fic: Two Can Play At That Game (8/?)
Title: Two Can Play At That Game
Rating: PG
Spoilers: back to general 'taking place well after s3' warning
Disclaimer: I'm too tired to care if they get me
Summary: There's such a thing as being too clever for your own good...
Notes: Whacko!AU!Muse still beavering away at this instead of doing Socially Responsible things like cleaning the house for the relations to come over. See parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven of this fic... Next Time: shagging! Unless, of course, Muse decides something else comes first... >:)
**********
With the Time Lord reunited with his ship, the atmosphere in the Hub lightened considerably, mostly because he only came down to conduct negotiations with the handful of weevils who had remained as ambassadors or to fetch Jack for some task in the TARDIS that required another pair of hands. Jack had been spending an increasing amount of what he laughingly referred to as his spare time helping the Doctor to conduct some extensive overhauls that by the looks of things were centuries overdue. More surprisingly, Ianto had taken to joining them in the mornings, bringing in coffee before going down to wake up the Hub and occasionally hanging about for a while first to watch them in that quiet Iantoish way. He'd taken the entire bigger-on-the-inside part so completely in stride that Jack worried a little about his mental state.
The holidays had come and gone and the air was beginning to hint at spring, and Jack had made yet another in a growing line of excuses to sit with Martha on the sofa while they went over the endless paperwork together, rubbing her back with his free hand in that spot that she seemed to like best this week and letting her cuddle up to him in a distinctly unprofessional manner. He had no idea where the man who by rights should have been doing all this was today, besides a vague impression of having seen him down in the vaults at some point, but damned if he was going to leave Martha to suffer for the Doctor's intransigence. "You're better at this than you should be, Captain," Martha murmured in his ear.
"It's a very long story."
"We've both got the time, Jack."
And much to his surprise, Jack found himself haltingly beginning to tell Martha some of the stories he hadn't told anyone, occasionally not even the other parties technically involved. Of all the little moments of hope found and hope lost that made up a life lived as something other but in the end never apart, watching from shadows as you had to lie to your own children about who and what you were. Trying, maybe, to let her know what she'd chosen for herself, although she'd already known that, hadn't she, with the Doctor for her guiding star... "It's all pretty messed up, I guess," he concluded lamely, with the sudden sense that she'd stopped listening.
Martha didn't answer this, her brow furrowed in what looked like utter confusion. Another moment later the Doctor burst in from the direction of the vaults, wild-eyed and uncharacteristically dead silent. Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see Owen making the antenna-twirling hand gesture that Jack was pretty sure by now meant 'alien nutter'.
The Time Lord zeroed straight in on the perplexed Martha and stood before her with his head cocked strangely for the longest moment. Almost as if he was... listening. Jack had just about pieced together what was going on when one long-fingered hand came out to touch her still fairly flat belly. Jack wasn't particularly proficient in lip-reading Gallifreyan, but if that soundless twitch hadn't been hello there, then Jack had never been on either end of this transaction before, and that was such a losing bet. "I think we have ignition," Jack whispered.
"'S not even kicking yet," Martha said.
"Most of the extra gestational time involves building the brain," the Doctor said, although whether he was actually answering Martha or not was open to question. "That was the first few neurons of the psychic centres joining up. And looking around for Mummy," he added, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers.
"Well, how was I supposed to know that? It's not as if this came with a manual and you're hardly much help."
She had him dead to rights there, in Jack's humble opinion, and he could see that the Doctor concurred, perhaps recalling how it had been a week before he'd even realized that everyone in the Hub was suffering along with her morning sickness and unbent enough to show Martha how to contain herself. The Time Lord -- the other Time Lord -- abruptly jackknifed himself onto what was left over of the sofa and laid his head in Martha's lap.
"It's all just so much," the muffled voice said into Martha's stomach. "I don't think I can be what you need me to be, Martha."
"All I need you to be is the Doctor," she said, resting her hand on his head. He didn't shy away, as Jack almost thought he might, but instead lay quiet, even smiling a little as she stroked the rumpled brown hair --
"-- All right, that's two right hands?"
