Fic: The Cold Heaven 5/10 + Epilogue
Story: The Cold Heaven
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor (Duplicate), other canon and original characters
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: I think you all know by now that I don't own them!
Spoilers: DW: up to Journey's End; TW: up to Children of Earth. NO SPOILERS for the DW specials
Summary: "They say black holes are like gateways to another universe" - Rose Tyler, The Impossible Planet
With very many thanks to dark_aegis, kae_nine and yamx for beta-reading beyond the call of duty.
Chapter 1: Gateway l Chapter 2: Impossible and Immovable l Chapter 3: Truth and Daring l Chapter 4: Flight
Chapter 5: Opening the Floodgates
“I think you’d better tell us exactly what happened.”
The Doctor’s the first to speak and, calmly, he issues the instruction, raising one eyebrow in a faintly quizzical expression.
He’s far less calm inside, though. Jack had a grandson? Has a daughter? Since when? Well, obviously from something like thirty years ago, if the daughter’s old enough to have had a nine-year-old son.
As for the rest... Well. He knows Jack Harkness, of course. Jack’s a good bloke, but that doesn’t mean he’s always behaved like a saint, or that he ever would. He’s done plenty of things he’s ashamed of, whether he had any choice about them or not. Yes, he’s killed, and no doubt many of those killings were in cold blood. He’s been a thief and a liar and a conman and maybe even a traitor.
But Jack’s not the only one in this room who can answer to all of those charges, is he? And, if he knows Jack, and he does, he knows that Jack won’t have killed his own grandson for any other reason than that he had no choice.
Grandchildren. So they have that in common as well, him and Jack: the fact of their existence, and the means of their destruction.
Jack’s still standing against the wall, palms flat against the paintwork, and it’s obvious that if he could find a way out of this room - this house - he’d already be gone. Not going to happen.
There’s one thing, though. One thing that’s a bit of a relief, really. Jack’s not really blaming Rose for everything. It sounded a bit like he was, back in the hotel-room in Ottawa, but it’s obvious now that he was just clutching at a convenient target. It’s himself he hates, not Rose.
Not that that’s any better, but it might be easier to work with.
The thing is, the two of them always loved each other. Still do, he’s certain, even in spite of Jack’s behaviour earlier. That’s why Rose couldn’t leave Jack dead. That’s why Jack, in those years when he was on Earth simply waiting to find him again, watched her in secret as she grew up - and was visibly upset to think she might have died at Canary Wharf.
And that’s why, if he’s going to be able to get through to Jack now, he’ll need Rose - or, rather, Jack’s fondness for her. Maybe not at first, but he will need her. Apart from anything else, she’s far, far better than he is at the talking stuff. As Donna once told him, he talks and talks but never actually says anything.
Jack’s been silent too long. He takes a step forward. “Jack...”
The Captain shifts uncomfortably. Then Rose yawns loudly. Instantly, Jack looks relieved. “Rose is dead on her feet, Doctor. You guys should get some sleep. You’ve been up all night.”
“So’ve you,” he points out, but glances at Rose anyway. Jack’s right. She’s barely managing to stay upright.
“I’m all right,” she protests, but immediately yawns again.
“No, you’re not,” he counters. “Go to bed, Rose. Jack and I can-”
“No.” Jack cuts across him, his tone clipped. “Not now. I... look, give me a break, okay? I’m... not ready.”
Will he ever be? But there’s no point pushing the man beyond endurance. It’s not as if this is their only chance to find out what happened to him. The Doctor nods. “All right. Sleep now, talk later. But, Jack, I want your promise that you’ll be here later, all right?”
Jack shrugs. “It’s not as if I have anywhere to go anyway.”
They all know that’s not true, of course, especially now that Jack’s got identity documents - documents that will already have been entered into official databases. But it’s the closest thing to a promise he’s going to get. He nods. “Later, then.”
Ten minutes later, he’s got a sleepy Rose curled into his body, but she’s not completely unconscious yet. “We are gonna be able to help him, right?”
Once upon a time, he’d have lied to her; but in those days he wanted her to believe that he could do anything. He even told her that, and of course proved just an hour or so later that it was a lie. “We can try. We will try.”
“Yeah.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “That poor kid, and his mother. And Jack too, having to do that. I can’t even imagine what must’ve been so awful that he had no other choice. We should’ve stayed and talked to him.”
He didn’t miss how quickly Jack jumped on a reason to stop the conversation. “We will talk to him. Think it’s better to give him some time now, though.”
Rose shifts, and he glances down; she’s pulling a face. “Yeah. But we can’t let him get away with it indefinitely. Something else, though,” she adds through another yawn. “I can’t help wondering where the other you was. Doesn’t sound like he was around to help.”
He’s got no answer to that question. He’s been wondering himself.
And of course Rose would assume that Jack had no choice. She always did have that naiveté that made her assume the best of anyone - but then he realises that’s not really true. The Rose who first travelled with him would automatically have assumed that, but this Rose, the one who’s been a Torchwood operative for five years now, isn’t like that. No, she’s come to that conclusion because this is Jack, and she knows him, and just like himself she knows that he had to have had a damn good reason for what he did.
The question remains: what was the reason? And, of course, how are they going to get Jack to tell them?
Maybe he needs to try a different approach.
***
Something’s woken him from the first decent sleep he’s had in a long time. No, not something. Someone. The evening sunlight that’s coming through the cracks in the blinds is just enough to reveal the Doctor, leaning against the closed door of his borrowed room, watching him.
So this is later, then. Of course, it’s his own fault for losing control earlier and telling the two of them what he did. Naturally there’s no way the Doctor’s going to let that go. Which, of course, is why he’s here. No avoiding it - unless...
He leans across and snaps on the bedside light, then throws back the covers and stands. He’s slept naked, of course, and the Doctor will just have to deal with it.
