Dimensionally Transcendent 14/14
Story: Dimensionally Transcendent
Author: wmr wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Only the missing time between The Doctor Dances and Boom Town belongs to me (I wish)
Summary: The Doctor said he'd better be bigger on the inside. But is he?
With huge thanks again to dark_aegis and ponygirl72 for being two of the very best beta-readers around. And an even bigger thanks to everyone who's commented on this (over-long) fic while it was being posted. I appreciate your feedback more than I can say. And I know I haven't been back to reply to your lovely comments on chapter 13 yet - currently my time is pretty limited, and I thought you might prefer an additional chapter before comment replies! I will come back and reply in a couple of days, when I have a bit more time.
The title of this final chapter is a tribute to ponygirl72. If you haven't read her brilliant Acceptance and Loss, what are you waiting for??
Chapter 1: Stray l Chapter 2: Tea and Sympathy l Chapter 3: Out of Time l Chapter 4: Learning to Trust l Chapter 5: Failing the Test l Chapter 6: Judgement l Chapter 7: Bonding l Chapter 8: Déjà Vu l Chapter 9: Chasing the Colonel l Chapter 10: Truth and Lies l Chapter 11: Digressions l Chapter 12: Betrayal l Chapter 13: Chasing Memories
Fic banner by the very talented and generous laurab1. Thank you! *bows and genuflects most humbly*
Chapter 14: Loss and Acceptance
All very well for the Doctor to talk about her being covered with blood. What about him? Though most of the blood she saw on his jumper when they were in the med-lab was Jack’s.
Oh, god. Jack. He’s lost so much blood. And that’s bad, very bad. She’s seen enough hospital soaps, not to mention that first-aid course she was sent on when she was at Henrik’s, to know that. Jack’s face was so cold and pale when she touched him. She knows what that means: symptoms of severe blood loss.
Does the Doctor even have human blood here? Oh, she’s been in the med-lab plenty of times - cuts, some needing stitches; a sprained ankle once, a broken wrist another time. Once, an alien virus which turned into a nasty rash. But never anything that needed a blood transfusion.
What if the Doctor can’t save Jack? What if he dies?
I can do anything.
The Doctor told her that. He meant it, too. He knows what he’s doing, he told her. Of course he can save Jack.
She leans back against the shower wall, relief flooding her just as the warm water washes over her. Of course Jack’s going to be okay. A few days to recover, and he’ll be as good as new, running into danger with them, holding her hand, teasing her, teaching her to fight. And, maybe, kissing her.
Kissing... the Doctor kissed her. And it was breathtaking. As was Jack’s kiss, though in a different way. But - the Doctor kissed her. And even if he never kisses her again she’ll never forget how that made her feel.
Abruptly, she shivers, even though the water’s still perfectly warm. Daydreaming about kisses while Jack’s lying unconscious, very seriously injured in the med-lab? What sort of friend is she? What sort of human being is she?
She steps out of the shower, immediately reaching for a towel, and hurriedly dries and goes to find some clean clothes. The sooner she’s ready, the sooner she can get back and help take care of Jack.
***
He hesitates, lavage and suction lines in hand. Why is he just giving up?
Jack wouldn’t have given up. Didn’t give up, back there in that building; he risked his own life to save that of the man who only grudgingly saved his when they first met. And, at a guess, to save his life Jack also lost his opportunity to get his memories back.
And now he’s just going to give up on Jack? Let him die?
No. Turning abruptly, he goes to find the blood-matching device. So, it’s possible that Jack won’t completely recover. He could have anything from a permanent limp all the way to brain damage. Better than being dead.
Enough people close to him have died. Too many people have died for him, or in the interests of some plan of his. Jack’s not going to be another one.
Besides, this is his fault. Retired Time Agent? He heard what Jack said. No-one just leaves the Time Agency - not with their memories intact. They get their memories wiped and replaced with new ones. He should have known that Peter DeJong wasn’t what he pretended. His fault. His stupid, stupid fault.
Blood-type matched and Jack’s records stored for future use, he starts setting up the transfusion. Synthetic human blood - great invention, that.
And how could he have faced Rose if he’d just given up? That’s the next thing that occurs to him as life-saving blood begins to flow into Jack’s arm. She trusts him, with everything in her. She believes in him and, even if he sometimes wishes she wouldn’t have such absolute faith in him, even if he knows he doesn’t deserve that absolute faith, he knows her disappointment if he didn’t try to save Jack would destroy him.
The transfusion running and the equipment he needs at his side, he turns Jack’s head to the side. Jack’s got to be strong enough for this, though, and he’s lost a lot of blood. His vital signs are weak still, but if the bleed inside his skull isn’t sorted soon that could kill him anyway, regardless of the transfusion.
“Listen to me,” he says sharply, resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder for a moment before sliding it up to his temple. “I know you can hear me, somewhere in there. I’m not gonna let you die, you hear? Not gonna happen. I don’t want to hear it.”
With his free hand, he grabs the diagnostic tool. “You lot. Humans. Never cease to amaze me, you do. Come from a tiny little planet in a pretty insignificant galaxy, all told. You keep on fightin’ each other, your own kind, war after war after war, genocide after genocide, an’ you still survive. You get invaded by species from other planets, even half-annihilated, an’ you still end up spread all over the universe. The human race. Amazin’.”
Finding the compression point, he sets up what he needs to sort it. The TARDIS is brilliant at this sort of stuff, really. The only thing better would be nanogenes, but he hasn’t had any of those since his seventh life. Anyway, he suspects Jack probably never wants to hear the word ‘nanogene’ ever again.
“Who’d’ve thought, too - humans outlivin’ the Time Lords. Thought we were invincible, we were. Immortal. Well, that lot in the Citadel did. Me, I was too busy stayin’ out their way. Never imagined I’d be the only one left.”
He’s got no idea whether Jack can hear him now; he’s not touching the Captain, other than the occasional check to see that the transfusion is running smoothly and that the work on his skull is proceeding well. But then he’s not talking to Jack anyway.
