Belonging: Chapter Ten
Author's Notes: You might need tissues again; I found one paragraph particularly heart-wrenching to write! Hope you are all continuing to enjoy reading this story as much as I am enjoying writing it.
Title: Belonging - Chapter Ten
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters Jack/Ianto, Ten
Rating: This Chapter - PG-13 for mild language (Series is rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: The Stolen Earth, Journey's End
Disclaimer: The BBC own it all, the little tinkers
Warnings: mild references to blood/injury | angst | hurt/comfort
Description:
Set immediately after the events of The Stolen Earth/Journey's End.
The Torchwood team members are struggling to get back to normal after recent shattering events, when the Doctor turns up in the Torchwood Hub in the middle of the night; alone, heartbroken, guilt-ridden, and needing somewhere to belong.
"Trauma does funny things to people, Jack. I should know."
Chapter Ten
I walked back upstairs slowly, my steps heavy. I didn't know whether to be gripped with panic, or just feel wretched at the thought that I'd hurt the Doctor so much he'd decided to leave without a word, rather than try to talk to me again.
Ianto was at his workstation checking email when I returned.
"That was quick," he said with a frown.
"He's gone," I said flatly.
"What, he's not in the TARDIS?"
I shook my head. "The TARDIS has gone. He must have left after I set off for your flat."
Ianto looked solemn. "I'm sorry. Maybe he just… I don't know. Wanted to be alone for a while? He'll be back."
I sat down on the old sofa where the Doctor and I had shared tea and pizzas and stories together.
"It's taken him this long to trust anybody enough to want to stop running, to want to belong somewhere, and I just blew up at him."
Ianto joined me on the seat and squeezed my leg. "You had cause to be angry, Jack; don't beat yourself up over that."
"It's not that, Ianto. If he's pissed off with me enough to say 'screw you, I'm going', then that's fair enough, I can't blame him. It's just… I thought he was getting better… but now I'm not so sure. I've never seen him so vulnerable. I don't know how Time Lords react to… well, anything, really. I thought I knew him, but I was just kidding myself."
"You mean you're worried about his state of mind?" Ianto frowned.
I sighed. "You didn't see him, Ianto. Something was up; the TARDIS was making weird noises, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. The Doctor looked scared, he was panicking, and all I did was turn my back on him and wouldn't listen. What if… the way he is, what if he does something stupid?"
Ianto smiled. "Now you're being a drama queen."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "When he first came to us, when he was in my office, he… well, he told me about something he did a long time ago. He said he should have died then. He thought he deserved to. What if he's completely snapped? What if he's regressed back to feeling like that? If something happens to him because of me, I'll never forgive myself…"
Ianto looked a little more worried now, whether because he wondered if what I said might be true, or because he thought I was panicking over nothing, I couldn't be sure.
"It'll be okay," he said soothingly. "He'll be back before you know it, just you wait and see."
Ianto put his arms around me and I rested my cheek against the side of his neck, soothed by the beat of his pulse, hoping against hope that the voice of reason would turn out to be right.
***
The Doctor didn't come back that night. Or the next night. Or the night after that.
Ianto and I kept working as normal; going through the motions as I tried to hide how worried and upset I was from the rest of the team.
I couldn't concentrate on anything. I spent all my time in the Hub straining to hear the sound of the TARDIS materialising; so much that sometimes I thought I could hear it, only to realise after a few seconds that it was just my imagination.
I glanced at the vortex manipulator on my wrist every few minutes, hoping that there was a message waiting and I'd simply not heard it beep.
When my team left for the night, I barely said a word to them. They obviously knew something was wrong, but had clearly learned by now that when I was in such a bad mood, they were better off just leaving me to it. I was glad to avoid any awkward questions. There are advantages to being so enigmatic, I suppose.
Now I sat at my desk with my hand on the piece of coral, concentrating on it, hoping that I could send some sort of telepathic vibe into it, as if it was still connected to the real TARDIS and she would hear me, somehow.
Pathetic.
I took my hand off the coral, and then contemplated picking it up and throwing it against the nearest wall, and watching it shatter into a dozen pieces. But I didn't.
Ianto found me with my head in my hands, leaning forward on my desk. It mirrored what the Doctor had done that first night he came to me, so full of loss and despair that the weight of the universe seemed too heavy for him to bear.
Now all I could feel was my own loss. Worry about what the Doctor might be going through, guilt at having been so impatient and angry with him, and an ache in my heart when I thought about what could have been between us.
Ianto perched on the end of my desk and cleared his throat.
"Um… there is something you haven't thought of."
I pulled my hands away from my face and looked at Ianto eagerly. "What?"
Ianto held out his mobile phone. "We still have his number saved on the system. Saved it into the contacts for you. Well, it's Martha's number… but he still has her old phone, doesn't he?"
A huge grin on my face, I took the phone from him and saw that he had already called up the number on the screen; it was just waiting for me to press send.
I pressed the green key and held the phone to my ear. There was a connection! The ringing tone sounded, again and again.
My spirit sank further every time the repeating tone warbled in my ear. Eventually, after about a dozen rings I heard a pause, and a click. I held my breath, hoping to hear the Doctor's voice.
'Hi, you've reached Martha. Sorry, but I can't...'
I pressed the red key to end the call, and sat back in my seat, feeling crushed.
"Just keep trying," said Ianto softly. "He might be busy… or… I don't know. Maybe he's in the shower!" He smiled, but I just couldn't muster one back.