“So you’re the spare, then, not the real thing?” The taunt’s unwise as well as unkind, but he can’t seem to help himself. “Wondered what had happened to you - and to Rose. Heard from a UNIT contact that he was travelling alone. Dump you both back here, did he?”
“Thought you might find it easier to tell me what happened back in the other universe if Rose wasn’t here.” The Doctor’s completely ignored everything he said. Not even a flinch when he called him the spare. “Though, really, I suppose I should’ve arranged to put a door between us and given you something difficult and very dangerous to do, shouldn’t I?”
The implication being that the only truly honest conversations the two of them have had with each other happened in that kind of situation - in the radiation room on Malcassiro, or on those few occasions on the Valiant when the Doctor, aged and weakened, was thrown into a room in the bowels of the ship right next to the area where he was kept hanging in chains.
Oh, god, he did talk then, didn’t he? Told the Doctor how much he hated his endless existence, death after death after death, each time cursed to revive all over again. Losing people he cared about one after another, knowing every time he formed a friendship, began a relationship, how it would end.
Damn the Doctor for reminding him.
But two can play at the ignoring game. “So how does it feel being stuck on Earth, no TARDIS, no time-travel, no running away when things get too much for you? How does it feel having to live a linear life like us lesser species? Having to stick around knowing you’ll outlive everyone?”
The Doctor doesn’t even flinch. Damn the bastard anyway. “Actually, this body’s human. Didn’t you know? One heart, one human life-span, no regeneration. I’ve aged since we last met, hadn’t you noticed? I’ve got grey hairs!” He tugs on the hair at his temples. “Brain’s still all Time Lord, though. Just as well! Imagine having to think like one of you lot.” He winks. “But I’m not stuck, Jack. Could already be travelling if I wanted to. Cars, planes, zeppelins - so many opportunities. But I’m building a TARDIS.” A grin spreads across his face. “You could help, if you like. Well, until I find a way to send you back. Have to do that, Jack. You can’t stay here.”
Fury rushes through him, and he starts pacing the room. “When are you going to stop telling me what to do? I can’t use my gun - can’t even draw it if you’re around. Can’t use my Vortex manipulator because you don’t want me time-travelling. You even disable my damn teleport! And now, according to you, I can’t stay in this universe. What the fuck gives you the right to order me around?”
The Doctor takes a sharp intake of breath, and then tugs at his hair. “Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. I just... Well.” He pauses, then adds, “You really can’t stay here, Jack, because we don’t know if there’s another you around somewhere. But as for the rest... yes. I’m sorry.” He takes a step forward. “What was his name?”
“Huh?” He stares, frowning. The Doctor’s always been one for lightning changes of subject, but he can usually manage to work out where he’s going. Not this time.
“Your grandson, Jack. What was his name?”
All the breath whooshes out of his body. “S...Steven. His name was Steven.”
“Steven.” The Doctor repeats the name softly. “And you loved him. Oh, Jack.”
There’s not even a question in the Doctor’s voice. Or on his face. The Doctor knows he killed Steven - murdered him - and the man’s not even doubting that he loved him. His eyes moisten, and he has to look down at the floor before he embarrasses himself.
Strong arms wrap around him, pulling him close to a long, lean body. He doesn’t even think of resisting, instead dropping his head to the Doctor’s shoulder and letting the tears come. In his head, all he can see is Steven staring at him in hurt confusion as he presses the key that will kill his grandson. All he hears are Alice’s cries and screams of betrayal.
When, a couple of minutes later, a second pair of arms wraps around him, he clings to Rose as well, weeping for the first time for all he’s lost.
***
It was the raised voices - well, voice; she could only hear Jack speaking, though not what he said - that woke her and brought her to find out what’s going on. She refused to be deterred by the closed door. No secrets, she’s told the Doctor, and this is Jack, their friend, and he needs them right now, both of them.
Just as well she did come in, though. Because this is still the Doctor, and despite the Donna influence he’s still rubbish at any kind of conversation that might involve expressing emotions, or actually talking about situations instead of finding the easiest distraction. Though maybe he wasn’t doing so badly. Yes, Jack might have been shouting, but that could be a good sign. At least it’s an emotional reaction - better than the cold distance he’s been showing since they found him.
Jack pulls back a little, though he doesn’t let them go entirely. His eyes, their long lashes still damp, show regret as he looks straight at the Doctor. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“But-” Jack begins to protest, but the Doctor cuts across him.
“I know you didn’t mean it, any of it. So forget it, all right?”
What did Jack say? That must have been the shouting she heard, of course. But the Doctor’s right. Jack’s not himself at the moment, and if it was that bad then it’s best forgotten.
She does glance at the Doctor, all the same. She’s always known that he can be hurt far more easily than he likes to pretend to others. But there’s nothing but concern in his dark eyes as he squeezes Jack’s shoulder, preventing yet another attempt by Jack to apologise. “De nada. We’ve been friends a long time, you and me, and if you could forgive some of the things I’ve done to you...” He smiles crookedly. “All forgotten.”
“Thank you.” He looks at her then, his eyes troubled. “Rose, I’m sorry. The stuff I said to you, about never wanting to see you again - I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
She raises one hand, touching his face with her fingertips. “Doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t.” And anyway, he had cause, didn’t he, given what she did?
Jack steps back, glancing downwards, and then he does a double-take before looking up again. He actually looks embarrassed - something she’s not sure she’s ever seen from him before. “Sorry. I guess I should put some clothes on, huh?”
This is different. Jack’s never been shy about his body. Not that she ever saw him completely naked in those days - and earlier, when he was strapped to the table, wasn’t exactly a time to enjoy the view, so she can’t help stealing a full and appreciative look right now - but in the time he was on the TARDIS with her and the Doctor he frequently walked around in very little clothing, and was quite blatant about letting her know that if she ever wanted to see the rest of him she’d be very welcome.
As she meets his gaze again, the wary look in his eyes gives her the real explanation; it’s their reaction he’s concerned about. Deliberately, she smiles. “I wasn’t complaining.”
