An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 34-1
An Officer and the Noble Woman, Part 34.1
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
First Mate: The lovely serenityslady has officially joined the crew. Thanks for the support and suggestions!
Rating: PG for Plot Galore
Word Count: 4,772, with more to come.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. Jack was eager to butt in, but Peter is being a bit reticent to share his feelings with me right now, hence the .1 above. More to come, relatively soon for me.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
Saturday, June 16, 2012 9:30 AM, CEST
A youthful man with ancient eyes sat at a table outside a small cafe just off the Piazza San Marco, taking an experimental sip of his cappuccino before sighing with the resigned air of someone who didn't really want to be where he was but couldn't come up with somewhere better to be. Has it really been almost three years since I last had a perfect cup of coffee? he silently wondered as he stared unseeing into the distance. Coming back to himself, he stirred in a bit of the espresso he'd learned to order 'for a friend' since he'd been in Venice. Every time he ordered and they heard what they assumed to be an American accent, they'd automatically add too much milk and sometimes, they'd even had the audacity to toss in a sprinkle of sugar. As he took another sip, a slight breeze stirred the air, disturbing the pigeons that fluttered around the growing throng of early-morning tourists, and a strange metallic groan echoed off the walls of the basilica. If Captain Jack Harkness took notice of it, he gave no sign.
Deliberately keeping his gaze focused on the cup in his hand, Jack looked up only when a pair of dark brown boots stepped directly into his line of sight. His eyes slowly made their way up the body attached to the feet contained therein; it was a bit bow-legged, and not as wiry as the last time, but still slim. His visitor seemed to be slightly uncomfortable in his skin and somehow unable to stand completely still, shifting his weight from foot to foot, swaying slightly as if standing in a strong breeze. Jack took in the attire, thinking that perhaps the man before him had just come from an adventure in the early Twentieth Century, based on his current wardrobe. Even the hair fit the era, with that silly sweep of fringe, but then again, neither of the Doctors he had known had ever bothered to dress to fit the times.
The Doctor fidgeted slightly under Jack’s gaze, clenching and unclenching his fists as he waited for the former Time Agent to speak first. For his part, Jack frowned a bit as he appraised the man who stood before him, unsure of his initial assumption. Inside this gawky, awkward body, could there really beat the hearts of a Time Lord? he thought pensively, but when he looked into the eyes, there was no doubt. Those were eyes that had witnessed galaxies flash into and out of existence as entire races fought and died. Those were eyes that carried the weight of loss in their depths. Somehow, no matter which face they graced, regardless of whether the colour was pale and bright or dark and deep, the sorrow buried within those eyes remained the same.
"Ah, Venice! I was here with some friends not too long ago,” the Doctor said finally, spreading his hands wide before clapping them in front of him and rubbing them together vigorously. “Well, not long ago for me, at any rate, but about 200 years ago, local time, give or take..." he trailed off when he realized his rambling observations were failing to elicit any sort of response from the man seated before him. He pursed his lips tightly, straightening his bow tie with a nervous tug and looking askance at Jack before growing silent and still.
Jack stared at the gangling collection of limbs before him for another moment before he relented. ”Doctor," he said evenly, indicating the empty seat at the table with a slight incline of his head.
Captain," the other man replied with a tight nod while smoothing out his waistcoat. "May I?"
Jack shrugged nonchalantly as the Doctor pulled the chair out and sat primly across from him, crossing his long legs and all but folding in on himself with his hands clasped loosely in his lap. Jack watched with interest before he leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest, all the while fixing a skeptical eye on the Doctor. “Long time, no see,” Jack growled sarcastically. “You’ve changed - again.”
“Yes,” the Doctor replied matter-of-factly, but without further comment. Jack leaned in with his elbows on the table and peered closer at his new old friend.
“You know, I knew when I saw you at that bar, it would be the last time I saw that you,” Jack admitted before he looked down and away. He paused for a moment, remembering the mad shock of hair and the swirling brown hero coat he'd seen across the room in that godforsaken space station dive. He knew the man across from him held those same memories, but where his last Doctor had all but buzzed with manic energy, the man across from him radiated an eerie, deceptive calm- the Eye of the Oncoming Storm- and Jack knew right then which one he preferred. He bowed his head in silent farewell, then fixed a jaunty smile in place. “Must have been quite a feat to find me in my personal timeline at just the right moment,” he mused, watching for any reaction from the Time Lord. “Thanks for that, by the way. Oh, and for Alonso, too,” he added with a smirk.
“Think nothing of it,” the Doctor drawled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Under the circumstances, it was the least I could do.”
As the silence fell between them again, Jack took the opportunity to eye him appraisingly before he lurched forward, leaning on one elbow and pointing at the Doctor’s chest. “Seriously, you go about dressed like that now? Tweed? A bow tie?” he blurted out in disbelief. He sat back again, his lip curled in distaste with a tiny shake of his head. “The braces are a nice touch, though,” he admitted, before adding, “even if they are clip-ons.”
“Jack - ” the Doctor began quietly, but the Captain wasn’t finished.
“Don't know why that surprises me: you never could commit to anything,” he huffed under his breath before giving a philosophical shrug. “Still, the overall effect…” he went on, ignoring the other man’s growing exasperation.
“Jack - ”
“So, the Daleks, when they see this you coming- do they point and laugh, or is it more of a stunned silence, ‘cos I figure that might have its advantages, now that I think…”
“Jack, I’m sorry,” the Doctor said quietly, but the Time Agent wasn’t through yet.
“How many years has it been for you, by the way?” he asked indignantly, looking down his nose. “What? I’m supposed to believe that you were just in the neighborhood and thought you’d pop in for a coffee?”
“Enough, Jack,” the Doctor said tightly. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
Jack’s jaw clenched suddenly and he drew in a deep, angry breath before sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. His initial fury had passed, but never having met this Doctor before, he was unsure of what to make of his old new friend, even though there was no mistaking the other man’s unease. “So what did you come for, Doctor?” Jack finally spat. “I know this isn’t a social call.”