I tried to look on the bright side. "At least there was a signal. And it rang. Which means the phone is switched on, and working, right?"
At least the Doctor hadn't purposely materialised the TARDIS into the middle of the sun or something, then.
I rubbed my eyes. I should really stop thinking such stupid things.
"Come on," said Ianto softly. "I'll make us a coffee and get us a pizza in, okay? I'll stop over with you so we don't miss him when he gets back."
***
I'd hardly eaten a thing. I sat on the couch in the main area of the Hub, sipping my fourth coffee. I'd tried ringing the Doctor's mobile number countless times, to no avail. I'd even left a few awkward-sounding voicemail messages that would probably never be retrieved.
Some time in the early hours Ianto had fallen asleep next to me on the seat, his head resting on my shoulder. I nuzzled at his soft, dark hair with my chin.
"I don’t deserve you." I whispered. I don't think he heard me.
I leant my head back against the wall.
And waited.
***
I sat up straight with a gasp. My foot involuntarily kicked out at the little table in front of me, knocking over my abandoned mug and spilling cold coffee over my boot.
I must have nodded off. What had woken me? The eerie, grinding, wailing noise coming from below ground, probably.
It took a second for my brain to wake up. A moment later the weight of Ianto's head on my shoulder lifted as he straightened up, and he looked at me, blinking sleepily.
He smiled, a little smugly, despite his just-woken fug. "Told you," he said. I grinned back at him.
"Go," he said solemnly. "I'll stick the kettle on, eh?"
I nodded gratefully, and set off for the stairs at a run.
***
Even in the dim light, the TARDIS looked a mess; it was dirty and covered in fine white powder. I collected some of it onto my fingers from one of the blue wooden panels and examined it more closely. It was ash.
I rested the flat of my palm on the door and breathed deeply for another moment. I hadn't a clue what I was going to say to the Doctor, but I wanted to make things right.
I pushed. The door resisted for a second, as though the TARDIS was wary of me, but then it opened. I stepped in, cautiously. The humming sounded louder than ever in the absence of any other sound; the console had stopped flashing and bleeping, at least.
I looked around. There was no sign of the Doctor. I made my way up the ramp. Sometimes his legs were to be found sticking out from under the console when the urge to tinker with wires overtook him. I reached the console and walked round it slowly but the Doctor's legs, or any other part of him, weren't apparent.
I looked at the console. Martha's mobile phone was wedged behind a lever. I picked it up and checked it. There was a little logo showing, signifying that there were new voicemail messages, and the screen confirmed that there were also 8 missed calls. I put the phone back with a heavy sigh.
It wasn't until I sat down on the seat facing the doors to gather my thoughts that I realised the Doctor was in the room after all. He'd been there all the time and I'd simply walked past him. He was sitting on the floor, curled up like a child, hugging himself. His back was against one of the huge, curved, coral-like columns, the one he usually liked to hang his coat over. He was on this side of it, which is why I hadn't seen him when I entered.
I stood up and approached him slowly. "Doctor?" I said softly.
He was staring into space. I don't even think he knew I was there. He didn't speak, or look at me. He just stared into thin air, blinking slowly. He was covered in the same fine ash that covered the exterior of his TARDIS. His clothes were filthy, his hair and face streaked chalky white, as if somebody had emptied a bucket of flour over him. I winced as I got nearer and saw that amongst all the white, there was a vivid red patch on the Doctor's forehead. He appeared to have a nasty cut there. His hands were also grime-streaked, and looked scraped and bruised.
I crouched down in front of him. "Doctor?" I repeated. He blinked again, but didn't speak or look at me. I reached out and touched his shoulder, and he flinched slightly.
His glassy eyes turned to me. "I was too late," he whispered.
"Too late for what?" I asked gently.
"Too late," he repeated, and turned his eyes away from me and back to the middle distance.
I swallowed. I didn't know what to do. I had to get through to him somehow.
"Doctor," I said again. "Are you okay? What happened? Where has all this come from?" I reached out and stroked his hair, and a thousand particles of fine white dust swirled into the air above him.
"Talk to me," I urged. "Please."
"Why did you come back?" said the Doctor, a note of surprise in his voice. He still wasn't looking at me. A shiver of fear slipped its way down my back.
"I came back to see you," I said soothingly. "To talk things over with you. To apologise. I'm sorry for the way I reacted, for the things I said..."
The Doctor was shaking his head, dislodging more white powder into the air. "No, no, you were right. You were right." His eyes turned towards me again, and now they were shining with tears.
"Get up," I said gently. "Let's go and sit down, you must be uncomfortable on the floor."
The Doctor shrugged. I reached out towards the cut on his forehead, stopping my fingers half an inch away from his skin. "You're hurt," I said. "Let me take care of that for you. Please?"
The Doctor stared at me for a moment, and then closed his eyes and nodded tiredly.
I stood up and bent over, slid my hands under his arms, met them around his back and hauled him gently to his feet, like a child. He felt worryingly light in my arms. I felt him totter slightly once he was on his feet, and let him rest against me for a moment. His body felt feverishly hot against my chest and stomach, even through our clothing. He looked and felt like he hadn't slept or eaten for a week. I held him tightly against me, my eyes squeezed shut with a mixture of relief and remorse.
God, what had happened? Was this my fault? I felt wretched, not to mention extremely worried.