“Last of the Time Lords. Me. The one they exiled. The one who couldn’t wait to get away from there anyway. Mind you, I was President of the Council once. Imagine that! Me, President? Mind, only did it cause they were gonna execute me otherwise. Didn’t last long, either. Got away again soon as I could. Still.” He checks Jack’s readings again. Looking better than last time. Good. Circulation’s a little improved too.
“Funny thing, too. Never planned to have companions again. After the War... well, never thought there’d be an after. Wasn’t plannin’ on bein’ around. But I was, so that was that. Got a warnin’ that the Nestene Consciousness was tryin’ to take over the Earth, followed the signal, ran into Rose an’... well, you know the rest. But no-one else, I said. Adam was a mistake, an’ I said no more, and then you were there. Well, couldn’t let you die, like I told you. So here I am, two companions when I wasn’t goin’ to have any. Double the trouble - you wander off, you get into trouble, you get yourselves hurt. Nothin’ but nuisances, you are.”
He smiles, letting his hand rest on Jack’s shoulder again. “S’pose you’ve got your uses, all the same.”
“Oh? An’ what would those be?”
Startled, he glances up. Rose is back, hair damp, dressed in clean clothes, her eyes worried.
Ignoring her mood, he says lightly, “Endless source of amusement, for one.”
“Oh, yeah?” For a moment, she smiles, rising to his challenge. “This you insultin’ lesser species again?”
He shrugs. “Well, can’t have you gettin’ all full of yourselves, can I?”
She comes closer, moving to stand beside him where she can see Jack properly. “How is he?”
The teasing’s forgotten, and he nods briefly, finding her hand and squeezing it. “Better than he was. Be a while before I know what’s what, though.”
“Tell me. I wanna know,” she says, insistent, reaching for Jack’s hand with her free one. “Worst-case, best-case, everything in between. I need to know, Doctor.”
Just as he couldn’t lie to her earlier, he can’t now. So he explains, though he doesn’t say that he considers the Jack-alive-but-brain-damaged scenario to be the worst, not the Jack-dead one. Rose isn’t stupid. She’s probably figuring that out for herself.
And, when he’s finished, she stands in silence for a few moments, still holding each of their hands, before taking a deep breath. “So, what can I do?”
***
Cut Jack’s T-shirt and jeans off, he tells her. It’s a slow job, requiring lots of care: avoiding moving Jack more than absolutely necessary, peeling the filthy, blood-soaked denim and cotton away without pulling at already-broken skin and, in a couple of places, exposed bone. It’s a horrible task, made worse by knowing that it’s Jack beneath all this blood and mangled flesh, and she has to stop a few times and swallow hard to keep from being sick.
Then she gets a bowl of warm water and cloths, at the Doctor’s direction, and starts to clean away the dried blood, dirt and other residue. Her work creates fresh blood-flow, but that’s a good thing, she knows, as long as he’s not losing too much more of it.
All the while, the Doctor’s working away, sometimes telling her what he’s doing: setting up another transfusion, checking to see how the skull-fracture repair is going, getting ready to set the bones in Jack’s legs. It’s several hours before the major work, as he calls it, is done.
“Now,” he says, “we wait. He needs to rest. Be a couple of days, prob’ly, before he comes round.”
And before they’ll know what permanent damage Jack’s going to have. If any.
She swallows, looking up at the Doctor. Maybe he can’t do anything, after all - but he’ll try, and that’s what matters.
He meets her gaze, his expression sombre. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Helpin’.” He moves away, busying himself with equipment, putting things away, and she finds herself thinking that he’s doing it more as an avoidance mechanism. “Second pair of hands an’ all that.”
And stopping him from brooding, of course. She was in the doorway earlier for longer than she thinks he realises - not deliberately listening, but when she heard him mention his people she couldn’t help but freeze.
Deliberately, she goes to him. “You can have my hands any time.” Matching deed to words, she takes both his hands in hers.
He folds his fingers around hers, his thumbs stroking slowly over her palms. “You sure about that, Rose Tyler?”
He’s standing so very close, and the intensity in his voice and those blue-grey eyes, not to mention the rhythmic way he’s stroking her skin, is almost making her forget to breathe. “Uh... yeah,” she manages eventually.
“Good.” His head dips, one hand rises and, slowly, deliberately, his gaze still holding hers, he presses a kiss against her palm. She shivers.
“All right?” His voice has that low pitch that makes her stomach flutter.
“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Her words come out breathlessly, but then words aren’t important as he’s kissing her again, this time slow and incredibly sensual, stealing her breath away for a second time.
Too soon, he’s released her completely and his back’s to her as he strides back to the bed. Yes, of course now’s not the time for kissing, not while Jack’s future’s hanging in the balance. But his hand finds hers again as she joins him. “Now,” he says for a second time, “we wait.”
This time, it feels as if he’s talking about more than just Jack’s recovery.
***
Fight!
We’re not gonna let you die. Come back. Come on, fight it. Come back to us.
Come on, Jack, it’s time to wake up.
There’s pain, and he can’t move, and everything’s confused. Everything, except...
“He’s beginning to come round.”
“Oh, god. ‘S he gonna be okay?”
“Don’t know yet, do I? Like I said. Could be brain damage. Could be even more memory loss. Lots of things.”
“Jack?” A soft, concerned voice, a hand holding his, a plea. “Open your eyes. Look at us!”
It takes effort, but he manages it. Blinks, tries to focus. Two figures standing, looming over him. One dark, with brows narrowed into a frown and the weight of the universe in his eyes. One bright, a halo of blonde, eyes shimmering with tears.
“Wh -” A false start; his throat is dry, his voice unaccustomed to use. He swallows. “Who are you?”
“Oh, god.” There’s a choke in her voice. “Doctor...”
“Jack.” Suddenly, the Doctor’s hand is on his shoulder. “Jack, what do you remember? Do you know who I am?”
He laughs, and it’s a little rusty. “Just kidding.” They look like they don’t know whether to thump him or hug him. He’ll take either. Well, maybe not, given the way his body aches right now “Feels like I fought with an Ogron and lost.”
“Not far wrong.” The Doctor’s running a diagnostic device over him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Running for our lives. Not exactly specific, huh?”
The Doctor’s running through standard brain-activity and vision checks now, holding up fingers, making him move his eyes from side to side, shining the screwdriver into his eyes. “Normal day for us, yeah. You caught the tail-end of the explosion you set. Remember that?”
