Fic: More Than This Hour [G] Jack/TARDIS
More Than This Hour
Jack didn’t need the Doctor to tell him that the TARDIS was healed from her stint as a Paradox machine, he felt it; or rather he felt *her*. Her sparkling and unblemished presence rushed back into the place he kept for her, and her alone, in the back of his mind. He stroked her battered body lightly and whispered,
“Welcome back, sweetheart. I missed you.” Silently she answered; she’d missed him too. With a smile, he turned away only to find Martha casting a puzzled glance in his direction, before she shrugged and reapplied her attention to whatever it was she had been doing. He heard the TARDIS chuckle in his mind, and promised to speak with her properly later. As he moved away, he let his fingers brush lightly once more over her skin, feeling her shiver of appreciation in response; she was glad to be herself once more, to be in his mind, to be touched, to *feel*.
Later that night Jack returned to the console room carrying a bottle and cut-crystal glass. He felt her amusement ripple through his mind.
“Nothing but the best for us, sweetheart.” He replied as he took one of the seats near the console, carefully balancing the heavy glass on the console while he unscrewed the bottle, before pouring a few fingers of the pale amber liquid. The bottle was placed on the floor once he’d recapped it, and he raised the glass to the time rotor.
“Penderyn Whisky; another type of Welsh gold and a special drink to share with a special lady.” He took a sip, sighing in appreciation at the taste, and delicately sprinkled a few drops on the console in libation, acknowledging all the deaths and all the sacrifice that had happened in a year that never was. The whisky disappeared into her skin, and he felt her shudder slightly with remembered pain and sorrow. He pressed his fingers against that same spot and lost himself in remembrance for a few minutes. Her touch on his mind was cautious as she riffled through his memories, finally touching on one he’d been trying to bury. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as it sat there between them, stark and exposed.
“Do you really think I’m wrong?” He whispered, gasping when her vehement denial flooded through him, along with her answer.
Not wrong, just different; and still Jack. It was the being Jack that was important, not the fact that he was now a universal constant. She looked at him differently now; he was the only person outside of her Doctor that she could allow herself to love completely, as he was the only being in the universe who would never leave her.
Jack fell to his knees with a thump, resting his cheek on the console and wrapping his arms around her as much as he could.
“Poor darling. Why didn’t you tell me you were lonely?” Her answering touch on his mind bore a hint of exasperation as she mentally prodded him.
“Ok, ok. I guess that’s what you’re doing right now.” What she pressed into his mind next surprised him. She wanted him to leave. He was about to disagree when she overwhelmed his protest with such an outpouring of love and understanding that it left him speechless. Gently she reminded him that he still had people who were important to him on the slow path, and that she would still be around when they were well gone; as would her Doctor. Time enough for them later. Right now, he had a life to live.
Jack made no more protests as he sank back on his heels.
“You are too wise for me. But I do love you.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against her skin, before scrambling back up onto the seat and retrieving his drink. Jack raised his glass once more.
“To the wisest and most beautiful lady in the universe; may she have a long and happy life.” He sipped the whisky appreciatively as he felt her laughter dance through his mind, reassuring him in a way he’d never known he needed. Slowly, hesitantly, he began to tell her all about his life on the slow path; sometimes in words, sometimes with images in his mind but she stayed with him, listening and offering comfort when it was needed.
The next day he told the Doctor he was going home; to Cardiff. To the four passionate, beautiful and *human* people who had come to mean the world to him.
Jack didn’t need the Doctor to tell him that the TARDIS was healed from her stint as a Paradox machine, he felt it; or rather he felt *her*. Her sparkling and unblemished presence rushed back into the place he kept for her, and her alone, in the back of his mind. He stroked her battered body lightly and whispered,
“Welcome back, sweetheart. I missed you.” Silently she answered; she’d missed him too. With a smile, he turned away only to find Martha casting a puzzled glance in his direction, before she shrugged and reapplied her attention to whatever it was she had been doing. He heard the TARDIS chuckle in his mind, and promised to speak with her properly later. As he moved away, he let his fingers brush lightly once more over her skin, feeling her shiver of appreciation in response; she was glad to be herself once more, to be in his mind, to be touched, to *feel*.
Later that night Jack returned to the console room carrying a bottle and cut-crystal glass. He felt her amusement ripple through his mind.
“Nothing but the best for us, sweetheart.” He replied as he took one of the seats near the console, carefully balancing the heavy glass on the console while he unscrewed the bottle, before pouring a few fingers of the pale amber liquid. The bottle was placed on the floor once he’d recapped it, and he raised the glass to the time rotor.
“Penderyn Whisky; another type of Welsh gold and a special drink to share with a special lady.” He took a sip, sighing in appreciation at the taste, and delicately sprinkled a few drops on the console in libation, acknowledging all the deaths and all the sacrifice that had happened in a year that never was. The whisky disappeared into her skin, and he felt her shudder slightly with remembered pain and sorrow. He pressed his fingers against that same spot and lost himself in remembrance for a few minutes. Her touch on his mind was cautious as she riffled through his memories, finally touching on one he’d been trying to bury. He swallowed past the lump in his throat as it sat there between them, stark and exposed.
“Do you really think I’m wrong?” He whispered, gasping when her vehement denial flooded through him, along with her answer.
Not wrong, just different; and still Jack. It was the being Jack that was important, not the fact that he was now a universal constant. She looked at him differently now; he was the only person outside of her Doctor that she could allow herself to love completely, as he was the only being in the universe who would never leave her.
Jack fell to his knees with a thump, resting his cheek on the console and wrapping his arms around her as much as he could.
“Poor darling. Why didn’t you tell me you were lonely?” Her answering touch on his mind bore a hint of exasperation as she mentally prodded him.
“Ok, ok. I guess that’s what you’re doing right now.” What she pressed into his mind next surprised him. She wanted him to leave. He was about to disagree when she overwhelmed his protest with such an outpouring of love and understanding that it left him speechless. Gently she reminded him that he still had people who were important to him on the slow path, and that she would still be around when they were well gone; as would her Doctor. Time enough for them later. Right now, he had a life to live.
Jack made no more protests as he sank back on his heels.
“You are too wise for me. But I do love you.” He kissed his fingers and pressed them against her skin, before scrambling back up onto the seat and retrieving his drink. Jack raised his glass once more.
“To the wisest and most beautiful lady in the universe; may she have a long and happy life.” He sipped the whisky appreciatively as he felt her laughter dance through his mind, reassuring him in a way he’d never known he needed. Slowly, hesitantly, he began to tell her all about his life on the slow path; sometimes in words, sometimes with images in his mind but she stayed with him, listening and offering comfort when it was needed.
The next day he told the Doctor he was going home; to Cardiff. To the four passionate, beautiful and *human* people who had come to mean the world to him.