When the Doctor's legs felt like they were a little steadier, I lead him over to the seat and made him sit down. I helped him take off his grimy, dusty jacket, and once I was sure he wasn't going to fall over, told him to stay put and hurried through into the inner chamber of the TARDIS.
A few moments later I returned with a tall glass of water and a small first aid kit, to see that the Doctor hadn't moved from his position, and was back to staring into the middle distance, although his eye view was now filled with the central time rotor of the console.
I sat next to him, rested the first aid kit on the edge of the console and gently turned his head to face me with my freed hand. He seemed to focus on me again, and attempted a small smile.
"Jack. You came back!" he said, as though he hadn't remembered that he'd already seen me.
"Yeah, I came back," I said gently. My voice shook slightly. I reached out and stroked his face. Then I handed him the glass. "Drink this," I said. He obediently raised the glass to his lips and began to sip thirstily.
"What happened to you?"
The Doctor didn't reply until he'd drunk enough to quench his thirst. He panted slightly when he'd finished, and I took the glass from him and placed it carefully on the ground where it wouldn't be kicked over.
He seemed a little more lucid now. "You were right," he said simply. "When you said that I shouldn't be hiding down here in your basement like a coward."
I shook my head ruefully. "I didn't mean it. I was angry... shocked. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have, and I am so sorry."
The Doctor feebly waved his hand in the air dismissively, but I wasn't going to let him brush it aside.
I swallowed. "And I shouldn't have said those things about it being your fault that people were dying. It's not your fault, and it's not your responsibility."
"So if I hear a cry for help, I shouldn't heed it?" he said.
"I didn't say that..."
The Doctor shook his head. "Of course I should try to help people. It's... what I do. What I've always done. I don't know why."
"Because you're a good man. You're a hero. But that doesn't mean it's your responsibility, or your obligation. I... people shouldn't take you for granted."
The Doctor looked lost again. It wasn't his obligation, but it was his choice. And that choice was what was driving him crazy, I could understand that now.
"What happened, Doctor? Where did you go? Was it because I...? I never meant to hurt you."
He shook his head. "When I decided to stay here, at Torchwood, I didn't just increase the perception filter. I hid us away, so nobody could find us. I put a shield around the TARDIS. It was like locking her in a psychic cage. She didn't like it one bit, oh no... But she accepted it. She's a loyal old friend, you know."
I nodded. The Doctor always spoke about the TARDIS as though it was a living, sentient being, not just a ship or a machine. I was beginning to believe just how true that was, more and more.
"After a while she got a bit restless. Started poking out a few telepathic tendrils. She couldn't get any further than the walls of the Hub at first. She reached out, found you. Found the Weevils. But no further."
I nodded.
"Then, when you told me that I should be out there saving people instead of hiding away... I think she listened. I think that she decided you were right."
I frowned.
The Doctor continued. "Told you she liked you. She must have broken free of her psychic restraints. Reached out into the universe. And what was the first thing that came through?"
I guessed. "A distress signal."
The Doctor nodded, looking haunted. "I wasn't ready. Not for that. I was so scared."
I grimaced. "And I just turned away from you. I didn't listen... and I'm so..."
The Doctor reached out and placed his hand on my arm. "Don't keep saying you're sorry."
"But I am!" There were tears in my eyes. I took a deep breath. Then I reached out towards his forehead again. "Let me clean that for you, okay?"
The Doctor nodded, and tipped his head back slightly. He looked exhausted.
"So, this distress signal," I spoke as I reached for the first aid kit, opened it and rummaged around. "I think we need more bandages. So what happened?"
"A little-known planet on the other side of the universe," said the Doctor softly. "When the TARDIS reached out, she did it properly." He smiled a little, as though proud of his clever ship, despite everything. Then he looked serious again.
He told me, wincing slightly as I gently cleaned his cut with antiseptic, how he'd stared in horror at the console, realising immediately what was happening. It had all happened at once, all so fast, the Doctor had told me, and he didn't know what to do. He'd tried to tell me, and I hadn't listened. He'd begged me to help him, and I'd ignored his pleas. I should have gone with him, I knew that now, but I'd just abandoned him.
The irony of it all, the fact that I'd forsaken him when he needed me, that I had now done to him what he'd done twice to me, still struck me, even then.
But I didn't revel in it, not one bit. I felt nothing but guilt and shame for what I had said and done, and although I didn't say anything to the Doctor, I made a silent vow to myself that I was going to make it up to him somehow, the way I knew I'd had to make amends to Ianto.
The Doctor continued his tale, his voice shaking slightly, telling me that he'd stayed in the safety of the TARDIS after I'd stormed out, distraught and confused at having made me so angry, terrified of the distress call; sounds and lights still bleeping and flashing urgently around him.
Eventually he'd realised that he had two choices: try to do what he could to help, despite his fear of making things worse, or ignore the signal, and stay hidden away. My harsh words, and the apparent agreement of the TARDIS, had struck a chord in him, it seemed. Terrified, he'd chosen to make what he considered to be the right choice, and not the easy one.
The planet, and he never even told me its name, had been invaded by terrible, bloodthirsty creatures, their only goal destruction and domination. The humanoid inhabitants of the planet had been slaughtered in their millions, with thousands more taken into slavery.
When the Doctor got there, the planet was still burning. It was a husk; a blackened, smouldering ruin of ash and cinders.
