After the Parting 2/6?
Story: After the Parting
Author: WMR
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jack
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose are back together. Jack has a new job. But what happens when the Doctor finds out about Torchwood? A story in the same universe as the Earth to Ashes series.
With thanks to my lovely and much-valued BRs, dark_aegis and nnwest.
Chapter 1: Betrayal
Chapter 2: Confrontation
He doesn’t look exactly as he’d remembered, though that’s hardly surprising. Given he knows something of Jack’s history between this meeting and the last time he’d seen the man, it’s probably been close to two years for Jack. A couple more lines on his face, a few flecks of grey here and there. The habitual light-hearted, laughing expression is gone. And he’s wearing a suit, which looks odd on a man he’s used to seeing in jeans and T-shirts.
But then, he knows that Jack will find him even more changed. And he allows himself a chilly smile of amusement as he waits for the other man’s reaction. He definitely has the advantage here.
Jack stands, looking wary, his gaze clearly assessing his surroundings, the situation. One hand is in a pocket, clearly ready to pull a weapon. The former soldier, ready to defend himself. Even though he must know where he is.
He waits out the silence. Will make Jack break it.
And he does. Calmly, with a coolness he remembers well, but without the old trademark humour which even tended to lurk beneath Jack’s all-action-hero guise. “The TARDIS. So, the Doctor’s around somewhere, I’m guessing. And you are... the new kid on the block, presumably? The latest minion?”
Interesting. So Jack seems to be harbouring some resentment of his own.
Not that that’s important, or even relevant. This isn’t about what Jack wants or feels. That’s not why he’s here.
He smiles. It’s humourless, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m disappointed in you, Captain. You do know quite a lot about Time Lords, after all.”
And he sees the penny drop. It’s only in the very momentary widening of Jack’s eyes, before the cool, emotionless mask drops back into place.
“Doctor.” There’s the faintest inclination of his head. “Regenerated, I take it.”
“As you see. New face. Still me.”
A nod is his only response. Still wary, not coming any closer, Jack says, “So, to what do I owe this visit? I’m guessing it’s not a social call. You’re not here to reminisce about old times.” That’s said with faint sarcasm.
For a moment, he’s saddened. The old Jack wouldn’t have spoken like that. In the weeks since he had to leave his friend behind, he’s thought about their eventual reunion from time to time - a reunion he always intended to happen. Had always assumed that Jack would be as glad to see them as he would be to see Jack. Had imagined it as happy, old friends eager to become companions once more.
Before he’d found out about Jack’s current role, anyway.
Given that Jack, so far, has no reason to know why he’s come for him now, the other man’s attitude is strange. And it makes him wonder whether he was wrong. Whether Jack wouldn’t have been happy to see him again, even in better circumstances. Whether his re-entry to Jack’s life would have been unwelcome. Is unwelcome.
But that’s irrelevant. Because everything’s changed.
“This visit? We have things to discuss, Jack.” He won’t use the Captain now. That had become something of an affectionate nickname between them, though used only during tense moments, when they were in the middle of the latest battle. “In particular, your current job.”
“I don’t see that that’s any of your business, Doctor. My life stopped being any of your business a long time ago.”
Definite resentment, and anger, too.
For the first time, he questions his split-second decision, back on Satellite Five, not to wait. Not to explain. He hadn’t had much time, true, though he’d wasted a lot of what he did have. But this is obviously a consequence of that decision.
It doesn’t matter. It would have, but not now. It ceased to matter the instant he saw that name on the staff list. Once he saw the betrayal.
“Oh, I disagree, Jack,” he said softly, smiling again, the smile not reaching his eyes. He left the console and began to approach the other man, his unblinking gaze focused on him, not shifting even as he made his way down the steps and across the room.
“Disagree all you want. It won’t get you anywhere.”
“Torchwood.” The word is said as if the very sound of it is poisonous.
One raised eyebrow is the only response.
“You committed mass murder. And I want to know how you can justify it.”
Jack does actually blink at that. But only faintly. “Do I have to justify anything to you, Doctor? I don’t think so. Last I heard, I wasn’t under your command any more.”
He ignores that. “The Jack Harkness I knew might have been a lot of things, but he was never a murderer. Yet now you condone it.”
Cool blue eyes meet his own. “What’s murder, Doctor? Deliberately killing innocent people to kill the enemy at the same time, for example?”
Gallifrey.
And Earth, too, had he been able to launch the Delta wave. He wonders if Jack knows that he couldn’t do it in the end.
Was that murder?
His previous self had thought so, in his darkest moments. And that had been the reason why, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to be the great exterminator.