"You looked like you needed petting," Jack said innocently.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: back to general 'taking place well after s3' warning
Disclaimer: I'm too tired to care if they get me
Summary: There's such a thing as being too clever for your own good...
Notes: Whacko!AU!Muse still beavering away at this instead of doing Socially Responsible things like cleaning the house for the relations to come over. See parts one, two, three, four, five, six, and seven of this fic... Next Time: shagging! Unless, of course, Muse decides something else comes first... >:)
**********
With the Time Lord reunited with his ship, the atmosphere in the Hub lightened considerably, mostly because he only came down to conduct negotiations with the handful of weevils who had remained as ambassadors or to fetch Jack for some task in the TARDIS that required another pair of hands. Jack had been spending an increasing amount of what he laughingly referred to as his spare time helping the Doctor to conduct some extensive overhauls that by the looks of things were centuries overdue. More surprisingly, Ianto had taken to joining them in the mornings, bringing in coffee before going down to wake up the Hub and occasionally hanging about for a while first to watch them in that quiet Iantoish way. He'd taken the entire bigger-on-the-inside part so completely in stride that Jack worried a little about his mental state.
The holidays had come and gone and the air was beginning to hint at spring, and Jack had made yet another in a growing line of excuses to sit with Martha on the sofa while they went over the endless paperwork together, rubbing her back with his free hand in that spot that she seemed to like best this week and letting her cuddle up to him in a distinctly unprofessional manner. He had no idea where the man who by rights should have been doing all this was today, besides a vague impression of having seen him down in the vaults at some point, but damned if he was going to leave Martha to suffer for the Doctor's intransigence. "You're better at this than you should be, Captain," Martha murmured in his ear.
"It's a very long story."
"We've both got the time, Jack."
And much to his surprise, Jack found himself haltingly beginning to tell Martha some of the stories he hadn't told anyone, occasionally not even the other parties technically involved. Of all the little moments of hope found and hope lost that made up a life lived as something other but in the end never apart, watching from shadows as you had to lie to your own children about who and what you were. Trying, maybe, to let her know what she'd chosen for herself, although she'd already known that, hadn't she, with the Doctor for her guiding star... "It's all pretty messed up, I guess," he concluded lamely, with the sudden sense that she'd stopped listening.
Martha didn't answer this, her brow furrowed in what looked like utter confusion. Another moment later the Doctor burst in from the direction of the vaults, wild-eyed and uncharacteristically dead silent. Out of the corner of his eye Jack could see Owen making the antenna-twirling hand gesture that Jack was pretty sure by now meant 'alien nutter'.
The Time Lord zeroed straight in on the perplexed Martha and stood before her with his head cocked strangely for the longest moment. Almost as if he was... listening. Jack had just about pieced together what was going on when one long-fingered hand came out to touch her still fairly flat belly. Jack wasn't particularly proficient in lip-reading Gallifreyan, but if that soundless twitch hadn't been hello there, then Jack had never been on either end of this transaction before, and that was such a losing bet. "I think we have ignition," Jack whispered.
"'S not even kicking yet," Martha said.
"Most of the extra gestational time involves building the brain," the Doctor said, although whether he was actually answering Martha or not was open to question. "That was the first few neurons of the psychic centres joining up. And looking around for Mummy," he added, finally lifting his gaze to meet hers.
"Well, how was I supposed to know that? It's not as if this came with a manual and you're hardly much help."
She had him dead to rights there, in Jack's humble opinion, and he could see that the Doctor concurred, perhaps recalling how it had been a week before he'd even realized that everyone in the Hub was suffering along with her morning sickness and unbent enough to show Martha how to contain herself. The Time Lord -- the other Time Lord -- abruptly jackknifed himself onto what was left over of the sofa and laid his head in Martha's lap.
"It's all just so much," the muffled voice said into Martha's stomach. "I don't think I can be what you need me to be, Martha."
"All I need you to be is the Doctor," she said, resting her hand on his head. He didn't shy away, as Jack almost thought he might, but instead lay quiet, even smiling a little as she stroked the rumpled brown hair --
"-- All right, that's two right hands?"
"You looked like you needed petting," Jack said innocently.