Fanfic: The Wanderer Returns (1/1), by wendymr and kae_nine
Title: The Wanderer Returns
Authors: wmr (wendymr) and Kaethel (kae_nine)
Characters/Pairing: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: G
Spoilers: Is it safe to believe that all of you have seen The Christmas Invasion?
Summary: She freezes, rooted to the spot, as her gaze finds a man she thought was dead.
Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, there'd be at least a whole season of Ten/Jack/Rose. Or two. Or three. Or twenty.
A/N: This was written as our Christmas card to betterwiththree... got a bit longer than a ficlet, but with tiny, barely readable font it should fit on a Christmas card. Or else we'll use a poster-size card! ;) With very many thanks to our wonderful BRs yamx and dark_aegis, and a very merry Christmas to everyone!
Edited to add the very beautiful fanfic-header that laurab1 created for us. Check it out after the cut!
The Wanderer Returns
They’ve almost finished dinner when the knock sounds on the door.
Her mum tuts in annoyance. “Who the ‘ell’s that? What do they think this is, King’s Cross Station?”
The Doctor stops chewing on his remaining turkey wing long enough to raise an eyebrow at Jackie. “Well, you won’t find out unless you answer it, will you?”
Jackie glares at him. “You’re still not too old for a slap, you’re not.” She gets up, huffing irritably, and goes out to the door. There’s the sound of voices - the visitor’s male, that’s all Rose can tell - and then her mum’s back.
“Bloke here says he knows you two.” She’s standing in the doorway, so Rose can’t see who’s there. Seized with curiosity - after all, who else can possibly know the two of them? Only Mickey, and he’s here - she gets up and goes to the door.
And then she freezes, rooted to the spot, as her gaze finds a man she thought was dead.
It is Jack. He looks older than when she last saw him - how long has it been now? A day? A day and a half? Hard to believe it’s been such a short time. She feels as if she’s lived half a life since he said goodbye to the two of them on Satellite Five. Older, yes, in his eyes more than his physical appearance, and he looks as if he’s been carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders.
He’s dressed differently, too. Instead of the jeans and T-shirts she’s become used to seeing him wear, he’s formally dressed in a blue shirt and dark trousers, and a long greatcoat that looks a lot like the one he had in 1941. It’s not the same one, though. But how...?
His gaze meets hers, and the transformation’s instant. His face lights up and his smile’s wide enough to crack his face. “Rose! It is you! God, you have no idea how long I’ve been searching for you.” He starts to open his arms, then hesitates, his expression turning tentative.
Jack unsure of his right to a hug? That doesn’t make sense. In fact, very little of this is making sense. Who cares, though? Jack is here, and she thought he was dead.
In under a second, she’s in his arms, holding him as if she never wants to let him go.
***
They were right, his UNIT and Torchwood One contacts.
All he got was a description of a blonde girl and a black man, and an assurance that they were with a man who claimed to be the Doctor. It’s only one of hundreds of reported sightings over the years since he crash-landed on Earth, but the first one that sounded like it could be the right Doctor, because of who was with him. It could still have been a false alarm, like so many others were - or he could have arrived here only to find that he’d missed them once again.
Even with so many disappointments, he couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t real this time either. He’s driven from Cardiff in just over two hours, breaking every speed limit, his Torchwood ID at the ready in case he got stopped. And then when he walked into the courtyard outside Bucknall House his heart almost stopped.
The TARDIS was parked right outside.
It still might not have been his Doctor, though. But now, holding Rose, he knows his search is finally over.
He holds her as long as he dares, needing to feel her close to him, to absorb her essence into him and never let her go. But he does release her, because she’s not the only person he’s longing to see. Barely able to choke the words out, he asks the question he’s almost dreading an answer to.
“The Doctor? Is he here?”
Her immediate, sunny smile in response sends a breath whooshing out of him. It’s relief, but it’s also trepidation; he knows he’s likely to get some answers he doesn’t like.
“He’s in here. We were just finishing Christmas dinner.” Her hand slides into his, and she tows him forward. This is it; there’s no turning back now.
He follows her into the room, and there he is - but it’s not his Doctor. There’s a stranger sitting at the table opposite Mickey.
Handsome, yes, with brown hair that’s crying out to have fingers running through it, and in a brown pin-striped suit that’s cut so tightly it should be illegal, and that’s just the top part. But he’s not the Doctor Jack remembers, the dour, quicksilver-moody, big-eared Doctor he’s dreamed about and searched for every minute since he escaped from Satellite Five.
“Doctor.” Damnit, why is his voice trembling?
The man at the table just looks at him without a word. But the wide-eyed stare the Doctor’s giving him tells its own story.
If Jack wasn’t standing between him and the doorway, the Doctor would already have left. Again.
***
“Mum, this is Jack. He’s a friend of ours.”
Rose is certain that her words of introduction will invite a flood of questions. She braces herself for the worst, but Jackie seems entirely focused on the dining table. A rush of hyperactivity has her bounding around the room, gathering plates even though the Doctor’s still gnawing on his last bone. The dirty look he throws at her doesn’t seem to faze her.
Instead, Jackie’s set her whole attention on scolding her daughter. Why hasn’t she offered her friend any refreshment yet? Why’s he still standing in the doorway? Did she lose all her good manners on board that alien spaceship?
She doesn’t wait for an answer before her hand lands on Jack’s arm, a possessive gesture that Rose recognises only too well. Her mum’s attracted to him, and decency’s low on the agenda.