He was too late. The distress signal had been on a constant loop, calling out to the universe for days, even weeks, before the TARDIS reached out and found it. They had cried out for help, but nobody came.
Not even the Doctor.
Having landed on the devastated planet and realised what must had happened, the Doctor had wandered through the burning ruins for days, stumbling through the remains of devastated buildings. He'd dug through rubble with his bare hands, frantically searching for survivors; for anybody that he could help, anyone he could save, or in desperation, somebody to just apologise to.
I took his wounded hands in mine as he spoke, and began to silently clean them with antiseptic. Somehow it seemed easier not to have to look at his face as he spoke.
The Doctor told me that eventually he'd found a small huddled group, a handful of traumatised survivors who had managed to avoid detection by their invaders, taking refuge underground while above them their world was being destroyed.
"What did you do?" I asked him softly.
"I told them I was there to help," he said, simply. The Doctor seemed calm at least, he'd spoken quietly throughout his story, even dully, and only now and then did his voice shake. There had been no tears.
Sometimes, no matter how terrible you feel, there comes a point where you have no more tears left. I'd learnt that myself.
"I got half a jumbled story out of them, and then they turned on me," the Doctor said.
"What?"
He rubbed his eyes wearily with stinging fingers. "I couldn't blame them, Jack. All that terror and death and devastation. Hopes shattered when nobody comes to save them, and then when it's all over and they have nothing left, some idiot, a stranger, an alien, turns up and says he's there to help." He laughed humourlessly. "I think they may have been a little wary of strangers arriving on their planet, for some reason."
"Is that how you got this?" I dabbed at his cut with a fresh piece of cotton wool.
The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe. I offered to take them somewhere in the TARDIS, anywhere they could start a new life, but they weren't interested. Threw rocks at the TARDIS, told me to go away. Only not in such a polite manner..."
"Then they were idiots."
The Doctor shook his head. "Trauma does funny things to people, Jack. I should know." He tapped at his own forehead with his index finger, and then winced when it hurt both his head and his finger.
"I didn't know what else to do. I felt so useless. They didn't want me there, and there was nothing else I could do for them. So I ran away. Why break the habit of a lifetime? I got into the TARDIS and dematerialised. I don't even think I set any coordinates. I think the old girl just took the decision herself, and brought me home."
Home. I bit my lip.
"I tried to get hold of you. I was worried," I said. Understatement of the year. I gestured towards the mobile phone. "I tried ringing you, lots of times."
The Doctor glanced at the phone, as though surprised to see it. "Ah. I thought I heard something... sorry. Things got a bit... hazy for a while."
He sat forward, rested his elbows on his lap, and then rested his chin on his hands. He looked despondent. "Failed again, Jack," he whispered miserably.
"It wasn't your fault, Doctor," I said softly. "None of it." I reached out and stroked his shoulder. "It's not your duty."
"But as a Time Lord, the last one there is, maybe it is my duty. And I just keep getting it wrong. Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He covered his face with his hands.
"It's difficult to deal with this when you're still ill, Doctor. You are, you know that, don't you?"
He nodded under his hands.
"So… we get you right. We get you better, and then when everything is clearer in your head, you can make that decision for yourself."
"If I stay, I'll be changing my own future timeline," he said quietly. He emerged from under his raw fingers and looked up at me. "I know some things about my possible future. I'm not meant to stay here forever, Jack. But sometimes... I want to."
"Look… I'm sorry about before," I said. "And that's the last time I'm gonna apologise for it, I promise," I added, as he gave me a raised eyebrow.
"And I want to help you. So... if you think you know what you need to make you better, then tell me. This time I promise I'll listen, no matter what you have to say."
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid you won't want to help me. Not in the way I need. Not now."
I took his hands in mine - gently. "I'll do anything. I told you before, I'd do anything for you, and I meant it."
The Doctor turned away. Was he... blushing?
"I need an anchor. And I don't just mean somewhere I can call home. It's far more than that. More complicated. It's... a procedure. A commitment. It's... a Time Lord thing."
"Okay," I said earnestly. I was willing to try anything. I wouldn't let him down again.
The Doctor straightened in his seat and looked me in the eyes. He reached out and caressed my face. It wasn't sexual, but intensely intimate, and I shivered in response.
"I need you, Jack. Every bit of you. And it's complicated... and scary... and far more amazing and wonderful than anything you could ever imagine."
I nodded urgently.
"I need..." the Doctor swallowed. "No, no... I want..."
I took a shuddering breath. Suddenly there didn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room.
He gave me the sweetest, most radiant smile I'd ever seen.
"I want to belong to you."
To be continued
<< Chapter One
<< Chapter Two
<< Chapter Three
<< Chapter Four
<< Chapter Five
<< Chapter Six
<< Chapter Seven
<< Chapter Eight
<< Chapter Nine
>> Chapter Eleven
>> Chapter Twelve
>> Chapter Thirteen
>> Chapter Fourteen
>> Chapter Fifteen
>> Chapter Sixteen
>> Chapter Seventeen
>> Chapter Eighteen
>> Chapter Nineteen
>> Chapter Twenty
>> Chapter Twenty One
>> Chapter Twenty Two
>> Chapter Twenty Three
>> Chapter Twenty Four
>> Chapter Twenty Five
>> Chapter Twenty Six
>> Chapter Twenty Seven
>> Chapter Twenty Eight
Title: Belonging - Chapter Ten
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters Jack/Ianto, Ten
Rating: This Chapter - PG-13 for mild language (Series is rated NC-17 overall)
Spoilers: The Stolen Earth, Journey's End
Disclaimer: The BBC own it all, the little tinkers
Warnings: mild references to blood/injury | angst | hurt/comfort
Description:
Set immediately after the events of The Stolen Earth/Journey's End.
