to cure you. Besides,” the Doctor adds, and he’s turning away now, the broken comm device neatly tucked away in his coat pocket, “if I get exterminated, I don’t get a second chance. I die, Jack. Really die. Time Lords aren’t immortal after all, you see. You want me dead? Really dead? One Dalek will do it.”
And, before Jack can say another word in reply, the Doctor’s gone.
***
So much for thinking the tension between him and Jack was easing - that he was actually starting to get through to Jack.
He really is cursed when it comes to former companions. Or he’s a curse on them, which really, when he comes to think of it, is far more likely. Look what he did to Sarah-Jane, dumping her hundreds of miles from home, leaving her thinking that he was coming back for her and never making contact ever again, not until they met entirely by accident.
Actually, it was worse. Letting her fall in love with him and never making things clear to her; never telling her that he wouldn’t do that. Not with her. Not that he didn’t love her, of course. But he couldn’t, for so many reasons. For all the same reasons that he couldn’t give Rose what she wanted from him.
With some companions, it was different. Companions he knew wouldn’t fall in love with him; wouldn’t expect more than he could give them. If Jack and he had been travelling alone, they’d have become lovers; he has no doubt about that. Because Jack would never have expected more than sex and friendship; he would have understood that, even with love between them, there could be no promises, no guarantees. But Rose was there, and Rose would never have understood why he was giving Jack something he refused to give her.
So. He ruined Sarah-Jane’s life. He got Adric and Katerina and Sara and Roz killed. Jamie and Zoe had their memories wiped because of him. As for Peri, he still doesn’t know what happened to her, and he’s too much of a coward to find out the truth. Murdered by a butcher who was trying to transplant her brain, or married to a barbarian king? Neither is an appealing fate. Leela? She’s probably dead too, killed by his hand. She did stay on Gallifrey with Andred, after all.
Sam’s dead, too. Charley fell in love with him and ended up resenting him because he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He has no idea what Ian and Barbara or Tegan or Mel or many, many others are doing now, because he doesn’t want to know. Doesn’t want to find out that he’s ruined their lives too, as he’s ruined so many others. Rose’s, too, judging by the last time he saw her and because she still might have the Vortex inside her. And knowing him - loving him; he knows that’s the truth - has destroyed Jack.
Slowly, he drags the broken Blackberry out of his pocket. Simple matter to connect it up to the TARDIS, to let his beautiful ship draw on its energy signature to take them through the Rift and into Rose’s universe. And, yes, in seconds the TARDIS, clever ship that she is, has the co-ordinates she needs.
The engines start. He’s on his way, leaving Jack behind. He won’t come back to Cardiff, not if he can help it. He’ll just have to find somewhere else to refuel his ship in future.
And then, just as he’s about to hit the dematerialise control, there’s the sound of a key in the lock.
***
tbc