Now, from the perspective of greater distance, he can see how his actions in the Time War had been the only ones possible. It had been the universe or the Time Lords. And not even the Time Lords were more important than the universe.
Even assuming the Time Lords could have survived the deluge.
He studies Jack with narrowed eyes, all the same. Jack doesn’t know him as he is now. Doesn’t know how regeneration, and the greater distance from his past, as well as Rose’s ending of the Time War once and for all, have changed him. Jack would have known only too well what his accusation would have done to his previous incarnation, though.
That had been intended to wound.
How things change.
How love dies, fades away, turns to... what? Hate?
But he refuses to comment on the accusation.
“You were a soldier, Jack. You know the difference between legitimate acts of war and murder. Firing on a retreating enemy is murder.”
“So that’s it.” Still distant, still cool, Jack nods. “The Sycorax ship.”
*******
He should have realised that’s what it’s about. Was too shocked - stunned - by this unexpected appearance, and the completely altered Doctor, to think straight.
He’s still reeling, in fact. Is doing well to hold his own in the exchange and give as good as he gets, in the circumstances.
This is a very different Doctor. Not just the new face, the new body. He’s coldly logical, icily unemotional, where his predecessor had highs and lows of emotion. The Doctor he knew could be angry, but it was a passionate rage. Not this very detached anger.
He wonders how Rose would have coped with this Doctor. Whether she would ever have loved him, or even liked him, the way she had his previous incarnation. And whether this Doctor would even begin to care for her. His predecessor had loved her. This man... does he even understand the concept of love? Is he capable of feeling?
Now, he’s glad he was left behind.
The friend he’d once had, the man he’d loved, is gone without a trace. There’s not even a hint of him in the man who’s standing in front of him.
The Doctor is dead.
“Yes. The Sycorax ship. The one Torchwood blew out of the sky as it was retreating. Retreating, Jack. They’d surrendered. And you murdered them.” The last words are almost spat out through bared teeth and thin lips.
“Make up your mind, Doctor.” He meets the cold brown gaze unblinkingly. “Last I heard, Harriet Jones was the murderer, according to you.”
“She gave the order, yes. But she’s not the only one I hold responsible. That weapon. Multiple phased energy beams? No-one from this time would even know what it was, let alone what it’s capable of. The ship it came from might have fallen to Earth ten years ago, but it’s only recently that anyone’s known what to do with it. Since you came to this time. Am I right?”
He is. Not long after he’d been vetted and offered the job - in fact, pressganged into it as an alternative to being shadowed by agents for the rest of his life, or even imprisoned, as a potential danger to society - he’d been shown the spacecraft, carefully preserved and painstakingly examined and documented since its discovery. He’d recognised it instantly. Alien, yes, but partly humanoid in construction and technology. And from the future. He’d been surprised to find it loaded with weapons, all still in good condition. It hadn’t taken long to establish their type and to salvage them, adapt them to the peculiarities of the Earth, in particular the planet’s gravity level, order their storage and maintenance, and write up instructions for their use.
Not that he’d ever thought they’d be required. Earth in this time was safe, after all, he’d thought. Remembered from his studies of history.
Yet, out of the blue, the Sycorax had invaded, threatened to kill one-third of the Earth’s population, promised to enslave many more. And had killed members of the Prime Minister’s delegation, right in front of her. History changing, right before his eyes.
“As always, Doctor, you’re right,” he says sarcastically. “Yeah, I identified it. I prepped it.”
“And you fired it.”
“Acting on instructions,” he retorts. It’s true, of course. And the Doctor knows it. Though, of course, that argument doesn’t work with him. Hasn’t before.
And with that statement you’ve just lost the right to even talk to me.
So the response doesn’t surprise him. “Don’t you dare say you were only following orders!”
Because he knows it will only infuriate the Doctor more, and hey, he’s never been into playing it safe or trying to placate someone he has no respect for, he replies, “I’m a soldier. That’s what I do.”
“You give orders too. You’re not a minion. You’re in charge.” And that’s an accusation, not an observation.
“When it’s the Prime Minister, I’m not in charge.” Though he won’t hide behind Harriet Jones. Her role is irrelevant here. The Doctor is wrong, and he’ll say so. “But that’s not the point. You think it shouldn’t have been fired. That’s your right. But you have no right to dictate what’s done in the defence of a country and a planet you’re not appointed or elected to serve. A place you don’t even call home.”
Brown eyes widen in response. “If you really believe that, then what were you doing here with me for those months?”
He’s right, of course. Interfering in planets, in times, in histories where he doesn’t belong is the Doctor’s speciality. It’s what he does, and most of the time he does good.
Besides, what else can he do? Where can he go? He has nowhere to go. That was a low blow, and Jack knows it. The fact that it wasn’t even intentional doesn’t make it any better. But can’t take it back now.