The whirlwind that is Jackie Tyler is certainly not helping Jack feel at ease in the small flat, but it seems to Rose that something else is bothering him more. There’s embarrassment in his stance and something akin to anger in his gaze when his eyes settle on the Doctor.
If he hadn’t greeted the Doctor by name, she’d have thought he hadn’t figured out who’s sitting at the dining table. His withdrawn attitude could’ve been blamed on jealousy, the same reaction the Doctor usually had whenever a man approached her.
And the Doctor doesn’t seem surprised to see Jack at all.
Mickey’s risen from his seat, uncertainty written all over his face. “Good to see you again,” he mutters, and Rose suspects that even the lukewarm greeting is a lie. They shake hands awkwardly before a tense silence settles between them all again.
A few minutes later, a mug of steaming tea cradled in her hands and a plate of biscuits within reach, Rose huddles herself in a corner of the couch.
Her mum’s disappeared to the kitchen, dragging a very reluctant Mickey in her wake. “Need an extra pair of hands to dry the dishes,” she argued, though Rose knows this was a stratagem to leave the three of them alone to talk.
“How did you make it out alive?” she asks before Jackie changes her mind and comes back to push her luck with the handsome Captain Jack Harkness.
Jack’s gaze never leaves the Doctor. “One wonders.”
“So many things happened to us. The Doctor regenerated, ‘cause he was dying and when he does, every cell in his body ch- ”
“I know about Time Lord regeneration.” Jack cuts her off, far more curtly than she’s used to from him.
He knew. Well, that explains how he recognised the Doctor straight away. How did he know, though? Had the Doctor warned him? And if he had, why hadn’t he thought fit to inform her as well? Fear of losing him and seeing the human race enslaved by the Sycorax had stifled her anger at being kept in the dark until now, but now that the danger’s behind them, she can’t help but wonder if he’d ever intended to share this secret with her at all.
“Tell me, Rose.” Jack doesn’t turn away from the Doctor as he speaks. “How long’s it been for you? The fight against the Daleks? The TARDIS leaving Satellite Five? The Doctor regenerating into this… this…” He grimaces in an exaggerated fashion, and if Rose didn’t know better, she’d think he’s setting out to deliberately provoke the Doctor. “This skinny guy who’s swapped big ears for big hair?”
She checks the Doctor’s face for any sign of outrage. His expression remains blank, though still wary and defensive.
“Two days. Give or take. Feels like a lifetime ago, though. So many things happened since we got here. Have you been here long?”
“You could say that.” The edge to Jack’s voice is becoming sharper. What the hell’s going on here?
“We got almost killed by our Christmas tree!” a voice calls from the kitchen.
Her mum appears in the doorway and points her finger to the tree-shaped hole in the sitting-room wall. “This ain’t some fancy interior design, you know.”
But Jack’s paying no attention to her mum. His entire attention still on the Doctor, he’s drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch. He looks like he’s ready to explode any second, and that’s not the Jack she knew. It’s nothing like him. And the Doctor hasn’t said a word since Jack arrived.
What happened to him? Was the Doctor telling the truth when he said Jack was rebuilding the Earth? And if so, why didn’t they go back to get him when he was finished? Is that what Jack’s angry about?
If this goes on much longer, she’s going to shake the two of them until they tell her what this is all about.
“Doctor, don’t you want to know how long it’s been for me?”
***
He knew it was Jack, of course, before he even saw the man walk into the room. As soon as Jackie opened the door, his skin started tingling. Now, it’s as if every nerve-ending’s on fire.
It’s not just his physical reaction to Jack that has him wanting to run, though. The guilt’s far, far worse.
This man was his friend. Jack loved him - hero-worshipped him and would have walked into the burning fires of hell for him. Without even being asked, Jack went off to die so that he, the supposed hero of the hour, could save the day. And what did Jack get for his trouble? Left behind on a deserted satellite by his so-called friend, the so-called saviour who was too much of a coward to help him.
Jack’s been on his mind all the time he hasn’t been unconscious or fighting Sycorax. Even his bout of madness in the TARDIS was at least in part a reaction to the urgings of his conscience to go back for the bloke. Even over dinner, his enthusiasm was partly a cover for the nagging guilt he couldn’t squash.
How long has it been? A long time, judging by the bitterness in Jack’s voice - and the weight of Time in his eyes. He can’t feel how old Jack is, though; that Wrongness, the fixed point that the man is, is blocking his time-sense.
He gets to his feet, hand automatically going to the back of his neck and rubbing his hair - a habit he’s already discovered this body seems to possess. Even standing, he still can’t seem to find the words to speak to Jack. There’s so much he needs to say, but though he opens his mouth nothing’s coming. Him, the man who never has trouble talking the antenna off a Dalek!
“Forget it, Doctor.” Jack’s voice is curt as he stands as well. “I’ve waited almost a hundred and forty years to get answers from you, but I guess your silence says it all.” Rose’s gasp is audible, but he can’t look at her. His gaze is drawn to Jack, and he can’t look away.
“I wanted to know why I was left on Satellite Five,” Jack says, bitterness and hurt in every word. “Guess I know now. It wasn’t an accident, right? You left me there deliberately. What, outlived my usefulness, had I, once I died for you?”
“What?” Rose exclaims, but neither of them looks at her.
“You what?” That’s Jackie, and her shriek is so loud that his attention is forced to her. She’s just come back into the room, a tray laden with Christmas dinner in her hands - obviously intended for Jack - and she’s staring at him, fury in her eyes. “You just left him behind?”