The Torchwood team members are struggling to get back to normal after recent shattering events, when the Doctor turns up in the Torchwood Hub in the middle of the night; alone, heartbroken, guilt-ridden, and needing somewhere to belong.
"Trauma does funny things to people, Jack. I should know."
Chapter Ten
I walked back upstairs slowly, my steps heavy. I didn't know whether to be gripped with panic, or just feel wretched at the thought that I'd hurt the Doctor so much he'd decided to leave without a word, rather than try to talk to me again.
Ianto was at his workstation checking email when I returned.
"That was quick," he said with a frown.
"He's gone," I said flatly.
"What, he's not in the TARDIS?"
I shook my head. "The TARDIS has gone. He must have left after I set off for your flat."
Ianto looked solemn. "I'm sorry. Maybe he just… I don't know. Wanted to be alone for a while? He'll be back."
I sat down on the old sofa where the Doctor and I had shared tea and pizzas and stories together.
"It's taken him this long to trust anybody enough to want to stop running, to want to belong somewhere, and I just blew up at him."
Ianto joined me on the seat and squeezed my leg. "You had cause to be angry, Jack; don't beat yourself up over that."
"It's not that, Ianto. If he's pissed off with me enough to say 'screw you, I'm going', then that's fair enough, I can't blame him. It's just… I thought he was getting better… but now I'm not so sure. I've never seen him so vulnerable. I don't know how Time Lords react to… well, anything, really. I thought I knew him, but I was just kidding myself."
"You mean you're worried about his state of mind?" Ianto frowned.
I sighed. "You didn't see him, Ianto. Something was up; the TARDIS was making weird noises, it was lit up like a Christmas tree. The Doctor looked scared, he was panicking, and all I did was turn my back on him and wouldn't listen. What if… the way he is, what if he does something stupid?"
Ianto smiled. "Now you're being a drama queen."
I squeezed my eyes shut. "When he first came to us, when he was in my office, he… well, he told me about something he did a long time ago. He said he should have died then. He thought he deserved to. What if he's completely snapped? What if he's regressed back to feeling like that? If something happens to him because of me, I'll never forgive myself…"
Ianto looked a little more worried now, whether because he wondered if what I said might be true, or because he thought I was panicking over nothing, I couldn't be sure.
"It'll be okay," he said soothingly. "He'll be back before you know it, just you wait and see."
Ianto put his arms around me and I rested my cheek against the side of his neck, soothed by the beat of his pulse, hoping against hope that the voice of reason would turn out to be right.
***
The Doctor didn't come back that night. Or the next night. Or the night after that.
Ianto and I kept working as normal; going through the motions as I tried to hide how worried and upset I was from the rest of the team.
I couldn't concentrate on anything. I spent all my time in the Hub straining to hear the sound of the TARDIS materialising; so much that sometimes I thought I could hear it, only to realise after a few seconds that it was just my imagination.
I glanced at the vortex manipulator on my wrist every few minutes, hoping that there was a message waiting and I'd simply not heard it beep.
When my team left for the night, I barely said a word to them. They obviously knew something was wrong, but had clearly learned by now that when I was in such a bad mood, they were better off just leaving me to it. I was glad to avoid any awkward questions. There are advantages to being so enigmatic, I suppose.
Now I sat at my desk with my hand on the piece of coral, concentrating on it, hoping that I could send some sort of telepathic vibe into it, as if it was still connected to the real TARDIS and she would hear me, somehow.
Pathetic.
I took my hand off the coral, and then contemplated picking it up and throwing it against the nearest wall, and watching it shatter into a dozen pieces. But I didn't.
Ianto found me with my head in my hands, leaning forward on my desk. It mirrored what the Doctor had done that first night he came to me, so full of loss and despair that the weight of the universe seemed too heavy for him to bear.
Now all I could feel was my own loss. Worry about what the Doctor might be going through, guilt at having been so impatient and angry with him, and an ache in my heart when I thought about what could have been between us.
Ianto perched on the end of my desk and cleared his throat.
"Um… there is something you haven't thought of."
I pulled my hands away from my face and looked at Ianto eagerly. "What?"
Ianto held out his mobile phone. "We still have his number saved on the system. Saved it into the contacts for you. Well, it's Martha's number… but he still has her old phone, doesn't he?"
A huge grin on my face, I took the phone from him and saw that he had already called up the number on the screen; it was just waiting for me to press send.
I pressed the green key and held the phone to my ear. There was a connection! The ringing tone sounded, again and again.
My spirit sank further every time the repeating tone warbled in my ear. Eventually, after about a dozen rings I heard a pause, and a click. I held my breath, hoping to hear the Doctor's voice.
'Hi, you've reached Martha. Sorry, but I can't...'
I pressed the red key to end the call, and sat back in my seat, feeling crushed.
"Just keep trying," said Ianto softly. "He might be busy… or… I don't know. Maybe he's in the shower!" He smiled, but I just couldn't muster one back.