“Blowing up the plant, yeah.” Oh, he does. The memory-wiping equipment. Working against time to find his memories before the place blew. The Doctor getting hurt. “You two are okay, though, right?”
“Yeah, fine,” Rose says immediately, and he tightens his fingers around hers. The shimmering in her eyes and the fact that she looks like she hasn’t slept in days tells its own story.
“Thanks to you,” the Doctor adds. “You got hurt savin’ my life.”
He smiles. “Good cause, then.”
The Doctor gives him a long, steady look. Then, all business, pronounces, “You’ll live. No residual damage to the brain, far as I can see. You’ll have a limp for a bit while your legs finish healing, but couple of weeks an’ you’ll be good as new. More than you deserve for bein’ so stupid.”
He’s about to protest, but then a warm smile spreads across the Doctor’s face. “Thank you.” Then the Doctor’s head dips and it looks like... no, it can’t be. He wouldn’t. He’d never...
He does. The Doctor kisses him, warm and lingering. And, once his mouth is free again, he gapes.
“Close your mouth, Jack. You’re gonna catch a fly.”
Rose laughs. “Flies on the TARDIS, Doctor? Your standards are slippin’.”
***
Jack heals rapidly over the next week, though not quickly enough for his liking. But then, he’s human, young and impatient. The day after he regained consciousness, he’s agitating to get out of bed and be moved from the med-lab. By the day after, he wants crutches instead of the wheelchair the TARDIS found for him. When he’s told a firm no, he sulks.
They quickly learn that the most effective way to deal with Jack sulking is to kiss him. Jack quickly learns, though, that the most effective way to get kissed is to sulk. The Doctor can’t say he minds too much. In fact, he’s starting to wonder why this regeneration didn’t discover the whole kissing thing sooner.
The week’s a time of rest and recovery for all of them, in fact. Jack needs it most, but Rose, too, needs to catch up on lost sleep and the three of them need time for memories to fade. They haven’t lost each other. They’re all safe, healthy and together - even if his one regret is that he failed in his promise to Jack. They didn’t manage to save his memories after all.
Jack’s soon declared fit enough for a trip outside the TARDIS, so he takes them to Earth. Without telling either Jack or Rose their destination, he sets the co-ordinates for the Powell Estate. Jackie’ll either hug them or slap them, but either way it’s probably just what Jack needs, and definitely what Rose needs.
In the end, it’s hugs all round, as well as a glare for him - seems he miscalculated a little, and it’s almost three months since they were last there. As soon as Jackie spots the slight limp Jack still has, she’s all concern, offering him her arm - and that’s not just because he’s hurt, the Doctor’ll just bet - settling him comfortably on the sofa with a stool to rest his legs, and bringing him coffee, not tea.
“Why don’t I get fussed over like this on the TARDIS?” Jack asks plaintively.
Rose cuffs him playfully. “Cause you’d get too used to it, an’ we’d never get any rest.”
Jack winks at her. “Rest’s overrated.”
“Oi! Says the bloke who slept for three days straight when we brought you back to the TARDIS.” And had the two of them worried sick during that time, of course; not that it seems their fears were justified.
“Sedatives don’t count.” Jack grins at him, and he just knows that he’s going to get thoroughly kissed later.
Jackie hugs them all again when they leave a few hours later, and this time extracts a promise from him to make sure there’s no more than two months between visits in future.
Back in the TARDIS and once they’re in the Vortex, Jack’s prowling around the console room. “So, what’s next, guys? Come on, you keep me cooped up in this thing for over a week and you think one trip outside’s enough excitement?”
“Oh, I dunno.” He grins slowly. “Seems to me like there’s lots of excitement in the TARDIS. Or there could be.”
Rose raises an eyebrow. “What’ve you got in mind?”
His grin turns wicked. “Seem to remember you’ve got some new clothes. You could... I dunno... model them for us.”
Her blush is sweet revenge. But, bravely, she meets his gaze. “S’pose I could. If you want.”
“Now that’s more like it!” Jack’s leering already. He stifles a laugh.
“My bedroom, five minutes?” he suggests, and he’s not holding his breath, no, not one bit. “An’ I s’pose you’ll want to come too, Jack. Though you’ve already had a preview.”
“I could wait outside for five minutes. Then we’d be even,” Jack suggests without a second’s hesitation.
Rose looks from him to Jack and back again. “If I’m gonna be in my underwear, seems only fair that you two should as well, don’t you think?”
“Don’t think it’d fit me,” he says dryly.
"Oh, I dunno. I'm sure the panties would show off your assets nicely. If that's not your thing, naked works wonders too," Jack suggests, laughing.
***
She did know this was coming, of course. It’s been brewing for days - ever since before Jack woke up. The Doctor didn’t retreat and put distance between them, as she was worried he would, after that desperate, relieved kiss back in the factory. Kisses and caresses from him have become common, and every night she’s gone to bed all stirred up, longing for more.
And not just from him. Jack, too: intense, heated kisses from him by day leave her aching by night. For both of them. It was Jack who put the idea in her head that she could have the two of them. That it’s okay to love the two of them. Now, it looks as if it’s going to happen. The way the Doctor’s been kissing Jack too - and that’s a treat to watch - tells her that he’s not just indulging Jack. He wants to do it - and more.
She’s all fingers and thumbs as she strips in her room to change into the lingerie, nervous anticipation making her fumble. It’s a little over five minutes before she’s pulling on her dressing-gown - she’s not quite brave enough to walk around the TARDIS in only her underwear, even if it is sexy and makes her feel good and even if there are only the Doctor and Jack to see her and, if her guess is right, they’ll be seeing her in less soon enough.
She’s almost at the Doctor’s door when a hand lands warmly on her shoulder and she looks around to see Jack behind her, his smile warm and affectionate. He’s wearing only a dark blue robe, gaping at the front and only reaching to his knees. “Okay?” he murmurs.
“Nervous as hell,” she confesses.
He kisses her, hugging her too, then takes her hand. “Come on. He’s waited a long time for this.”