“Yeah, an’ what’s that about dying?” Rose demands.
He moves at last, brushing past Jack and taking the tray from Jackie, setting it on the table. Behind Jackie, Mickey’s peering in through the hole left by the Christmas tree. He gives the lad a glare; the boy disappears. “Jackie, this is between Jack and me,” he says, only then realising that they’re the first words he’s spoken since Jack walked into the room. “And Rose,” he adds belatedly as she pokes him indignantly; he hadn’t even realised she’d left the couch.
“Oi, this has everything to do with me, mate!” Jackie objects. “You left him behind on some space station millions of miles from here, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“You did that to him, what’s to stop you doin’ it to my Rose some day?”
“I wouldn’t!” he exclaims instantly.
“He’s telling the truth, Mrs Tyler,” Jack says. There’s still an edge to his voice, and a second later the Doctor finds out why. “She’s young, female, blonde and pretty. He won’t leave her behind.”
“Jack, that’s not fair!” Rose protests.
Jack turns his gaze to Rose, and the pain in his eyes tears at the Doctor’s hearts. “Isn’t it?” Then, abruptly, he drags his hand across his eyes. “Sorry. This isn’t your fault, Rose. Look, Mrs Tyler-” He turns to Jackie. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll get out of your way.”
In two strides, Jack’s at the doorway, leaving the room. And, finally, the Doctor finds the words he needs.
“Jack. Don’t go. I’m sorry.” He walks forward, gesturing at Rose and Jackie to stay put, and hurries to catch up with the Captain, who’s now striding through the hall. “Yes, I left you behind deliberately - but only because I’m a coward. Please-” He stretches out one arm imploringly as Jack looks back. “Stay. At least let me explain. You said you wanted answers, yes? I’ll give you answers. As many as you want.”
Answers. Yes. He means it, and how better to demonstrate that than by showing it? “First answer. You want to know how come you’re immortal? That was Rose. She brought you back to life, and saved my life at the same time. She just... used a bit too much power.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze holding Jack’s as the Captain stills, one hand on the latch of the front door.
“You’ve waited all this time, Jack,” he adds, dropping his tone a notch, his voice turning husky. “You’ve found us again, and I’m glad you have. So very glad. Please don’t go.”
Complete silence greets him, and he sees Jack’s hand tighten around the latch.
***
I’m sorry.
Words he’s longed to hear for over a century. The accent’s different, the voice not as deep, but the meaning’s there and shouldn’t that be what matters? But, instead of soothing him, the Doctor’s apology does nothing but stir up anger he’s been carrying for decades.
“Bit easy, isn’t it? Apologising.” He’s aware that he sounds a lot more aggressive than he’d like to be, but he doesn’t care. “Oh, Jack, I left you stranded somewhere in space and time, with no way to get home but a dysfunctional Vortex manipulator, but it’s all right, because you know what? I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “No, Doctor. It doesn’t work that way.”
One final pressure of his hand and the latch comes undone. He’s out on the landing, leaving the door open behind him. His rapid stride takes him past the flat before Rose catches up with him.
“Jack, wait!”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” he says, coming to a halt to face her when she grabs his arm in an amazingly firm grip. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with the Doctor abandoning me.” She wouldn’t have; Rose just doesn’t have it in her. If she’d known, she’d have demanded that the Doctor went back for him.
He wants to commit her, everything about her, to memory. Tonight is certainly the last time he’ll ever see her, and there’s so much about her he’d have liked to know better, so many missed opportunities for a relationship that will never run any deeper now. His hand reaches up to cup her face, a gesture he hopes will reassure her that he doesn’t hold her responsible for what happened.
“What did he tell you?” he enquires, curiosity getting the better of him even as he sees the Doctor approach them carefully, stopping around ten feet away, and his desire to bolt gets stronger. “That I’d died in battle?” He chuckles, but knows his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Quite a hero?” His attention shifts beyond Rose to settle on the Doctor. Hands stuffed in his pockets and gaze glued to the ground, he’s the picture of embarrassment. “Did you tell her I was dead?”
“No.” A shuffle of trainer-clad feet. Another nervous brush through his already crazy hair. “That’s not what I told her.”
“Were you really busy rebuilding the Earth, then?” It seems to him that Rose never believed for a second that that could be the case. She did think he was dead.
“The truth, Rose? The Doctor left me behind. He knew I was alive, that you’d brought me back to life. And what did he do? Run.”
“I brought you back to life?” The words are no more than a whisper. Her face pale, Rose staggers backwards and leans back against the wall, mouth gaping and eyes wide like saucers. Oh, right, she wasn’t out in the hall when the Doctor told him what happened. He can only assume that her memory of what she did is fuzzy at best, and the Doctor didn’t choose to enlighten her.
“I was dying,” the Doctor says, sounding defensive. “I was about to regenerate, and I had to be in the TARDIS for that to happen.”
Jack snorts. This time he doesn’t even try to cut the bitterness from his voice. “Look at me, Doctor. Look me in the eye and tell me that, had you not been dying, you’d have waited for me.”
The Doctor lowers his head, his silent confession louder than words. “It’s not you,” he says at last. “It’s not who you are. It’s what you are. Immortality isn’t something Time Lords deal with easily. It’s wrong. It’s so very wrong.”
He flinches. “Being immortal wasn’t a choice.”
“Stop it, you two!” Rose interrupts, her voice’s rising to a high pitch that he’s never heard from her before. It suddenly appears to him that she’s a lot more terrified by what they’re both implying than by the fight that’s keeping them apart. An accusatory finger stabs his chest. “You, saying that I brought you back from the dead, and you,” she continues, poking the Doctor this time, “claiming that he’s immortal.”