Instantly, a grin curves across his face and he eyes her appreciatively. “I’m not either.”
Oh, right. She left the bedroom so quickly she only grabbed a thigh-length satin robe. And it’s hugging the parts of her body it’s covering so closely that every curve is visible.
She can’t help glancing at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye. He was always jealous when Jack flirted with her, wasn’t he? And if she flirted back, at least in the early days, his mouth would form into a thin line and he’d often just stalk off, sometimes with a cutting comment which had nothing to do with the two of them flirting, but she knew why all the same.
He’s smiling and shaking his head, with that you humans, you’re so amusing look she’s seen so many times from this body, whether from the Time Lord Doctor she travelled with, or her Doctor here and now. Of course, he’s fully dressed, in jeans and a casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Oh, put some clothes on, Jack,” he says now, but his eyes are twinkling.
Jack turns away and reaches for his clothes, and she finds her gaze caught by the Doctor. “S’pose I should get dressed too,” she comments.
He says nothing, and for the first time she wonders if he’s angry that she didn’t trust him to handle this alone. Laying a hand on his arm, she says, “I was worried - I heard Jack shouting...”
“I wasn’t shutting you out, Rose,” he answers as Jack pulls on the sweatshirt he was wearing before they all went to bed - of course, he’s got nothing else, has he? That’s something they’ll need to take care of as soon as possible. It’s late-night shopping today, though, isn’t it? “I just wondered if Jack might find it easier to tell me about what happened without you here.”
“What, all boys together?” she asks, keeping her voice light, though a pang of hurt’s cut through her. Because he thinks Jack’s not going to forgive her for making him immortal, so it’d be easier for the two of them to talk without her around?
The Doctor’s hand curls around hers. “Because some things are just too horrible to put into words, Rose. To anyone. How long did it take me to tell you about the Master?”
Well over a year, and he’s still only told her the bare details. Yeah, all right, then. He’s got a point.
Jack finishes zipping up his trousers and comes closer to them. “He was wrong. You both need to hear this, and I want...” He swallows and looks down at the floor for a moment. “I want to tell both of you.”
“Then tell us.” The Doctor’s voice is solemn, but very gentle. “Think we need a good cup of tea, though. Always makes things better, that.” He lays a hand on Jack’s back, ushering him towards the door. “Did I ever tell you about the time Rose’s mum saved the world with a cup of tea?”
***
Over tea and cheese on toast, the whole appalling story comes out.
Jack’s shaking by the time he finishes talking, and he’s talked for close to half an hour without stopping. How the 456 - not a species he’s familiar with, even if Jack knew their real name, and Jack’s description doesn’t help - first demanded twelve children in an act of blackmail so despicable he’s sickened by it. How they came back, and the government’s first response was to eliminate everyone who knew about the first time. How Jack and his team were left to struggle against the establishment, to fight for their own lives, before they could fight to save the world’s children.
And then, finally, the terrible decision he had to make. One life to save the lives of millions. One life that meant more to him than anyone else in the universe. The knowledge of what he would be doing to his daughter, as well as to his grandson, if he agreed. And of course he had no choice. With minutes to go, no other help in sight, and the fate of thirty-five million children resting in his hands, what else could he have done?
Rose is crying openly by the time Jack finishes speaking, her hands tangled around Jack’s. She looks straight across the table at him, though, and there’s disbelief in her eyes. He knows what she’s going to ask even before she says it: the same question they talked about briefly earlier, though that was before they knew just how bad the situation had been. “Where were you, Doctor? Why didn’t you come?”
The other him, of course, though he’s not going to correct her on that. In any case, it could just as easily have been him. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey, as he told Sally Sparrow; he could have found out about it at any time in his more than nine hundred years and come to help.
He didn’t. And that is astonishing.
“Did you call him?” he asks Jack, his tone urgent. “You had the number. Martha’s phone. You had it!”
Jack flinches, and he silently curses himself for insensitivity. Seems he’s still got a lot to learn about this being human stuff. “The Hub was destroyed,” Jack says, his tone defensive. “Before I knew how bad this was. A bomb in my stomach blew me into little pieces, and then when I revived I was covered in concrete.” The Doctor winces at the mental images Jack’s terse descriptions conjure up. “Didn’t have a lot of opportunity for making phone calls, even if I had your number any more. The Hub computers, my cellphone, my wrist computer - all lost.”
He frowns. “But Martha has the number too. So does Sarah Jane. Why didn’t they-”
Rose looks up again. “What if - I dunno, but if these creatures were as clever as they seemed to be, what if they were prepared in case the Earth was able to call for help to another planet? What if they knew about the Doctor? I mean, if you thought that was a possibility you’d do something to block communications, wouldn’t you? And - well, they seemed to be pretty good at communication methods, right?”
“Makes sense to me,” Jack says, exhaling slowly. “I wondered. I couldn’t help thinking...”
“That I’d abandoned you again?” he asks quietly. “Jack, I wouldn’t.”
“Not me,” Jack says quickly. “If it was just me, I would understand, but so many of them? You’d come if you knew, I knew that. Except you wouldn’t if it was a fixed point, something you couldn’t interfere with.”
“No. It wasn’t.” That’s something he’s very sure of. “If it was, I’d know about it, and I didn’t.” He bends his head, raking the fingers of both hands through his hair. “And I’m guessing the reason I never knew about it is that you stopped it.”
Jack’s eyes widen, and he looks stricken again. “You mean if I hadn’t killed Steven you might have come?”
“Who knows? And even if I had it might have been too late.” He reaches across the table to lay his hand on top of Jack’s and Rose’s. “You did the only thing you could. You made a sacrifice no-one should ever have to make, and I wish it hadn’t happened, but it can’t be changed. You know that, Jack, every bit as well as I do.”
Jack’s sharp intake of breath is audible. “You sacrificed your planet. The Time War.”