The Doctor whirls around and begins to talk. Fast, fluently, every word striking a target, as he’s always been able to. The accent’s different, and the rhythm of the monologue is different as a result. But the sentiment is one he’s heard many times before, even though ‘stupid apes’ seems to have vanished from the Doctor’s lexicon.
“So you think I should just walk away? Leave the universe to defend itself? Leave Earth to defend itself? Let’s leave aside the fact that I have been asked, on many occasions - even begged - to save this planet. And that every time I’ve done what I could, without hesitating. Without worrying about the risks involved. Without me, this planet would have been destroyed many times over. Ever heard of the Cybermen? Or maybe the Sontarans. Or the Silurians. Come across them? Autons. Saved this world from all of them. When the Nestene Consciousness came back? Every human on this planet would have been massacred, all for the sake of plastic. The Slitheen? If I hadn’t intervened they’d have reduced the planet to a slag-heap. You think I should’ve walked away then? What about Blon? You’d’ve walked away from what she tried to do? As I remember, you were even the one who came up with the strategy. And the Sycorax. Torchwood might have been the fallback, but without me Harriet Jones would’ve been dead. There wouldn’t’ve been anyone to give the order.”
“There’s always someone to give the order,” Jack says automatically. But he knows the Doctor’s right. He didn’t know about all those threats, all those times his intervention’s saved this planet, though of course he was aware of some. But he knows he was wrong to accuse the Doctor of intervening where he has no right. Even if he can’t say so, because of the hostility flaring between them, so palpable he can feel it.
So he tries another tack. “The trouble is, Doctor, that no-one can rely on you. Can they? You say the planet’s defended - yeah, I heard about that. But is it? You’re not always here. Half the time, when there’s trouble you end up in the middle of it by accident. We’d never have known about Margaret Slitheen’s plans if we hadn’t happened to be in Cardiff for refuelling.”
He marches to the console rail, mounts the steps and stands facing the Doctor, who is now back in his accustomed, commanding position by the control panel. “You’re a free agent. That also means you’re accountable to no-one. Not at anyone’s beck and call. Fine, but you can’t be that and also claim to be the only person with any right to say what gets done. You say you’re Earth’s champion, but can anyone actually contact you when the planet needs defending? We can’t. So we have to do the best we can on our own. And that means contingency plans. Like attack weapons, whether you like it or not.”
“You think I don’t understand that?” The brown eyes bore into his again. “Of course I do. But this time I was here. I did defend the planet. I sent them away. Sent them with a message, too, that would’ve been spread throughout the galaxy. Then you people murdered them. What message does that send? That you lot will always shoot first and ask questions later? That visitors from alien worlds better come prepared with as many weapons as possible and be prepared to shoot first themselves, rather than making contact?”
Of course, he agrees with that. With all of it. But he’s not going to say so. His position doesn’t allow him to say so. He’s not just Jack Harkness any more. He’s Captain Harkness again - the title once more genuine - and director of a significant covert agency. He speaks for Torchwood. He speaks for the government. His own opinion is not relevant.
“You condone it, do you?” The voice is still scathing, flaying. “You agree with that strategy? You won’t hold out a hand in welcome to alien races? You’ll kill them first, because they’re different? Because they might represent a danger? You agree with firing on a retreating force?”
Of course he doesn’t. “It’s not always that straightforward, Doctor, and you know it! Decisions have to be made in split seconds. By the time you can work out whether someone’s friendly or not, they could’ve fired the first shot.”
“So you lot get in first.” His lip curls in disdain. “Dunno why I bother with you. I won’t again. Next time you lot can get yourselves out of trouble without me. After all, according to Harriet Jones I’m an alien threat myself.” He gives a cynical smile. “She still Prime Minister, by the way?”
“Yeah.” And he pauses for a moment, recognising that smile, recognising something about the way the Time Lord had asked the question. There’s something there that reminds him of banana groves and weapons factories. “Your little scheme didn’t work, Doctor.”
“Oh, what a shame.” The tone is lighter, the words almost sing-song. “Harriet survived to attack another day. Wonder who's next? Me? You? Another country? Another planet? There's no stopping her now, is there?”
She’s not like that. He knows. He’s had several in-depth discussions with the Prime Minister since Christmas Day - Invasion Day. Discussions that will remain confidential. Discussions that make clear the order was anything but an easy decision, and that it’s a decision that has haunted Harriet Jones ever since. But the Doctor’s made up his mind, and nothing will convince him otherwise.
