Waiting (1/1)
Rose wakes up with a sudden start. Something’s wrong. What- oh. It’s the sound of the materialization sequence. She struggles out of bed, pulls on some tracksuit bottoms to go with the baggy T-shirt she sleeps in. What is going on? The Doctor normally just lets them drift in the Vortex for ship night and doesn’t go anywhere while she and Jack are asleep. She fishes her slippers out from under the bed and hastens towards the door, trying to rub the sleep from her eyes. This can only mean some type of emergency. A mauve alert, maybe. Or something worse.
She’s almost at the control room as she runs into Jack. He’s wearing nothing but his ever-present wristcomp and a pair of jeans - though she suspects even those were only pulled on in deference to her modesty. He looks as confused and worried as she feels.
Without words, they both continue to the control room. There’s no point in asking questions - she can see in Jack’s eyes that he doesn’t know any more than she does, and she’s sure he’s seen the same in hers.
When they reach the control room, it’s empty. “Doctor?” she asks, half-hoping he’ll pop up from under the grating or behind some panel, grinning and explaining he just had to set them down somewhere to perform a tricky bit of maintenance. But he’s not here. What’s more, he’s not in the TARDIS. She doesn’t know how she knows this - the ship is huge, after all - but somehow it feels emptier, lonelier than it does when the Time Lord is on board.
She immediately makes for the doors.
“Rose, wait! We don’t know what’s-” Jack is trying to intercept her. He has no intention of waiting around passively either; he just wants to be the first to face any dangers that may be lurking outside.
Their hands meet on the doorknob. Exchanging a brief glance, they turn it and pull.
The doors don’t budge.
“They’re… locked?” Rose didn’t even know it was possible to be locked in the TARDIS. But then, the Doctor did say once police boxes were used as on-the-spot confinement cells.
Jack pulls harder, cursing under his breath. Kicks the door, and gets zapped for it, with a spark that seems to come out of nowhere. “Sorry,” he mumbles, putting a hand on the doorframe in apology. The TARDIS’s hum deepens.
Jack strides up to the console. One of the scanner screens is blinking mauve - never a good sign. Rose wishes they could read the Gallifreyan script scrolling over the monitor, but as usual, the TARDIS refuses to translate it. Jack touches the viewscreen - and curses. “It’s deactivated. Disconnected and locked out. He really didn’t want us to see what’s out there!”
“You think the Doctor did this?” He wouldn’t, would he?
“Rose, we were in the Vortex, with only the three of us on board. We didn’t materialize until a few minutes ago. Whatever’s going on, he wanted to go somewhere without us knowing what he’s up to.” Jack starts punching buttons on his wristcomp. “Damn. Not working properly from in here. All I can tell is we’re somewhere on Earth. Northern hemisphere.”
“Do you think we’re in London?”
He snorts. “Definitely not yet.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t get a proper fix on the date either, but this is well before your time. About - two millennia, give or take. Hard to narrow it down.”
Rose shakes her head. Why would the Doctor come to Earth, way before her time, and not tell them? Why would he lock them in, disable the viewscreens, not even leave a note? “D’you think you can get the doors open?”
Jack shakes his head. “Not if she doesn’t want me too.”
Rose lays a hand on the doors. “Please, girl. Please. We have to find out what’s going on.” Somehow, the TARDIS’s hum manages to convey sympathy and firm denial at the same time.
Jack sighs. “Breakfast?” he suggests.
“Breakfast? How can you even think about that now?”
Jack shrugs. “Nothing else we can do, except go back to bed, and I doubt either of us could sleep. Besides, this is the Doctor we’re talking about. He decides to land us in the middle of nowhen and then disappear without a word, I’m inclined to think he must have a good reason.”
She nods. Jack is right. They should just be patient for a bit. The Doctor will probably be back soon with a perfectly reasonable explanation and a sheepish apology. Or one of those haughty “I’m a Time Lord, you wouldn’t understand” looks that normally drive her insane. Right now, she’d welcome one with all her heart. She turns to the interior door. “Right then. I’ll make some tea.”
*****
Jack is trying his best to keep a light conversation going, but he can tell Rose is barely even listening, just hmmm-ing at regular intervals. Truth be told, he himself is barely paying attention to the story he’s telling - spinning a good yarn is something he can do on autopilot. What was that he just said about a dinosaur, though? Probably a good thing Rose isn’t really hearing any of this.
