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wintercompanion2008-03-04 09:11 pm
rubychan05: 5 Times Jack And The Doctor Missed Each Other (And One They Didn't) (9/Jack) [PG-13]
Author: rubychan05
Challenge: Luck
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: New Who: Rose to The Doctor Dances.
Notes: Ever notice the way the Doctor says "Chula?" at 36:42 during The Empty Child? Like he's remembering something...
Summary: Doesn't the title say it all? Five chances Jack and the Doctor had to meet before the events of The Empty Child
Five Times Jack And The Doctor Missed Each Other (And One They Didn’t)
He’s whirling through the universe, crashing from one catastrophe to another as he tries to escape it all, so afraid that if he stops or even just slows down for a minute that the enormity of what he’s done will crash down on him. Gallifrey’s no more, but the Daleks are dead, and he can’t let himself think about it so he just flings himself into the middle of whatever trouble happens to be occurring nearby.
He’s just phasing into reality when the other spaceship hits him, just solid enough to be thrown jarringly to the floor as the TARDIS jolts. He pushes himself to his feet and snarls at the Chula warship he can see on the monitor, wonders exactly how dumb the Chula soldier operating it must be to be unable to brake on seeing him appear.
He presses buttons angrily and opens communications with the other ship, not waiting for the pilot to acknowledge before launching into a tirade furious enough to have made even the Council (long gone, they’re all long gone now) quake in their boots.
“…I mean if you can’t pilot the bloody thing just stay at home in the future you idiot, because there is no way I’m going to let something as pathetic as that ship scratch up mine, and that’s final. I mean, how can you not have seen it?!” He finishes, feeling smug and satisfied because if the stunned silence on the other end is anything to go by then he’s definitely made the pilot rethink his actions.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” The comm crackles and the Doctor jumps, frowning at the voice in confusion. It’s too human to be Chula. “Haven’t had this thing long – first time flying it.”
The pilot sounds fairly young, maybe just approaching thirty, and there’s something cocky in his voice that makes the Doctor want to go over there and wring his neck.
“Anyway, I’d love to chat but I really have to be going - turns out the Chula don’t appreciate you borrowing their things…or at least their ships. If I were you I’d move on before they decide you have something to do with me.”
The Chula ship glows blue as it vanishes into the Time Vortex, and the Doctor barely has time to set the coordinates and begin de-materialising before another five Chula warships appear and dart into the Vortex before it closes, clearly in hot pursuit.
He wonders what will happen to the thief when they catch him but dismisses the thought.
It’s not like it’s any of his business anyway.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It’s the Year 5,000,002,006 and the Sun is expanding, swallowing Earth. Jack doesn’t even know why he’s here, really – the last twelve generations of his family have lived in the Boeshane Peninsula on Artax along with most of the other Americans who emigrated from Earth in search of opportunity. He’s only ever seen Earth in history holograms, so why he found himself feeling nostalgic enough to sneak aboard Platform 1 to watch it die he has no idea.
Of course, it was all going quite well until the viewing room he was in decided to seal the exits and deactivate the Sun filters, he reflects.
He’s pressed against the side door, as flat as he can get against the wall to avoid the scorching light, and he can feel the sweat pouring out of him as he hammers as loudly on the door as he can, yelling at the top of his voice. His Vortex Manipulator can’t function in heat this extreme, and even if it did he’s not sure what precautions Platform 1 have set up to prevent people from illegally using their transporters.
If he dies here, he’ll find a way to sue all their asses if it kills him.
“Hello? Is anybody there? Help!” He yells, and feels relief crash over him as there’s the sound of running feet stopping outside the door, the beep of the console on the other side being tampered with.
“Don’t worry, I’ll have you out in a jiffy – just sit tight!” A Northern voice calls back, and its familiar although Jack can’t quite place it. He shivers, his internal body temperature seriously screwed up by the oven he’s currently baking in, and slumps down against the wall gasping as the shield begins to rise again, sealing out the burning heat. The door clicks, ready to be opened whenever Jack feels ready.
“Right, there we are then! Gotta dash, there’s another shield going down – just get yourself to the medical personnel as soon as possible and don’t get stuck in any more rooms. Idiot.” His rescuer runs off just as Jack’s eyes widen in realisation, the insult finally clicking everything else into place. On shaky legs he rushes for the door, but the corridor is empty, and he is left alone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Woman Wept is widely acclaimed to be the most beautiful planet in the Fostrix Galaxy, and as he sits on the beach Jack can’t help but admire the frozen ocean before him and admit that they’re right. If they could, thousands of people would come here everyday, and that’s why the leading governments on the surrounding planets have declared it off limits in order to prevent tourism spoiling its natural beauty.
It’s why Jack chose here, of all places, to tend to his wounds after a run in with a particularly tenacious Silurian ended with the Silurian an unpleasant stain on the floor and Jack’s chest a mess of weapon burns and clawed scratches. He hisses as he unwinds the hastily wrapped bandage and uses the portable nanogenes from the Chula ship to repair the worst of the damage. It still hurts though, and instinct has him closing his eyes, biting into his lip to stay silent.
Just within view two figures walk hand in hand across the icy waves that curl hundreds of feet above them, but Jack doesn’t see.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Villengard’s weapon factories are gone, vaporised into nothing by the reactor that went critical this morning.
