lindenharp: Crown of Thorns, Part 1 (Tenth Doctor/Jack) [All Ages] (SUMMER HOLIDAYS PROMPT 9)
Author: Lindenharp
Title: Crown of Thorns
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack
Rating: all ages
Words: 5557
Spoilers/warnings: none
Prompt 9: 40, Ruby, The Mender of Ways, The War of the Roses
Summary: The Rose Crown of Drelga is a beautiful and valuable artefact--but why does the Doctor want to steal it?
Author’s note: This story is part of my Two Travellers series, in which Jack joined the Tenth Doctor on the TARDIS after Children of Earth.
“Doctor, explain to me why you want to steal the...” Jack glances at the sign on the display case. “The Rose Crown of Drelga. I’ll admit, the ruby is spectacular-”
“It’s not a ruby.”
“Looks like a ruby-except for the part where it’s the size of an apple and is carved in the shape of a flower. Scans like a ruby.” He glances down at the read-out on his wrist-comp. “Aluminium oxide with traces of chromium... hardness: 9... specific gravity: 4... it’s a ruby."
“Weeelllllll... physically it’s a ruby,” the Time Lord concedes.
Jack stares at him. “But what? Emotionally, it’s an emerald? It moonlights as an amethyst?”
“You’re not too far off,” the Doctor replies. “It’s more than a ruby.”
“Okay. Explain to me why you want to steal an old silver crown decorated with more-than-a-ruby?”
The Doctor pulls the psychic paper out of his pocket, lifts the cover, and shows it to Jack. Tregantell, the day approaches. We beseech you, bring the Rose Crown, that your chosen servant may learn to do your will. Minirdoshe.
“Who is this Minirdoshe?”
“A bloke from Drelga. He’s the Mender of Ways. A sort of Chief Magistrate, you might say.”
“And who-or what-is Tregantell?”
The Doctor’s face goes curiously blank for a moment. “Someone I used to know.”
“And what? He’s on holiday, so you’re picking up his mail?”
The Doctor glances at the museum guard who is standing near the doorway at the far end of the gallery. “Later.”
Jack nods. He doesn’t need the desperate plea of the psychic message to tell him that something serious is going on. The Doctor doesn’t steal a precious gem from a museum for whim or profit. “What do you need me to do?”
“Distract the guards while I sonic the lock on the display case. Preferably without getting yourself killed.” It’s said half in jest, but Jack knows that the Doctor still has trouble accepting his deaths, especially the ones that ought to be avoidable.
“Yes, mother,” Jack says cheerfully. “I’ll do my best.”
---
His best is good enough. Jack arrives at the TARDIS with only a minor blaster burn on the back of his right calf. The dermal regenerator will take care of it. He finds the Doctor in the console room, studying the stolen crown. The circlet itself is moderately impressive: a silver band, engraved with stylised leaves and roses. It’s the huge ruby that draws the eye. The size is closer to a plum than an apple, but that still makes it one of the largest cut rubies he’s ever seen.
“So... you promised me explanations about the Rose Crown of Drelga.”
“So I did. It was stolen by an inter-galactic jewel thief during the confusion after the last king’s death. After changing hands several times, it was donated to the museum. The Drelgans believe that the crown was given to them by their god a few millennia ago, and that he’s taken custody of it again. The forty-day mourning period for the old king is nearly over, and if the crown isn’t there on coronation day, it will be taken as a sign that the heir doesn’t have the god’s favour. That would lead to bad things.”
Considering the Doctor’s gift for understatement, ‘bad things’ could mean riots and revolution. Jack has seen it before: the loss of a sacred artefact pushing an otherwise peaceful society over the edge into violence. “I’m guessing that our next stop is Drelga?”
The Doctor purses his lips. “Yes, but not immediately. I need to examine the crown first. Make some... erm... adjustments.” Is that guilt Jack sees in his lover’s eyes?
Adjustments? To what? The circlet looks undamaged, the ruby secure in its setting. “That reminds me, Doctor-you were going to explain about the more-than-a-ruby.” And dammit, that is a look of guilt passing like a shadow over the Time Lord’s face. Jack can’t imagine what that’s about. He won’t push. Not yet.
“Need to examine it first,” the Doctor says, not meeting Jack’s eyes. “I’ve heard of the Rose Crown, but I’ve never actually seen it before.” He nods decisively. “Blue Workroom. Come along, Jack.”
The Blue Workroom is bluer than Jack remembered, and more crowded, if possible. The Doctor sets the crown on a battered diner-style table topped with marbleized linoleum. The silver and red of the Rose Crown stand out in sharp contrast to the swirls of cobalt and azure and ultramarine. “It’s a pretty thing,” Jack comments, leaning over the table to get a closer look at the ruby.
“Don’t touch it!”