So has she. But it’s totally worth it the instant she sees the Doctor’s face light up as she walks into his bedroom. He’s leaning against a doorway, dressed only in his jeans - he’s even barefoot - but he straightens as she enters, Jack behind her.
Before her courage deserts her, she lets her robe slide to the floor. The Doctor’s beside her in an instant, his gaze never leaving her. “Beautiful.” The low, husky pitch to his voice shakes her all the way to her toes.
He moves to stand behind her, his long, lean hands coming to land on her shoulders, and he manoeuvres her until she’s standing in front of a full-length mirror. “Watch.”
She looks. Sees herself, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, pupils dilated. Sees the Doctor, all intensity and complete focus, watching the two of them in the mirror as his hands begin to move over her body: down her arms, coming to rest at her hips, up to her waist, up again and up until he’s cupping her breasts through the silk. Her breath catches, her knees weaken and she whimpers.
“Jack.” There’s a command in the Doctor’s voice. Jack comes into view in the mirror - when did he lose his robe? He’s completely nude, and he’s gorgeous - and moves to stand in front of her. His hands cover the Doctor’s over her breasts as he bends to kiss her. Then his hands move to her hips as the Doctor’s slide around her back.
There’s a pause; Jack leans towards her, and she thinks he’s going to kiss her again, but instead his head tilts to the side. Over her shoulder, he and the Doctor kiss, slow and, from what she can see as she looks sideways, with a lot of tongue. Then, separating, together they strip off the scraps of crimson silk, leaving her naked and the focus of their admiring, hungry gazes and slow, tantalising caresses.
“Not fair,” she manages at last, turning to look at the Doctor.
Jack grins. “Turnabout’s fair play.” With his help, she unfastens the Doctor’s jeans and the two of them drag them, with his underwear, down his lean hips and off his body.
She’s not sure who prompts the move to the bed, but then the three of them are lying together, kissing, touching, gasping each other’s names as they stroke and tease and explore.
And, a long time later, as she collapses, exhausted, in both of their arms, she’s aware of only two things. One: it’s so, so much better with three; and two: however long they manage to stay together for, safe and alive - days, weeks or even years - the way they make her feel, and the way she feels about them, is something she’ll treasure as long as she lives.
***
He wakes to heat and sweat and the smell of sex and humans, and it’s his new favourite way to wake up. They’re still asleep, limbs entangled with his and each other’s, their breathing soft, leaving faint puffs of air against his face and neck.
They look so young and innocent in sleep, and compared to him they are, of course, despite Jack’s training and experience, despite Rose’s courage and everything she’s seen in his company. Still, they’ve taught him so much. Rose, that there’s still life and freshness and innocence in the universe. Through her eyes, he’s learning the joy of rediscovery. Learning that life continues for a reason, and that the great sacrifice he made in his last life wasn’t in vain. Jack’s taught him the danger of rushing to judgement and the value of giving second chances.
In some ways they both put him to shame. There’s Rose telling him to leave her to die at the hands of a Dalek rather than letting it escape. And packing her things to go home because she made a mistake and believed she deserved his harshest judgement. There’s Jack willing to be killed to save the TARDIS, and he hasn’t once mentioned the fact that his missing memories are now irrevocably lost.
They’re not, of course. There’s not that much stopping him from paying another, earlier visit to Chiron, this time taking care to set the TARDIS into stealth mode. It’s possible.
One other promise he needs to keep, though, is to train Jack to use that latent telepathic ability of his. The sooner the better. Came in handy, that did.
For now, though, his partners are stirring beside him and he leans in to accept the kisses they’re offering. The void inside his head, ever-present since the Time War, is still there, but now and for as long as he’ll have these two with him, the silence is just a little less loud.
***
“This place is gorgeous! And you never brought us here before?”
Rose is right; it’s breathtaking. They’re standing on a hillside, drinking in the scent of fresh grass right after rain. All around them, newly-born butterflies are emerging from chrysalises, their bright colours dancing in what actually looks like real sunlight.
“ ‘S not been here before now,” the Doctor says. He’s standing a little apart from the two of them, observing their reactions, his hands deep in his pockets. But the tiny upward lift of his lips and the lightness in his eyes shows that he’s happy. He’s enjoying their delight. “This room was destroyed before the War. S’pose the TARDIS knew this was the right time to bring it back.”
Right. And that makes a kind of sense, too. This room’s all about new life. Rebirth. New beginnings. And that’s a theme he’s pretty sure the Doctor hasn’t been ready to contemplate.
“Amazin’, isn’t it?” Rose says, reaching out to brush against one chrysalis resting on the leaf of a nearby tree. “They’re changin’, right in front of us. Leavin’ behind one life an’ becomin’ something even better. Almost like a miracle.”
“It is a miracle,” the Doctor says softly, watching her. Then, his gaze shifting to Jack, he says, “Course, some of us have a lot less choice ‘bout leavin’ the past behind.”
Ah. His memories. Gone for ever now, along with the factory. He knew what he was giving up, though, in that split-second when he made the choice between rescuing the Doctor and continuing to search for his memories. And he’d do the same again, no question.
“Maybe I was never meant to find them,” he comments lightly; the Doctor carries more than enough guilt on those broad shoulders of his as it is.
But he’s still got questions. What did he do in those two years? The Doctor and Rose believe he’s wrong to doubt himself. He suspects, too, that the Doctor would tell him that, even if he did do things he’d regret, what’s important is that he does regret them. Being able to say sorry and mean it; that’s a quality he knows the Doctor values.
The Doctor’s gaze is still on him, and there’s compassion in those unearthly, ancient eyes. “Could still find them. Jus’ means goin’ back a bit earlier.”
He inhales sharply. Yes, they could.
But there’s a reason the Doctor’s brought them to this room. There’s a reason he’s made the offer here. It’s all about looking to the future instead of the past, isn’t it?
And there’s something else, another lesson he’s learned. “You two accepted me as I am, right from the beginning. Yeah, okay, conman and all that. But you trusted me to be better than that.”
“You are,” Rose interjects, reaching for his hand.
He squeezes hers in return. “Yeah. I am. So I should trust what I know about myself instead of wanting proof. What d’you think?”