He just nods. The words aren’t needed. If it helps Jack at all to know that he’s not the only person who’s been forced to do something that terrible, something to this day he still can’t forgive himself for, then he’s glad Jack’s made the connection.
Jack says nothing, but he frees one hand and lays it over his, pressing hard.
***
So they know. And they’re not treating him like a murderer, even if they should. Even if it’s how he expected them to react. It’s how most normal people would, after all.
Their sympathy’s the hardest to take, though. Even if he’d do exactly the same all over again - and he knows he would; he’s been over it in his head thousands of times, step by step, moment by moment, from the second he was brought into the makeshift command headquarters by Johnson until he conceded, nodded his head, gave the order to fetch Steven. There was no other choice, no other way out, nothing else he could have done. No time to find another child, and anyway how could he have justified killing someone else’s child while sparing his? Even if he’d do exactly the same all over again, that doesn’t make it right.
And he knows, too, that the Doctor would say exactly the same about what he did in the Time War. Saving the world - or the universe - doesn’t always make you a hero. Far from it.
The worst’s over. Now, as long as they don’t ever have to talk about it again maybe he can cope with being around the two of them. At least, for as long as he’s allowed to stay here. The Doctor’s determined to send him back, and even if the guy’s not a full Time Lord any more he’ll find a way.
Back to the other universe, where the other Doctor’s looking for him. Great.
“Jack, you said you lost one of your team,” Rose says, and his gut clenches. God, he was hoping they’d just let that go by unnoticed. “Who was it? I mean, we saw two of them over the subwave network. Wasn’t one of them, was it?”
He lowers his head until his forehead’s touching the jumble of hands on the table. “Ianto,” he mumbles.
“Who?” There’s a command in the Doctor’s voice he instinctively finds himself ready to obey. God, how can the guy still do that to him after all this time?
“Ianto.” He raises his head. “Ianto Jones.”
He can feel the sudden tension in Rose’s body before he even turns to look at her. “But wasn’t he... I mean, it looked like you and him...”
“Yeah.” With that whispered word, he’s back in Whitehall, lying on the floor while the virus slowly eats away at his lungs, knowing that Ianto’s dying in his arms. Knowing that it was his fault, that it was his hubris that led to this. He wanted to prove to Ianto that he could fight back, and so he went in - brought Ianto in there with him - without a proper plan, or a fallback in case the 456 refused his demand.
“God, Jack. Both of them.” Rose’s voice breaks into a sob, and she pulls her hands away to fold her arms around him again. “No wonder you wanted to die. So you - what? Found a black hole?”
“Stole a ship and flew into it, yeah,” he confesses. “Never expected to come out again.”
“Oh, but you should have,” the Doctor says, in his Time Lord teaching voice. “You can’t stay dead, Jack. No matter what happens, you’ll come back to life. Bullets, Dalek death-ray, poison, bomb in your stomach, buried alive, it doesn’t matter. You’ll always revive again. But you can’t revive inside a black hole. You just can’t. It’s impossible, even for you. So the force inside you, the Time Vortex, that keeps bringing you back to life every time you die just propelled you to the nearest exit. That black hole just spat you out, ‘cause nothing’s stronger than the power of the Time Vortex. And so here you are.”
“Here I am,” he repeats dully.
“Yeah.” Rose hugs him again. “But you’ve got us now, yeah? You’re not alone.”
He almost snorts. The Doctor’s told him twice now that he can’t stay here, so a fat lot of good that is.
“Rose,” the Doctor says, caution in his voice. “You were there. You heard me tell Jack he can’t stay here.”
“But, Doctor, you heard him,” she retorts. “You heard what happened. How can he go back? What’s there to go back to?”
“Me,” the Doctor replies immediately. “I can give you a way to find me, Jack. I - he’ll help you. Whatever you need, he’ll help.”
Yeah, right. What can that Doctor do? He’s not going to undo the past - even if it’d get past his Time Lord scruples, which it won’t, it’s too dangerous. He was a Time Agent. He knows all about paradoxes and weak points in time and the dangers of changing established events.
Besides, that Doctor’s made it all too clear that they’ve gone their separate ways. Oh, he’s grateful for Jack’s help every so often, but the Doctor never really saw him as a companion, not the way Rose was, or Martha, or Donna.
He shoves back his chair and stands, then starts pacing, weighing his options. They can’t keep him here, in this house - or, if the Doctor so much as hints that he’s a prisoner here, he’ll be gone as soon as either of them looks the other way. He could disappear. He doesn’t have his wrist computer any more, so the Doctor can’t use that to trace him. Unless he can trace him by that wrongness he talked about so graphically back on Malcassiro.
“Jack.” The voice is too close, and he whirls around. The Doctor’s standing right beside him, mouth turned down at the corners. “Rose just reminded me that I’m still too quick to make decisions for people. Jack, what do you want to do?”
He huffs out a breath. The one thing he wants is, he knows, the one thing even the Doctor can’t do for him. Well, the one thing if Steven and Ianto can’t be alive again, whether he’s with them or not. The Doctor can’t fix him so that he can die, or at least that’s what he said.
A lesser option, then. “I know I can’t stay,” he acknowledges aloud. “You’re right. There could be another me somewhere out there, and if I stay long enough I could run into him. I’ll go back, if you can find a way - but not yet.”
He takes a deep breath, then begs the Doctor as he never has before, even making a concession that rips what’s left of his heart into pieces. Ironic, too, given that a few hours earlier he was trying every tactic he could think of to get away from them. “Give me six months. A year - two years, even. I’m not asking to stick around here with you guys. I won’t impose on you. I’ve made my own way before and I can do it again. Just for a while, Doctor. Please.”
Wide brown eyes, and complete silence, greet his plea.
***
tbc in Chapter 6: Finding Routines
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Jack Harkness, Rose Tyler, Tenth Doctor (Duplicate), other canon and original characters
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: I think you all know by now that I don't own them!