After almost an hour dawdling in the kitchen, they relocate to the console room. Try the doors again. Try the viewscreens. Jack pulls out some of the Doctor’s tools - he’s going to get lynched later - and tries to override the door lock or get the screens back online. The latter should be relatively simple, but it seems like the TARDIS is sabotaging him at every turn. He keeps getting hit by sparks, contacts slip, wires go dead. A few times, he briefly sees a flicker of what looks like lots of grass and a few trees, but he can never stabilize the picture long enough to get a proper look. After a while, he gives up and slumps down next to Rose on the jumpseat. “We’re stuck.” He shrugs. “Just have to wait till he gets back.”
Rose voice is very quiet as she asks, “What if he doesn’t?”
He puts an arm around her shoulders, pulls her close. “Of course he will. Always does.”
“What if something happens to him? Out there by himself…”
“He survived for nine hundred years without us, Rose. I think he can manage a few hours.”
“Yeah.” She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder. They wait.
*****
It’s another hour later - almost three hours since they woke up - when they hear the sounds of the key in the lock. They both jump up, hasten towards the door. It opens a few inches, and the Doctor peeks in. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and a blade of grass stuck to his sleeve.
“Doctor! Where the hell have you-”
“Are you all- ?”
He interrupts them both. “Go to Ja- no, Rose’s room. Both of you. Close the door behind you and don’t come out until I tell you.”
Jack’s worry turns to anger. He leaves them locked in here for hours, and now there’s not even an explanation? “Wh-”
“No questions.” The glower that fixes them through the small gap in the doors is more than a little intimidating. “Do as I say. And I mean it this time. Won’t be disobeyed in this.”
Jack exchanges a glance with Rose. She’s chewing her lips, and her eyes seem suspiciously bright. But she’s nodding.
“All right, Doctor. Your ship, after all.”
“Damn right it is. Get going!”
He slips an arm around Rose’s shoulder, pulls her against him comfortingly. With a withering glare over his shoulder at the Doctor, he leads her off towards her bedroom.
When they get there, he closes the door behind him and hears the lock snap shut. “You, too, girl, huh?” he quietly asks the TARDIS. Her hum seems almost apologetic, but the door remains locked. With a sigh, he sits on the bed with Rose.
“Why - why would he treat us like this?” she asks. “Did we do anything?”
“Since last night? Everything was normal when we went to bed, so unless we somehow managed to mortally offend him in our sleep…”
Rose shakes her head. “There’s an explanation. Gotta be. Probably something timey-wimey he can’t explain to us.”
Jack growls. “Well, he could try!” Being sent to his room - well, Rose’s - like an errant schoolboy really doesn’t sit right with him. Especially since he’s sure he’s done nothing to deserve such harshness. The Doctor better have a damn good explanation for this - and even if he does, he quietly resolves to let the Time Lord have it for not giving it sooner. He’s not a stupid kid. He was a Time Agent. Whatever the issue is, he can handle it. Instead, he’s stuck in Rose’s bedroom with her - and not in a good way. It’s as humiliating as it is infuriating. For the first time since the Doctor offered to let him stay, he wonders if the TARDIS is really where he wants to be. If he’s going to be treated like this, maybe he’d be better off on his own.
He realizes Rose is quietly sniffling next to him, and pulls her into his arms. She’s clearly terrified that something’s wrong with the Doctor. “Hey, come on, sweetheart. It’ll be fine. Just one of those ‘I’m a Time Lord and you’re just stupid apes’ things. He’ll snap out of it. You’ll see.” He makes his voice warm with a conviction he doesn’t feel. But apparently he hasn’t completely lost his conman talents, because Rose nods and calms down a bit.
“Wanna play cards while we wait?” she asks with more bravery than enthusiasm.
“Strip poker?” he replies with a cheesy grin, and laughs when she whacks him with her pillow.
“Just for that, I’m going to teach you ‘Go fish!’”
They both freeze when they hear the dematerialization sequence. Rose gulps and produces a deck of cards from a drawer. She’s handing it to him when the noise of metal grating on metal fills the air again. They’re rematerializing already.
He hastily punches his wristcomp but, as before, he cannot get a decent reading from within the TARDIS. Still, one thing is apparent. “We didn’t move.”