“You did, though.”
“And he is. We’ve seen stranger things happen before. Be fair, Rose. A year ago, you didn’t believe that aliens were real.”
As the Doctor summarises the end of the fight and how Rose saved the universe from the Daleks, Jack reaches for her hand in silent support. She puts on a brave face, nodding and looking like she’s taking it all in her stride, but he knows her, and he can feel her fingers squeeze his more tightly.
At the end of his tale, the Doctor turns to Jack. “Did it take you long to figure it out?”
“A couple of hours. Unfortunate run-in with muggers, a century before the time I was originally aiming for. They had knives and all I had was my blaster and its dead battery. I didn’t stand a chance.” The first of many deaths he can’t even count any more.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Jack can feel that this new version of the Doctor is particularly fond of those words.
“You could’ve told me before you left. Dropped me off somewhere a bit nicer than nineteenth century Soho.”
A sound of chattering teeth to his right distracts him from the argument. Huddled against the wall, Rose is hugging herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she fights against the cold December wind. She’s wearing nothing but a thin hoodie over a t-shirt; no wonder she’s freezing. In one swift move, he takes off his woollen army coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Her slender figure looks tiny in it, and a wave of protectiveness makes him want to close the distance between them and hug her again.
“Oi, you lot! You gonna stay out there all night? ‘Cause you’re letting all the heat out. Electric bill’s big enough as it is,” Jackie grumbles from the door.
Jack takes a deep breath. The choice is his, it seems. He can leave, and this time he’s pretty certain the Doctor will let him go. Rose might protest, but she’ll understand, now that she knows what she did to him. He doesn’t blame her, of course - sounds like she had no idea what she was doing - but she’ll think he does, and it’ll be a good excuse for never contacting her again.
Or he can stay, and accept the Doctor’s apology, and... and then what? Carry on as if nothing happened?
The Doctor turns, sonic screwdriver in hand, and he zaps it in the direction of a metal box on the wall outside the door. “Close the door, Jackie,” he says wearily. “We’ll be in soon.”
“Jack?” Rose says, a plea in her voice. But his gaze is fixed on the Doctor.
The man hasn’t moved; he’s still standing just outside the door of the flat, legs slightly apart, arms now hanging by his side. The expression on his face adds to his stance of utter defeat. He knows he’s lost.
“Doctor?” Chin tilted in an arrogant stance he’s perfected over the years, he stares at the Time Lord, his arm dropping from around Rose’s shoulders. Let him make one more attempt to justify himself, if he wants to. It’ll be the last words they’ll say to each other.
The Doctor’s gaze meets his, and the unfamiliar brown eyes are full of regret and sadness. “Look after yourself, Jack. I know you’ve got no reason to believe it, but... I’ll miss you.”
He freezes, rooted to the spot. If you only knew how much I’ve missed you - both of you.
The choice is still his, and he’s wavering.
If he leaves now, he’ll never see either of them again. Never get answers to the rest of his questions, too, though that’s not what’ll really hurt. In all his long, long life, there’ve been many people he’s cared about, but only two who’ve taken root in his heart. He’s never been able to shake them loose.
His gaze drops to the ground briefly, before he looks at the Doctor again. And something in his gaze must have given away his indecision, because the Doctor moves. One, two strides, and the man’s running, and barely a second later strong, wiry arms are folding around him, holding him tightly.
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Jack,” a gentle, caring voice murmurs in his ear. “You’ve come home.”
***
Minutes later, a long arm hooks around her shoulders, drawing her into the hug, and it finally feels as if everything’s all right again. The Doctor’s regenerated, but he’s still the Doctor. They’re all alive, and Jack’s here.
Oh, there’s a lot still to talk about. Jack needs answers, and so does she - such as how come it’s been such a long time for him, and is he really all right? He’ll need a lot of reassuring, she’s sure, but that’s okay. She can do that. And so can the Doctor - she’ll make sure of it.
She stretches up and presses a kiss against Jack’s chilled cheek. He turns, catches her eye and smiles. It’s not the same smile she was used to from him before, but he’s not the same Jack, is he? There’ll be some adjustment, but if they all want it to work then it will.
Jack’s smile softens and he dips his head, brushing a kiss against her cheek in return, and she frees both arms to wrap them around his neck, hugging him close.
“Oi!” The Doctor’s staring at her as she releases Jack, his eyes wide, lips pouting. “How come he gets a kiss and I don’t?”
Oh. He really is a new Doctor, isn’t he? She grins, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Well, if you insist...” She purses her lips and kisses his cheek as well. He winks at her and turns his head, leaning down to kiss her in return.
“Huh. How come I’m the one left out?” Jack protests, putting on a hurt look.
The Doctor’s eyes widen - but he leans across to Jack and kisses his cheek as well.
“My turn,” Jack announces as soon as the Doctor pulls back, and he leans in - and plants a kiss right on the Doctor’s lips. It’s cheeky, but she can’t help wondering if it’s also forgiveness.
The Doctor blinks, swallows, seems to consider objecting - but then just smiles, and the look in his eyes tells her that he’s interpreted the gesture as forgiveness as well.
“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “Jackie’ll be wondering where we’ve got to, and I’m sure I smelled Christmas pudding earlier. Hope she’s got custard!”
- end
Authors: wmr (wendymr) and Kaethel (kae_nine)
Characters/Pairing: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: G
Spoilers: Is it safe to believe that all of you have seen The Christmas Invasion?