The Doctor’s strolling over to them, a hand held out to each of them. “Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”
- end
Author: wmr wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness
Rated: PG13
Disclaimer: Only the missing time between The Doctor Dances and Boom Town belongs to me (I wish)
Summary: The Doctor said he'd better be bigger on the inside. But is he?
With huge thanks again to dark_aegis and ponygirl72 for being two of the very best beta-readers around. And an even bigger thanks to everyone who's commented on this (over-long) fic while it was being posted. I appreciate your feedback more than I can say. And I know I haven't been back to reply to your lovely comments on chapter 13 yet - currently my time is pretty limited, and I thought you might prefer an additional chapter before comment replies! I will come back and reply in a couple of days, when I have a bit more time.
The title of this final chapter is a tribute to ponygirl72. If you haven't read her brilliant Acceptance and Loss, what are you waiting for??
Chapter 1: Stray l Chapter 2: Tea and Sympathy l Chapter 3: Out of Time l Chapter 4: Learning to Trust l Chapter 5: Failing the Test l Chapter 6: Judgement l Chapter 7: Bonding l Chapter 8: Déjà Vu l Chapter 9: Chasing the Colonel l Chapter 10: Truth and Lies l Chapter 11: Digressions l Chapter 12: Betrayal l Chapter 13: Chasing Memories
Fic banner by the very talented and generous laurab1. Thank you! *bows and genuflects most humbly*
Chapter 14: Loss and Acceptance
All very well for the Doctor to talk about her being covered with blood. What about him? Though most of the blood she saw on his jumper when they were in the med-lab was Jack’s.
Oh, god. Jack. He’s lost so much blood. And that’s bad, very bad. She’s seen enough hospital soaps, not to mention that first-aid course she was sent on when she was at Henrik’s, to know that. Jack’s face was so cold and pale when she touched him. She knows what that means: symptoms of severe blood loss.
Does the Doctor even have human blood here? Oh, she’s been in the med-lab plenty of times - cuts, some needing stitches; a sprained ankle once, a broken wrist another time. Once, an alien virus which turned into a nasty rash. But never anything that needed a blood transfusion.
What if the Doctor can’t save Jack? What if he dies?
I can do anything.
The Doctor told her that. He meant it, too. He knows what he’s doing, he told her. Of course he can save Jack.
She leans back against the shower wall, relief flooding her just as the warm water washes over her. Of course Jack’s going to be okay. A few days to recover, and he’ll be as good as new, running into danger with them, holding her hand, teasing her, teaching her to fight. And, maybe, kissing her.
Kissing... the Doctor kissed her. And it was breathtaking. As was Jack’s kiss, though in a different way. But - the Doctor kissed her. And even if he never kisses her again she’ll never forget how that made her feel.
Abruptly, she shivers, even though the water’s still perfectly warm. Daydreaming about kisses while Jack’s lying unconscious, very seriously injured in the med-lab? What sort of friend is she? What sort of human being is she?
She steps out of the shower, immediately reaching for a towel, and hurriedly dries and goes to find some clean clothes. The sooner she’s ready, the sooner she can get back and help take care of Jack.
***
He hesitates, lavage and suction lines in hand. Why is he just giving up?
Jack wouldn’t have given up. Didn’t give up, back there in that building; he risked his own life to save that of the man who only grudgingly saved his when they first met. And, at a guess, to save his life Jack also lost his opportunity to get his memories back.
And now he’s just going to give up on Jack? Let him die?
No. Turning abruptly, he goes to find the blood-matching device. So, it’s possible that Jack won’t completely recover. He could have anything from a permanent limp all the way to brain damage. Better than being dead.
Enough people close to him have died. Too many people have died for him, or in the interests of some plan of his. Jack’s not going to be another one.
Besides, this is his fault. Retired Time Agent? He heard what Jack said. No-one just leaves the Time Agency - not with their memories intact. They get their memories wiped and replaced with new ones. He should have known that Peter DeJong wasn’t what he pretended. His fault. His stupid, stupid fault.
Blood-type matched and Jack’s records stored for future use, he starts setting up the transfusion. Synthetic human blood - great invention, that.
And how could he have faced Rose if he’d just given up? That’s the next thing that occurs to him as life-saving blood begins to flow into Jack’s arm. She trusts him, with everything in her. She believes in him and, even if he sometimes wishes she wouldn’t have such absolute faith in him, even if he knows he doesn’t deserve that absolute faith, he knows her disappointment if he didn’t try to save Jack would destroy him.
The transfusion running and the equipment he needs at his side, he turns Jack’s head to the side. Jack’s got to be strong enough for this, though, and he’s lost a lot of blood. His vital signs are weak still, but if the bleed inside his skull isn’t sorted soon that could kill him anyway, regardless of the transfusion.
“Listen to me,” he says sharply, resting his hand on Jack’s shoulder for a moment before sliding it up to his temple. “I know you can hear me, somewhere in there. I’m not gonna let you die, you hear? Not gonna happen. I don’t want to hear it.”
With his free hand, he grabs the diagnostic tool. “You lot. Humans. Never cease to amaze me, you do. Come from a tiny little planet in a pretty insignificant galaxy, all told. You keep on fightin’ each other, your own kind, war after war after war, genocide after genocide, an’ you still survive. You get invaded by species from other planets, even half-annihilated, an’ you still end up spread all over the universe. The human race. Amazin’.”
Finding the compression point, he sets up what he needs to sort it. The TARDIS is brilliant at this sort of stuff, really. The only thing better would be nanogenes, but he hasn’t had any of those since his seventh life. Anyway, he suspects Jack probably never wants to hear the word ‘nanogene’ ever again.
“Who’d’ve thought, too - humans outlivin’ the Time Lords. Thought we were invincible, we were. Immortal. Well, that lot in the Citadel did. Me, I was too busy stayin’ out their way. Never imagined I’d be the only one left.”
He’s got no idea whether Jack can hear him now; he’s not touching the Captain, other than the occasional check to see that the transfusion is running smoothly and that the work on his skull is proceeding well. But then he’s not talking to Jack anyway.
“Last of the Time Lords. Me. The one they exiled. The one who couldn’t wait to get away from there anyway. Mind you, I was President of the Council once. Imagine that! Me, President? Mind, only did it cause they were gonna execute me otherwise. Didn’t last long, either. Got away again soon as I could. Still.” He checks Jack’s readings again. Looking better than last time. Good. Circulation’s a little improved too.
