(no subject)
Who: Jack and 10
Where: Torchwood
What: Remeet
When: 8 months post end of DW S2
Flesh called to flesh. He'd always thought that funny and trite, but Susan had been the first to tell him that, nearly 900 years ago and he had even believed it. She had found him, hadn't she? That didn't make it less funny or trite. Which is why it felt absolutely bizarre to be traveling to the Rift in Cardiff to charge up the Tardis, absolutely not thinking about the last time he was here with two companions he had lost in different ways and completely not being an absolute depressive wanker about being alone. He'd spend plenty of time alone! Centuries! He still hated it. But flesh called to flesh and the Tardis landed next to the hand that he'd lost during his regeneration. It was kind of like sitting on a hangnail you chewed off and spit out and then scratched your bottom through your pants and he stumbled out of the Tardis in the middle of what looked like a bunker and "Oh! I'm hallucinating! Hullo, Jack!"
He'd heard the Tardis and he heard the noise but that didn't mean he believed it - or rather he didn't believe it was what it seemed to me. Just like he didn't believe he was seeing what he was seeing when he came out. His gun was drawn, and there was no doubt he was surprised but his arm didn't lower (much). "What- How-" He stopped talking and kept staring. Down the barrel of a gun, because hey - everyone's got their security blanket. Some people even sleep with them. His just happened to be a projectile weapon.
"Need to get you back to Villengard," he said thoughtfully, leaning against the door of the Tardis.
He lowered the gun, but looked to make sure the gun wasn't a banana. "My potassium's just fine." He took a deep breath and let it out with an unsteady laugh. "I always figured you'd turn up sooner or later."
He held out his hand, "Sooner, I think." Pause. "It is sooner, right? Are we sooner?"
He holstered the gun and gripped the Doctor's wrist, cocked his head and stood looking meeting his eyes, searching and accessing. "No." Simple.
He pulled Jack in gently, looking anciently sad, "I'm sorry, Jack."
He took the next step but stayed there. He gave the Doctor a crookedly sweet smile, right down to the dimples. "Does bring a whole new meaning to gate crashing."
"You crashed a gate?" he asked curiously.
He shook his head. "I was talking about you."
He looked around, "Well, she's being dodgy again." he lied.
Jack nodded a few times. "So of all the worlds in all of space and time, you just fell into mine."
"Well, if I wasn't in an alternate dimension or having a hallucination I would have.'
Jack rolled his eyes, took the last step between them and kissed him chastely but warmly on the mouth. "I was much happier being a coward."
The Doctor beamed, "No you weren't."
"Yes, I was," he argued stubbornly.
"So where are we?" he changed the subject.
He let go and stepped back. "My home." He grinned again. "Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor."
He stared, actually paling before grabbing Jack's wrist and tugging him towards the Tardis, "We're going.'
Jack pulled back. He wanted to go - his heart leapt the whole fucking nine yards, but he pulled back. "Whoa, hold on just a minute. What do you mean we're going?"
"You're being kept here, we're *leaving*."
"I am not being kept here. I work here."
He dropped Jack's wrist like it burned.
Jack looked at his wrist. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Do you see Rose?" he changed the subject. Not really.
He shook his head. "Not since I left you." He paused. "Where Is Rose?"
"She was at Canary Wharf." he said harshly.
Hurt, anger, denial and confusion flickered across his face, settling with something disbelieving and guarded "What?" He sounded every bit as disbelieving as he looked.
"She was at that hell hole that Torchwood opened, Jack! She's gone!" Not. Technically lying.
He raked a hand through his hair and turned away.
"I thought you knew better, Jack. You of all people know what alien tech can do to the human race."
He turned back, very slowly and pinned ten with a stare. "I know better than anyone what they'll do to the human race, with or without their tech." He was hurt, there was no hiding it, but he wasn't letting himself flinch.