“What? But then why did he-”
“Spatially. We’re still in the same place as before, or close to it. We moved in time. Forward. Not sure how far.” He pushes a few more buttons, tries to refine the results. Turns his scanner on Rose for a moment for comparison. “If I had to guess, I’d say we’re still before your time, but not by much. No more than about a century.”
Rose tries her bedroom door, which is still locked. The harder she pulls, the less it gives. With a sigh, she sits down next to him again. “All right, the way ‘Go fish!’ works is this…”
He sighs and focuses on the cards. There’s nothing either of them can do until their Lord and Master - he snorts - decides to release them from their kennel.
*****
It’s another two hours later - and god, ‘Go fish!’ is the most boring card game ever - when the buzz of the sonic screwdriver makes them both jump up and turn to the door. Rose’s look is hopeful, but Jack can feel himself stiffen, his shoulders square. He’s going to tell the Doctor exactly what he thinks of being treated like a badly-trained puppy.
The door opens, and Jack feels whatever words were on his lips dry up and die. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rose covering her hand with her mouth.
The Doctor looks horrible. He’s covered in dirt, bits of grass and leaves all over, his jeans are torn and his posture beaten and exhausted. But his eyes are the worst. Dark, hollow, filled with guilt and a silent despair that makes Jack’s stomach clench in fear, even though he still has no idea what this is about.
Rose takes a step towards the Doctor, hands extended, but he ignores her. His eyes are locked on Jack, and he takes three heavy, stumbling steps towards him. Jack tries to come up with something to say, but before he can, the Doctor pulls him close and wraps him into a bone-crushing hug. He burrows his face into the crook of Jack’s neck and takes deep, shuddering breaths - almost as if he’s trying to inhale as much of Jack’s scent as possible.
Over the Doctor’s shoulder, Jack sees Rose stare at them both in complete confusion. He knows how she feels. Minutes ago, he was all set to get into a shouting match with the Doctor, but right now, with his friend clinging to him desperately, so obviously cut to the marrow, he finds himself returning the hug. Not quite as strongly - he’s not sure he could - but as firm and reassuring as he can make it. He gently rubs a hand up and down the back of the Doctor’s leather jacket and focuses on taking slow, shallow breath, since that’s all the tight embrace will allow.
“Shhh…” he mumbles, feeling oddly like he’s talking to a wild animal. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right.”
The Doctor makes a strangled sound almost like a sob, but he pulls back to look at Jack, and his eyes are dry. Jack vaguely notices dirt and grime all over himself, and doesn’t care. He’s fixated on the Doctor’s eyes, burning into him, dark and full of pain. Weakly, he repeats, “It’ll be all right.”
The Doctor looks at him inscrutably. He makes a gesture that seems nod and shrug at once. “It will be. I will come for you. Remember that.”
“What?” Jack feels like he’s drifting through empty space. Except this conversation is more disorienting than zero-g training ever was.
The Doctor takes a deep breath, and takes Jack by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “Remember that I’ll come for you. Not always. Not when I should.” The Doctor shivers and looks away for a moment, but then his eyes are back on Jack’s. “Fail you terribly, I will. Not sure how it’ll happen, but… ‘M sorry. More ‘n I could ever tell you.” He hugs him again, and this time he tucks Jack’s head under his chin and gently cups his neck with one hand. “But one day, you’ll think back to this, yeah? And then just know - I won’t be able to make it okay. It’ll still be bad. But I will be able to make it a whole lot less terrible. Spare you most of it.” He pulls back and looks Jack in the eyes again, with that expression that won’t allow even a flicker of doubt. “I will come for you.”
With that, the Doctor turns and strides out of the room, with nothing more than a vaguely apologetic glance at Rose. He returns twenty minutes later freshly showered, in clean clothes, and with a wide manic smile and exciting plans for the rest of the day. Without having to be told, Rose and Jack know that they’ll never speak of this again.
As the Doctor ushers them into the control room, Jack notices muddy footprints all around the console. But that's only to be expected, given the state the Doctor was in. Only, and that's odd, one set of footprints doesn't seem to match the others. It almost looks like - no. No, that's not possible. Could it be? Jack takes a step closer. But when he blinks, the footprints are gone, like they never existed in the first place.
*****
Almost a hundred and fifty-years later - or a few hours earlier, depending on how you look at it - Jack watches John’s ring describe a graceful arc and land on his chest. Looking at the moist earth surrounding him, he recalls a day in the TARDIS, long ago, and realizes that yes, the muddy prints he saw were of RAF boots. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and lies back. This is going to hurt, be oppressive and dark and suffocating, but it won’t be for long.