The Doctor waited, his brow creased in concentration before apparently coming to a decision. He smiled, leaning forward and said, “Jack, I find myself in a rather awkward predicament and, as I was puzzling it out, I thought, who better to help me resolve a problematic issue than my old friend, Captain Jack Harkness?” He spread his hands wide, nodding his head in self-congratulation, as if that gesture would answer everything.
“Old?” Jack finally retorted with a raised eyebrow.
“Merely a figure of speech,” the Doctor amended with an apologetic tilt of his head, "meant to convey the breadth and depth of our ..."
"Relationship?" Jack supplied helpfully.
“Friendship,” the Doctor finished with a sad, hopeful smile and Jack relented, but only slightly.
“So, running again, Doctor?” he asked without rancor. “What did you do this time?”
Neatly sidestepping the question, the Doctor looked around and asked, “Why are we here, Jack? Why not simply meet in Cardiff? Not that Venice isn’t lovely, though this isn’t the best season for a visit - too many tourists,” he said, looking around with a confidential air. “This place is going to be overrun with them in the next hour, you mark my words.” He returned his attention to Jack without warning, his entire demeanor stilling abruptly. “You’ve forced me to make a separate refueling stop now. I was hoping to top off the old girl whilst visiting with you.”
“Your information is out of date, Doc,” Jack said lightly as he took a sip of his cooling cappuccino and his face became hard and unyielding. “I don't operate out of Cardiff anymore.”
“I?” the Doctor repeated quietly. “What's happened, Jack? Where's the rest of your team? Torchwood Three?"
“No,” Jack said dryly. “You’re getting careless in your old age. What’s happened to you that you didn't do your homework before you came to visit?” he sniped before scrubbing his face with his hand wearily. “There is no Torchwood, Doctor, not as you knew it anyway. I’m on my own.” He watched as realization dawned on the other man’s face before adding, “We really could've used you then, you know.”
“And where were you during return of Gallifrey?” the Doctor snarled suddenly, unfolding with unexpected fluid grace to lean menacingly across the table. “You're not entirely human- you weren't affected by the Mast-“
“Touché,” Jack interrupted as a peace offering, “but without my vortex manipulator, that was over before I had a chance to even get there.”
Both men sat back wearily, warily eyeing one another in a silent contest of wills. Jack was astonished when the Doctor broke first.
“I… I can't be everywhere at once, Jack,” the Doctor began hesitantly, collapsing back into his earlier position. “I... I saw the timelines. It was a fixed point. I wasn't supposed to be …"
“I could have used you,” Jack whispered and the Doctor looked up into haunted eyes. “Children, Doctor. They were just children, and I ... I had to …” He broke off, watching a a young boy standing in the middle of the square with his family, feeding the pigeons and laughing as they landed on his outstretched arms. His lips twitched once before his face smoothed out and became blank as he turned back to the alien that shared his table.
“I am sorry Jack. I sympathize,” the Doctor whispered. Jack flicked his eyes up for a moment, then looked down at the cup in his hand as the Time Lord continued. “I do.”
When Jack continued to stare down into his empty cup, the Doctor added, “If it makes any difference, the aliens you knew as the 456…they won't be back. Ever.” Jack jerked his gaze up just in time to see the shadow of a storm cloud settle in the Doctor’s eyes before it quickly evaporated. “I made certain of that,” he admitted, pursing his lips and looking away. He tilted his head to the side and watched Jack contemplate just what exactly that might mean before venturing, “Gwen Cooper and that snappy fellow in the suit? What was his name? Where are they?”
“Gwen is with Rhys and the baby,” Jack replied mechanically. He hesitated before adding, “Ianto is … gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” the Doctor finally said, his hand twitching indecisively in his lap. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at Jack mournfully and Jack reflected on how odd it was to hear those familiar words coming out of that unfamiliar face. The silence that followed was deafening.
With effort, Jack pulled himself back together, pushing away from the table and looking around suddenly. “I can't help noticing that you’re being very careful with your current companions, Doc,” Jack said with forced heartiness. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me with them?” he added with a teasing leer, but the humor vanished as the Doctor flinched almost imperceptibly, with only a slight tightening of his shoulders remaining to betray him.
“I’m traveling light these days,” he replied at last, his hand finally escaping its twin in his lap to flutter in the air and brush away the concern on Jack’s face. “It’s better that way, you know, without anyone slowing me down, asking silly questions all the time.” He pushed his hair back out of his eyes before picking an imaginary mote of dust off his pants and flicking it away, then smiled. Jack didn’t believe him for a moment.
“Where is Donna?” Jack demanded, studying the Doctor intently. “I thought, after all that had happened on the Dalek Crucible, that you three would…” He trailed off as a shadow of gut-wrenching pain flickered in the other man’s eyes before the curtain of guilt and denial closed the Doctor off again. “What happened to Donna? And the other you, the half-human you, where is he?” Jack persisted suspiciously. When the Doctor didn’t respond, Jack changed course. “Doctor, how long has it been for you since you last saw me?” Being alone for Jack was nothing new, but he’d never seen the Doctor before without a companion close behind.
The Doctor reached into his pocket and drew out his sonic screwdriver, peering at it closely as he fidgeted with the settings. “They're not here. They…neither of them travel with me any longer,” he finally confessed, studiously avoiding Jack's gaze.
“Why?” Jack asked bluntly.
The Doctor lowered the sonic and turned it over and over in his hand. “After you left, I took Rose back to her life, with her mum. They had built a life there in that parallel world and the Metacrisis-“
“The half-human you?” Jack interrupted. The Doctor shot him a dark look of warning and Jack took the hint.
“The Metacrisis … Doctor stayed behind with her there,” he admitted softly and Jack’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. The Doctor’s eyes lost their focus and his face took on a wistful, faraway look and Jack waited patiently for it to pass.
“And Donna?” he finally prodded and the Doctor blinked as he returned to the present then looked away, refusing to meet Jack’s eyes.
“Donna,” the Doctor stated flatly. “Yes, Donna, she ... she went back to Chiswick.” He snapped the sonic open, oblivious to Jack’s bemused expression, and began randomly scanning objects in the vicinity.