I tried to look on the bright side. "At least there was a signal. And it rang. Which means the phone is switched on, and working, right?"
At least the Doctor hadn't purposely materialised the TARDIS into the middle of the sun or something, then.
I rubbed my eyes. I should really stop thinking such stupid things.
"Come on," said Ianto softly. "I'll make us a coffee and get us a pizza in, okay? I'll stop over with you so we don't miss him when he gets back."
***
I'd hardly eaten a thing. I sat on the couch in the main area of the Hub, sipping my fourth coffee. I'd tried ringing the Doctor's mobile number countless times, to no avail. I'd even left a few awkward-sounding voicemail messages that would probably never be retrieved.
Some time in the early hours Ianto had fallen asleep next to me on the seat, his head resting on my shoulder. I nuzzled at his soft, dark hair with my chin.
"I don’t deserve you." I whispered. I don't think he heard me.
I leant my head back against the wall.
And waited.
***
I sat up straight with a gasp. My foot involuntarily kicked out at the little table in front of me, knocking over my abandoned mug and spilling cold coffee over my boot.
I must have nodded off. What had woken me? The eerie, grinding, wailing noise coming from below ground, probably.
It took a second for my brain to wake up. A moment later the weight of Ianto's head on my shoulder lifted as he straightened up, and he looked at me, blinking sleepily.
He smiled, a little smugly, despite his just-woken fug. "Told you," he said. I grinned back at him.
"Go," he said solemnly. "I'll stick the kettle on, eh?"
I nodded gratefully, and set off for the stairs at a run.
***
Even in the dim light, the TARDIS looked a mess; it was dirty and covered in fine white powder. I collected some of it onto my fingers from one of the blue wooden panels and examined it more closely. It was ash.
I rested the flat of my palm on the door and breathed deeply for another moment. I hadn't a clue what I was going to say to the Doctor, but I wanted to make things right.
I pushed. The door resisted for a second, as though the TARDIS was wary of me, but then it opened. I stepped in, cautiously. The humming sounded louder than ever in the absence of any other sound; the console had stopped flashing and bleeping, at least.
I looked around. There was no sign of the Doctor. I made my way up the ramp. Sometimes his legs were to be found sticking out from under the console when the urge to tinker with wires overtook him. I reached the console and walked round it slowly but the Doctor's legs, or any other part of him, weren't apparent.
I looked at the console. Martha's mobile phone was wedged behind a lever. I picked it up and checked it. There was a little logo showing, signifying that there were new voicemail messages, and the screen confirmed that there were also 8 missed calls. I put the phone back with a heavy sigh.
It wasn't until I sat down on the seat facing the doors to gather my thoughts that I realised the Doctor was in the room after all. He'd been there all the time and I'd simply walked past him. He was sitting on the floor, curled up like a child, hugging himself. His back was against one of the huge, curved, coral-like columns, the one he usually liked to hang his coat over. He was on this side of it, which is why I hadn't seen him when I entered.
I stood up and approached him slowly. "Doctor?" I said softly.
He was staring into space. I don't even think he knew I was there. He didn't speak, or look at me. He just stared into thin air, blinking slowly. He was covered in the same fine ash that covered the exterior of his TARDIS. His clothes were filthy, his hair and face streaked chalky white, as if somebody had emptied a bucket of flour over him. I winced as I got nearer and saw that amongst all the white, there was a vivid red patch on the Doctor's forehead. He appeared to have a nasty cut there. His hands were also grime-streaked, and looked scraped and bruised.
I crouched down in front of him. "Doctor?" I repeated. He blinked again, but didn't speak or look at me. I reached out and touched his shoulder, and he flinched slightly.
His glassy eyes turned to me. "I was too late," he whispered.
"Too late for what?" I asked gently.
"Too late," he repeated, and turned his eyes away from me and back to the middle distance.
I swallowed. I didn't know what to do. I had to get through to him somehow.
"Doctor," I said again. "Are you okay? What happened? Where has all this come from?" I reached out and stroked his hair, and a thousand particles of fine white dust swirled into the air above him.
"Talk to me," I urged. "Please."
"Why did you come back?" said the Doctor, a note of surprise in his voice. He still wasn't looking at me. A shiver of fear slipped its way down my back.
"I came back to see you," I said soothingly. "To talk things over with you. To apologise. I'm sorry for the way I reacted, for the things I said..."
The Doctor was shaking his head, dislodging more white powder into the air. "No, no, you were right. You were right." His eyes turned towards me again, and now they were shining with tears.
"Get up," I said gently. "Let's go and sit down, you must be uncomfortable on the floor."
The Doctor shrugged. I reached out towards the cut on his forehead, stopping my fingers half an inch away from his skin. "You're hurt," I said. "Let me take care of that for you. Please?"
The Doctor stared at me for a moment, and then closed his eyes and nodded tiredly.
I stood up and bent over, slid my hands under his arms, met them around his back and hauled him gently to his feet, like a child. He felt worryingly light in my arms. I felt him totter slightly once he was on his feet, and let him rest against me for a moment. His body felt feverishly hot against my chest and stomach, even through our clothing. He looked and felt like he hadn't slept or eaten for a week. I held him tightly against me, my eyes squeezed shut with a mixture of relief and remorse.
God, what had happened? Was this my fault? I felt wretched, not to mention extremely worried.