Summary: She freezes, rooted to the spot, as her gaze finds a man she thought was dead.
Disclaimer: If we owned Doctor Who, there'd be at least a whole season of Ten/Jack/Rose. Or two. Or three. Or twenty.
A/N: This was written as our Christmas card to betterwiththree... got a bit longer than a ficlet, but with tiny, barely readable font it should fit on a Christmas card. Or else we'll use a poster-size card! ;) With very many thanks to our wonderful BRs yamx and dark_aegis, and a very merry Christmas to everyone!
Edited to add the very beautiful fanfic-header that laurab1 created for us. Check it out after the cut!
The Wanderer Returns
They’ve almost finished dinner when the knock sounds on the door.
Her mum tuts in annoyance. “Who the ‘ell’s that? What do they think this is, King’s Cross Station?”
The Doctor stops chewing on his remaining turkey wing long enough to raise an eyebrow at Jackie. “Well, you won’t find out unless you answer it, will you?”
Jackie glares at him. “You’re still not too old for a slap, you’re not.” She gets up, huffing irritably, and goes out to the door. There’s the sound of voices - the visitor’s male, that’s all Rose can tell - and then her mum’s back.
“Bloke here says he knows you two.” She’s standing in the doorway, so Rose can’t see who’s there. Seized with curiosity - after all, who else can possibly know the two of them? Only Mickey, and he’s here - she gets up and goes to the door.
And then she freezes, rooted to the spot, as her gaze finds a man she thought was dead.
It is Jack. He looks older than when she last saw him - how long has it been now? A day? A day and a half? Hard to believe it’s been such a short time. She feels as if she’s lived half a life since he said goodbye to the two of them on Satellite Five. Older, yes, in his eyes more than his physical appearance, and he looks as if he’s been carrying the weight of the universe on his shoulders.
He’s dressed differently, too. Instead of the jeans and T-shirts she’s become used to seeing him wear, he’s formally dressed in a blue shirt and dark trousers, and a long greatcoat that looks a lot like the one he had in 1941. It’s not the same one, though. But how...?
His gaze meets hers, and the transformation’s instant. His face lights up and his smile’s wide enough to crack his face. “Rose! It is you! God, you have no idea how long I’ve been searching for you.” He starts to open his arms, then hesitates, his expression turning tentative.
Jack unsure of his right to a hug? That doesn’t make sense. In fact, very little of this is making sense. Who cares, though? Jack is here, and she thought he was dead.
In under a second, she’s in his arms, holding him as if she never wants to let him go.
***
They were right, his UNIT and Torchwood One contacts.
All he got was a description of a blonde girl and a black man, and an assurance that they were with a man who claimed to be the Doctor. It’s only one of hundreds of reported sightings over the years since he crash-landed on Earth, but the first one that sounded like it could be the right Doctor, because of who was with him. It could still have been a false alarm, like so many others were - or he could have arrived here only to find that he’d missed them once again.
Even with so many disappointments, he couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t real this time either. He’s driven from Cardiff in just over two hours, breaking every speed limit, his Torchwood ID at the ready in case he got stopped. And then when he walked into the courtyard outside Bucknall House his heart almost stopped.
The TARDIS was parked right outside.
It still might not have been his Doctor, though. But now, holding Rose, he knows his search is finally over.
He holds her as long as he dares, needing to feel her close to him, to absorb her essence into him and never let her go. But he does release her, because she’s not the only person he’s longing to see. Barely able to choke the words out, he asks the question he’s almost dreading an answer to.
“The Doctor? Is he here?”
Her immediate, sunny smile in response sends a breath whooshing out of him. It’s relief, but it’s also trepidation; he knows he’s likely to get some answers he doesn’t like.
“He’s in here. We were just finishing Christmas dinner.” Her hand slides into his, and she tows him forward. This is it; there’s no turning back now.
He follows her into the room, and there he is - but it’s not his Doctor. There’s a stranger sitting at the table opposite Mickey.
Handsome, yes, with brown hair that’s crying out to have fingers running through it, and in a brown pin-striped suit that’s cut so tightly it should be illegal, and that’s just the top part. But he’s not the Doctor Jack remembers, the dour, quicksilver-moody, big-eared Doctor he’s dreamed about and searched for every minute since he escaped from Satellite Five.
“Doctor.” Damnit, why is his voice trembling?
The man at the table just looks at him without a word. But the wide-eyed stare the Doctor’s giving him tells its own story.
If Jack wasn’t standing between him and the doorway, the Doctor would already have left. Again.
***
“Mum, this is Jack. He’s a friend of ours.”
Rose is certain that her words of introduction will invite a flood of questions. She braces herself for the worst, but Jackie seems entirely focused on the dining table. A rush of hyperactivity has her bounding around the room, gathering plates even though the Doctor’s still gnawing on his last bone. The dirty look he throws at her doesn’t seem to faze her.
Instead, Jackie’s set her whole attention on scolding her daughter. Why hasn’t she offered her friend any refreshment yet? Why’s he still standing in the doorway? Did she lose all her good manners on board that alien spaceship?
She doesn’t wait for an answer before her hand lands on Jack’s arm, a possessive gesture that Rose recognises only too well. Her mum’s attracted to him, and decency’s low on the agenda.
The whirlwind that is Jackie Tyler is certainly not helping Jack feel at ease in the small flat, but it seems to Rose that something else is bothering him more. There’s embarrassment in his stance and something akin to anger in his gaze when his eyes settle on the Doctor.