The Doctor raises an eyebrow, his expression sceptical. “She's not like that. That's what you're going to say, isn't it? They never are. They never think they’re actually doing it. Becoming murderers. Committing genocide. But she knew. She knew that they were leaving. She knew that they had a warning. And what does she do? She kills them. Boom. Press the button and watch it go. That is what I can’t forgive.”
Yes, she did know. But it still wasn’t that simple.
“And you’ve never made mistakes, Doctor? Done things you regret? Committed murder? Wondered afterwards if it was the right thing?”
“Are you saying she regrets it?” The words emerge through clenched teeth, all run together, the expression a sneer. As if he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“It’s not for me to speak for the Prime Minister,” Jack says. It’s not. He shouldn’t have said as much as he did. “Besides, I thought we were talking about me here. Not her.”
“Yes, you. You, Jack. Are you a murderer, too? Was it you who pressed that button? Or did you just give the order for someone else to do it? How does it feel to take the responsibility for that? How does it feel to watch as defenceless victims die needlessly?”
Anger courses through him. “The same way it felt on the Game Station when I watched innocent people picked off one by one by the Daleks. All dying to buy you time.”
The Doctor’s eyes flash angrily at that. “The Daleks were invading. They were planning to destroy the Earth. They would’ve killed everyone in their path and harvested their DNA. You think I don’t wish that none of those people died? You think I don’t remember them, or care about the sacrifice they made? That has nothing to do with firing on an enemy who’s surrendered. Who’s retreating. Or - ” And the lips pull back in a sneer again. “ - are you comparing yourself to a Dalek, Jack?”
He’s about to bite off an angry retort, when his gaze is caught by a movement to the side. A door opening. A door he remembers - the route to the rest of the ship.
There’s someone else here.
He should have thought. The Doctor doesn’t seem to travel alone much. Before, he’d sometimes talked about other people who’d travelled with him, before Rose. He seems to be a man who doesn’t much care for his own company.
So no doubt there’s a new companion, as he’d suspected when he’d first seen the man he now knows to be the Doctor. And he’s about to meet this companion. His replacement. Rose’s replacement.
But then he sees the person coming through the door. And the sight takes his breath away.
“Rose!”
*******
Damnit.
He did not want her to see this. Had hoped she’d sleep through the whole thing. Hadn’t wanted her ever to know that Jack was here. Not in the circumstances.
Because she won’t understand. And he doesn’t want to have to make her. Doesn’t want to have to tell her what Jack is now. What he’s become.
She was almost as angry as he was about what Harriet Jones did.
They’d talked about it, a bit, over Christmas dinner. Argued, in fact, because Mickey disagreed. Mickey believed that the Prime Minister had done the right thing. Had needed to send a message. Because the planet needed defending. He’d argued with Mickey at first, trying to convince him of the truth, but in the end had left it. Because it was Christmas, and because he was in Jackie’s flat for Christmas dinner - something he’d never have done before - and because Mickey had helped.
And Mickey doesn’t understand - hasn’t seen what Rose has, so doesn’t see that not all aliens are a threat. It’s not long since Mickey stopped seeing him as a threat.
So they’d abandoned the discussion after a while and he’d given Jackie an apologetic smile. She hadn’t taken a position on either side, simply declaring herself glad the invaders were gone. And then they’d seen Harriet Jones on the TV and the subject had been forgotten.
No, Rose will not be happy to find out what Jack is now.
She’s standing there in the doorway, dressed in the baggy T-shirt she wears to sleep in and a pair of sweatpants, hand clapped to her mouth, just staring.
And then she exclaims, joy in her voice, “Jack!”
He’s turned to her, is looking at her, and his expression is mingled shock and hurt. That’s a surprise. Hurt?
“Oh, god, Jack!” And she begins to run over.
And then she halts. Looks from one of them to the other. He knows what she’s seeing. His own expression - angry, cold. Far from the Doctor she spends her days with - or, perhaps, more like the Doctor she’s seen in action against their enemies occasionally. She’ll be able to sense the hostility - after all, it’s palpable. The air’s thick with it. And she’ll be at a loss as to why he’s being like that here. Now. With Jack.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes have narrowed and she’s frowning. Looking questioningly at him. Looking longingly at Jack.
He rakes a hand through his hair. He doesn’t like doing this, not to her, not when he knows what seeing Jack again means to her, but he doesn’t have a choice. “Rose, this is between Jack and me. Don’t interfere, please.”
She stares at him, expression incredulous. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Jack’s here. I haven’t seen him since he... since he said goodbye, back on Satellite Five. You’ve never said a word about ‘im. About why he’s not with us any more. An’ you expect me to... not interfere? No way, Doctor. No way.”