“Donna Noble,” Jack pressed skeptically, leaning on the table on both elbows. “The woman who begged you not to die, not to change? The woman whose life you pleaded with Davros to spare? The one you pleaded to die for, in her place, never mind that the TARDIS was being destroyed before your eyes?” He tapped the tabletop with each point, his suspicions mounting as the Doctor’s expression grew grave and forbidding.
“Donna Noble?” he repeated. “The one who piloted the TARDIS better than you, like the two of them were old friends?” At that, the Doctor’s head shot up but the look on Jack’s face dared him to deny it and he settled back with a churlish snort that Jack studiously ignored as he continued his interrogation. “She just up and left the TARDIS? She left you? With all that Time Lord hoodoo floating around in her head and you’re telling me she chose to go back to Chiswick? You just let her? I don’t believe it,” he concluded, folding his arms high over his chest.
The Time Lord had the good grace to look abashed as he answered, “I never said she left willingly or of her own accord.” He grew preternaturally still, his lips barely moving and Jack had to strain to hear his words over the growing buzz of life coming from the waking city around them. “It was the Time Lord consciousness she absorbed…she couldn't contain it. It was killing her.”
Jack unfolded his arms and laid his hands back on the table. “I was afraid of that,” he admitted softly. “And?”
“And I fixed it,” the Doctor stated, his chin raised defiantly, but his eyes told a different story. “I made it so that she could live out her normal, human life without being contaminated with my…”
“And you did that how?” Jack interrupted, dreading the response.
“I… sealed it all off,” he whispered in a dead, hollow voice. “I hid it all from her, buried deep inside her mind. Everything we did, all of her memories of me and our travels together, everyone she met, all the things she saw and learned and … felt.” He gazed out, unseeing, over the Piazza, his eyes drifting out of focus. “It’s all gone now. It’s like it never happened. There were so many places I wanted to take her. There were so many things I never got the chance to share,” he said wistfully with a slight tremor in his voice. Realizing belatedly what his confession might reveal to anyone who cared to look, the Doctor abruptly launched an elaborate verbal countermeasure.
“You know, the popular mythology of her day held that humans only used approximately ten percent of their brains, which was patently false and probably arose from a misunderstanding of early 19th century neurological research, with that neat little number being propagated by American author Lowell Thomas in the foreword to Dale Carnegie's widely-read How to Win Friends and Influence People - which, in my opinion, was complete rubbish, by the way - where he attributed that falsely precise percentage to a Professor William James of Harvard University,” he rambled pedantically, ignoring the look of outrage on the ex-Time Agent’s face which darkened with each word. “Thomas claimed that Professor James used to say that the average man developed only ten per cent of his latent mental ability, when in actual fact, the good professor simply asserted that people only meet a fraction of their full mental potential, and who can argue with that?”
“That misrepresentation of the facts was so pervasive,” he barreled on, on a roll and unable to stop now, “that the eminent hosts of the early 21st century American television program MythBusters used magnetoencephalography and functional magnetic resonance imaging to scan the brain of Tory Belleci attempting, what was for him, a complicated mental task. Finding that well over ten percent of his mind was active at once, they declared the myth “busted". While I agree wholeheartedly with their methodology, I would have found the results to be a bit more compelling had they used, say, Grant Imahara, as their test subject, but still….” He glanced back at Jack and sobered, fumbling awkwardly with his sonic again. “Anyway, the point is, with a bit of a tweak here and tuck there, I was able to build a wall around the Time Lord consciousness… compartmentalize it, if you will… along with anything that might have triggered it into reasserting itself. I buried it all, Jack. I … I buried her.”
“Bullshit,” Jack exploded, his temper flaring. “You killed her, you mean.” He glared at the Doctor and stabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. ”She may still be walking and talking out there, somewhere in the world, but you killed the woman you knew. You jury-rigged her brain- you have to know that there will be repercussions!” he accused. Even when Torchwood Retcons someone to erase a short time period or a specific set of memories, we have to be cautious to avoid complications. You know that,” Jack raged.
“How long was she with you, Doc? Six months? A year? A loss that massive…it would affect every part of her memory, her personality, her soul…Erasing an entire year would inflict severe psychological damage on anyone’s mind. It’ll probably drive Donna insane. And what you say you did… you know there’s always some leakage, especially in the strong-willed.” His face crumpled suddenly and he shook his head in disbelief. “How could you do that? To someone you…”
"She would have died, Jack," the Doctor interjected in a dark growl.
"There are worse things than dying, Doctor," Jack said sadly, recalling time spent in strong, trusting arms, learning Welsh, just so he could understand and return endearments whispered in the dark.
“Worse things than dying? Worse for who, Jack? Her or me?" the Doctor raged, slamming his hands on the table and attracting a few sidelong glances from the tourists who were beginning to throng the square. “I couldn’t let her die, Jack, I just couldn’t! After everyone else I’ve lost, you can’t just expect me to let her go!”
"You weren't always such a selfish bastard," Jack said, not bothering to hide his contempt.
"And you weren't always a sentimental fool," the Doctor shot back without hesitation.
“Oh, that's rich, coming from you," Jack snorted and he rounded on the Doctor, preparing to challenge him again when the hollow, haunted look in his eyes gave him pause. He suddenly saw he was facing a man who had lost more than just a friend; he'd lost his lifeline, his anchor, his reason for going on, and Jack realized that every harsh word he could conceive of throwing at the Time Lord, every accusation, every failing, the Doctor had already heard. From himself. Lost and alone, he sat across the table from Jack, drawing in each breath and releasing it again out of habit. He only continued because Donna was still out there, somewhere, breathing in and out, and Jack was forcibly reminded of that old adage: while there's life, there's hope.
He looked down, toying with the spoon on the table before dropping it, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, letting his hair fall forward and cover his eyes. He looked back up through his fringe and sighed heavily. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I need you to look after her, Jack. I need you to protect her,” the Doctor whispered hopefully.
“What from?” Jack demanded.
“From herself. From me,” he murmured. “She's my best mate, Jack. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her safe, even if it means I can never …" He blanched suddenly, eyes staring away into the distance and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across his face.
“What is it, Doctor? What’s wrong?”