The Doctor will come for him.
The End
She’s almost at the control room as she runs into Jack. He’s wearing nothing but his ever-present wristcomp and a pair of jeans - though she suspects even those were only pulled on in deference to her modesty. He looks as confused and worried as she feels.
Without words, they both continue to the control room. There’s no point in asking questions - she can see in Jack’s eyes that he doesn’t know any more than she does, and she’s sure he’s seen the same in hers.
When they reach the control room, it’s empty. “Doctor?” she asks, half-hoping he’ll pop up from under the grating or behind some panel, grinning and explaining he just had to set them down somewhere to perform a tricky bit of maintenance. But he’s not here. What’s more, he’s not in the TARDIS. She doesn’t know how she knows this - the ship is huge, after all - but somehow it feels emptier, lonelier than it does when the Time Lord is on board.
She immediately makes for the doors.
“Rose, wait! We don’t know what’s-” Jack is trying to intercept her. He has no intention of waiting around passively either; he just wants to be the first to face any dangers that may be lurking outside.
Their hands meet on the doorknob. Exchanging a brief glance, they turn it and pull.
The doors don’t budge.
“They’re… locked?” Rose didn’t even know it was possible to be locked in the TARDIS. But then, the Doctor did say once police boxes were used as on-the-spot confinement cells.
Jack pulls harder, cursing under his breath. Kicks the door, and gets zapped for it, with a spark that seems to come out of nowhere. “Sorry,” he mumbles, putting a hand on the doorframe in apology. The TARDIS’s hum deepens.
Jack strides up to the console. One of the scanner screens is blinking mauve - never a good sign. Rose wishes they could read the Gallifreyan script scrolling over the monitor, but as usual, the TARDIS refuses to translate it. Jack touches the viewscreen - and curses. “It’s deactivated. Disconnected and locked out. He really didn’t want us to see what’s out there!”
“You think the Doctor did this?” He wouldn’t, would he?
“Rose, we were in the Vortex, with only the three of us on board. We didn’t materialize until a few minutes ago. Whatever’s going on, he wanted to go somewhere without us knowing what he’s up to.” Jack starts punching buttons on his wristcomp. “Damn. Not working properly from in here. All I can tell is we’re somewhere on Earth. Northern hemisphere.”
“Do you think we’re in London?”
He snorts. “Definitely not yet.”
“Huh?”
“I can’t get a proper fix on the date either, but this is well before your time. About - two millennia, give or take. Hard to narrow it down.”
Rose shakes her head. Why would the Doctor come to Earth, way before her time, and not tell them? Why would he lock them in, disable the viewscreens, not even leave a note? “D’you think you can get the doors open?”
Jack shakes his head. “Not if she doesn’t want me too.”
Rose lays a hand on the doors. “Please, girl. Please. We have to find out what’s going on.” Somehow, the TARDIS’s hum manages to convey sympathy and firm denial at the same time.
Jack sighs. “Breakfast?” he suggests.
“Breakfast? How can you even think about that now?”
Jack shrugs. “Nothing else we can do, except go back to bed, and I doubt either of us could sleep. Besides, this is the Doctor we’re talking about. He decides to land us in the middle of nowhen and then disappear without a word, I’m inclined to think he must have a good reason.”
She nods. Jack is right. They should just be patient for a bit. The Doctor will probably be back soon with a perfectly reasonable explanation and a sheepish apology. Or one of those haughty “I’m a Time Lord, you wouldn’t understand” looks that normally drive her insane. Right now, she’d welcome one with all her heart. She turns to the interior door. “Right then. I’ll make some tea.”
*****
Jack is trying his best to keep a light conversation going, but he can tell Rose is barely even listening, just hmmm-ing at regular intervals. Truth be told, he himself is barely paying attention to the story he’s telling - spinning a good yarn is something he can do on autopilot. What was that he just said about a dinosaur, though? Probably a good thing Rose isn’t really hearing any of this.