The Doctor crossed his arms, looking more like his previous incarnation than he had any right to. "But you're still here."
That hurt. The look, not the words, and his breath caught. "Where should I have gone? What should I have done?"
"I don't know what *happened* to you. I saw you die."
He closed his eyes, shuttering them before he answered. "I don't know, either." He opened them again, still a bit guarded but there was a wry, unamused smile on his lips. "I can't die, Doctor."
"...is that a metaphor?"
He shook his head. "No."
"I was hoping it was a metaphor," he grumbled.
"Yeah, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You let Rose die?" Somehow he sounded, felt, more betrayed by that than being left himself.
"No," he protested, feeling offended and looking just a little sick. "She's just. Gone."
"Like she was gone before?"
"Like we can never get her back gone."
"But not dead?"
"She's not dead." he said quietly.
He sighed with obvious relief, and the set of his shoulders dropped. "Thank you."
"What happened to you, Jack?"
"I don't know," He repeated, voice strained with frustration - *old* frustration. "I died. I woke up. I died again. I woke up again. And again. and again."
The Doctor winced, "It hurts."
He gave the Doctor A Look and a rough laugh that broke the tension. "Yeah, it does. What happened to you?"
"Died," he shrugged
"I like the hair. The shoes though?"
He looked down, "They're practical!!" he looked at Jack's shoes, "Bet you can't run in those."
He looked down at his books and back up at the doctor with a boyish grin. "Bet I can."
"Yeah?" he looked curious.
"Yeah." The grin faltered. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," he shoved his hands in his pockets
"What are you sorry for?" he asked, and that wasn't a challenge or a demand. It was a request for an answer, and some fear of what he was going to hear.
"Leaving you. I swear, Jack, I thought you were dead."
"Not a problem, Doctor, you weren't the only one." He reached out and traced his thumb down the bridge of the Doctor's nose. "You got her out. You got you out. That was the game plan."
"Wasn't mine," he took Jack's hand.
He folded his fingers around the Doctor's in a strong, warm, and calloused grip. "What was?"
"Planned to die with you." He admitted, "wasn't always good at plans.'
That deserved a real grin and got it. "Have you gotten better?" He teased. "I thought you couldn't die."
"I couldn't get worse," he pointed out.
"No, you couldn't." He didn't apologize for that, but there was... fondness there, nostalgia. "Can you still dance?"
"Now is that one a metaphor?"
He laughed. "No, it's not. But I can make it one if you want."
"I remember how to dance."
"You owe me one."
"You owe me a drink for your metaphor."
His grin turned a little wicked and an eyebrow went up. "Oh yeah? You owe me a spin around the block. " He paused and calculated. "Twenty three billion times."
"A spin around the block?" he questioned.
"I'll settle for a long walk on the beach," he offered. "But it would have to be a really long walk."
"You'd have to change your shoes."
"There's nothing wrong with my shoes."
"They'll get sand in them." he wrinkled his nose.
"So will yours."
"Will not! THey're high tops."
"I'll take mine off," he offered. He did not offer to wear sneakers. "How long has it been without Rose?"
"Eight months."
"So, that's about ten minutes for you." That was mean. He wasn't sure it came from but he wasn't trying very hard to figure it out.
He crossed his arms. "No. It's like eight months, Jack."
Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, looking down to examine his shoes, critically. "Forever 's a long time."
"You've noticed," he said softly.
He laughed, softly "I'm not completely stupid. Just mostly."
"You're not." he held his hand out.
He didn't hesitate. His trust in the Doctor, even this incarnation, this face, ran deep enough to lay down his life and die. This. This was nothing. He put his hand in The Doctor's.
"Do you need to stay?"
He clamped his hand down on the Doctor's. His jaw tightened and he shook his head. "I need to go."
"Oh good," he said cheerfully, tugging him into the Tardis.
Jack laughed and resisted just long enough to be able to grab his coat.