The Doctor was still and silent for a long moment, only his eyes moving restlessly back and forth as he searched for something only he could see. He blinked repeatedly, almost dazed before Jack’s words reached him and his mind returned to his body. “She’s in danger, Jack, and I can't protect her,” he finally sighed in a broken voice, slumping forward. He heard the slight tremor in his own voice and he hated himself for it. He despised his weakness. He had no right to grieve for her, not like this. They weren't together; they would never be together. She was only his friend, his best mate and nothing more and inside, he raged even harder against that truth.
His eyes returned to the sonic he was still toying with, and he pursed his lips, frowning slightly as he peered at some imaginary anomaly he found there. “She’s stable for now, but it’s only a matter of time, and it's all my fault.” He ran his hands through his hair in the echo of a gesture Jack recognized and despite himself, he felt a sharp stab of sympathy for the last of the Time Lords.
“I don’t understand," he ventured. "Why would someone threaten Donna?"
“There’s a man whose very presence threatens her survival," the Doctor pronounced in ominous tones. "He’s attached himself to her, and every moment she’s with him could very well be her last.”
“Who is he? What does he want?" Jack asked.
"I don't know what he wants," the Doctor lied, fully facing Jack, staring him down as if daring the man to call him on it.
"Then how do you know she's in danger?” Jack asked, watching him closely.
“Because I can feel it,” the Doctor spat back angrily. “I can hear it, hear her, when the Time Lord part of her mind is … stimulated, when it’s trying to break free. And that's his doing. It's his signature. It's how I know when they're together.”
"What do you want me to do about him? Should he conveniently disappear?" Jack asked with faintly sardonic twist of his lip.
"No, no, Jack; nothing that dramatic," he replied. "I want you to warn him off. I want him out of Donna’s life before something irreparable happens. It’s only a matter of time before this man destroys her." He paused to muse internally at the irony. Being a danger to Donna Noble was another thing he seemed to share with this man. "I need to know she's safe," he said finally, snapping his sonic closed with a flourish.
"I understand," Jack said slowly as the Doctor pocketed his sonic. "You don't have to explain. I know. I wasn't with the two of you for very long, but I saw."
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” the Doctor choked out, his hands fumbling again with that accursed bow tie.
"And I'm sure you do," Jack replied evenly. "With the 'hands off' vibe you were putting out before I was even onboard the TARDIS?"
"Of course," the Doctor spluttered, flushing brightly. "Donna's my best mate and I didn't want her to get hurt. She'd been through a quite a lot just before she met you and she was emotionally vulnerable." Jack snorted incredulously and the Doctor sat up straighter, frowning in confusion as he continued.
"I didn't want her to misunderstand what a smile or hug from you might mean, that's all. She's from a different point in time than you and the cultural and sexual norms of her time vastly differ from your own," he sniffed, waving a hand about airily.
"Right. Of course," Jack smirked with a raised eyebrow. "It was the clash of cultural and sexual norms you were concerned about." He considered his next words carefully.
"Look, Doc. I know your heart belongs to Rose,” Jack ventured cautiously, “but we both know you have more than one of those." He reached across table and rested his hand on his friend's arm. His grasp was warm, solid and reassuring and for once, the Doctor allowed it. "I'm sorry about Donna. I didn't realize how much she meant to you." The Doctor didn't acknowledge Jack's words; he only looked down at his hands folded in his lap but Jack was sure he saw his chin tremble ever so slightly. "If you ever want to talk or just need some company, let me know."
The Doctor nodded once, then muttered, “Thank you, Jack.” He sat motionless for a moment more before he inhaled deeply and looked at the sky, then back down at Jack with a shuttered expression. Anyone watching the exchange wouldn’t have known it, but these were two men facing the same challenge as everyone else on the planet- surviving yet another day - but with a handicap no one would have believed. They employed two completely divergent strategies to meet their mutual goal of staving off the crippling loneliness of immortality. One man chose to keep the Universe at arm's length, remaining alone and above everyone who might have mattered, while the other tried his best to embrace anyone that struck his fancy and bury his isolation in their arms. Each strategy had its strengths but in the end, neither was particularly effective.
“Just one thing, Doc,” Jack finally asked. “Who is this man, and how do I find him?”
The Doctor fished in his pocket again and said, “Hold out your arm.”
“What?” cried Jack, incredulously. “You disabled it. You think I just carry it around with me?”
“Do you want your Vortex Manipulator back working or don’t you?” the Doctor demanded with a raised eyebrow.
Jack sighed, then relented. “Ok, so maybe I do….,” he said sheepishly as he rolled up his sleeve. As the Doctor turned his sonic screwdriver on the device strapped to his wrist, Jack asked, “So, what's his name?”
“Carlisle,” the Doctor responded tightly, peering closely at the repairs he was effecting. “Peter Carlisle.”
“How will I know him?’ Jack prodded.
“Oh, you'll have no trouble recognizing him, I'd wager,” the Doctor said with an ironic snort, punching in the desired time/space coordinates. He stood up and snapped his sonic shut once more, adding cryptically, “It'll be just like seeing an old friend.”
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
Preview- Next up:
June 13, 2012 9:00 AM, BST
“Sooooo,” Donna said, chewing her lip pensively, “what’s the skinny, Policeman? What could you possibly have to tell me that’s made you so unsettled that you had to drag me out in public to do it?” She cocked her head to the side and studied Peter, noting the faint colour that rose in his cheeks. “Come on, how bad could it be? I mean, I already know I was a PA to some UNIT expert Something-or-Other who specialized in Little Green Men, and you figure I was the victim of some Black Ops agency who goes about willy nilly wiping the memories of troublesome people who’ve seen too much,” she said, wiggling her fingers about on either side of her face and rolling her eyes. “What’s left for me to have been doing during my missing time? Toppling oppressive regimes? Averting natural disasters? Being abducted by an alien?” She pushed the remains of her breakfast to the side of the table and pulled her mug in front of her, toying with the handle for a moment before looking back up at him.
Author: dtstrainers
Paring: Donna Noble/Peter Carlisle
Co-Captain of this Ship: WhosInTheAttic, but all errors are mine alone.
First Mate: The lovely serenityslady has officially joined the crew. Thanks for the support and suggestions!