*******
tbc
x-posted to
time_and_chips
Author: WMR
Characters: Ten, Rose, Jack
Rating: PG
Summary: The Doctor and Rose are back together. Jack has a new job. But what happens when the Doctor finds out about Torchwood? A story in the same universe as the Earth to Ashes series.
With thanks to my lovely and much-valued BRs, dark_aegis and nnwest.
Chapter 1: Betrayal
Chapter 2: Confrontation
He doesn’t look exactly as he’d remembered, though that’s hardly surprising. Given he knows something of Jack’s history between this meeting and the last time he’d seen the man, it’s probably been close to two years for Jack. A couple more lines on his face, a few flecks of grey here and there. The habitual light-hearted, laughing expression is gone. And he’s wearing a suit, which looks odd on a man he’s used to seeing in jeans and T-shirts.
But then, he knows that Jack will find him even more changed. And he allows himself a chilly smile of amusement as he waits for the other man’s reaction. He definitely has the advantage here.
Jack stands, looking wary, his gaze clearly assessing his surroundings, the situation. One hand is in a pocket, clearly ready to pull a weapon. The former soldier, ready to defend himself. Even though he must know where he is.
He waits out the silence. Will make Jack break it.
And he does. Calmly, with a coolness he remembers well, but without the old trademark humour which even tended to lurk beneath Jack’s all-action-hero guise. “The TARDIS. So, the Doctor’s around somewhere, I’m guessing. And you are... the new kid on the block, presumably? The latest minion?”
Interesting. So Jack seems to be harbouring some resentment of his own.
Not that that’s important, or even relevant. This isn’t about what Jack wants or feels. That’s not why he’s here.
He smiles. It’s humourless, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “I’m disappointed in you, Captain. You do know quite a lot about Time Lords, after all.”
And he sees the penny drop. It’s only in the very momentary widening of Jack’s eyes, before the cool, emotionless mask drops back into place.
“Doctor.” There’s the faintest inclination of his head. “Regenerated, I take it.”
“As you see. New face. Still me.”
A nod is his only response. Still wary, not coming any closer, Jack says, “So, to what do I owe this visit? I’m guessing it’s not a social call. You’re not here to reminisce about old times.” That’s said with faint sarcasm.
For a moment, he’s saddened. The old Jack wouldn’t have spoken like that. In the weeks since he had to leave his friend behind, he’s thought about their eventual reunion from time to time - a reunion he always intended to happen. Had always assumed that Jack would be as glad to see them as he would be to see Jack. Had imagined it as happy, old friends eager to become companions once more.
Before he’d found out about Jack’s current role, anyway.
Given that Jack, so far, has no reason to know why he’s come for him now, the other man’s attitude is strange. And it makes him wonder whether he was wrong. Whether Jack wouldn’t have been happy to see him again, even in better circumstances. Whether his re-entry to Jack’s life would have been unwelcome. Is unwelcome.
But that’s irrelevant. Because everything’s changed.
“This visit? We have things to discuss, Jack.” He won’t use the Captain now. That had become something of an affectionate nickname between them, though used only during tense moments, when they were in the middle of the latest battle. “In particular, your current job.”
“I don’t see that that’s any of your business, Doctor. My life stopped being any of your business a long time ago.”
Definite resentment, and anger, too.
For the first time, he questions his split-second decision, back on Satellite Five, not to wait. Not to explain. He hadn’t had much time, true, though he’d wasted a lot of what he did have. But this is obviously a consequence of that decision.
It doesn’t matter. It would have, but not now. It ceased to matter the instant he saw that name on the staff list. Once he saw the betrayal.
“Oh, I disagree, Jack,” he said softly, smiling again, the smile not reaching his eyes. He left the console and began to approach the other man, his unblinking gaze focused on him, not shifting even as he made his way down the steps and across the room.
“Disagree all you want. It won’t get you anywhere.”
“Torchwood.” The word is said as if the very sound of it is poisonous.
One raised eyebrow is the only response.
“You committed mass murder. And I want to know how you can justify it.”
Jack does actually blink at that. But only faintly. “Do I have to justify anything to you, Doctor? I don’t think so. Last I heard, I wasn’t under your command any more.”
He ignores that. “The Jack Harkness I knew might have been a lot of things, but he was never a murderer. Yet now you condone it.”
Cool blue eyes meet his own. “What’s murder, Doctor? Deliberately killing innocent people to kill the enemy at the same time, for example?”
Gallifrey.
And Earth, too, had he been able to launch the Delta wave. He wonders if Jack knows that he couldn’t do it in the end.
Was that murder?
His previous self had thought so, in his darkest moments. And that had been the reason why, in the end, he couldn’t bring himself to be the great exterminator.