Where: Torchwood
What: Remeet
When: 8 months post end of DW S2
Flesh called to flesh. He'd always thought that funny and trite, but Susan had been the first to tell him that, nearly 900 years ago and he had even believed it. She had found him, hadn't she? That didn't make it less funny or trite. Which is why it felt absolutely bizarre to be traveling to the Rift in Cardiff to charge up the Tardis, absolutely not thinking about the last time he was here with two companions he had lost in different ways and completely not being an absolute depressive wanker about being alone. He'd spend plenty of time alone! Centuries! He still hated it. But flesh called to flesh and the Tardis landed next to the hand that he'd lost during his regeneration. It was kind of like sitting on a hangnail you chewed off and spit out and then scratched your bottom through your pants and he stumbled out of the Tardis in the middle of what looked like a bunker and "Oh! I'm hallucinating! Hullo, Jack!"
He'd heard the Tardis and he heard the noise but that didn't mean he believed it - or rather he didn't believe it was what it seemed to me. Just like he didn't believe he was seeing what he was seeing when he came out. His gun was drawn, and there was no doubt he was surprised but his arm didn't lower (much). "What- How-" He stopped talking and kept staring. Down the barrel of a gun, because hey - everyone's got their security blanket. Some people even sleep with them. His just happened to be a projectile weapon.
"Need to get you back to Villengard," he said thoughtfully, leaning against the door of the Tardis.
He lowered the gun, but looked to make sure the gun wasn't a banana. "My potassium's just fine." He took a deep breath and let it out with an unsteady laugh. "I always figured you'd turn up sooner or later."
He held out his hand, "Sooner, I think." Pause. "It is sooner, right? Are we sooner?"
He holstered the gun and gripped the Doctor's wrist, cocked his head and stood looking meeting his eyes, searching and accessing. "No." Simple.
He pulled Jack in gently, looking anciently sad, "I'm sorry, Jack."
He took the next step but stayed there. He gave the Doctor a crookedly sweet smile, right down to the dimples. "Does bring a whole new meaning to gate crashing."
"You crashed a gate?" he asked curiously.
He shook his head. "I was talking about you."
He looked around, "Well, she's being dodgy again." he lied.
Jack nodded a few times. "So of all the worlds in all of space and time, you just fell into mine."
"Well, if I wasn't in an alternate dimension or having a hallucination I would have.'
Jack rolled his eyes, took the last step between them and kissed him chastely but warmly on the mouth. "I was much happier being a coward."
The Doctor beamed, "No you weren't."
"Yes, I was," he argued stubbornly.
"So where are we?" he changed the subject.
He let go and stepped back. "My home." He grinned again. "Welcome to Torchwood, Doctor."
He stared, actually paling before grabbing Jack's wrist and tugging him towards the Tardis, "We're going.'
Jack pulled back. He wanted to go - his heart leapt the whole fucking nine yards, but he pulled back. "Whoa, hold on just a minute. What do you mean we're going?"
"You're being kept here, we're *leaving*."
"I am not being kept here. I work here."
He dropped Jack's wrist like it burned.
Jack looked at his wrist. "Are you going to tell me what's going on?"
"Do you see Rose?" he changed the subject. Not really.
He shook his head. "Not since I left you." He paused. "Where Is Rose?"
"She was at Canary Wharf." he said harshly.
Hurt, anger, denial and confusion flickered across his face, settling with something disbelieving and guarded "What?" He sounded every bit as disbelieving as he looked.
"She was at that hell hole that Torchwood opened, Jack! She's gone!" Not. Technically lying.
He raked a hand through his hair and turned away.
"I thought you knew better, Jack. You of all people know what alien tech can do to the human race."
He turned back, very slowly and pinned ten with a stare. "I know better than anyone what they'll do to the human race, with or without their tech." He was hurt, there was no hiding it, but he wasn't letting himself flinch.