Rating: PG for Plot Galore
Word Count: 4,772, with more to come.
Disclaimer: Donna and Peter- not mine, but in my mind. Jack was eager to butt in, but Peter is being a bit reticent to share his feelings with me right now, hence the .1 above. More to come, relatively soon for me.
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
Saturday, June 16, 2012 9:30 AM, CEST
A youthful man with ancient eyes sat at a table outside a small cafe just off the Piazza San Marco, taking an experimental sip of his cappuccino before sighing with the resigned air of someone who didn't really want to be where he was but couldn't come up with somewhere better to be. Has it really been almost three years since I last had a perfect cup of coffee? he silently wondered as he stared unseeing into the distance. Coming back to himself, he stirred in a bit of the espresso he'd learned to order 'for a friend' since he'd been in Venice. Every time he ordered and they heard what they assumed to be an American accent, they'd automatically add too much milk and sometimes, they'd even had the audacity to toss in a sprinkle of sugar. As he took another sip, a slight breeze stirred the air, disturbing the pigeons that fluttered around the growing throng of early-morning tourists, and a strange metallic groan echoed off the walls of the basilica. If Captain Jack Harkness took notice of it, he gave no sign.
Deliberately keeping his gaze focused on the cup in his hand, Jack looked up only when a pair of dark brown boots stepped directly into his line of sight. His eyes slowly made their way up the body attached to the feet contained therein; it was a bit bow-legged, and not as wiry as the last time, but still slim. His visitor seemed to be slightly uncomfortable in his skin and somehow unable to stand completely still, shifting his weight from foot to foot, swaying slightly as if standing in a strong breeze. Jack took in the attire, thinking that perhaps the man before him had just come from an adventure in the early Twentieth Century, based on his current wardrobe. Even the hair fit the era, with that silly sweep of fringe, but then again, neither of the Doctors he had known had ever bothered to dress to fit the times.
The Doctor fidgeted slightly under Jack’s gaze, clenching and unclenching his fists as he waited for the former Time Agent to speak first. For his part, Jack frowned a bit as he appraised the man who stood before him, unsure of his initial assumption. Inside this gawky, awkward body, could there really beat the hearts of a Time Lord? he thought pensively, but when he looked into the eyes, there was no doubt. Those were eyes that had witnessed galaxies flash into and out of existence as entire races fought and died. Those were eyes that carried the weight of loss in their depths. Somehow, no matter which face they graced, regardless of whether the colour was pale and bright or dark and deep, the sorrow buried within those eyes remained the same.
"Ah, Venice! I was here with some friends not too long ago,” the Doctor said finally, spreading his hands wide before clapping them in front of him and rubbing them together vigorously. “Well, not long ago for me, at any rate, but about 200 years ago, local time, give or take..." he trailed off when he realized his rambling observations were failing to elicit any sort of response from the man seated before him. He pursed his lips tightly, straightening his bow tie with a nervous tug and looking askance at Jack before growing silent and still.
Jack stared at the gangling collection of limbs before him for another moment before he relented. ”Doctor," he said evenly, indicating the empty seat at the table with a slight incline of his head.
Captain," the other man replied with a tight nod while smoothing out his waistcoat. "May I?"
Jack shrugged nonchalantly as the Doctor pulled the chair out and sat primly across from him, crossing his long legs and all but folding in on himself with his hands clasped loosely in his lap. Jack watched with interest before he leaned back and crossed his arms across his chest, all the while fixing a skeptical eye on the Doctor. “Long time, no see,” Jack growled sarcastically. “You’ve changed - again.”
“Yes,” the Doctor replied matter-of-factly, but without further comment. Jack leaned in with his elbows on the table and peered closer at his new old friend.
“You know, I knew when I saw you at that bar, it would be the last time I saw that you,” Jack admitted before he looked down and away. He paused for a moment, remembering the mad shock of hair and the swirling brown hero coat he'd seen across the room in that godforsaken space station dive. He knew the man across from him held those same memories, but where his last Doctor had all but buzzed with manic energy, the man across from him radiated an eerie, deceptive calm- the Eye of the Oncoming Storm- and Jack knew right then which one he preferred. He bowed his head in silent farewell, then fixed a jaunty smile in place. “Must have been quite a feat to find me in my personal timeline at just the right moment,” he mused, watching for any reaction from the Time Lord. “Thanks for that, by the way. Oh, and for Alonso, too,” he added with a smirk.
“Think nothing of it,” the Doctor drawled with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Under the circumstances, it was the least I could do.”
As the silence fell between them again, Jack took the opportunity to eye him appraisingly before he lurched forward, leaning on one elbow and pointing at the Doctor’s chest. “Seriously, you go about dressed like that now? Tweed? A bow tie?” he blurted out in disbelief. He sat back again, his lip curled in distaste with a tiny shake of his head. “The braces are a nice touch, though,” he admitted, before adding, “even if they are clip-ons.”
“Jack - ” the Doctor began quietly, but the Captain wasn’t finished.
“Don't know why that surprises me: you never could commit to anything,” he huffed under his breath before giving a philosophical shrug. “Still, the overall effect…” he went on, ignoring the other man’s growing exasperation.
“Jack - ”
“So, the Daleks, when they see this you coming- do they point and laugh, or is it more of a stunned silence, ‘cos I figure that might have its advantages, now that I think…”
“Jack, I’m sorry,” the Doctor said quietly, but the Time Agent wasn’t through yet.
“How many years has it been for you, by the way?” he asked indignantly, looking down his nose. “What? I’m supposed to believe that you were just in the neighborhood and thought you’d pop in for a coffee?”
“Enough, Jack,” the Doctor said tightly. “I didn’t come here to fight with you.”
Jack’s jaw clenched suddenly and he drew in a deep, angry breath before sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest. His initial fury had passed, but never having met this Doctor before, he was unsure of what to make of his old new friend, even though there was no mistaking the other man’s unease. “So what did you come for, Doctor?” Jack finally spat. “I know this isn’t a social call.”