When the Doctor's legs felt like they were a little steadier, I lead him over to the seat and made him sit down. I helped him take off his grimy, dusty jacket, and once I was sure he wasn't going to fall over, told him to stay put and hurried through into the inner chamber of the TARDIS.
A few moments later I returned with a tall glass of water and a small first aid kit, to see that the Doctor hadn't moved from his position, and was back to staring into the middle distance, although his eye view was now filled with the central time rotor of the console.
I sat next to him, rested the first aid kit on the edge of the console and gently turned his head to face me with my freed hand. He seemed to focus on me again, and attempted a small smile.
"Jack. You came back!" he said, as though he hadn't remembered that he'd already seen me.
"Yeah, I came back," I said gently. My voice shook slightly. I reached out and stroked his face. Then I handed him the glass. "Drink this," I said. He obediently raised the glass to his lips and began to sip thirstily.
"What happened to you?"
The Doctor didn't reply until he'd drunk enough to quench his thirst. He panted slightly when he'd finished, and I took the glass from him and placed it carefully on the ground where it wouldn't be kicked over.
He seemed a little more lucid now. "You were right," he said simply. "When you said that I shouldn't be hiding down here in your basement like a coward."
I shook my head ruefully. "I didn't mean it. I was angry... shocked. I said a lot of things I shouldn't have, and I am so sorry."
The Doctor feebly waved his hand in the air dismissively, but I wasn't going to let him brush it aside.
I swallowed. "And I shouldn't have said those things about it being your fault that people were dying. It's not your fault, and it's not your responsibility."
"So if I hear a cry for help, I shouldn't heed it?" he said.
"I didn't say that..."
The Doctor shook his head. "Of course I should try to help people. It's... what I do. What I've always done. I don't know why."
"Because you're a good man. You're a hero. But that doesn't mean it's your responsibility, or your obligation. I... people shouldn't take you for granted."
The Doctor looked lost again. It wasn't his obligation, but it was his choice. And that choice was what was driving him crazy, I could understand that now.
"What happened, Doctor? Where did you go? Was it because I...? I never meant to hurt you."
He shook his head. "When I decided to stay here, at Torchwood, I didn't just increase the perception filter. I hid us away, so nobody could find us. I put a shield around the TARDIS. It was like locking her in a psychic cage. She didn't like it one bit, oh no... But she accepted it. She's a loyal old friend, you know."
I nodded. The Doctor always spoke about the TARDIS as though it was a living, sentient being, not just a ship or a machine. I was beginning to believe just how true that was, more and more.
"After a while she got a bit restless. Started poking out a few telepathic tendrils. She couldn't get any further than the walls of the Hub at first. She reached out, found you. Found the Weevils. But no further."
I nodded.
"Then, when you told me that I should be out there saving people instead of hiding away... I think she listened. I think that she decided you were right."
I frowned.
The Doctor continued. "Told you she liked you. She must have broken free of her psychic restraints. Reached out into the universe. And what was the first thing that came through?"
I guessed. "A distress signal."
The Doctor nodded, looking haunted. "I wasn't ready. Not for that. I was so scared."
I grimaced. "And I just turned away from you. I didn't listen... and I'm so..."
The Doctor reached out and placed his hand on my arm. "Don't keep saying you're sorry."
"But I am!" There were tears in my eyes. I took a deep breath. Then I reached out towards his forehead again. "Let me clean that for you, okay?"
The Doctor nodded, and tipped his head back slightly. He looked exhausted.
"So, this distress signal," I spoke as I reached for the first aid kit, opened it and rummaged around. "I think we need more bandages. So what happened?"
"A little-known planet on the other side of the universe," said the Doctor softly. "When the TARDIS reached out, she did it properly." He smiled a little, as though proud of his clever ship, despite everything. Then he looked serious again.
He told me, wincing slightly as I gently cleaned his cut with antiseptic, how he'd stared in horror at the console, realising immediately what was happening. It had all happened at once, all so fast, the Doctor had told me, and he didn't know what to do. He'd tried to tell me, and I hadn't listened. He'd begged me to help him, and I'd ignored his pleas. I should have gone with him, I knew that now, but I'd just abandoned him.
The irony of it all, the fact that I'd forsaken him when he needed me, that I had now done to him what he'd done twice to me, still struck me, even then.
But I didn't revel in it, not one bit. I felt nothing but guilt and shame for what I had said and done, and although I didn't say anything to the Doctor, I made a silent vow to myself that I was going to make it up to him somehow, the way I knew I'd had to make amends to Ianto.
The Doctor continued his tale, his voice shaking slightly, telling me that he'd stayed in the safety of the TARDIS after I'd stormed out, distraught and confused at having made me so angry, terrified of the distress call; sounds and lights still bleeping and flashing urgently around him.
Eventually he'd realised that he had two choices: try to do what he could to help, despite his fear of making things worse, or ignore the signal, and stay hidden away. My harsh words, and the apparent agreement of the TARDIS, had struck a chord in him, it seemed. Terrified, he'd chosen to make what he considered to be the right choice, and not the easy one.
The planet, and he never even told me its name, had been invaded by terrible, bloodthirsty creatures, their only goal destruction and domination. The humanoid inhabitants of the planet had been slaughtered in their millions, with thousands more taken into slavery.
When the Doctor got there, the planet was still burning. It was a husk; a blackened, smouldering ruin of ash and cinders.
He was too late. The distress signal had been on a constant loop, calling out to the universe for days, even weeks, before the TARDIS reached out and found it. They had cried out for help, but nobody came.