If he hadn’t greeted the Doctor by name, she’d have thought he hadn’t figured out who’s sitting at the dining table. His withdrawn attitude could’ve been blamed on jealousy, the same reaction the Doctor usually had whenever a man approached her.
And the Doctor doesn’t seem surprised to see Jack at all.
Mickey’s risen from his seat, uncertainty written all over his face. “Good to see you again,” he mutters, and Rose suspects that even the lukewarm greeting is a lie. They shake hands awkwardly before a tense silence settles between them all again.
A few minutes later, a mug of steaming tea cradled in her hands and a plate of biscuits within reach, Rose huddles herself in a corner of the couch.
Her mum’s disappeared to the kitchen, dragging a very reluctant Mickey in her wake. “Need an extra pair of hands to dry the dishes,” she argued, though Rose knows this was a stratagem to leave the three of them alone to talk.
“How did you make it out alive?” she asks before Jackie changes her mind and comes back to push her luck with the handsome Captain Jack Harkness.
Jack’s gaze never leaves the Doctor. “One wonders.”
“So many things happened to us. The Doctor regenerated, ‘cause he was dying and when he does, every cell in his body ch- ”
“I know about Time Lord regeneration.” Jack cuts her off, far more curtly than she’s used to from him.
He knew. Well, that explains how he recognised the Doctor straight away. How did he know, though? Had the Doctor warned him? And if he had, why hadn’t he thought fit to inform her as well? Fear of losing him and seeing the human race enslaved by the Sycorax had stifled her anger at being kept in the dark until now, but now that the danger’s behind them, she can’t help but wonder if he’d ever intended to share this secret with her at all.
“Tell me, Rose.” Jack doesn’t turn away from the Doctor as he speaks. “How long’s it been for you? The fight against the Daleks? The TARDIS leaving Satellite Five? The Doctor regenerating into this… this…” He grimaces in an exaggerated fashion, and if Rose didn’t know better, she’d think he’s setting out to deliberately provoke the Doctor. “This skinny guy who’s swapped big ears for big hair?”
She checks the Doctor’s face for any sign of outrage. His expression remains blank, though still wary and defensive.
“Two days. Give or take. Feels like a lifetime ago, though. So many things happened since we got here. Have you been here long?”
“You could say that.” The edge to Jack’s voice is becoming sharper. What the hell’s going on here?
“We got almost killed by our Christmas tree!” a voice calls from the kitchen.
Her mum appears in the doorway and points her finger to the tree-shaped hole in the sitting-room wall. “This ain’t some fancy interior design, you know.”
But Jack’s paying no attention to her mum. His entire attention still on the Doctor, he’s drumming his fingers on the arm of the couch. He looks like he’s ready to explode any second, and that’s not the Jack she knew. It’s nothing like him. And the Doctor hasn’t said a word since Jack arrived.
What happened to him? Was the Doctor telling the truth when he said Jack was rebuilding the Earth? And if so, why didn’t they go back to get him when he was finished? Is that what Jack’s angry about?
If this goes on much longer, she’s going to shake the two of them until they tell her what this is all about.
“Doctor, don’t you want to know how long it’s been for me?”
***
He knew it was Jack, of course, before he even saw the man walk into the room. As soon as Jackie opened the door, his skin started tingling. Now, it’s as if every nerve-ending’s on fire.
It’s not just his physical reaction to Jack that has him wanting to run, though. The guilt’s far, far worse.
This man was his friend. Jack loved him - hero-worshipped him and would have walked into the burning fires of hell for him. Without even being asked, Jack went off to die so that he, the supposed hero of the hour, could save the day. And what did Jack get for his trouble? Left behind on a deserted satellite by his so-called friend, the so-called saviour who was too much of a coward to help him.
Jack’s been on his mind all the time he hasn’t been unconscious or fighting Sycorax. Even his bout of madness in the TARDIS was at least in part a reaction to the urgings of his conscience to go back for the bloke. Even over dinner, his enthusiasm was partly a cover for the nagging guilt he couldn’t squash.
How long has it been? A long time, judging by the bitterness in Jack’s voice - and the weight of Time in his eyes. He can’t feel how old Jack is, though; that Wrongness, the fixed point that the man is, is blocking his time-sense.
He gets to his feet, hand automatically going to the back of his neck and rubbing his hair - a habit he’s already discovered this body seems to possess. Even standing, he still can’t seem to find the words to speak to Jack. There’s so much he needs to say, but though he opens his mouth nothing’s coming. Him, the man who never has trouble talking the antenna off a Dalek!
“Forget it, Doctor.” Jack’s voice is curt as he stands as well. “I’ve waited almost a hundred and forty years to get answers from you, but I guess your silence says it all.” Rose’s gasp is audible, but he can’t look at her. His gaze is drawn to Jack, and he can’t look away.
“I wanted to know why I was left on Satellite Five,” Jack says, bitterness and hurt in every word. “Guess I know now. It wasn’t an accident, right? You left me there deliberately. What, outlived my usefulness, had I, once I died for you?”
“What?” Rose exclaims, but neither of them looks at her.
“You what?” That’s Jackie, and her shriek is so loud that his attention is forced to her. She’s just come back into the room, a tray laden with Christmas dinner in her hands - obviously intended for Jack - and she’s staring at him, fury in her eyes. “You just left him behind?”
“Yeah, an’ what’s that about dying?” Rose demands.