“Funny thing, too. Never planned to have companions again. After the War... well, never thought there’d be an after. Wasn’t plannin’ on bein’ around. But I was, so that was that. Got a warnin’ that the Nestene Consciousness was tryin’ to take over the Earth, followed the signal, ran into Rose an’... well, you know the rest. But no-one else, I said. Adam was a mistake, an’ I said no more, and then you were there. Well, couldn’t let you die, like I told you. So here I am, two companions when I wasn’t goin’ to have any. Double the trouble - you wander off, you get into trouble, you get yourselves hurt. Nothin’ but nuisances, you are.”
He smiles, letting his hand rest on Jack’s shoulder again. “S’pose you’ve got your uses, all the same.”
“Oh? An’ what would those be?”
Startled, he glances up. Rose is back, hair damp, dressed in clean clothes, her eyes worried.
Ignoring her mood, he says lightly, “Endless source of amusement, for one.”
“Oh, yeah?” For a moment, she smiles, rising to his challenge. “This you insultin’ lesser species again?”
He shrugs. “Well, can’t have you gettin’ all full of yourselves, can I?”
She comes closer, moving to stand beside him where she can see Jack properly. “How is he?”
The teasing’s forgotten, and he nods briefly, finding her hand and squeezing it. “Better than he was. Be a while before I know what’s what, though.”
“Tell me. I wanna know,” she says, insistent, reaching for Jack’s hand with her free one. “Worst-case, best-case, everything in between. I need to know, Doctor.”
Just as he couldn’t lie to her earlier, he can’t now. So he explains, though he doesn’t say that he considers the Jack-alive-but-brain-damaged scenario to be the worst, not the Jack-dead one. Rose isn’t stupid. She’s probably figuring that out for herself.
And, when he’s finished, she stands in silence for a few moments, still holding each of their hands, before taking a deep breath. “So, what can I do?”
***
Cut Jack’s T-shirt and jeans off, he tells her. It’s a slow job, requiring lots of care: avoiding moving Jack more than absolutely necessary, peeling the filthy, blood-soaked denim and cotton away without pulling at already-broken skin and, in a couple of places, exposed bone. It’s a horrible task, made worse by knowing that it’s Jack beneath all this blood and mangled flesh, and she has to stop a few times and swallow hard to keep from being sick.
Then she gets a bowl of warm water and cloths, at the Doctor’s direction, and starts to clean away the dried blood, dirt and other residue. Her work creates fresh blood-flow, but that’s a good thing, she knows, as long as he’s not losing too much more of it.
All the while, the Doctor’s working away, sometimes telling her what he’s doing: setting up another transfusion, checking to see how the skull-fracture repair is going, getting ready to set the bones in Jack’s legs. It’s several hours before the major work, as he calls it, is done.
“Now,” he says, “we wait. He needs to rest. Be a couple of days, prob’ly, before he comes round.”
And before they’ll know what permanent damage Jack’s going to have. If any.
She swallows, looking up at the Doctor. Maybe he can’t do anything, after all - but he’ll try, and that’s what matters.
He meets her gaze, his expression sombre. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“Helpin’.” He moves away, busying himself with equipment, putting things away, and she finds herself thinking that he’s doing it more as an avoidance mechanism. “Second pair of hands an’ all that.”
And stopping him from brooding, of course. She was in the doorway earlier for longer than she thinks he realises - not deliberately listening, but when she heard him mention his people she couldn’t help but freeze.
Deliberately, she goes to him. “You can have my hands any time.” Matching deed to words, she takes both his hands in hers.
He folds his fingers around hers, his thumbs stroking slowly over her palms. “You sure about that, Rose Tyler?”
He’s standing so very close, and the intensity in his voice and those blue-grey eyes, not to mention the rhythmic way he’s stroking her skin, is almost making her forget to breathe. “Uh... yeah,” she manages eventually.
“Good.” His head dips, one hand rises and, slowly, deliberately, his gaze still holding hers, he presses a kiss against her palm. She shivers.
“All right?” His voice has that low pitch that makes her stomach flutter.
“Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Her words come out breathlessly, but then words aren’t important as he’s kissing her again, this time slow and incredibly sensual, stealing her breath away for a second time.
Too soon, he’s released her completely and his back’s to her as he strides back to the bed. Yes, of course now’s not the time for kissing, not while Jack’s future’s hanging in the balance. But his hand finds hers again as she joins him. “Now,” he says for a second time, “we wait.”
This time, it feels as if he’s talking about more than just Jack’s recovery.
***
Fight!
We’re not gonna let you die. Come back. Come on, fight it. Come back to us.
Come on, Jack, it’s time to wake up.
There’s pain, and he can’t move, and everything’s confused. Everything, except...
“He’s beginning to come round.”
“Oh, god. ‘S he gonna be okay?”
“Don’t know yet, do I? Like I said. Could be brain damage. Could be even more memory loss. Lots of things.”
“Jack?” A soft, concerned voice, a hand holding his, a plea. “Open your eyes. Look at us!”
It takes effort, but he manages it. Blinks, tries to focus. Two figures standing, looming over him. One dark, with brows narrowed into a frown and the weight of the universe in his eyes. One bright, a halo of blonde, eyes shimmering with tears.
“Wh -” A false start; his throat is dry, his voice unaccustomed to use. He swallows. “Who are you?”
“Oh, god.” There’s a choke in her voice. “Doctor...”
“Jack.” Suddenly, the Doctor’s hand is on his shoulder. “Jack, what do you remember? Do you know who I am?”
He laughs, and it’s a little rusty. “Just kidding.” They look like they don’t know whether to thump him or hug him. He’ll take either. Well, maybe not, given the way his body aches right now “Feels like I fought with an Ogron and lost.”
“Not far wrong.” The Doctor’s running a diagnostic device over him. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“Running for our lives. Not exactly specific, huh?”
The Doctor’s running through standard brain-activity and vision checks now, holding up fingers, making him move his eyes from side to side, shining the screwdriver into his eyes. “Normal day for us, yeah. You caught the tail-end of the explosion you set. Remember that?”