Now, from the perspective of greater distance, he can see how his actions in the Time War had been the only ones possible. It had been the universe or the Time Lords. And not even the Time Lords were more important than the universe.
Even assuming the Time Lords could have survived the deluge.
He studies Jack with narrowed eyes, all the same. Jack doesn’t know him as he is now. Doesn’t know how regeneration, and the greater distance from his past, as well as Rose’s ending of the Time War once and for all, have changed him. Jack would have known only too well what his accusation would have done to his previous incarnation, though.
That had been intended to wound.
How things change.
How love dies, fades away, turns to... what? Hate?
But he refuses to comment on the accusation.
“You were a soldier, Jack. You know the difference between legitimate acts of war and murder. Firing on a retreating enemy is murder.”
“So that’s it.” Still distant, still cool, Jack nods. “The Sycorax ship.”
*******
He should have realised that’s what it’s about. Was too shocked - stunned - by this unexpected appearance, and the completely altered Doctor, to think straight.
He’s still reeling, in fact. Is doing well to hold his own in the exchange and give as good as he gets, in the circumstances.
This is a very different Doctor. Not just the new face, the new body. He’s coldly logical, icily unemotional, where his predecessor had highs and lows of emotion. The Doctor he knew could be angry, but it was a passionate rage. Not this very detached anger.
He wonders how Rose would have coped with this Doctor. Whether she would ever have loved him, or even liked him, the way she had his previous incarnation. And whether this Doctor would even begin to care for her. His predecessor had loved her. This man... does he even understand the concept of love? Is he capable of feeling?
Now, he’s glad he was left behind.
The friend he’d once had, the man he’d loved, is gone without a trace. There’s not even a hint of him in the man who’s standing in front of him.
The Doctor is dead.
“Yes. The Sycorax ship. The one Torchwood blew out of the sky as it was retreating. Retreating, Jack. They’d surrendered. And you murdered them.” The last words are almost spat out through bared teeth and thin lips.
“Make up your mind, Doctor.” He meets the cold brown gaze unblinkingly. “Last I heard, Harriet Jones was the murderer, according to you.”
“She gave the order, yes. But she’s not the only one I hold responsible. That weapon. Multiple phased energy beams? No-one from this time would even know what it was, let alone what it’s capable of. The ship it came from might have fallen to Earth ten years ago, but it’s only recently that anyone’s known what to do with it. Since you came to this time. Am I right?”
He is. Not long after he’d been vetted and offered the job - in fact, pressganged into it as an alternative to being shadowed by agents for the rest of his life, or even imprisoned, as a potential danger to society - he’d been shown the spacecraft, carefully preserved and painstakingly examined and documented since its discovery. He’d recognised it instantly. Alien, yes, but partly humanoid in construction and technology. And from the future. He’d been surprised to find it loaded with weapons, all still in good condition. It hadn’t taken long to establish their type and to salvage them, adapt them to the peculiarities of the Earth, in particular the planet’s gravity level, order their storage and maintenance, and write up instructions for their use.
Not that he’d ever thought they’d be required. Earth in this time was safe, after all, he’d thought. Remembered from his studies of history.
Yet, out of the blue, the Sycorax had invaded, threatened to kill one-third of the Earth’s population, promised to enslave many more. And had killed members of the Prime Minister’s delegation, right in front of her. History changing, right before his eyes.
“As always, Doctor, you’re right,” he says sarcastically. “Yeah, I identified it. I prepped it.”
“And you fired it.”
“Acting on instructions,” he retorts. It’s true, of course. And the Doctor knows it. Though, of course, that argument doesn’t work with him. Hasn’t before.
And with that statement you’ve just lost the right to even talk to me.
So the response doesn’t surprise him. “Don’t you dare say you were only following orders!”
Because he knows it will only infuriate the Doctor more, and hey, he’s never been into playing it safe or trying to placate someone he has no respect for, he replies, “I’m a soldier. That’s what I do.”
“You give orders too. You’re not a minion. You’re in charge.” And that’s an accusation, not an observation.
“When it’s the Prime Minister, I’m not in charge.” Though he won’t hide behind Harriet Jones. Her role is irrelevant here. The Doctor is wrong, and he’ll say so. “But that’s not the point. You think it shouldn’t have been fired. That’s your right. But you have no right to dictate what’s done in the defence of a country and a planet you’re not appointed or elected to serve. A place you don’t even call home.”
Brown eyes widen in response. “If you really believe that, then what were you doing here with me for those months?”
He’s right, of course. Interfering in planets, in times, in histories where he doesn’t belong is the Doctor’s speciality. It’s what he does, and most of the time he does good.
Besides, what else can he do? Where can he go? He has nowhere to go. That was a low blow, and Jack knows it. The fact that it wasn’t even intentional doesn’t make it any better. But can’t take it back now.
