aibhinn_fics (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
aibhinn_fics) wrote2007-11-05 02:59 pm
aibhinn_fics) wrote2007-11-05 02:59 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Reunited (15/15)
Title: Reunited (15/15)
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
aibhinn
Pairings: Jack/Rose, Jack/Ten, Jack/Ten/Rose, Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Doctor Who through "Doomsday", Torchwood through "End of Days".
Summary: The Rift is much more active than it was, and has been disgorging aliens and out-of-time people at an alarming rate… including one person Jack never expected to see again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Auntie Beeb. I'm stuck here on the far side of the wrong continent, playing in her sandbox.
Betas:dark_aegis, wendymr, joely_jo, larielromeniel, and sensiblecat—all of whom are AWESOME.
Author's note: Wow. I'm absolutely floored by the response to this fic. Thank you so much, everyone! You're amazing, all of you.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV
The Doctor reached up into the cupboard to pull out the teapot that he'd used so little in the years since Martha and Donna had left, and after a moment's thought, scrounged for the tin of loose tea as well. Teabags were good enough for one person; the tea didn't have time to grow cold if you made it a cup at a time. But this was a special occasion, wasn't it? Rose! And Jack! Back on the TARDIS, the three of them together again for the first time since the Game Station.
Pain squeezed his hearts like a vice and he groaned, resting the heels of his hands against the counter and letting his head hang down. It wasn't the three of them, and he knew it. It was Jack and Rose…and him. Two separate entities, a couple and their long-lost friend.
Well, he couldn't blame them. He'd been gone for a very long time in their personal time-lines. He was glad they'd found each other, really; neither of them deserved to be alone. If what Jack had said was true, and they couldn't die, they were going to need each other over the years. It was good to have one person they didn't have to lie to, one person with whom they could truly be themselves, no matter how long they lived.
Yes, he was happy for them. Really. And if it meant that he was left on the sidelines, well, that happened sometimes. It wasn't as if he'd never been alone before, never had companions leave him and get married.
He sighed and pushed himself away from the counter, his limbs as heavy as though he were wearing plate armour. He was, in a way; he'd have to, because they still cared about him, and he couldn't just disappear without a trace. Well, he could, of course he could, and he probably should…but Rose wasn't well yet, and what if they wanted help with trying to lose this horrific immortality of theirs? He was the only one who might be able to find a way, him and the TARDIS. So he couldn't just leave them alone, much as watching them together hurt. Besides, Rose wasn't well yet; she'd need care.
But what if they didn't want him around?
He swallowed as he slid the kettle beneath the tap and turned the water on. Well, he wasn't one to stay where he wasn't wanted. And he had been the one to do the leaving, after all, at least where Jack was concerned. Rose…he'd tried so hard to find a way to her before he'd finally realised it was impossible. And he'd never forgotten her, he'd just forced himself to move on—though he could see how it might have appeared to her as though he'd let himself forget. What was it the Bad Wolf had said? 'You're the dimmest intelligent man I've ever met.' Well, maybe that was true; he'd allowed himself to hope, when he'd seen her, that maybe they could—that she might—
"Doctor."
He whirled, splashing water everywhere. Jack stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, slouched against the doorframe. Shaking his hand to get the worst of the water off, the Doctor turned off the tap and then set the kettle down on its base, flipping the switch. "Oh, Jack," he said. "Good. Now Rose is awake, thought I'd make us all a cup of tea. Or I can make you that coffee I offered earlier? You can help me bring it all back to—Rose." He couldn't quite make himself say my bedroom, silly as that sounded. Not in the context of these two.
Jack came in slowly, cautiously, as though the Doctor were a skittish animal. "This isn't about tea or coffee."
"Ah. Yes. Water!" He nodded energetically. "Rose is probably thirsty, isn't she? And hungry, no doubt. Channelling all that power must have drained her pretty thoroughly." He turned around and started rummaging through one of the cupboards. "I've some HobNobs here somewhere, those chocolate-covered ones she liked so much. I think I might even have an unopened packet…."
Jack's hand closed on his bicep, not restrictively, but the Doctor stilled nonetheless. The heat of Jack's hand was overwhelming, nearly burning him even through the layers of his shirt and jacket. He pressed his lips together and didn't move, waiting for the words he dreaded.
"Rose and I want to talk to you," Jack said quietly. "And without you changing the subject, or babbling on to try to cover up emotions you don't want to admit to having. Will you listen to us? Please?"
All at once, the Doctor felt the weariness of a thousand years of loneliness settle over him, and he just couldn't bear to let it drag on like this. Better to get on with it. He let his hand fall and turned round to face Jack, who was standing just inches away. "You don't have to," he said, just as quietly. "You don't have to say anything. I understand. The two of you are perfect for each other, and I'd be a fool to try to separate you, even if I wanted to. Which I don't," he added a bit defensively and mostly truthfully. "So once Rose is well, I'll just—go."
"Doctor—" Jack began, brow furrowing, but the Doctor held up a hand to stop him.