Jack jumps back. The last time the Doctor said those words in that tone of voice, Jack had been approaching an attractive flowering shrub with long, glossy leaves. He learned afterward that it was known by the locals as Serpent’s Kiss, and the tongue-like leaves were coated with a poison that could cause hallucinations and violent seizures, leading to an agonizing death. “All right. I won’t.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “It’s safe to look at, right?”
“Yes, perfectly safe,” the Doctor says. “Just don’t touch it.”
“You were going to tell me more about it,” Jack prompts.
“So I was... I’ll start with the official Drelgan version of the story...”
It could be a myth from any one of a thousand humanoid cultures, Jack muses. A primitive world. Warring clans who fought constantly for power.
“Then a meteorite landed on a battlefield, and it killed dozens of warriors from one side, including their chieftain.”
“Let me guess: the survivors took it as a sign from the gods.”
“Oh, yes. Especially since the meteor split upon landing, and there was a pocket of pure molten silver inside.” The silver from the ‘starstone’ was shaped into a circlet and engraved with roses, the Drelgan symbol of courage and leadership.
“So the ruby came later?”
“Centuries later.” He hesitates. “I have to get some tools. Back in a jiffy.” There’s something off about the smile he gives Jack.
As soon as the Doctor leaves the room, Jack returns to studying the crown. Hands behind back doesn’t make for a very stable position when bending forward, so he braces his hands against the ribbed chrome edge of the table. This close, he can see the faint signs of age on the silver: tiny dents and scratches, uneven patches of tarnish inside the engraving lines. The ruby rose is flawless, as far as he can tell without magnification.
It doesn’t look like a classic Earth rose. More like a peony or a Zetan sarilli. Then again, psychic paper isn’t always precise about translating names. His eyes trace the sharp, graceful curves of the petal edges and the light that dances across them. So lovely. He wishes he could touch them... but he mustn’t. The Doctor said so.
But the Doctor touched it...
Yes, but he’s a Time Lord. There are things he can do that humans can’t.
What is it going to do, kill me?
I promised.
But it wants to be touched.
At this last realisation, Jack slowly straightens up. The Rose Crown wants to be touched. It wants to be touched by him. He knows it as surely as he knows the value of e. Jack reaches out and grasps the crown with both hands.
A shiver, electric and delicious, goes up his arms and down his spine. Yes, this is right. This is necessary. Just one more thing... He lifts the crown and sets it on his head. A wave of calm flows over him. Why did he doubt this, even for an instant? He looks around the room and spots a Queen Anne wingback chair, comfortably upholstered in blue leather. Just the place to sit and wait. He’s not sure what he’s waiting for, but that’s all right. He’ll know when it’s time.
He doesn’t know if it’s been five minutes or fifty-five when the door of the workshop swings open. The Doctor bustles in, arms piled high with tools and devices. “Sorry I’m late, Jack. I had to hunt high and low for the gyrostatic-Jack? What are you doing?”
He sounds unhappy. Jack doesn’t want the Doctor to be unhappy. Not ever. “I’m waiting for you.” The moment he says it, he knows that it’s true. He was waiting for the Doctor. The Time Lord is still frowning. “Doctor? What’s wrong?”
“Why are you wearing the crown?” the Doctor asks quietly. His face is expressionless.
“It wanted me to.”
“Do you think you could take it off now?”
“If that’s what you want.” Jack will do anything to make the Doctor happy, and this is a very easy thing. He pulls the crown from his head and sets it back down on the table, then turns to find out what he should do next.
What he should do, apparently, is to follow the Doctor into the medbay. So he does. Once inside, the Doctor performs a full battery of scans and tests, including blood samples. Jack sits, stands, or lies down, as directed. He’s not sure what the purpose of this is, but it’s clear that the Doctor is worried. Maybe the tests will make him feel better.
They don’t. Each result seems to make the Doctor more frustrated. He’s trying to hide it behind a frozen smile, but Jack knows him too well to be fooled. “I feel fine. Honestly.”
“Somehow, that doesn’t reassure me,” the Doctor mutters. “Let’s see what isolation does.”
For a moment, Jack is afraid that he’s going to be locked up, away from the Doctor. He won’t resist, of course, but he wants to be with the Doctor. Always. It’s where he belongs. Instead, the Doctor returns to the Blue Workroom, picks up the crown and carries it to Lab 3. He places it into a cubic metal box, closes the lid, and enters a long series of numbers on a keypad. The box begins to hum.
“Do you know what this is, Jack?”
Jack doesn’t know, but he doesn’t want to disappoint the Doctor. He scans the box with his wrist-comp. Some of the readings don’t make sense, but there’s enough data for him to make a good guess. “A temporal stasis?”
“Right you are!” The Doctor seems pleased, and Jack smiles. “How do you feel now?”
He takes a moment to evaluate his physical and mental status. “I feel fine. The same as before.” The Doctor looks at him with a mixture of concern and doubt. “I am,” Jack insists. “Look.” He drops to the floor and begins doing press-ups.