The Doctor crossed his arms, looking more like his previous incarnation than he had any right to. "But you're still here."
That hurt. The look, not the words, and his breath caught. "Where should I have gone? What should I have done?"
"I don't know what *happened* to you. I saw you die."
He closed his eyes, shuttering them before he answered. "I don't know, either." He opened them again, still a bit guarded but there was a wry, unamused smile on his lips. "I can't die, Doctor."
"...is that a metaphor?"
He shook his head. "No."
"I was hoping it was a metaphor," he grumbled.
"Yeah, I'm sorry for the inconvenience. You let Rose die?" Somehow he sounded, felt, more betrayed by that than being left himself.
"No," he protested, feeling offended and looking just a little sick. "She's just. Gone."
"Like she was gone before?"
"Like we can never get her back gone."
"But not dead?"
"She's not dead." he said quietly.
He sighed with obvious relief, and the set of his shoulders dropped. "Thank you."
"What happened to you, Jack?"
"I don't know," He repeated, voice strained with frustration - *old* frustration. "I died. I woke up. I died again. I woke up again. And again. and again."
The Doctor winced, "It hurts."
He gave the Doctor A Look and a rough laugh that broke the tension. "Yeah, it does. What happened to you?"
"Died," he shrugged
"I like the hair. The shoes though?"
He looked down, "They're practical!!" he looked at Jack's shoes, "Bet you can't run in those."
He looked down at his books and back up at the doctor with a boyish grin. "Bet I can."
"Yeah?" he looked curious.
"Yeah." The grin faltered. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," he shoved his hands in his pockets
"What are you sorry for?" he asked, and that wasn't a challenge or a demand. It was a request for an answer, and some fear of what he was going to hear.
"Leaving you. I swear, Jack, I thought you were dead."
"Not a problem, Doctor, you weren't the only one." He reached out and traced his thumb down the bridge of the Doctor's nose. "You got her out. You got you out. That was the game plan."
"Wasn't mine," he took Jack's hand.
He folded his fingers around the Doctor's in a strong, warm, and calloused grip. "What was?"
"Planned to die with you." He admitted, "wasn't always good at plans.'
That deserved a real grin and got it. "Have you gotten better?" He teased. "I thought you couldn't die."
"I couldn't get worse," he pointed out.
"No, you couldn't." He didn't apologize for that, but there was... fondness there, nostalgia. "Can you still dance?"
"Now is that one a metaphor?"
He laughed. "No, it's not. But I can make it one if you want."
"I remember how to dance."
"You owe me one."
"You owe me a drink for your metaphor."
His grin turned a little wicked and an eyebrow went up. "Oh yeah? You owe me a spin around the block. " He paused and calculated. "Twenty three billion times."
"A spin around the block?" he questioned.
"I'll settle for a long walk on the beach," he offered. "But it would have to be a really long walk."
"You'd have to change your shoes."
"There's nothing wrong with my shoes."
"They'll get sand in them." he wrinkled his nose.
"So will yours."
"Will not! THey're high tops."
"I'll take mine off," he offered. He did not offer to wear sneakers. "How long has it been without Rose?"
"Eight months."
"So, that's about ten minutes for you." That was mean. He wasn't sure it came from but he wasn't trying very hard to figure it out.
He crossed his arms. "No. It's like eight months, Jack."
Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, looking down to examine his shoes, critically. "Forever 's a long time."
"You've noticed," he said softly.
He laughed, softly "I'm not completely stupid. Just mostly."
"You're not." he held his hand out.
He didn't hesitate. His trust in the Doctor, even this incarnation, this face, ran deep enough to lay down his life and die. This. This was nothing. He put his hand in The Doctor's.
"Do you need to stay?"
He clamped his hand down on the Doctor's. His jaw tightened and he shook his head. "I need to go."
"Oh good," he said cheerfully, tugging him into the Tardis.
Jack laughed and resisted just long enough to be able to grab his coat.