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wintercompanion2012-06-17 02:39 pm
magic-7-words.livejournal.com) wrote in wintercompanion2012-06-17 02:39 pm
Entry tags:
magic_7_words (Five Things...) [G]
Title: Five Things the Doctor Said to Captain Jack Harkness... and what he meant by them.
Author: magic_7_words
Challenge: Five Things
Rating: G
Pairing: D/J only if you squint
Spoilers/Warnings: The Doctor Dances, Boom Town, Utopia, Last of the Time Lords
Summary: see title
I.
"Change in plans, don't need the bomb. Can you get rid of it safely as you can?"
The Doctor believes in testing his companions. How else will they (he) discover their potential? He only takes the best, after all. He showed Rose the Earth's death in the year five billion, and she didn't run screaming (from him) from the overwhelming hugeness of it all, so she passed. He left Adam unattended on Satellite Five, which nearly proved disastrous, but it worked out in the end and he got the boy's measure, dropped him home before he ran afoul of some worse temptation. And that was fine. They were comfortable, him and Rose, just the two of them. Not seeking any new applicants, thank you. Now this 51st-century flyboy has barged into the picture, every move and every word screaming lookatmelookatme! and the Doctor finds himself looking. Judging.
Testing.
The lad faced a volcano of his own making, today. Stepped up to the brink of its terrifying maw and shouldered the responsibility, did what he had to do. Like the blooming hero he pretends to be (he is).
There's no "safe" way to get rid of that bomb, and the Doctor knows it. Luckily, the Doctor excels at salvaging unsafe situations.
How would you like to see the inside of a real ship, Captain?
II.
"Buy me a drink first."
The words come out reflexively, a stock response to an inside joke. Not a day goes by without Jack making a pass at Rose or (and) the Doctor, and Jack gets away with saying things that, if you'd asked the Doctor three months ago, he would have sworn he'd never tolerate. The Captain has a childlike simplicity to him, despite all he's seen and done; despite the bad-boy act and steel beneath the surface (steel with an edge, and what sort of hand has life dealt this man, to hone that edge?), deep down Jack only wants to feel close to others. He'd take Rose or the Doctor as lovers in a heartbeat; in that sense, he jokes in earnest. Barring that, he'll be as devoted a friend as they could wish for, asking only a smile in return. Smiles are easy, the Doctor finds, and never more so than when Jack smiles first.
Jack likes his little flirting games. He likes the chase, even if the quarry forever eludes him. The Doctor likes seeing Jack happy. It doesn't get any (better) simpler than this.
You're all right, you know that? Don't change a thing, because you're all right.
III.
"Jack. Do you want to die?"
It's not Jack's fault, truly it isn't. He can't help what Rose made him, any more than a Dalek could help its genetic programming. Which is an entirely unfair analogy and one the Doctor refuses to pursue. Any more than... well... a fish could help being aquatic, or a squirrel arboreal, or a Time Lord a cowardly, manipulative, self-serving—
Unfair.
Jack wears it well, all things considered. Hasn't gone off the deep end (yet). Hasn't let the years leach away his humanity. Has, in fact, shown remarkable strength of character in not clocking the Doctor's face first chance he got. The Doctor owes Jack more than this impotent concern, this hint of an offer he can't (won't) follow through. What the Doctor owes Jack... well, the words come easily in this regeneration, but only in sympathy, never remorse. The Doctor can't afford to second-guess his own past behavior; can't risk opening those floodgates, not with what his past contains. Not even when one of them (not Jack) is obviously wrong.
I'm sorry. I am so sorry.
IV.
"I really don't mind, though. Come with me."
It's over between him and Martha. Funny, putting it like that, because they never had it to begin with. To say they've given up pretending would be more accurate.
Martha Jones. She's gonna save the world, they said, and she did. The Doctor might have harnessed the psychic power of the human race, but Martha inspired that power, Martha with her storytelling and her wits and courage and sheer indomitable grit (while the Doctor, caged and helpless, waited to be rescued). Never second-best to anyone, not she, and now she knows it. Martha doesn't need him anymore (never did), and if she doesn't leave him soon, he'll have to leave her, for her own good.
He hopes she'll leave him first.
Jack, on the other hand, already knows what he's worth (more than this), knows what's good for him (not the Doctor), and if Jack wants to wave away the past with nothing more than "shame on you" spoken with a smile, why should the Doctor object? Donna's right; he's better with (he needs) someone. And Jack—brilliant, insufferable, turns-up-like-a-bad-penny Jack—not to give the wrong impression, because the Doctor likes Jack (he does) and truly doesn't mind (not anymore)—Jack is the only one left.
Don't go. Please, don't leave me alone. Please.
V.