Spoilers: DW: up to Journey's End; TW: up to Children of Earth. NO SPOILERS for the DW specials
Summary: "They say black holes are like gateways to another universe" - Rose Tyler, The Impossible Planet
With very many thanks to dark_aegis, kae_nine and yamx for beta-reading beyond the call of duty.
Chapter 1: Gateway l Chapter 2: Impossible and Immovable l Chapter 3: Truth and Daring l Chapter 4: Flight
Chapter 5: Opening the Floodgates
“I think you’d better tell us exactly what happened.”
The Doctor’s the first to speak and, calmly, he issues the instruction, raising one eyebrow in a faintly quizzical expression.
He’s far less calm inside, though. Jack had a grandson? Has a daughter? Since when? Well, obviously from something like thirty years ago, if the daughter’s old enough to have had a nine-year-old son.
As for the rest... Well. He knows Jack Harkness, of course. Jack’s a good bloke, but that doesn’t mean he’s always behaved like a saint, or that he ever would. He’s done plenty of things he’s ashamed of, whether he had any choice about them or not. Yes, he’s killed, and no doubt many of those killings were in cold blood. He’s been a thief and a liar and a conman and maybe even a traitor.
But Jack’s not the only one in this room who can answer to all of those charges, is he? And, if he knows Jack, and he does, he knows that Jack won’t have killed his own grandson for any other reason than that he had no choice.
Grandchildren. So they have that in common as well, him and Jack: the fact of their existence, and the means of their destruction.
Jack’s still standing against the wall, palms flat against the paintwork, and it’s obvious that if he could find a way out of this room - this house - he’d already be gone. Not going to happen.
There’s one thing, though. One thing that’s a bit of a relief, really. Jack’s not really blaming Rose for everything. It sounded a bit like he was, back in the hotel-room in Ottawa, but it’s obvious now that he was just clutching at a convenient target. It’s himself he hates, not Rose.
Not that that’s any better, but it might be easier to work with.
The thing is, the two of them always loved each other. Still do, he’s certain, even in spite of Jack’s behaviour earlier. That’s why Rose couldn’t leave Jack dead. That’s why Jack, in those years when he was on Earth simply waiting to find him again, watched her in secret as she grew up - and was visibly upset to think she might have died at Canary Wharf.
And that’s why, if he’s going to be able to get through to Jack now, he’ll need Rose - or, rather, Jack’s fondness for her. Maybe not at first, but he will need her. Apart from anything else, she’s far, far better than he is at the talking stuff. As Donna once told him, he talks and talks but never actually says anything.
Jack’s been silent too long. He takes a step forward. “Jack...”
The Captain shifts uncomfortably. Then Rose yawns loudly. Instantly, Jack looks relieved. “Rose is dead on her feet, Doctor. You guys should get some sleep. You’ve been up all night.”
“So’ve you,” he points out, but glances at Rose anyway. Jack’s right. She’s barely managing to stay upright.
“I’m all right,” she protests, but immediately yawns again.
“No, you’re not,” he counters. “Go to bed, Rose. Jack and I can-”
“No.” Jack cuts across him, his tone clipped. “Not now. I... look, give me a break, okay? I’m... not ready.”
Will he ever be? But there’s no point pushing the man beyond endurance. It’s not as if this is their only chance to find out what happened to him. The Doctor nods. “All right. Sleep now, talk later. But, Jack, I want your promise that you’ll be here later, all right?”
Jack shrugs. “It’s not as if I have anywhere to go anyway.”
They all know that’s not true, of course, especially now that Jack’s got identity documents - documents that will already have been entered into official databases. But it’s the closest thing to a promise he’s going to get. He nods. “Later, then.”
Ten minutes later, he’s got a sleepy Rose curled into his body, but she’s not completely unconscious yet. “We are gonna be able to help him, right?”
Once upon a time, he’d have lied to her; but in those days he wanted her to believe that he could do anything. He even told her that, and of course proved just an hour or so later that it was a lie. “We can try. We will try.”
“Yeah.” She presses a kiss to his lips. “That poor kid, and his mother. And Jack too, having to do that. I can’t even imagine what must’ve been so awful that he had no other choice. We should’ve stayed and talked to him.”
He didn’t miss how quickly Jack jumped on a reason to stop the conversation. “We will talk to him. Think it’s better to give him some time now, though.”
Rose shifts, and he glances down; she’s pulling a face. “Yeah. But we can’t let him get away with it indefinitely. Something else, though,” she adds through another yawn. “I can’t help wondering where the other you was. Doesn’t sound like he was around to help.”
He’s got no answer to that question. He’s been wondering himself.
And of course Rose would assume that Jack had no choice. She always did have that naiveté that made her assume the best of anyone - but then he realises that’s not really true. The Rose who first travelled with him would automatically have assumed that, but this Rose, the one who’s been a Torchwood operative for five years now, isn’t like that. No, she’s come to that conclusion because this is Jack, and she knows him, and just like himself she knows that he had to have had a damn good reason for what he did.
The question remains: what was the reason? And, of course, how are they going to get Jack to tell them?
Maybe he needs to try a different approach.
***
Something’s woken him from the first decent sleep he’s had in a long time. No, not something. Someone. The evening sunlight that’s coming through the cracks in the blinds is just enough to reveal the Doctor, leaning against the closed door of his borrowed room, watching him.
So this is later, then. Of course, it’s his own fault for losing control earlier and telling the two of them what he did. Naturally there’s no way the Doctor’s going to let that go. Which, of course, is why he’s here. No avoiding it - unless...
He leans across and snaps on the bedside light, then throws back the covers and stands. He’s slept naked, of course, and the Doctor will just have to deal with it.
“So you’re the spare, then, not the real thing?” The taunt’s unwise as well as unkind, but he can’t seem to help himself. “Wondered what had happened to you - and to Rose. Heard from a UNIT contact that he was travelling alone. Dump you both back here, did he?”