He moves at last, brushing past Jack and taking the tray from Jackie, setting it on the table. Behind Jackie, Mickey’s peering in through the hole left by the Christmas tree. He gives the lad a glare; the boy disappears. “Jackie, this is between Jack and me,” he says, only then realising that they’re the first words he’s spoken since Jack walked into the room. “And Rose,” he adds belatedly as she pokes him indignantly; he hadn’t even realised she’d left the couch.
“Oi, this has everything to do with me, mate!” Jackie objects. “You left him behind on some space station millions of miles from here, right?”
“Yes, but-”
“You did that to him, what’s to stop you doin’ it to my Rose some day?”
“I wouldn’t!” he exclaims instantly.
“He’s telling the truth, Mrs Tyler,” Jack says. There’s still an edge to his voice, and a second later the Doctor finds out why. “She’s young, female, blonde and pretty. He won’t leave her behind.”
“Jack, that’s not fair!” Rose protests.
Jack turns his gaze to Rose, and the pain in his eyes tears at the Doctor’s hearts. “Isn’t it?” Then, abruptly, he drags his hand across his eyes. “Sorry. This isn’t your fault, Rose. Look, Mrs Tyler-” He turns to Jackie. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’ll get out of your way.”
In two strides, Jack’s at the doorway, leaving the room. And, finally, the Doctor finds the words he needs.
“Jack. Don’t go. I’m sorry.” He walks forward, gesturing at Rose and Jackie to stay put, and hurries to catch up with the Captain, who’s now striding through the hall. “Yes, I left you behind deliberately - but only because I’m a coward. Please-” He stretches out one arm imploringly as Jack looks back. “Stay. At least let me explain. You said you wanted answers, yes? I’ll give you answers. As many as you want.”
Answers. Yes. He means it, and how better to demonstrate that than by showing it? “First answer. You want to know how come you’re immortal? That was Rose. She brought you back to life, and saved my life at the same time. She just... used a bit too much power.” He takes a deep breath, his gaze holding Jack’s as the Captain stills, one hand on the latch of the front door.
“You’ve waited all this time, Jack,” he adds, dropping his tone a notch, his voice turning husky. “You’ve found us again, and I’m glad you have. So very glad. Please don’t go.”
Complete silence greets him, and he sees Jack’s hand tighten around the latch.
***
I’m sorry.
Words he’s longed to hear for over a century. The accent’s different, the voice not as deep, but the meaning’s there and shouldn’t that be what matters? But, instead of soothing him, the Doctor’s apology does nothing but stir up anger he’s been carrying for decades.
“Bit easy, isn’t it? Apologising.” He’s aware that he sounds a lot more aggressive than he’d like to be, but he doesn’t care. “Oh, Jack, I left you stranded somewhere in space and time, with no way to get home but a dysfunctional Vortex manipulator, but it’s all right, because you know what? I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “No, Doctor. It doesn’t work that way.”
One final pressure of his hand and the latch comes undone. He’s out on the landing, leaving the door open behind him. His rapid stride takes him past the flat before Rose catches up with him.
“Jack, wait!”
“I’m sorry, Rose,” he says, coming to a halt to face her when she grabs his arm in an amazingly firm grip. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with the Doctor abandoning me.” She wouldn’t have; Rose just doesn’t have it in her. If she’d known, she’d have demanded that the Doctor went back for him.
He wants to commit her, everything about her, to memory. Tonight is certainly the last time he’ll ever see her, and there’s so much about her he’d have liked to know better, so many missed opportunities for a relationship that will never run any deeper now. His hand reaches up to cup her face, a gesture he hopes will reassure her that he doesn’t hold her responsible for what happened.
“What did he tell you?” he enquires, curiosity getting the better of him even as he sees the Doctor approach them carefully, stopping around ten feet away, and his desire to bolt gets stronger. “That I’d died in battle?” He chuckles, but knows his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Quite a hero?” His attention shifts beyond Rose to settle on the Doctor. Hands stuffed in his pockets and gaze glued to the ground, he’s the picture of embarrassment. “Did you tell her I was dead?”
“No.” A shuffle of trainer-clad feet. Another nervous brush through his already crazy hair. “That’s not what I told her.”
“Were you really busy rebuilding the Earth, then?” It seems to him that Rose never believed for a second that that could be the case. She did think he was dead.
“The truth, Rose? The Doctor left me behind. He knew I was alive, that you’d brought me back to life. And what did he do? Run.”
“I brought you back to life?” The words are no more than a whisper. Her face pale, Rose staggers backwards and leans back against the wall, mouth gaping and eyes wide like saucers. Oh, right, she wasn’t out in the hall when the Doctor told him what happened. He can only assume that her memory of what she did is fuzzy at best, and the Doctor didn’t choose to enlighten her.
“I was dying,” the Doctor says, sounding defensive. “I was about to regenerate, and I had to be in the TARDIS for that to happen.”
Jack snorts. This time he doesn’t even try to cut the bitterness from his voice. “Look at me, Doctor. Look me in the eye and tell me that, had you not been dying, you’d have waited for me.”
The Doctor lowers his head, his silent confession louder than words. “It’s not you,” he says at last. “It’s not who you are. It’s what you are. Immortality isn’t something Time Lords deal with easily. It’s wrong. It’s so very wrong.”
He flinches. “Being immortal wasn’t a choice.”
“Stop it, you two!” Rose interrupts, her voice’s rising to a high pitch that he’s never heard from her before. It suddenly appears to him that she’s a lot more terrified by what they’re both implying than by the fight that’s keeping them apart. An accusatory finger stabs his chest. “You, saying that I brought you back from the dead, and you,” she continues, poking the Doctor this time, “claiming that he’s immortal.”