After almost an hour dawdling in the kitchen, they relocate to the console room. Try the doors again. Try the viewscreens. Jack pulls out some of the Doctor’s tools - he’s going to get lynched later - and tries to override the door lock or get the screens back online. The latter should be relatively simple, but it seems like the TARDIS is sabotaging him at every turn. He keeps getting hit by sparks, contacts slip, wires go dead. A few times, he briefly sees a flicker of what looks like lots of grass and a few trees, but he can never stabilize the picture long enough to get a proper look. After a while, he gives up and slumps down next to Rose on the jumpseat. “We’re stuck.” He shrugs. “Just have to wait till he gets back.”
Rose voice is very quiet as she asks, “What if he doesn’t?”
He puts an arm around her shoulders, pulls her close. “Of course he will. Always does.”
“What if something happens to him? Out there by himself…”
“He survived for nine hundred years without us, Rose. I think he can manage a few hours.”
“Yeah.” She sighs and leans her head on his shoulder. They wait.
*****
It’s another hour later - almost three hours since they woke up - when they hear the sounds of the key in the lock. They both jump up, hasten towards the door. It opens a few inches, and the Doctor peeks in. There’s a smudge of dirt on his cheek, and a blade of grass stuck to his sleeve.
“Doctor! Where the hell have you-”
“Are you all- ?”
He interrupts them both. “Go to Ja- no, Rose’s room. Both of you. Close the door behind you and don’t come out until I tell you.”
Jack’s worry turns to anger. He leaves them locked in here for hours, and now there’s not even an explanation? “Wh-”
“No questions.” The glower that fixes them through the small gap in the doors is more than a little intimidating. “Do as I say. And I mean it this time. Won’t be disobeyed in this.”
Jack exchanges a glance with Rose. She’s chewing her lips, and her eyes seem suspiciously bright. But she’s nodding.
“All right, Doctor. Your ship, after all.”
“Damn right it is. Get going!”
He slips an arm around Rose’s shoulder, pulls her against him comfortingly. With a withering glare over his shoulder at the Doctor, he leads her off towards her bedroom.
When they get there, he closes the door behind him and hears the lock snap shut. “You, too, girl, huh?” he quietly asks the TARDIS. Her hum seems almost apologetic, but the door remains locked. With a sigh, he sits on the bed with Rose.
“Why - why would he treat us like this?” she asks. “Did we do anything?”
“Since last night? Everything was normal when we went to bed, so unless we somehow managed to mortally offend him in our sleep…”
Rose shakes her head. “There’s an explanation. Gotta be. Probably something timey-wimey he can’t explain to us.”
Jack growls. “Well, he could try!” Being sent to his room - well, Rose’s - like an errant schoolboy really doesn’t sit right with him. Especially since he’s sure he’s done nothing to deserve such harshness. The Doctor better have a damn good explanation for this - and even if he does, he quietly resolves to let the Time Lord have it for not giving it sooner. He’s not a stupid kid. He was a Time Agent. Whatever the issue is, he can handle it. Instead, he’s stuck in Rose’s bedroom with her - and not in a good way. It’s as humiliating as it is infuriating. For the first time since the Doctor offered to let him stay, he wonders if the TARDIS is really where he wants to be. If he’s going to be treated like this, maybe he’d be better off on his own.
He realizes Rose is quietly sniffling next to him, and pulls her into his arms. She’s clearly terrified that something’s wrong with the Doctor. “Hey, come on, sweetheart. It’ll be fine. Just one of those ‘I’m a Time Lord and you’re just stupid apes’ things. He’ll snap out of it. You’ll see.” He makes his voice warm with a conviction he doesn’t feel. But apparently he hasn’t completely lost his conman talents, because Rose nods and calms down a bit.
“Wanna play cards while we wait?” she asks with more bravery than enthusiasm.
“Strip poker?” he replies with a cheesy grin, and laughs when she whacks him with her pillow.
“Just for that, I’m going to teach you ‘Go fish!’”
They both freeze when they hear the dematerialization sequence. Rose gulps and produces a deck of cards from a drawer. She’s handing it to him when the noise of metal grating on metal fills the air again. They’re rematerializing already.
He hastily punches his wristcomp but, as before, he cannot get a decent reading from within the TARDIS. Still, one thing is apparent. “We didn’t move.”
“What? But then why did he-”
“Spatially. We’re still in the same place as before, or close to it. We moved in time. Forward. Not sure how far.” He pushes a few more buttons, tries to refine the results. Turns his scanner on Rose for a moment for comparison. “If I had to guess, I’d say we’re still before your time, but not by much. No more than about a century.”