Not even the Doctor.
Having landed on the devastated planet and realised what must had happened, the Doctor had wandered through the burning ruins for days, stumbling through the remains of devastated buildings. He'd dug through rubble with his bare hands, frantically searching for survivors; for anybody that he could help, anyone he could save, or in desperation, somebody to just apologise to.
I took his wounded hands in mine as he spoke, and began to silently clean them with antiseptic. Somehow it seemed easier not to have to look at his face as he spoke.
The Doctor told me that eventually he'd found a small huddled group, a handful of traumatised survivors who had managed to avoid detection by their invaders, taking refuge underground while above them their world was being destroyed.
"What did you do?" I asked him softly.
"I told them I was there to help," he said, simply. The Doctor seemed calm at least, he'd spoken quietly throughout his story, even dully, and only now and then did his voice shake. There had been no tears.
Sometimes, no matter how terrible you feel, there comes a point where you have no more tears left. I'd learnt that myself.
"I got half a jumbled story out of them, and then they turned on me," the Doctor said.
"What?"
He rubbed his eyes wearily with stinging fingers. "I couldn't blame them, Jack. All that terror and death and devastation. Hopes shattered when nobody comes to save them, and then when it's all over and they have nothing left, some idiot, a stranger, an alien, turns up and says he's there to help." He laughed humourlessly. "I think they may have been a little wary of strangers arriving on their planet, for some reason."
"Is that how you got this?" I dabbed at his cut with a fresh piece of cotton wool.
The Doctor shrugged. "Maybe. I offered to take them somewhere in the TARDIS, anywhere they could start a new life, but they weren't interested. Threw rocks at the TARDIS, told me to go away. Only not in such a polite manner..."
"Then they were idiots."
The Doctor shook his head. "Trauma does funny things to people, Jack. I should know." He tapped at his own forehead with his index finger, and then winced when it hurt both his head and his finger.
"I didn't know what else to do. I felt so useless. They didn't want me there, and there was nothing else I could do for them. So I ran away. Why break the habit of a lifetime? I got into the TARDIS and dematerialised. I don't even think I set any coordinates. I think the old girl just took the decision herself, and brought me home."
Home. I bit my lip.
"I tried to get hold of you. I was worried," I said. Understatement of the year. I gestured towards the mobile phone. "I tried ringing you, lots of times."
The Doctor glanced at the phone, as though surprised to see it. "Ah. I thought I heard something... sorry. Things got a bit... hazy for a while."
He sat forward, rested his elbows on his lap, and then rested his chin on his hands. He looked despondent. "Failed again, Jack," he whispered miserably.
"It wasn't your fault, Doctor," I said softly. "None of it." I reached out and stroked his shoulder. "It's not your duty."
"But as a Time Lord, the last one there is, maybe it is my duty. And I just keep getting it wrong. Damned if I do, damned if I don't." He covered his face with his hands.
"It's difficult to deal with this when you're still ill, Doctor. You are, you know that, don't you?"
He nodded under his hands.
"So… we get you right. We get you better, and then when everything is clearer in your head, you can make that decision for yourself."
"If I stay, I'll be changing my own future timeline," he said quietly. He emerged from under his raw fingers and looked up at me. "I know some things about my possible future. I'm not meant to stay here forever, Jack. But sometimes... I want to."
"Look… I'm sorry about before," I said. "And that's the last time I'm gonna apologise for it, I promise," I added, as he gave me a raised eyebrow.
"And I want to help you. So... if you think you know what you need to make you better, then tell me. This time I promise I'll listen, no matter what you have to say."
The Doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid you won't want to help me. Not in the way I need. Not now."
I took his hands in mine - gently. "I'll do anything. I told you before, I'd do anything for you, and I meant it."
The Doctor turned away. Was he... blushing?
"I need an anchor. And I don't just mean somewhere I can call home. It's far more than that. More complicated. It's... a procedure. A commitment. It's... a Time Lord thing."
"Okay," I said earnestly. I was willing to try anything. I wouldn't let him down again.
The Doctor straightened in his seat and looked me in the eyes. He reached out and caressed my face. It wasn't sexual, but intensely intimate, and I shivered in response.
"I need you, Jack. Every bit of you. And it's complicated... and scary... and far more amazing and wonderful than anything you could ever imagine."
I nodded urgently.
"I need..." the Doctor swallowed. "No, no... I want..."
I took a shuddering breath. Suddenly there didn't seem to be enough oxygen in the room.
He gave me the sweetest, most radiant smile I'd ever seen.
"I want to belong to you."
To be continued
<< Chapter One
<< Chapter Two
<< Chapter Three
<< Chapter Four
<< Chapter Five
<< Chapter Six
<< Chapter Seven
<< Chapter Eight
<< Chapter Nine
>> Chapter Eleven
>> Chapter Twelve
>> Chapter Thirteen
>> Chapter Fourteen
>> Chapter Fifteen
>> Chapter Sixteen
>> Chapter Seventeen
>> Chapter Eighteen
>> Chapter Nineteen
>> Chapter Twenty
>> Chapter Twenty One
>> Chapter Twenty Two
>> Chapter Twenty Three
>> Chapter Twenty Four
>> Chapter Twenty Five
>> Chapter Twenty Six
>> Chapter Twenty Seven
>> Chapter Twenty Eight