Jack purses his lips in annoyance and goes elsewhere to upgrade his blaster.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It’s a masque on Benazaptheron, 34th century, and the Doctor’s feeling more than a little uncomfortable as he grudgingly slow dances with the rather fat woman who he has a vague idea may be the Duke’s wife. Rose left him what must have been hours ago to make eyes at the Duke’s younger brother, and doesn’t seem to be picking up on the death glares he’s sending her way.
One trip, she said. One trip where she got to choose the destination and decide what they did when they got there. He should have known better than to agree; even if the TARDIS had landed here rather than 18th century England like Rose had wanted, letting her choose the entertainment had been nothing short of suicide.
The Duke’s brother is leaning closer to Rose now, whispering something in her ear that makes her blush and giggle. They vanish from among the throng of people a few moments later, and the Doctor has to fight to hold down the white hot jealousy that rushes through him as he realises what they’re leaving to do.
When the song ends he excuses himself from his partner and heads towards the sanctuary of the garden, sighing blissfully as the cool night air whispers around him. His mask is itchy, and he’s about to remove it when he hears footsteps behind him, a soft reproving laugh.
“You know you’re not meant to take that off until the end, right? I mean, what’s the point in a masque if people aren’t wearing masks?” The stranger’s voice is logical, lilting and almost melodic despite being distorted by the mask’s standard voice disguiser, and the Doctor just shrugs and looks away.
“Trust me, if it was up to me I wouldn’t even be here.”
“Wife drag you here? Or maybe a husband?” The stranger moves closer and leans on the patio wall beside the Doctor, so near the Doctor can almost feel the body heat emanating from him. He smiles wryly, glancing sideways at his companion in amusement.
“That may possibly be the least subtle way of testing the water that I’ve ever heard.” He snorts, and the stranger’s blue eyes dance behind his mask.
“It’s good to be obvious every now and then. And since you seem to appreciate it I’ll be blunt with you; I’m interested, and I think we should get ourselves lost in the Duke’s maze so that you can give me the fucking of my life.”
The Doctor jerks, flushing even as his mouth dries, and he shivers when the stranger curls a hand around his wrist and trails a finger across his pulse point.
“I…I’m with someone. She’s off with the Duke’s brother, I should really keep an eye out for her…” The Doctor’s protests are lost in a groan as the stranger presses himself against him and rubs. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows it’s just asking for trouble, but it’s been nearly 55 years and the man’s offering himself up on a platter, no questions asked.
“If she’s having fun, why don’t you? I’ll be good…real good…” The words roll off the stranger’s tongue like syrup, hot and tempting, and the Doctor can’t help but give in.
The gazebo at the centre of the maze has been covered in cushions and blankets, various oils half hidden inside a small box to the side. Not for the first time tonight the Doctor wonders exactly what type of party this is, but then the stranger’s got a hand down his trousers and a mouth fastened on his neck, and the Doctor stops thinking.
They don’t take off their masks or exchange names, just get right down to business. When they’re finished the stranger grins lazily at him and the Doctor leaves without looking back, hears the other man’s sigh of satisfaction.
When he returns to the ballroom Rose is waiting for him, cheeks flushed and hair mussed, and as they walk back to the TARDIS both of them pretend they don’t know what the other was doing tonight.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Albion Hospital, 1941, and a man shakes his hand and introduces himself as Captain Jack Harkness.
He’s cocky, almost ridiculously so, and something about him is so familiar that the Doctor is more than a little annoyed at himself for not being able to remember why. Then Rose asks him what a Chula warship is and he knows, knows without a doubt that this is the arrogant thief who crashed into the TARDIS, the man who led the Chula security force on a wild chase through Time itself.
It just makes him dislike Jack even more, makes it easier to sharpen his tongue against Jack’s guilty soul and give him the verbal thrashing he deserves. It’s only for Rose’s sake that he not only saves him but offers him a place onboard the TARDIS – Jack may have risked his life to stop the bomb from detonating, but that doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. He’ll have to be watched closely, tested, told in no uncertain terms exactly who the boss is around here.
Then Jack ‘accidentally’ finds his way into the Doctor’s bedroom, and half an hour later lets out a low moan that makes the Doctor jerk in shock as he realises that this isn’t exactly the first time they’ve been in this position. He carries on regardless even though his brain is whirling in an attempt to make sense of things, and afterwards as they lie panting in the afterglow he accepts Jack’s uncertain kiss without speaking lest he says too much.
Jack has no such qualms.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever been to Benazaptheron have you?” He asks, and the Doctor just laughs.
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Thanks for commenting!
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I really liked this. The touch of griefcrazed!Doctor at the very beginning is perfectly done (nice and understated) and I love the scene at the masque.
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Thanks for the lovely comment, and I'm glad you enjoyed!
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I like how the Doctor's verbal thrashings of Jack wrap things together here - I think Nine really needed someone to yell at, and having Jack around was therapeutic for him.
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I'm so happy you liked it, and you have to admit...however far in the future we get, we'll always have road rage - even if we're in spaceships!
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Spaceship road rage is a fact, I agree. I wonder how far in the past it extends, though? Did folks out west in covered wagons let loose with foul language if another wagon cut them off? Ah, the things I could learn first hand if I had a TARDIS.
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And yes, sweaty!Jack is all kinds of good. We need more sweaty!Jack in the world...*daydreams*
Thanks for commenting!
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Thanks for commenting and I absolutely love your icon! ^_^
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I love how cleverly you find ways to make these almost-meetings canon compliant and yet have the blokes have no idea. Guess they must have been fated for each other. (And I love that they figure it out. *g* Wonder what they think when they do.)