“Jack! Stop that!” Jack freezes in place and waits for a new command. “Yes, I know you’re very fit. No need to prove it to me. Stand up.” Once he’s on his feet again, the Doctor moves directly in front of him, so they’re nearly touching. The Time Lord raises his hands, moving them towards the sides of Jack’s head. “Is it all right if-” he begins, then grimaces. “What am I saying? You’re not capable of giving consent.”
“Doctor, whatever you want to do is okay. I trust you.”
The Doctor squeezes his eyes shut. “That’s the problem.” He opens his eyes and inhales deeply. “I’m sorry, Jack. I know you don’t understand, but I’m sorry.” Before Jack can reply, the Doctor’s hands press against his temples... and the lab goes away.
He’s still standing... somewhere. It looks like a room in the TARDIS, unfurnished, and the walls are blurry, as if they had been starting to turn into mist, then froze. The Doctor is there, too. He’s no longer touching Jack. He’s just watching him with those dark, unfathomable eyes. “Doctor? Where are we? Is this the TARDIS?”
“Physically, we’re in the TARDIS. Our bodies are in Lab 3. This-” The Doctor waves his right arm in a sweeping gesture. “-is your mind, or part of it. At the moment, it resembles the inside of the TARDIS, which brings up all kinds of questions that... aren’t terribly relevant now.”
“So we’re in a telepathic link?” Jack asks.
“We are.”
“The Time Agency measured my psi rating at 23. I’m not a very strong telepath,” he says apologetically. The misty white walls of the room turn a dull dark grey.
The Doctor’s smile, both sad and kind, colours the room a softer grey with patches of yellow. “That’s all right. I’m strong enough for both of us.” There are shadows in the corners that look like storm clouds; Jack tries not to look at them. “Off we go!” He leads Jack through a door that wasn’t there a moment ago.
They walk down endless corridors lined with endless doors. Now and then the Doctor opens a door. Jack never catches more than a glimpse: a windswept beach, a spaceship, Cardiff seen from a height, a jungle planet. Once he thinks he recognizes a lift on Satellite Five, but the Doctor closes the door before he can be sure. At another door, the Doctor places his palm against the riveted steel surface. “You don’t want to see this, Jack.” And he doesn’t, so he turns his back. The door is open only a split second, but before it slams shut he hears a guttural scream. “Don’t think about that. Just... be calm.”
He’s with the Doctor, so of course he’s calm. They can walk through these hallways forever, and he will be content... satisfied... happy. He hasn’t been told not to be curious, so a question bubbles to the surface. “Doctor, what are you looking for?”
“That.” The Time Lord flings open a panelled oak door and gestures upwards. The ruby from the crown-now the size of a football-hangs from the ceiling of a completely blank white room like an enormous light fixture. Its bright red glow pulses in synch with Jack’s heart.
“What are you going to do?”
“Remove it. If I can.” Jack thinks he wasn’t supposed to hear that last bit, spoken in a low, raspy whisper. The Doctor pulls the sonic screwdriver from his pocket.
“That will work in here?” The moment he thinks the words, Jack feels guilty. He shouldn’t doubt the Doctor. Not ever.
“I suppose I could get a ladder and a sledgehammer,” the Doctor says, adjusting the settings on the screwdriver, “but I can’t think of a better manifestation of my will than a tool I’ve used on and off for centuries. Besides, best not to go smashing things willy-nilly.” He aims the screwdriver, and a solid stream of blue light strikes the ruby rose, setting off a cascade of fierce white sparks. His face is grim, taut with concentration.
Jack doesn’t know what’s going on, only that there’s something in his mind-something connected to the ruby-that the Doctor doesn’t like. He doesn’t want anything in his mind that displeases the Doctor. I should help. But how? It’s hard to think. He’s got a raging headache. “Doctor, how can I help?”
“Focus on the sonic. Send it power!”
He remembers those long-ago psi training sessions at the Time Agency. Thought is action and will is power. He looks at the sonic screwdriver, and the TARDIS-coloured light that flows from its tip. Brighter, he thinks. Stronger! The shower of sparks becomes an almost solid deluge.
“More, Jack!”
He tries, oh how he tries, summoning every last scrap of strength and endurance. He must help the Doctor-nothing is more important-but the ruby refuses to release him. He’ll just keep trying, keep pushing until his pitiful human body breaks under the strain.
“More!"
Jack clenches his fists as fire explodes inside his skull. He bites down on his lower lip to keep the moans of pain inside. Mustn’t distract him, he thinks, but his head is splitting apart. In the instant that he thinks it, a huge crack slices across the floor. As it widens, the agony increases until finally, his body betrays him, and a scream escapes his mouth.
“Jack!” The Doctor’s cry echoes throughout the TARDIS like thunder as Jack collapses.
---
Crown of Thorns, Part 2