“Blowing up the plant, yeah.” Oh, he does. The memory-wiping equipment. Working against time to find his memories before the place blew. The Doctor getting hurt. “You two are okay, though, right?”
“Yeah, fine,” Rose says immediately, and he tightens his fingers around hers. The shimmering in her eyes and the fact that she looks like she hasn’t slept in days tells its own story.
“Thanks to you,” the Doctor adds. “You got hurt savin’ my life.”
He smiles. “Good cause, then.”
The Doctor gives him a long, steady look. Then, all business, pronounces, “You’ll live. No residual damage to the brain, far as I can see. You’ll have a limp for a bit while your legs finish healing, but couple of weeks an’ you’ll be good as new. More than you deserve for bein’ so stupid.”
He’s about to protest, but then a warm smile spreads across the Doctor’s face. “Thank you.” Then the Doctor’s head dips and it looks like... no, it can’t be. He wouldn’t. He’d never...
He does. The Doctor kisses him, warm and lingering. And, once his mouth is free again, he gapes.
“Close your mouth, Jack. You’re gonna catch a fly.”
Rose laughs. “Flies on the TARDIS, Doctor? Your standards are slippin’.”
***
Jack heals rapidly over the next week, though not quickly enough for his liking. But then, he’s human, young and impatient. The day after he regained consciousness, he’s agitating to get out of bed and be moved from the med-lab. By the day after, he wants crutches instead of the wheelchair the TARDIS found for him. When he’s told a firm no, he sulks.
They quickly learn that the most effective way to deal with Jack sulking is to kiss him. Jack quickly learns, though, that the most effective way to get kissed is to sulk. The Doctor can’t say he minds too much. In fact, he’s starting to wonder why this regeneration didn’t discover the whole kissing thing sooner.
The week’s a time of rest and recovery for all of them, in fact. Jack needs it most, but Rose, too, needs to catch up on lost sleep and the three of them need time for memories to fade. They haven’t lost each other. They’re all safe, healthy and together - even if his one regret is that he failed in his promise to Jack. They didn’t manage to save his memories after all.
Jack’s soon declared fit enough for a trip outside the TARDIS, so he takes them to Earth. Without telling either Jack or Rose their destination, he sets the co-ordinates for the Powell Estate. Jackie’ll either hug them or slap them, but either way it’s probably just what Jack needs, and definitely what Rose needs.
In the end, it’s hugs all round, as well as a glare for him - seems he miscalculated a little, and it’s almost three months since they were last there. As soon as Jackie spots the slight limp Jack still has, she’s all concern, offering him her arm - and that’s not just because he’s hurt, the Doctor’ll just bet - settling him comfortably on the sofa with a stool to rest his legs, and bringing him coffee, not tea.
“Why don’t I get fussed over like this on the TARDIS?” Jack asks plaintively.
Rose cuffs him playfully. “Cause you’d get too used to it, an’ we’d never get any rest.”
Jack winks at her. “Rest’s overrated.”
“Oi! Says the bloke who slept for three days straight when we brought you back to the TARDIS.” And had the two of them worried sick during that time, of course; not that it seems their fears were justified.
“Sedatives don’t count.” Jack grins at him, and he just knows that he’s going to get thoroughly kissed later.
Jackie hugs them all again when they leave a few hours later, and this time extracts a promise from him to make sure there’s no more than two months between visits in future.
Back in the TARDIS and once they’re in the Vortex, Jack’s prowling around the console room. “So, what’s next, guys? Come on, you keep me cooped up in this thing for over a week and you think one trip outside’s enough excitement?”
“Oh, I dunno.” He grins slowly. “Seems to me like there’s lots of excitement in the TARDIS. Or there could be.”
Rose raises an eyebrow. “What’ve you got in mind?”
His grin turns wicked. “Seem to remember you’ve got some new clothes. You could... I dunno... model them for us.”
Her blush is sweet revenge. But, bravely, she meets his gaze. “S’pose I could. If you want.”
“Now that’s more like it!” Jack’s leering already. He stifles a laugh.
“My bedroom, five minutes?” he suggests, and he’s not holding his breath, no, not one bit. “An’ I s’pose you’ll want to come too, Jack. Though you’ve already had a preview.”
“I could wait outside for five minutes. Then we’d be even,” Jack suggests without a second’s hesitation.
Rose looks from him to Jack and back again. “If I’m gonna be in my underwear, seems only fair that you two should as well, don’t you think?”
“Don’t think it’d fit me,” he says dryly.
"Oh, I dunno. I'm sure the panties would show off your assets nicely. If that's not your thing, naked works wonders too," Jack suggests, laughing.
***
She did know this was coming, of course. It’s been brewing for days - ever since before Jack woke up. The Doctor didn’t retreat and put distance between them, as she was worried he would, after that desperate, relieved kiss back in the factory. Kisses and caresses from him have become common, and every night she’s gone to bed all stirred up, longing for more.
And not just from him. Jack, too: intense, heated kisses from him by day leave her aching by night. For both of them. It was Jack who put the idea in her head that she could have the two of them. That it’s okay to love the two of them. Now, it looks as if it’s going to happen. The way the Doctor’s been kissing Jack too - and that’s a treat to watch - tells her that he’s not just indulging Jack. He wants to do it - and more.
She’s all fingers and thumbs as she strips in her room to change into the lingerie, nervous anticipation making her fumble. It’s a little over five minutes before she’s pulling on her dressing-gown - she’s not quite brave enough to walk around the TARDIS in only her underwear, even if it is sexy and makes her feel good and even if there are only the Doctor and Jack to see her and, if her guess is right, they’ll be seeing her in less soon enough.
She’s almost at the Doctor’s door when a hand lands warmly on her shoulder and she looks around to see Jack behind her, his smile warm and affectionate. He’s wearing only a dark blue robe, gaping at the front and only reaching to his knees. “Okay?” he murmurs.
“Nervous as hell,” she confesses.
He kisses her, hugging her too, then takes her hand. “Come on. He’s waited a long time for this.”