“You did, though.”
“And he is. We’ve seen stranger things happen before. Be fair, Rose. A year ago, you didn’t believe that aliens were real.”
As the Doctor summarises the end of the fight and how Rose saved the universe from the Daleks, Jack reaches for her hand in silent support. She puts on a brave face, nodding and looking like she’s taking it all in her stride, but he knows her, and he can feel her fingers squeeze his more tightly.
At the end of his tale, the Doctor turns to Jack. “Did it take you long to figure it out?”
“A couple of hours. Unfortunate run-in with muggers, a century before the time I was originally aiming for. They had knives and all I had was my blaster and its dead battery. I didn’t stand a chance.” The first of many deaths he can’t even count any more.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, and Jack can feel that this new version of the Doctor is particularly fond of those words.
“You could’ve told me before you left. Dropped me off somewhere a bit nicer than nineteenth century Soho.”
A sound of chattering teeth to his right distracts him from the argument. Huddled against the wall, Rose is hugging herself and rubbing her hands up and down her arms as she fights against the cold December wind. She’s wearing nothing but a thin hoodie over a t-shirt; no wonder she’s freezing. In one swift move, he takes off his woollen army coat and drapes it over her shoulders. Her slender figure looks tiny in it, and a wave of protectiveness makes him want to close the distance between them and hug her again.
“Oi, you lot! You gonna stay out there all night? ‘Cause you’re letting all the heat out. Electric bill’s big enough as it is,” Jackie grumbles from the door.
Jack takes a deep breath. The choice is his, it seems. He can leave, and this time he’s pretty certain the Doctor will let him go. Rose might protest, but she’ll understand, now that she knows what she did to him. He doesn’t blame her, of course - sounds like she had no idea what she was doing - but she’ll think he does, and it’ll be a good excuse for never contacting her again.
Or he can stay, and accept the Doctor’s apology, and... and then what? Carry on as if nothing happened?
The Doctor turns, sonic screwdriver in hand, and he zaps it in the direction of a metal box on the wall outside the door. “Close the door, Jackie,” he says wearily. “We’ll be in soon.”
“Jack?” Rose says, a plea in her voice. But his gaze is fixed on the Doctor.
The man hasn’t moved; he’s still standing just outside the door of the flat, legs slightly apart, arms now hanging by his side. The expression on his face adds to his stance of utter defeat. He knows he’s lost.
“Doctor?” Chin tilted in an arrogant stance he’s perfected over the years, he stares at the Time Lord, his arm dropping from around Rose’s shoulders. Let him make one more attempt to justify himself, if he wants to. It’ll be the last words they’ll say to each other.
The Doctor’s gaze meets his, and the unfamiliar brown eyes are full of regret and sadness. “Look after yourself, Jack. I know you’ve got no reason to believe it, but... I’ll miss you.”
He freezes, rooted to the spot. If you only knew how much I’ve missed you - both of you.
The choice is still his, and he’s wavering.
If he leaves now, he’ll never see either of them again. Never get answers to the rest of his questions, too, though that’s not what’ll really hurt. In all his long, long life, there’ve been many people he’s cared about, but only two who’ve taken root in his heart. He’s never been able to shake them loose.
His gaze drops to the ground briefly, before he looks at the Doctor again. And something in his gaze must have given away his indecision, because the Doctor moves. One, two strides, and the man’s running, and barely a second later strong, wiry arms are folding around him, holding him tightly.
“You don’t have to go anywhere, Jack,” a gentle, caring voice murmurs in his ear. “You’ve come home.”
***
Minutes later, a long arm hooks around her shoulders, drawing her into the hug, and it finally feels as if everything’s all right again. The Doctor’s regenerated, but he’s still the Doctor. They’re all alive, and Jack’s here.
Oh, there’s a lot still to talk about. Jack needs answers, and so does she - such as how come it’s been such a long time for him, and is he really all right? He’ll need a lot of reassuring, she’s sure, but that’s okay. She can do that. And so can the Doctor - she’ll make sure of it.
She stretches up and presses a kiss against Jack’s chilled cheek. He turns, catches her eye and smiles. It’s not the same smile she was used to from him before, but he’s not the same Jack, is he? There’ll be some adjustment, but if they all want it to work then it will.
Jack’s smile softens and he dips his head, brushing a kiss against her cheek in return, and she frees both arms to wrap them around his neck, hugging him close.
“Oi!” The Doctor’s staring at her as she releases Jack, his eyes wide, lips pouting. “How come he gets a kiss and I don’t?”
Oh. He really is a new Doctor, isn’t he? She grins, tongue peeping out between her lips. “Well, if you insist...” She purses her lips and kisses his cheek as well. He winks at her and turns his head, leaning down to kiss her in return.
“Huh. How come I’m the one left out?” Jack protests, putting on a hurt look.
The Doctor’s eyes widen - but he leans across to Jack and kisses his cheek as well.
“My turn,” Jack announces as soon as the Doctor pulls back, and he leans in - and plants a kiss right on the Doctor’s lips. It’s cheeky, but she can’t help wondering if it’s also forgiveness.
The Doctor blinks, swallows, seems to consider objecting - but then just smiles, and the look in his eyes tells her that he’s interpreted the gesture as forgiveness as well.
“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around each of their shoulders. “Jackie’ll be wondering where we’ve got to, and I’m sure I smelled Christmas pudding earlier. Hope she’s got custard!”
- end