The Doctor whirls around and begins to talk. Fast, fluently, every word striking a target, as he’s always been able to. The accent’s different, and the rhythm of the monologue is different as a result. But the sentiment is one he’s heard many times before, even though ‘stupid apes’ seems to have vanished from the Doctor’s lexicon.
“So you think I should just walk away? Leave the universe to defend itself? Leave Earth to defend itself? Let’s leave aside the fact that I have been asked, on many occasions - even begged - to save this planet. And that every time I’ve done what I could, without hesitating. Without worrying about the risks involved. Without me, this planet would have been destroyed many times over. Ever heard of the Cybermen? Or maybe the Sontarans. Or the Silurians. Come across them? Autons. Saved this world from all of them. When the Nestene Consciousness came back? Every human on this planet would have been massacred, all for the sake of plastic. The Slitheen? If I hadn’t intervened they’d have reduced the planet to a slag-heap. You think I should’ve walked away then? What about Blon? You’d’ve walked away from what she tried to do? As I remember, you were even the one who came up with the strategy. And the Sycorax. Torchwood might have been the fallback, but without me Harriet Jones would’ve been dead. There wouldn’t’ve been anyone to give the order.”
“There’s always someone to give the order,” Jack says automatically. But he knows the Doctor’s right. He didn’t know about all those threats, all those times his intervention’s saved this planet, though of course he was aware of some. But he knows he was wrong to accuse the Doctor of intervening where he has no right. Even if he can’t say so, because of the hostility flaring between them, so palpable he can feel it.
So he tries another tack. “The trouble is, Doctor, that no-one can rely on you. Can they? You say the planet’s defended - yeah, I heard about that. But is it? You’re not always here. Half the time, when there’s trouble you end up in the middle of it by accident. We’d never have known about Margaret Slitheen’s plans if we hadn’t happened to be in Cardiff for refuelling.”
He marches to the console rail, mounts the steps and stands facing the Doctor, who is now back in his accustomed, commanding position by the control panel. “You’re a free agent. That also means you’re accountable to no-one. Not at anyone’s beck and call. Fine, but you can’t be that and also claim to be the only person with any right to say what gets done. You say you’re Earth’s champion, but can anyone actually contact you when the planet needs defending? We can’t. So we have to do the best we can on our own. And that means contingency plans. Like attack weapons, whether you like it or not.”
“You think I don’t understand that?” The brown eyes bore into his again. “Of course I do. But this time I was here. I did defend the planet. I sent them away. Sent them with a message, too, that would’ve been spread throughout the galaxy. Then you people murdered them. What message does that send? That you lot will always shoot first and ask questions later? That visitors from alien worlds better come prepared with as many weapons as possible and be prepared to shoot first themselves, rather than making contact?”
Of course, he agrees with that. With all of it. But he’s not going to say so. His position doesn’t allow him to say so. He’s not just Jack Harkness any more. He’s Captain Harkness again - the title once more genuine - and director of a significant covert agency. He speaks for Torchwood. He speaks for the government. His own opinion is not relevant.
“You condone it, do you?” The voice is still scathing, flaying. “You agree with that strategy? You won’t hold out a hand in welcome to alien races? You’ll kill them first, because they’re different? Because they might represent a danger? You agree with firing on a retreating force?”
Of course he doesn’t. “It’s not always that straightforward, Doctor, and you know it! Decisions have to be made in split seconds. By the time you can work out whether someone’s friendly or not, they could’ve fired the first shot.”
“So you lot get in first.” His lip curls in disdain. “Dunno why I bother with you. I won’t again. Next time you lot can get yourselves out of trouble without me. After all, according to Harriet Jones I’m an alien threat myself.” He gives a cynical smile. “She still Prime Minister, by the way?”
“Yeah.” And he pauses for a moment, recognising that smile, recognising something about the way the Time Lord had asked the question. There’s something there that reminds him of banana groves and weapons factories. “Your little scheme didn’t work, Doctor.”
“Oh, what a shame.” The tone is lighter, the words almost sing-song. “Harriet survived to attack another day. Wonder who's next? Me? You? Another country? Another planet? There's no stopping her now, is there?”
She’s not like that. He knows. He’s had several in-depth discussions with the Prime Minister since Christmas Day - Invasion Day. Discussions that will remain confidential. Discussions that make clear the order was anything but an easy decision, and that it’s a decision that has haunted Harriet Jones ever since. But the Doctor’s made up his mind, and nothing will convince him otherwise.