Rose tries her bedroom door, which is still locked. The harder she pulls, the less it gives. With a sigh, she sits down next to him again. “All right, the way ‘Go fish!’ works is this…”
He sighs and focuses on the cards. There’s nothing either of them can do until their Lord and Master - he snorts - decides to release them from their kennel.
*****
It’s another two hours later - and god, ‘Go fish!’ is the most boring card game ever - when the buzz of the sonic screwdriver makes them both jump up and turn to the door. Rose’s look is hopeful, but Jack can feel himself stiffen, his shoulders square. He’s going to tell the Doctor exactly what he thinks of being treated like a badly-trained puppy.
The door opens, and Jack feels whatever words were on his lips dry up and die. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rose covering her hand with her mouth.
The Doctor looks horrible. He’s covered in dirt, bits of grass and leaves all over, his jeans are torn and his posture beaten and exhausted. But his eyes are the worst. Dark, hollow, filled with guilt and a silent despair that makes Jack’s stomach clench in fear, even though he still has no idea what this is about.
Rose takes a step towards the Doctor, hands extended, but he ignores her. His eyes are locked on Jack, and he takes three heavy, stumbling steps towards him. Jack tries to come up with something to say, but before he can, the Doctor pulls him close and wraps him into a bone-crushing hug. He burrows his face into the crook of Jack’s neck and takes deep, shuddering breaths - almost as if he’s trying to inhale as much of Jack’s scent as possible.
Over the Doctor’s shoulder, Jack sees Rose stare at them both in complete confusion. He knows how she feels. Minutes ago, he was all set to get into a shouting match with the Doctor, but right now, with his friend clinging to him desperately, so obviously cut to the marrow, he finds himself returning the hug. Not quite as strongly - he’s not sure he could - but as firm and reassuring as he can make it. He gently rubs a hand up and down the back of the Doctor’s leather jacket and focuses on taking slow, shallow breath, since that’s all the tight embrace will allow.
“Shhh…” he mumbles, feeling oddly like he’s talking to a wild animal. “It’s all right. Whatever it is, it’s going to be all right.”
The Doctor makes a strangled sound almost like a sob, but he pulls back to look at Jack, and his eyes are dry. Jack vaguely notices dirt and grime all over himself, and doesn’t care. He’s fixated on the Doctor’s eyes, burning into him, dark and full of pain. Weakly, he repeats, “It’ll be all right.”
The Doctor looks at him inscrutably. He makes a gesture that seems nod and shrug at once. “It will be. I will come for you. Remember that.”
“What?” Jack feels like he’s drifting through empty space. Except this conversation is more disorienting than zero-g training ever was.
The Doctor takes a deep breath, and takes Jack by the shoulders, squeezing gently. “Remember that I’ll come for you. Not always. Not when I should.” The Doctor shivers and looks away for a moment, but then his eyes are back on Jack’s. “Fail you terribly, I will. Not sure how it’ll happen, but… ‘M sorry. More ‘n I could ever tell you.” He hugs him again, and this time he tucks Jack’s head under his chin and gently cups his neck with one hand. “But one day, you’ll think back to this, yeah? And then just know - I won’t be able to make it okay. It’ll still be bad. But I will be able to make it a whole lot less terrible. Spare you most of it.” He pulls back and looks Jack in the eyes again, with that expression that won’t allow even a flicker of doubt. “I will come for you.”
With that, the Doctor turns and strides out of the room, with nothing more than a vaguely apologetic glance at Rose. He returns twenty minutes later freshly showered, in clean clothes, and with a wide manic smile and exciting plans for the rest of the day. Without having to be told, Rose and Jack know that they’ll never speak of this again.
As the Doctor ushers them into the control room, Jack notices muddy footprints all around the console. But that's only to be expected, given the state the Doctor was in. Only, and that's odd, one set of footprints doesn't seem to match the others. It almost looks like - no. No, that's not possible. Could it be? Jack takes a step closer. But when he blinks, the footprints are gone, like they never existed in the first place.
*****
Almost a hundred and fifty-years later - or a few hours earlier, depending on how you look at it - Jack watches John’s ring describe a graceful arc and land on his chest. Looking at the moist earth surrounding him, he recalls a day in the TARDIS, long ago, and realizes that yes, the muddy prints he saw were of RAF boots. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes and lies back. This is going to hurt, be oppressive and dark and suffocating, but it won’t be for long.
The Doctor will come for him.
The End