They meet again on Jamaica, the planet not the island. The TARDIS took the Doctor here, controls set to random, and he lingers longer than he might have otherwise, listening to (near-)authentic 21st-century reggae music through tinny coffee-shop speakers. He finds himself missing the Earth, which he's avoided without conscious intent for... blimey, has it really been (one-twenty-eight) one hundred years? Too many memories, he supposes.
As if on cue, a familiar face lights up from across the room. The Captain, now with salt-and-pepper hair that makes him look a little older and (a lot) more distinguished, balances his sandwich on the rim of his coffee cup and migrates to the Doctor's table. The Doctor shakes his old friend's hand, although it's worse than he remembers, the way his stomach flips at Jack's inescapable existence. He enquires about the unfamiliar electronic device in Jack's other hand; Jack explains that he's tracking a Plasmavore using Torchwood's latest cutting-edge bioscanner. Advanced enough to distinguish the DNA of a Plasmavore from that of its latest prey, he assures the Doctor. And a good thing, too, because without it he'd have walked right by the Doctor's new regeneration.
"I'd have flagged you down," the Doctor protests, feeling defensive and slighted, somehow.
Jack has no chance to reply, because his bioscanner sounds an alarm, and Jack and the Doctor spend the next four hours on an exhilarating chase that starts in the streets of New Kingston and ends, ultimately, in the stratosphere. Jack is every inch himself: high-spirited, self-satisfied, long coat billowing behind him and a string of impudent comments on the tip of his tongue. The Doctor returns to the TARDIS feeling younger than he has in decades and laughing for the first time in what might be years, and he thinks <i>(he knows)</i> he's needed this more than he's been admitting.
"Well," says Jack, resting one hand on the TARDIS, awkwardly, "I guess that's that."
The Doctor won't ask again. The Doctor doesn't beg, not in this regeneration. Jack turned him down once, and that was Jack's choice, and it's Jack's prerogative to change his mind or not. The Doctor won't press the matter. Still, he hates to leave things like this, with so much unspoken between them. "Jack," he starts, hardening his resolve.
"Yeah?"
The Doctor clears his throat. (Jack, I—) "Right. Take care of yourself. I'll see you around."
Jack nods slowly. "Yeah. I'll see you."
(Does it need to be said?)
A/N: I don't quite know about this one. The idea seemed good, but the text never really spoke to me. I'd be interested in people's thoughts/critiques, especially regarding the use of parentheses and whether those phrases worked or should be cut entirely.
Author: magic_7_words
Challenge: Five Things
Rating: G
Pairing: D/J only if you squint
Spoilers/Warnings: The Doctor Dances, Boom Town, Utopia, Last of the Time Lords
Summary: see title
I.
"Change in plans, don't need the bomb. Can you get rid of it safely as you can?"
The Doctor believes in testing his companions. How else will they (he) discover their potential? He only takes the best, after all. He showed Rose the Earth's death in the year five billion, and she didn't run screaming (from him) from the overwhelming hugeness of it all, so she passed. He left Adam unattended on Satellite Five, which nearly proved disastrous, but it worked out in the end and he got the boy's measure, dropped him home before he ran afoul of some worse temptation. And that was fine. They were comfortable, him and Rose, just the two of them. Not seeking any new applicants, thank you. Now this 51st-century flyboy has barged into the picture, every move and every word screaming lookatmelookatme! and the Doctor finds himself looking. Judging.
Testing.
The lad faced a volcano of his own making, today. Stepped up to the brink of its terrifying maw and shouldered the responsibility, did what he had to do. Like the blooming hero he pretends to be (he is).
There's no "safe" way to get rid of that bomb, and the Doctor knows it. Luckily, the Doctor excels at salvaging unsafe situations.
How would you like to see the inside of a real ship, Captain?
II.
"Buy me a drink first."
The words come out reflexively, a stock response to an inside joke. Not a day goes by without Jack making a pass at Rose or (and) the Doctor, and Jack gets away with saying things that, if you'd asked the Doctor three months ago, he would have sworn he'd never tolerate. The Captain has a childlike simplicity to him, despite all he's seen and done; despite the bad-boy act and steel beneath the surface (steel with an edge, and what sort of hand has life dealt this man, to hone that edge?), deep down Jack only wants to feel close to others. He'd take Rose or the Doctor as lovers in a heartbeat; in that sense, he jokes in earnest. Barring that, he'll be as devoted a friend as they could wish for, asking only a smile in return. Smiles are easy, the Doctor finds, and never more so than when Jack smiles first.
Jack likes his little flirting games. He likes the chase, even if the quarry forever eludes him. The Doctor likes seeing Jack happy. It doesn't get any (better) simpler than this.
You're all right, you know that? Don't change a thing, because you're all right.
III.
"Jack. Do you want to die?"