The Doctor raises an eyebrow, his expression sceptical. “She's not like that. That's what you're going to say, isn't it? They never are. They never think they’re actually doing it. Becoming murderers. Committing genocide. But she knew. She knew that they were leaving. She knew that they had a warning. And what does she do? She kills them. Boom. Press the button and watch it go. That is what I can’t forgive.”
Yes, she did know. But it still wasn’t that simple.
“And you’ve never made mistakes, Doctor? Done things you regret? Committed murder? Wondered afterwards if it was the right thing?”
“Are you saying she regrets it?” The words emerge through clenched teeth, all run together, the expression a sneer. As if he doesn’t believe a word of it.
“It’s not for me to speak for the Prime Minister,” Jack says. It’s not. He shouldn’t have said as much as he did. “Besides, I thought we were talking about me here. Not her.”
“Yes, you. You, Jack. Are you a murderer, too? Was it you who pressed that button? Or did you just give the order for someone else to do it? How does it feel to take the responsibility for that? How does it feel to watch as defenceless victims die needlessly?”
Anger courses through him. “The same way it felt on the Game Station when I watched innocent people picked off one by one by the Daleks. All dying to buy you time.”
The Doctor’s eyes flash angrily at that. “The Daleks were invading. They were planning to destroy the Earth. They would’ve killed everyone in their path and harvested their DNA. You think I don’t wish that none of those people died? You think I don’t remember them, or care about the sacrifice they made? That has nothing to do with firing on an enemy who’s surrendered. Who’s retreating. Or - ” And the lips pull back in a sneer again. “ - are you comparing yourself to a Dalek, Jack?”
He’s about to bite off an angry retort, when his gaze is caught by a movement to the side. A door opening. A door he remembers - the route to the rest of the ship.
There’s someone else here.
He should have thought. The Doctor doesn’t seem to travel alone much. Before, he’d sometimes talked about other people who’d travelled with him, before Rose. He seems to be a man who doesn’t much care for his own company.
So no doubt there’s a new companion, as he’d suspected when he’d first seen the man he now knows to be the Doctor. And he’s about to meet this companion. His replacement. Rose’s replacement.
But then he sees the person coming through the door. And the sight takes his breath away.
“Rose!”
*******
Damnit.
He did not want her to see this. Had hoped she’d sleep through the whole thing. Hadn’t wanted her ever to know that Jack was here. Not in the circumstances.
Because she won’t understand. And he doesn’t want to have to make her. Doesn’t want to have to tell her what Jack is now. What he’s become.
She was almost as angry as he was about what Harriet Jones did.
They’d talked about it, a bit, over Christmas dinner. Argued, in fact, because Mickey disagreed. Mickey believed that the Prime Minister had done the right thing. Had needed to send a message. Because the planet needed defending. He’d argued with Mickey at first, trying to convince him of the truth, but in the end had left it. Because it was Christmas, and because he was in Jackie’s flat for Christmas dinner - something he’d never have done before - and because Mickey had helped.
And Mickey doesn’t understand - hasn’t seen what Rose has, so doesn’t see that not all aliens are a threat. It’s not long since Mickey stopped seeing him as a threat.
So they’d abandoned the discussion after a while and he’d given Jackie an apologetic smile. She hadn’t taken a position on either side, simply declaring herself glad the invaders were gone. And then they’d seen Harriet Jones on the TV and the subject had been forgotten.
No, Rose will not be happy to find out what Jack is now.
She’s standing there in the doorway, dressed in the baggy T-shirt she wears to sleep in and a pair of sweatpants, hand clapped to her mouth, just staring.
And then she exclaims, joy in her voice, “Jack!”
He’s turned to her, is looking at her, and his expression is mingled shock and hurt. That’s a surprise. Hurt?
“Oh, god, Jack!” And she begins to run over.
And then she halts. Looks from one of them to the other. He knows what she’s seeing. His own expression - angry, cold. Far from the Doctor she spends her days with - or, perhaps, more like the Doctor she’s seen in action against their enemies occasionally. She’ll be able to sense the hostility - after all, it’s palpable. The air’s thick with it. And she’ll be at a loss as to why he’s being like that here. Now. With Jack.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes have narrowed and she’s frowning. Looking questioningly at him. Looking longingly at Jack.
He rakes a hand through his hair. He doesn’t like doing this, not to her, not when he knows what seeing Jack again means to her, but he doesn’t have a choice. “Rose, this is between Jack and me. Don’t interfere, please.”
She stares at him, expression incredulous. “You’re kiddin’ me, right? Jack’s here. I haven’t seen him since he... since he said goodbye, back on Satellite Five. You’ve never said a word about ‘im. About why he’s not with us any more. An’ you expect me to... not interfere? No way, Doctor. No way.”
*******
tbc
x-posted to
time_and_chips