So has she. But it’s totally worth it the instant she sees the Doctor’s face light up as she walks into his bedroom. He’s leaning against a doorway, dressed only in his jeans - he’s even barefoot - but he straightens as she enters, Jack behind her.
Before her courage deserts her, she lets her robe slide to the floor. The Doctor’s beside her in an instant, his gaze never leaving her. “Beautiful.” The low, husky pitch to his voice shakes her all the way to her toes.
He moves to stand behind her, his long, lean hands coming to land on her shoulders, and he manoeuvres her until she’s standing in front of a full-length mirror. “Watch.”
She looks. Sees herself, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, pupils dilated. Sees the Doctor, all intensity and complete focus, watching the two of them in the mirror as his hands begin to move over her body: down her arms, coming to rest at her hips, up to her waist, up again and up until he’s cupping her breasts through the silk. Her breath catches, her knees weaken and she whimpers.
“Jack.” There’s a command in the Doctor’s voice. Jack comes into view in the mirror - when did he lose his robe? He’s completely nude, and he’s gorgeous - and moves to stand in front of her. His hands cover the Doctor’s over her breasts as he bends to kiss her. Then his hands move to her hips as the Doctor’s slide around her back.
There’s a pause; Jack leans towards her, and she thinks he’s going to kiss her again, but instead his head tilts to the side. Over her shoulder, he and the Doctor kiss, slow and, from what she can see as she looks sideways, with a lot of tongue. Then, separating, together they strip off the scraps of crimson silk, leaving her naked and the focus of their admiring, hungry gazes and slow, tantalising caresses.
“Not fair,” she manages at last, turning to look at the Doctor.
Jack grins. “Turnabout’s fair play.” With his help, she unfastens the Doctor’s jeans and the two of them drag them, with his underwear, down his lean hips and off his body.
She’s not sure who prompts the move to the bed, but then the three of them are lying together, kissing, touching, gasping each other’s names as they stroke and tease and explore.
And, a long time later, as she collapses, exhausted, in both of their arms, she’s aware of only two things. One: it’s so, so much better with three; and two: however long they manage to stay together for, safe and alive - days, weeks or even years - the way they make her feel, and the way she feels about them, is something she’ll treasure as long as she lives.
***
He wakes to heat and sweat and the smell of sex and humans, and it’s his new favourite way to wake up. They’re still asleep, limbs entangled with his and each other’s, their breathing soft, leaving faint puffs of air against his face and neck.
They look so young and innocent in sleep, and compared to him they are, of course, despite Jack’s training and experience, despite Rose’s courage and everything she’s seen in his company. Still, they’ve taught him so much. Rose, that there’s still life and freshness and innocence in the universe. Through her eyes, he’s learning the joy of rediscovery. Learning that life continues for a reason, and that the great sacrifice he made in his last life wasn’t in vain. Jack’s taught him the danger of rushing to judgement and the value of giving second chances.
In some ways they both put him to shame. There’s Rose telling him to leave her to die at the hands of a Dalek rather than letting it escape. And packing her things to go home because she made a mistake and believed she deserved his harshest judgement. There’s Jack willing to be killed to save the TARDIS, and he hasn’t once mentioned the fact that his missing memories are now irrevocably lost.
They’re not, of course. There’s not that much stopping him from paying another, earlier visit to Chiron, this time taking care to set the TARDIS into stealth mode. It’s possible.
One other promise he needs to keep, though, is to train Jack to use that latent telepathic ability of his. The sooner the better. Came in handy, that did.
For now, though, his partners are stirring beside him and he leans in to accept the kisses they’re offering. The void inside his head, ever-present since the Time War, is still there, but now and for as long as he’ll have these two with him, the silence is just a little less loud.
***
“This place is gorgeous! And you never brought us here before?”
Rose is right; it’s breathtaking. They’re standing on a hillside, drinking in the scent of fresh grass right after rain. All around them, newly-born butterflies are emerging from chrysalises, their bright colours dancing in what actually looks like real sunlight.
“ ‘S not been here before now,” the Doctor says. He’s standing a little apart from the two of them, observing their reactions, his hands deep in his pockets. But the tiny upward lift of his lips and the lightness in his eyes shows that he’s happy. He’s enjoying their delight. “This room was destroyed before the War. S’pose the TARDIS knew this was the right time to bring it back.”
Right. And that makes a kind of sense, too. This room’s all about new life. Rebirth. New beginnings. And that’s a theme he’s pretty sure the Doctor hasn’t been ready to contemplate.
“Amazin’, isn’t it?” Rose says, reaching out to brush against one chrysalis resting on the leaf of a nearby tree. “They’re changin’, right in front of us. Leavin’ behind one life an’ becomin’ something even better. Almost like a miracle.”
“It is a miracle,” the Doctor says softly, watching her. Then, his gaze shifting to Jack, he says, “Course, some of us have a lot less choice ‘bout leavin’ the past behind.”
Ah. His memories. Gone for ever now, along with the factory. He knew what he was giving up, though, in that split-second when he made the choice between rescuing the Doctor and continuing to search for his memories. And he’d do the same again, no question.
“Maybe I was never meant to find them,” he comments lightly; the Doctor carries more than enough guilt on those broad shoulders of his as it is.
But he’s still got questions. What did he do in those two years? The Doctor and Rose believe he’s wrong to doubt himself. He suspects, too, that the Doctor would tell him that, even if he did do things he’d regret, what’s important is that he does regret them. Being able to say sorry and mean it; that’s a quality he knows the Doctor values.
The Doctor’s gaze is still on him, and there’s compassion in those unearthly, ancient eyes. “Could still find them. Jus’ means goin’ back a bit earlier.”
He inhales sharply. Yes, they could.
But there’s a reason the Doctor’s brought them to this room. There’s a reason he’s made the offer here. It’s all about looking to the future instead of the past, isn’t it?
And there’s something else, another lesson he’s learned. “You two accepted me as I am, right from the beginning. Yeah, okay, conman and all that. But you trusted me to be better than that.”
“You are,” Rose interjects, reaching for his hand.
He squeezes hers in return. “Yeah. I am. So I should trust what I know about myself instead of wanting proof. What d’you think?”
The Doctor’s strolling over to them, a hand held out to each of them. “Couldn’t’ve said it better myself.”
- end