It's not Jack's fault, truly it isn't. He can't help what Rose made him, any more than a Dalek could help its genetic programming. Which is an entirely unfair analogy and one the Doctor refuses to pursue. Any more than... well... a fish could help being aquatic, or a squirrel arboreal, or a Time Lord a cowardly, manipulative, self-serving—
Unfair.
Jack wears it well, all things considered. Hasn't gone off the deep end (yet). Hasn't let the years leach away his humanity. Has, in fact, shown remarkable strength of character in not clocking the Doctor's face first chance he got. The Doctor owes Jack more than this impotent concern, this hint of an offer he can't (won't) follow through. What the Doctor owes Jack... well, the words come easily in this regeneration, but only in sympathy, never remorse. The Doctor can't afford to second-guess his own past behavior; can't risk opening those floodgates, not with what his past contains. Not even when one of them (not Jack) is obviously wrong.
I'm sorry. I am so sorry.
IV.
"I really don't mind, though. Come with me."
It's over between him and Martha. Funny, putting it like that, because they never had it to begin with. To say they've given up pretending would be more accurate.
Martha Jones. She's gonna save the world, they said, and she did. The Doctor might have harnessed the psychic power of the human race, but Martha inspired that power, Martha with her storytelling and her wits and courage and sheer indomitable grit (while the Doctor, caged and helpless, waited to be rescued). Never second-best to anyone, not she, and now she knows it. Martha doesn't need him anymore (never did), and if she doesn't leave him soon, he'll have to leave her, for her own good.
He hopes she'll leave him first.
Jack, on the other hand, already knows what he's worth (more than this), knows what's good for him (not the Doctor), and if Jack wants to wave away the past with nothing more than "shame on you" spoken with a smile, why should the Doctor object? Donna's right; he's better with (he needs) someone. And Jack—brilliant, insufferable, turns-up-like-a-bad-penny Jack—not to give the wrong impression, because the Doctor likes Jack (he does) and truly doesn't mind (not anymore)—Jack is the only one left.
Don't go. Please, don't leave me alone. Please.
V.
They meet again on Jamaica, the planet not the island. The TARDIS took the Doctor here, controls set to random, and he lingers longer than he might have otherwise, listening to (near-)authentic 21st-century reggae music through tinny coffee-shop speakers. He finds himself missing the Earth, which he's avoided without conscious intent for... blimey, has it really been (one-twenty-eight) one hundred years? Too many memories, he supposes.
As if on cue, a familiar face lights up from across the room. The Captain, now with salt-and-pepper hair that makes him look a little older and (a lot) more distinguished, balances his sandwich on the rim of his coffee cup and migrates to the Doctor's table. The Doctor shakes his old friend's hand, although it's worse than he remembers, the way his stomach flips at Jack's inescapable existence. He enquires about the unfamiliar electronic device in Jack's other hand; Jack explains that he's tracking a Plasmavore using Torchwood's latest cutting-edge bioscanner. Advanced enough to distinguish the DNA of a Plasmavore from that of its latest prey, he assures the Doctor. And a good thing, too, because without it he'd have walked right by the Doctor's new regeneration.
"I'd have flagged you down," the Doctor protests, feeling defensive and slighted, somehow.
Jack has no chance to reply, because his bioscanner sounds an alarm, and Jack and the Doctor spend the next four hours on an exhilarating chase that starts in the streets of New Kingston and ends, ultimately, in the stratosphere. Jack is every inch himself: high-spirited, self-satisfied, long coat billowing behind him and a string of impudent comments on the tip of his tongue. The Doctor returns to the TARDIS feeling younger than he has in decades and laughing for the first time in what might be years, and he thinks <i>(he knows)</i> he's needed this more than he's been admitting.
"Well," says Jack, resting one hand on the TARDIS, awkwardly, "I guess that's that."
The Doctor won't ask again. The Doctor doesn't beg, not in this regeneration. Jack turned him down once, and that was Jack's choice, and it's Jack's prerogative to change his mind or not. The Doctor won't press the matter. Still, he hates to leave things like this, with so much unspoken between them. "Jack," he starts, hardening his resolve.
"Yeah?"
The Doctor clears his throat. (Jack, I—) "Right. Take care of yourself. I'll see you around."
Jack nods slowly. "Yeah. I'll see you."
(Does it need to be said?)
A/N: I don't quite know about this one. The idea seemed good, but the text never really spoke to me. I'd be interested in people's thoughts/critiques, especially regarding the use of parentheses and whether those phrases worked or should be cut entirely.
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And this:
... well, the words come easily in this regeneration, but only in sympathy, never remorse.
is just Ten in a nutshell.
Great work! :))
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The only critique I might have, since you asked, is that it threw me slightly when you put the parentheses before and not after the bit they referred to. (i.e. (better) simpler as opposed to doesn't need him anymore (never did)) But really, that's just a personal thing. I think you did a fantastic job with this. Makes me want to write my own five things!
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