“Thought you might find it easier to tell me what happened back in the other universe if Rose wasn’t here.” The Doctor’s completely ignored everything he said. Not even a flinch when he called him the spare. “Though, really, I suppose I should’ve arranged to put a door between us and given you something difficult and very dangerous to do, shouldn’t I?”
The implication being that the only truly honest conversations the two of them have had with each other happened in that kind of situation - in the radiation room on Malcassiro, or on those few occasions on the Valiant when the Doctor, aged and weakened, was thrown into a room in the bowels of the ship right next to the area where he was kept hanging in chains.
Oh, god, he did talk then, didn’t he? Told the Doctor how much he hated his endless existence, death after death after death, each time cursed to revive all over again. Losing people he cared about one after another, knowing every time he formed a friendship, began a relationship, how it would end.
Damn the Doctor for reminding him.
But two can play at the ignoring game. “So how does it feel being stuck on Earth, no TARDIS, no time-travel, no running away when things get too much for you? How does it feel having to live a linear life like us lesser species? Having to stick around knowing you’ll outlive everyone?”
The Doctor doesn’t even flinch. Damn the bastard anyway. “Actually, this body’s human. Didn’t you know? One heart, one human life-span, no regeneration. I’ve aged since we last met, hadn’t you noticed? I’ve got grey hairs!” He tugs on the hair at his temples. “Brain’s still all Time Lord, though. Just as well! Imagine having to think like one of you lot.” He winks. “But I’m not stuck, Jack. Could already be travelling if I wanted to. Cars, planes, zeppelins - so many opportunities. But I’m building a TARDIS.” A grin spreads across his face. “You could help, if you like. Well, until I find a way to send you back. Have to do that, Jack. You can’t stay here.”
Fury rushes through him, and he starts pacing the room. “When are you going to stop telling me what to do? I can’t use my gun - can’t even draw it if you’re around. Can’t use my Vortex manipulator because you don’t want me time-travelling. You even disable my damn teleport! And now, according to you, I can’t stay in this universe. What the fuck gives you the right to order me around?”
The Doctor takes a sharp intake of breath, and then tugs at his hair. “Yes. Yes, of course, you’re right. I just... Well.” He pauses, then adds, “You really can’t stay here, Jack, because we don’t know if there’s another you around somewhere. But as for the rest... yes. I’m sorry.” He takes a step forward. “What was his name?”
“Huh?” He stares, frowning. The Doctor’s always been one for lightning changes of subject, but he can usually manage to work out where he’s going. Not this time.
“Your grandson, Jack. What was his name?”
All the breath whooshes out of his body. “S...Steven. His name was Steven.”
“Steven.” The Doctor repeats the name softly. “And you loved him. Oh, Jack.”
There’s not even a question in the Doctor’s voice. Or on his face. The Doctor knows he killed Steven - murdered him - and the man’s not even doubting that he loved him. His eyes moisten, and he has to look down at the floor before he embarrasses himself.
Strong arms wrap around him, pulling him close to a long, lean body. He doesn’t even think of resisting, instead dropping his head to the Doctor’s shoulder and letting the tears come. In his head, all he can see is Steven staring at him in hurt confusion as he presses the key that will kill his grandson. All he hears are Alice’s cries and screams of betrayal.
When, a couple of minutes later, a second pair of arms wraps around him, he clings to Rose as well, weeping for the first time for all he’s lost.
***
It was the raised voices - well, voice; she could only hear Jack speaking, though not what he said - that woke her and brought her to find out what’s going on. She refused to be deterred by the closed door. No secrets, she’s told the Doctor, and this is Jack, their friend, and he needs them right now, both of them.
Just as well she did come in, though. Because this is still the Doctor, and despite the Donna influence he’s still rubbish at any kind of conversation that might involve expressing emotions, or actually talking about situations instead of finding the easiest distraction. Though maybe he wasn’t doing so badly. Yes, Jack might have been shouting, but that could be a good sign. At least it’s an emotional reaction - better than the cold distance he’s been showing since they found him.
Jack pulls back a little, though he doesn’t let them go entirely. His eyes, their long lashes still damp, show regret as he looks straight at the Doctor. “I’m sorry, Doctor. I shouldn’t have said any of that stuff.”
The Doctor shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”
“But-” Jack begins to protest, but the Doctor cuts across him.
“I know you didn’t mean it, any of it. So forget it, all right?”
What did Jack say? That must have been the shouting she heard, of course. But the Doctor’s right. Jack’s not himself at the moment, and if it was that bad then it’s best forgotten.
She does glance at the Doctor, all the same. She’s always known that he can be hurt far more easily than he likes to pretend to others. But there’s nothing but concern in his dark eyes as he squeezes Jack’s shoulder, preventing yet another attempt by Jack to apologise. “De nada. We’ve been friends a long time, you and me, and if you could forgive some of the things I’ve done to you...” He smiles crookedly. “All forgotten.”
“Thank you.” He looks at her then, his eyes troubled. “Rose, I’m sorry. The stuff I said to you, about never wanting to see you again - I didn’t mean it, I swear.”
She raises one hand, touching his face with her fingertips. “Doesn’t matter. I know you didn’t.” And anyway, he had cause, didn’t he, given what she did?
Jack steps back, glancing downwards, and then he does a double-take before looking up again. He actually looks embarrassed - something she’s not sure she’s ever seen from him before. “Sorry. I guess I should put some clothes on, huh?”
This is different. Jack’s never been shy about his body. Not that she ever saw him completely naked in those days - and earlier, when he was strapped to the table, wasn’t exactly a time to enjoy the view, so she can’t help stealing a full and appreciative look right now - but in the time he was on the TARDIS with her and the Doctor he frequently walked around in very little clothing, and was quite blatant about letting her know that if she ever wanted to see the rest of him she’d be very welcome.