The Doctor waited, his brow creased in concentration before apparently coming to a decision. He smiled, leaning forward and said, “Jack, I find myself in a rather awkward predicament and, as I was puzzling it out, I thought, who better to help me resolve a problematic issue than my old friend, Captain Jack Harkness?” He spread his hands wide, nodding his head in self-congratulation, as if that gesture would answer everything.
“Old?” Jack finally retorted with a raised eyebrow.
“Merely a figure of speech,” the Doctor amended with an apologetic tilt of his head, "meant to convey the breadth and depth of our ..."
"Relationship?" Jack supplied helpfully.
“Friendship,” the Doctor finished with a sad, hopeful smile and Jack relented, but only slightly.
“So, running again, Doctor?” he asked without rancor. “What did you do this time?”
Neatly sidestepping the question, the Doctor looked around and asked, “Why are we here, Jack? Why not simply meet in Cardiff? Not that Venice isn’t lovely, though this isn’t the best season for a visit - too many tourists,” he said, looking around with a confidential air. “This place is going to be overrun with them in the next hour, you mark my words.” He returned his attention to Jack without warning, his entire demeanor stilling abruptly. “You’ve forced me to make a separate refueling stop now. I was hoping to top off the old girl whilst visiting with you.”
“Your information is out of date, Doc,” Jack said lightly as he took a sip of his cooling cappuccino and his face became hard and unyielding. “I don't operate out of Cardiff anymore.”
“I?” the Doctor repeated quietly. “What's happened, Jack? Where's the rest of your team? Torchwood Three?"
“No,” Jack said dryly. “You’re getting careless in your old age. What’s happened to you that you didn't do your homework before you came to visit?” he sniped before scrubbing his face with his hand wearily. “There is no Torchwood, Doctor, not as you knew it anyway. I’m on my own.” He watched as realization dawned on the other man’s face before adding, “We really could've used you then, you know.”
“And where were you during return of Gallifrey?” the Doctor snarled suddenly, unfolding with unexpected fluid grace to lean menacingly across the table. “You're not entirely human- you weren't affected by the Mast-“
“Touché,” Jack interrupted as a peace offering, “but without my vortex manipulator, that was over before I had a chance to even get there.”
Both men sat back wearily, warily eyeing one another in a silent contest of wills. Jack was astonished when the Doctor broke first.
“I… I can't be everywhere at once, Jack,” the Doctor began hesitantly, collapsing back into his earlier position. “I... I saw the timelines. It was a fixed point. I wasn't supposed to be …"
“I could have used you,” Jack whispered and the Doctor looked up into haunted eyes. “Children, Doctor. They were just children, and I ... I had to …” He broke off, watching a a young boy standing in the middle of the square with his family, feeding the pigeons and laughing as they landed on his outstretched arms. His lips twitched once before his face smoothed out and became blank as he turned back to the alien that shared his table.
“I am sorry Jack. I sympathize,” the Doctor whispered. Jack flicked his eyes up for a moment, then looked down at the cup in his hand as the Time Lord continued. “I do.”
When Jack continued to stare down into his empty cup, the Doctor added, “If it makes any difference, the aliens you knew as the 456…they won't be back. Ever.” Jack jerked his gaze up just in time to see the shadow of a storm cloud settle in the Doctor’s eyes before it quickly evaporated. “I made certain of that,” he admitted, pursing his lips and looking away. He tilted his head to the side and watched Jack contemplate just what exactly that might mean before venturing, “Gwen Cooper and that snappy fellow in the suit? What was his name? Where are they?”
“Gwen is with Rhys and the baby,” Jack replied mechanically. He hesitated before adding, “Ianto is … gone.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” the Doctor finally said, his hand twitching indecisively in his lap. “I’m so, so sorry.” He stared at Jack mournfully and Jack reflected on how odd it was to hear those familiar words coming out of that unfamiliar face. The silence that followed was deafening.
With effort, Jack pulled himself back together, pushing away from the table and looking around suddenly. “I can't help noticing that you’re being very careful with your current companions, Doc,” Jack said with forced heartiness. “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me with them?” he added with a teasing leer, but the humor vanished as the Doctor flinched almost imperceptibly, with only a slight tightening of his shoulders remaining to betray him.
“I’m traveling light these days,” he replied at last, his hand finally escaping its twin in his lap to flutter in the air and brush away the concern on Jack’s face. “It’s better that way, you know, without anyone slowing me down, asking silly questions all the time.” He pushed his hair back out of his eyes before picking an imaginary mote of dust off his pants and flicking it away, then smiled. Jack didn’t believe him for a moment.
“Where is Donna?” Jack demanded, studying the Doctor intently. “I thought, after all that had happened on the Dalek Crucible, that you three would…” He trailed off as a shadow of gut-wrenching pain flickered in the other man’s eyes before the curtain of guilt and denial closed the Doctor off again. “What happened to Donna? And the other you, the half-human you, where is he?” Jack persisted suspiciously. When the Doctor didn’t respond, Jack changed course. “Doctor, how long has it been for you since you last saw me?” Being alone for Jack was nothing new, but he’d never seen the Doctor before without a companion close behind.
The Doctor reached into his pocket and drew out his sonic screwdriver, peering at it closely as he fidgeted with the settings. “They're not here. They…neither of them travel with me any longer,” he finally confessed, studiously avoiding Jack's gaze.
“Why?” Jack asked bluntly.
The Doctor lowered the sonic and turned it over and over in his hand. “After you left, I took Rose back to her life, with her mum. They had built a life there in that parallel world and the Metacrisis-“
“The half-human you?” Jack interrupted. The Doctor shot him a dark look of warning and Jack took the hint.
“The Metacrisis … Doctor stayed behind with her there,” he admitted softly and Jack’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. The Doctor’s eyes lost their focus and his face took on a wistful, faraway look and Jack waited patiently for it to pass.
“And Donna?” he finally prodded and the Doctor blinked as he returned to the present then looked away, refusing to meet Jack’s eyes.
“Donna,” the Doctor stated flatly. “Yes, Donna, she ... she went back to Chiswick.” He snapped the sonic open, oblivious to Jack’s bemused expression, and began randomly scanning objects in the vicinity.
“Donna Noble,” Jack pressed skeptically, leaning on the table on both elbows. “The woman who begged you not to die, not to change? The woman whose life you pleaded with Davros to spare? The one you pleaded to die for, in her place, never mind that the TARDIS was being destroyed before your eyes?” He tapped the tabletop with each point, his suspicions mounting as the Doctor’s expression grew grave and forbidding.
“Donna Noble?” he repeated. “The one who piloted the TARDIS better than you, like the two of them were old friends?” At that, the Doctor’s head shot up but the look on Jack’s face dared him to deny it and he settled back with a churlish snort that Jack studiously ignored as he continued his interrogation. “She just up and left the TARDIS? She left you? With all that Time Lord hoodoo floating around in her head and you’re telling me she chose to go back to Chiswick? You just let her? I don’t believe it,” he concluded, folding his arms high over his chest.
The Time Lord had the good grace to look abashed as he answered, “I never said she left willingly or of her own accord.” He grew preternaturally still, his lips barely moving and Jack had to strain to hear his words over the growing buzz of life coming from the waking city around them. “It was the Time Lord consciousness she absorbed…she couldn't contain it. It was killing her.”
Jack unfolded his arms and laid his hands back on the table. “I was afraid of that,” he admitted softly. “And?”
“And I fixed it,” the Doctor stated, his chin raised defiantly, but his eyes told a different story. “I made it so that she could live out her normal, human life without being contaminated with my…”
“And you did that how?” Jack interrupted, dreading the response.
“I… sealed it all off,” he whispered in a dead, hollow voice. “I hid it all from her, buried deep inside her mind. Everything we did, all of her memories of me and our travels together, everyone she met, all the things she saw and learned and … felt.” He gazed out, unseeing, over the Piazza, his eyes drifting out of focus. “It’s all gone now. It’s like it never happened. There were so many places I wanted to take her. There were so many things I never got the chance to share,” he said wistfully with a slight tremor in his voice. Realizing belatedly what his confession might reveal to anyone who cared to look, the Doctor abruptly launched an elaborate verbal countermeasure.
“You know, the popular mythology of her day held that humans only used approximately ten percent of their brains, which was patently false and probably arose from a misunderstanding of early 19th century neurological research, with that neat little number being propagated by American author Lowell Thomas in the foreword to Dale Carnegie's widely-read How to Win Friends and Influence People - which, in my opinion, was complete rubbish, by the way - where he attributed that falsely precise percentage to a Professor William James of Harvard University,” he rambled pedantically, ignoring the look of outrage on the ex-Time Agent’s face which darkened with each word. “Thomas claimed that Professor James used to say that the average man developed only ten per cent of his latent mental ability, when in actual fact, the good professor simply asserted that people only meet a fraction of their full mental potential, and who can argue with that?”
“That misrepresentation of the facts was so pervasive,” he barreled on, on a roll and unable to stop now, “that the eminent hosts of the early 21st century American television program MythBusters used magnetoencephalography and functional magnetic resonance imaging to scan the brain of Tory Belleci attempting, what was for him, a complicated mental task. Finding that well over ten percent of his mind was active at once, they declared the myth “busted". While I agree wholeheartedly with their methodology, I would have found the results to be a bit more compelling had they used, say, Grant Imahara, as their test subject, but still….” He glanced back at Jack and sobered, fumbling awkwardly with his sonic again. “Anyway, the point is, with a bit of a tweak here and tuck there, I was able to build a wall around the Time Lord consciousness… compartmentalize it, if you will… along with anything that might have triggered it into reasserting itself. I buried it all, Jack. I … I buried her.”
“Bullshit,” Jack exploded, his temper flaring. “You killed her, you mean.” He glared at the Doctor and stabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. ”She may still be walking and talking out there, somewhere in the world, but you killed the woman you knew. You jury-rigged her brain- you have to know that there will be repercussions!” he accused. Even when Torchwood Retcons someone to erase a short time period or a specific set of memories, we have to be cautious to avoid complications. You know that,” Jack raged.
“How long was she with you, Doc? Six months? A year? A loss that massive…it would affect every part of her memory, her personality, her soul…Erasing an entire year would inflict severe psychological damage on anyone’s mind. It’ll probably drive Donna insane. And what you say you did… you know there’s always some leakage, especially in the strong-willed.” His face crumpled suddenly and he shook his head in disbelief. “How could you do that? To someone you…”
"She would have died, Jack," the Doctor interjected in a dark growl.
"There are worse things than dying, Doctor," Jack said sadly, recalling time spent in strong, trusting arms, learning Welsh, just so he could understand and return endearments whispered in the dark.
“Worse things than dying? Worse for who, Jack? Her or me?" the Doctor raged, slamming his hands on the table and attracting a few sidelong glances from the tourists who were beginning to throng the square. “I couldn’t let her die, Jack, I just couldn’t! After everyone else I’ve lost, you can’t just expect me to let her go!”
"You weren't always such a selfish bastard," Jack said, not bothering to hide his contempt.
"And you weren't always a sentimental fool," the Doctor shot back without hesitation.
“Oh, that's rich, coming from you," Jack snorted and he rounded on the Doctor, preparing to challenge him again when the hollow, haunted look in his eyes gave him pause. He suddenly saw he was facing a man who had lost more than just a friend; he'd lost his lifeline, his anchor, his reason for going on, and Jack realized that every harsh word he could conceive of throwing at the Time Lord, every accusation, every failing, the Doctor had already heard. From himself. Lost and alone, he sat across the table from Jack, drawing in each breath and releasing it again out of habit. He only continued because Donna was still out there, somewhere, breathing in and out, and Jack was forcibly reminded of that old adage: while there's life, there's hope.
He looked down, toying with the spoon on the table before dropping it, and he rubbed at the bridge of his nose, letting his hair fall forward and cover his eyes. He looked back up through his fringe and sighed heavily. “What is it you want me to do?”
“I need you to look after her, Jack. I need you to protect her,” the Doctor whispered hopefully.
“What from?” Jack demanded.
“From herself. From me,” he murmured. “She's my best mate, Jack. There's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her safe, even if it means I can never …" He blanched suddenly, eyes staring away into the distance and a thin sheen of sweat broke out across his face.