As she meets his gaze again, the wary look in his eyes gives her the real explanation; it’s their reaction he’s concerned about. Deliberately, she smiles. “I wasn’t complaining.”
Instantly, a grin curves across his face and he eyes her appreciatively. “I’m not either.”
Oh, right. She left the bedroom so quickly she only grabbed a thigh-length satin robe. And it’s hugging the parts of her body it’s covering so closely that every curve is visible.
She can’t help glancing at the Doctor out of the corner of her eye. He was always jealous when Jack flirted with her, wasn’t he? And if she flirted back, at least in the early days, his mouth would form into a thin line and he’d often just stalk off, sometimes with a cutting comment which had nothing to do with the two of them flirting, but she knew why all the same.
He’s smiling and shaking his head, with that you humans, you’re so amusing look she’s seen so many times from this body, whether from the Time Lord Doctor she travelled with, or her Doctor here and now. Of course, he’s fully dressed, in jeans and a casual shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “Oh, put some clothes on, Jack,” he says now, but his eyes are twinkling.
Jack turns away and reaches for his clothes, and she finds her gaze caught by the Doctor. “S’pose I should get dressed too,” she comments.
He says nothing, and for the first time she wonders if he’s angry that she didn’t trust him to handle this alone. Laying a hand on his arm, she says, “I was worried - I heard Jack shouting...”
“I wasn’t shutting you out, Rose,” he answers as Jack pulls on the sweatshirt he was wearing before they all went to bed - of course, he’s got nothing else, has he? That’s something they’ll need to take care of as soon as possible. It’s late-night shopping today, though, isn’t it? “I just wondered if Jack might find it easier to tell me about what happened without you here.”
“What, all boys together?” she asks, keeping her voice light, though a pang of hurt’s cut through her. Because he thinks Jack’s not going to forgive her for making him immortal, so it’d be easier for the two of them to talk without her around?
The Doctor’s hand curls around hers. “Because some things are just too horrible to put into words, Rose. To anyone. How long did it take me to tell you about the Master?”
Well over a year, and he’s still only told her the bare details. Yeah, all right, then. He’s got a point.
Jack finishes zipping up his trousers and comes closer to them. “He was wrong. You both need to hear this, and I want...” He swallows and looks down at the floor for a moment. “I want to tell both of you.”
“Then tell us.” The Doctor’s voice is solemn, but very gentle. “Think we need a good cup of tea, though. Always makes things better, that.” He lays a hand on Jack’s back, ushering him towards the door. “Did I ever tell you about the time Rose’s mum saved the world with a cup of tea?”
***
Over tea and cheese on toast, the whole appalling story comes out.
Jack’s shaking by the time he finishes talking, and he’s talked for close to half an hour without stopping. How the 456 - not a species he’s familiar with, even if Jack knew their real name, and Jack’s description doesn’t help - first demanded twelve children in an act of blackmail so despicable he’s sickened by it. How they came back, and the government’s first response was to eliminate everyone who knew about the first time. How Jack and his team were left to struggle against the establishment, to fight for their own lives, before they could fight to save the world’s children.
And then, finally, the terrible decision he had to make. One life to save the lives of millions. One life that meant more to him than anyone else in the universe. The knowledge of what he would be doing to his daughter, as well as to his grandson, if he agreed. And of course he had no choice. With minutes to go, no other help in sight, and the fate of thirty-five million children resting in his hands, what else could he have done?
Rose is crying openly by the time Jack finishes speaking, her hands tangled around Jack’s. She looks straight across the table at him, though, and there’s disbelief in her eyes. He knows what she’s going to ask even before she says it: the same question they talked about briefly earlier, though that was before they knew just how bad the situation had been. “Where were you, Doctor? Why didn’t you come?”
The other him, of course, though he’s not going to correct her on that. In any case, it could just as easily have been him. Wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey, as he told Sally Sparrow; he could have found out about it at any time in his more than nine hundred years and come to help.
He didn’t. And that is astonishing.
“Did you call him?” he asks Jack, his tone urgent. “You had the number. Martha’s phone. You had it!”
Jack flinches, and he silently curses himself for insensitivity. Seems he’s still got a lot to learn about this being human stuff. “The Hub was destroyed,” Jack says, his tone defensive. “Before I knew how bad this was. A bomb in my stomach blew me into little pieces, and then when I revived I was covered in concrete.” The Doctor winces at the mental images Jack’s terse descriptions conjure up. “Didn’t have a lot of opportunity for making phone calls, even if I had your number any more. The Hub computers, my cellphone, my wrist computer - all lost.”
He frowns. “But Martha has the number too. So does Sarah Jane. Why didn’t they-”
Rose looks up again. “What if - I dunno, but if these creatures were as clever as they seemed to be, what if they were prepared in case the Earth was able to call for help to another planet? What if they knew about the Doctor? I mean, if you thought that was a possibility you’d do something to block communications, wouldn’t you? And - well, they seemed to be pretty good at communication methods, right?”
“Makes sense to me,” Jack says, exhaling slowly. “I wondered. I couldn’t help thinking...”
“That I’d abandoned you again?” he asks quietly. “Jack, I wouldn’t.”
“Not me,” Jack says quickly. “If it was just me, I would understand, but so many of them? You’d come if you knew, I knew that. Except you wouldn’t if it was a fixed point, something you couldn’t interfere with.”
“No. It wasn’t.” That’s something he’s very sure of. “If it was, I’d know about it, and I didn’t.” He bends his head, raking the fingers of both hands through his hair. “And I’m guessing the reason I never knew about it is that you stopped it.”
Jack’s eyes widen, and he looks stricken again. “You mean if I hadn’t killed Steven you might have come?”
“Who knows? And even if I had it might have been too late.” He reaches across the table to lay his hand on top of Jack’s and Rose’s. “You did the only thing you could. You made a sacrifice no-one should ever have to make, and I wish it hadn’t happened, but it can’t be changed. You know that, Jack, every bit as well as I do.”