“What is it, Doctor? What’s wrong?”
The Doctor was still and silent for a long moment, only his eyes moving restlessly back and forth as he searched for something only he could see. He blinked repeatedly, almost dazed before Jack’s words reached him and his mind returned to his body. “She’s in danger, Jack, and I can't protect her,” he finally sighed in a broken voice, slumping forward. He heard the slight tremor in his own voice and he hated himself for it. He despised his weakness. He had no right to grieve for her, not like this. They weren't together; they would never be together. She was only his friend, his best mate and nothing more and inside, he raged even harder against that truth.
His eyes returned to the sonic he was still toying with, and he pursed his lips, frowning slightly as he peered at some imaginary anomaly he found there. “She’s stable for now, but it’s only a matter of time, and it's all my fault.” He ran his hands through his hair in the echo of a gesture Jack recognized and despite himself, he felt a sharp stab of sympathy for the last of the Time Lords.
“I don’t understand," he ventured. "Why would someone threaten Donna?"
“There’s a man whose very presence threatens her survival," the Doctor pronounced in ominous tones. "He’s attached himself to her, and every moment she’s with him could very well be her last.”
“Who is he? What does he want?" Jack asked.
"I don't know what he wants," the Doctor lied, fully facing Jack, staring him down as if daring the man to call him on it.
"Then how do you know she's in danger?” Jack asked, watching him closely.
“Because I can feel it,” the Doctor spat back angrily. “I can hear it, hear her, when the Time Lord part of her mind is … stimulated, when it’s trying to break free. And that's his doing. It's his signature. It's how I know when they're together.”
"What do you want me to do about him? Should he conveniently disappear?" Jack asked with faintly sardonic twist of his lip.
"No, no, Jack; nothing that dramatic," he replied. "I want you to warn him off. I want him out of Donna’s life before something irreparable happens. It’s only a matter of time before this man destroys her." He paused to muse internally at the irony. Being a danger to Donna Noble was another thing he seemed to share with this man. "I need to know she's safe," he said finally, snapping his sonic closed with a flourish.
"I understand," Jack said slowly as the Doctor pocketed his sonic. "You don't have to explain. I know. I wasn't with the two of you for very long, but I saw."
“I'm sure I don't know what you mean,” the Doctor choked out, his hands fumbling again with that accursed bow tie.
"And I'm sure you do," Jack replied evenly. "With the 'hands off' vibe you were putting out before I was even onboard the TARDIS?"
"Of course," the Doctor spluttered, flushing brightly. "Donna's my best mate and I didn't want her to get hurt. She'd been through a quite a lot just before she met you and she was emotionally vulnerable." Jack snorted incredulously and the Doctor sat up straighter, frowning in confusion as he continued.
"I didn't want her to misunderstand what a smile or hug from you might mean, that's all. She's from a different point in time than you and the cultural and sexual norms of her time vastly differ from your own," he sniffed, waving a hand about airily.
"Right. Of course," Jack smirked with a raised eyebrow. "It was the clash of cultural and sexual norms you were concerned about." He considered his next words carefully.
"Look, Doc. I know your heart belongs to Rose,” Jack ventured cautiously, “but we both know you have more than one of those." He reached across table and rested his hand on his friend's arm. His grasp was warm, solid and reassuring and for once, the Doctor allowed it. "I'm sorry about Donna. I didn't realize how much she meant to you." The Doctor didn't acknowledge Jack's words; he only looked down at his hands folded in his lap but Jack was sure he saw his chin tremble ever so slightly. "If you ever want to talk or just need some company, let me know."
The Doctor nodded once, then muttered, “Thank you, Jack.” He sat motionless for a moment more before he inhaled deeply and looked at the sky, then back down at Jack with a shuttered expression. Anyone watching the exchange wouldn’t have known it, but these were two men facing the same challenge as everyone else on the planet- surviving yet another day - but with a handicap no one would have believed. They employed two completely divergent strategies to meet their mutual goal of staving off the crippling loneliness of immortality. One man chose to keep the Universe at arm's length, remaining alone and above everyone who might have mattered, while the other tried his best to embrace anyone that struck his fancy and bury his isolation in their arms. Each strategy had its strengths but in the end, neither was particularly effective.
“Just one thing, Doc,” Jack finally asked. “Who is this man, and how do I find him?”
The Doctor fished in his pocket again and said, “Hold out your arm.”
“What?” cried Jack, incredulously. “You disabled it. You think I just carry it around with me?”
“Do you want your Vortex Manipulator back working or don’t you?” the Doctor demanded with a raised eyebrow.
Jack sighed, then relented. “Ok, so maybe I do….,” he said sheepishly as he rolled up his sleeve. As the Doctor turned his sonic screwdriver on the device strapped to his wrist, Jack asked, “So, what's his name?”
“Carlisle,” the Doctor responded tightly, peering closely at the repairs he was effecting. “Peter Carlisle.”
“How will I know him?’ Jack prodded.
“Oh, you'll have no trouble recognizing him, I'd wager,” the Doctor said with an ironic snort, punching in the desired time/space coordinates. He stood up and snapped his sonic shut once more, adding cryptically, “It'll be just like seeing an old friend.”
Part 1 | Part 5 | Part 10 | Part 15 | Part 20.1 | Part 25 | Part 30
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June 13, 2012 9:00 AM, BST
“Sooooo,” Donna said, chewing her lip pensively, “what’s the skinny, Policeman? What could you possibly have to tell me that’s made you so unsettled that you had to drag me out in public to do it?” She cocked her head to the side and studied Peter, noting the faint colour that rose in his cheeks. “Come on, how bad could it be? I mean, I already know I was a PA to some UNIT expert Something-or-Other who specialized in Little Green Men, and you figure I was the victim of some Black Ops agency who goes about willy nilly wiping the memories of troublesome people who’ve seen too much,” she said, wiggling her fingers about on either side of her face and rolling her eyes. “What’s left for me to have been doing during my missing time? Toppling oppressive regimes? Averting natural disasters? Being abducted by an alien?” She pushed the remains of her breakfast to the side of the table and pulled her mug in front of her, toying with the handle for a moment before looking back up at him.