Jack’s sharp intake of breath is audible. “You sacrificed your planet. The Time War.”
He just nods. The words aren’t needed. If it helps Jack at all to know that he’s not the only person who’s been forced to do something that terrible, something to this day he still can’t forgive himself for, then he’s glad Jack’s made the connection.
Jack says nothing, but he frees one hand and lays it over his, pressing hard.
***
So they know. And they’re not treating him like a murderer, even if they should. Even if it’s how he expected them to react. It’s how most normal people would, after all.
Their sympathy’s the hardest to take, though. Even if he’d do exactly the same all over again - and he knows he would; he’s been over it in his head thousands of times, step by step, moment by moment, from the second he was brought into the makeshift command headquarters by Johnson until he conceded, nodded his head, gave the order to fetch Steven. There was no other choice, no other way out, nothing else he could have done. No time to find another child, and anyway how could he have justified killing someone else’s child while sparing his? Even if he’d do exactly the same all over again, that doesn’t make it right.
And he knows, too, that the Doctor would say exactly the same about what he did in the Time War. Saving the world - or the universe - doesn’t always make you a hero. Far from it.
The worst’s over. Now, as long as they don’t ever have to talk about it again maybe he can cope with being around the two of them. At least, for as long as he’s allowed to stay here. The Doctor’s determined to send him back, and even if the guy’s not a full Time Lord any more he’ll find a way.
Back to the other universe, where the other Doctor’s looking for him. Great.
“Jack, you said you lost one of your team,” Rose says, and his gut clenches. God, he was hoping they’d just let that go by unnoticed. “Who was it? I mean, we saw two of them over the subwave network. Wasn’t one of them, was it?”
He lowers his head until his forehead’s touching the jumble of hands on the table. “Ianto,” he mumbles.
“Who?” There’s a command in the Doctor’s voice he instinctively finds himself ready to obey. God, how can the guy still do that to him after all this time?
“Ianto.” He raises his head. “Ianto Jones.”
He can feel the sudden tension in Rose’s body before he even turns to look at her. “But wasn’t he... I mean, it looked like you and him...”
“Yeah.” With that whispered word, he’s back in Whitehall, lying on the floor while the virus slowly eats away at his lungs, knowing that Ianto’s dying in his arms. Knowing that it was his fault, that it was his hubris that led to this. He wanted to prove to Ianto that he could fight back, and so he went in - brought Ianto in there with him - without a proper plan, or a fallback in case the 456 refused his demand.
“God, Jack. Both of them.” Rose’s voice breaks into a sob, and she pulls her hands away to fold her arms around him again. “No wonder you wanted to die. So you - what? Found a black hole?”
“Stole a ship and flew into it, yeah,” he confesses. “Never expected to come out again.”
“Oh, but you should have,” the Doctor says, in his Time Lord teaching voice. “You can’t stay dead, Jack. No matter what happens, you’ll come back to life. Bullets, Dalek death-ray, poison, bomb in your stomach, buried alive, it doesn’t matter. You’ll always revive again. But you can’t revive inside a black hole. You just can’t. It’s impossible, even for you. So the force inside you, the Time Vortex, that keeps bringing you back to life every time you die just propelled you to the nearest exit. That black hole just spat you out, ‘cause nothing’s stronger than the power of the Time Vortex. And so here you are.”
“Here I am,” he repeats dully.
“Yeah.” Rose hugs him again. “But you’ve got us now, yeah? You’re not alone.”
He almost snorts. The Doctor’s told him twice now that he can’t stay here, so a fat lot of good that is.
“Rose,” the Doctor says, caution in his voice. “You were there. You heard me tell Jack he can’t stay here.”
“But, Doctor, you heard him,” she retorts. “You heard what happened. How can he go back? What’s there to go back to?”
“Me,” the Doctor replies immediately. “I can give you a way to find me, Jack. I - he’ll help you. Whatever you need, he’ll help.”
Yeah, right. What can that Doctor do? He’s not going to undo the past - even if it’d get past his Time Lord scruples, which it won’t, it’s too dangerous. He was a Time Agent. He knows all about paradoxes and weak points in time and the dangers of changing established events.
Besides, that Doctor’s made it all too clear that they’ve gone their separate ways. Oh, he’s grateful for Jack’s help every so often, but the Doctor never really saw him as a companion, not the way Rose was, or Martha, or Donna.
He shoves back his chair and stands, then starts pacing, weighing his options. They can’t keep him here, in this house - or, if the Doctor so much as hints that he’s a prisoner here, he’ll be gone as soon as either of them looks the other way. He could disappear. He doesn’t have his wrist computer any more, so the Doctor can’t use that to trace him. Unless he can trace him by that wrongness he talked about so graphically back on Malcassiro.
“Jack.” The voice is too close, and he whirls around. The Doctor’s standing right beside him, mouth turned down at the corners. “Rose just reminded me that I’m still too quick to make decisions for people. Jack, what do you want to do?”
He huffs out a breath. The one thing he wants is, he knows, the one thing even the Doctor can’t do for him. Well, the one thing if Steven and Ianto can’t be alive again, whether he’s with them or not. The Doctor can’t fix him so that he can die, or at least that’s what he said.
A lesser option, then. “I know I can’t stay,” he acknowledges aloud. “You’re right. There could be another me somewhere out there, and if I stay long enough I could run into him. I’ll go back, if you can find a way - but not yet.”
He takes a deep breath, then begs the Doctor as he never has before, even making a concession that rips what’s left of his heart into pieces. Ironic, too, given that a few hours earlier he was trying every tactic he could think of to get away from them. “Give me six months. A year - two years, even. I’m not asking to stick around here with you guys. I won’t impose on you. I’ve made my own way before and I can do it again. Just for a while, Doctor. Please.”
Wide brown eyes, and complete silence, greet his plea.
***
tbc in Chapter 6: Finding Routines