"I don't blame you, Jack. Or Rose, either. Sometimes…things just work out this way. You two are happy, and that makes me happy." A half-truth if there ever was one. "And I won't be gone forever, I promise. I'll make sure you have a way of contacting me if you need me. But you two deserve to be able to make your life together without someone else hanging round, getting in the way, and—"
"Rose is right," Jack interrupted. "You never do stop talking, do you?" And, to the Doctor's utter shock, he reached out, took the Time Lord's face in his hands, and kissed him.
Taken aback, the Doctor stood unmoving as Jack's lips moved over his. They were soft and warm, and Jack's hands cradled his face with a gentleness that he knew he'd never been worthy of. Unwillingly, the Doctor's own hands came up to rest against Jack's sides, feeling the heat and solidity of him even through the wool of the greatcoat.
Jack pulled away slowly, never releasing the Doctor's face. The Doctor allowed his eyes to flutter open, only to be captured by the intense blue of Jack's gaze. Jack's thumbs brushed over his cheekbones.
"We don't want you to go," Jack whispered.
Those six words sank into the Doctor's consciousness, battering down all his barriers. His last defence against heartbreak shattered under the weight of that whisper. With a low sound, half a groan and half a whimper, the Doctor pulled Jack toward him and claimed his lips again.
This time there was no gentleness. It was rough and hard and want and need, and the Doctor clutched at Jack, pulling him closer and ravaging his mouth. One of Jack's hands reached around the Doctor's waist, pulling him tight against his body; the other twined in the Doctor's hair, pulling almost painfully, but the Doctor couldn't bring himself to care. They didn't want him to go. It chanted through his brain like a mantra, over and over. We don't want you to go.
At last they broke apart again, gasping for air and holding onto each other as though they were drowning. The Doctor thought he might actually be doing so; drowning in the emotions he'd denied himself for—ever, really. He was lost at sea in the midst of an unfamiliar ocean of possibilities and emotional reefs, with nothing in sight to hide behind. It was amazing. It was terrifying.
"Well," said Rose. The two men turned to look at her: she stood in the doorway, clearly tired but just as clearly herself again. "Looks like all my carefully-crafted arguments aren't needed after all."
The Doctor glanced at Jack, who had glanced back at him. A feeling he hadn't felt in far too long bubbled up inside him, and he laughed in delight. It was joy—sheer, unadulterated joy. He held out a hand to Rose, and she grinned and came to join them in their embrace, holding them as close to her as they held her to them. Her head tilted up in invitation, and he took it, finally indulging in the taste of her for the first time since that horrific day at Canary Wharf.
After a moment, the Doctor pulled away slightly, just enough so he could look at each of them. "We should get Rose back to the bedroom."
Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth. "Sounds good to me," she said saucily.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but an answering grin played around his lips. "You need to rest."
"Oh, I think you'd be amazed how much resting I've already got done." Still grinning, she took both men by the hand and together they walked out of the galley.
***
Later—much later—Jack lay on his side, head pillowed beside the Doctor's, arm flung over the Doctor's body so his hand rested on the curve of Rose's waist. The other two were sound asleep—and no wonder, he thought with a smirk, given the, erm, enthusiasm of their first night together—but he hardly ever slept any more. And even if he had, the thoughts running through his head would have kept him awake in any case.
He wasn't going to let the two of them go. Not ever. He'd waited too long for this, for the feeling of together and family that he'd always had with the two of them, even before the Game Station. But he couldn't just walk away and leave his team, either. He hadn't been kidding during that first conversation with Gwen, in the pub, the night he'd Retconned her. The twenty-first century was when everything changed—and that change was going to be coming sooner than anyone, except perhaps the Doctor and maybe Rose, knew. He had to get his people ready, because they were going to be the front line. He knew it. He'd seen it—Torchwood Cardiff was a phrase as recognisable to 51st-century schoolchildren as King Tut was to schoolchildren of this time. He couldn't walk away from his responsibilities here.
But the Doctor would never agree to settle down in one place for very long, either. A week in one place would have him taking the TARDIS console apart and putting it back together again just for something to do. Two weeks and he'd either be manufacturing crises out of sheer boredom or driving everyone around the bend. Or both. And it wasn't fair to ask him to hang about, anyway; this was Jack's responsibility, not his.
So where did that leave them?
He sighed and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his forehead briefly before letting his hand drop back to the mattress. There had to be a way around this. There had to be something he could do so he wasn't just leaving his team.
Damn it all, anyway.
The mattress shifted next to him, and he looked over to see the Doctor on his side, head propped on a hand, looking at him soberly. "What's wrong, Jack?" he asked.
Jack allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk up wryly. "Musing on a famous quotation from English literature," he said. "'I could not love thee, dear, so much / Lov'd I not honour more.' Though replace 'honour' with 'duty' and you're closer to the mark."
"Lovelace," the Doctor identified. "Richard. English poet of the seventeenth century. The quotation is from his poem 'To Lucasta, Going to the Warres'. Considered one of the greats of English literature, but really, he didn't have much of a sense of humour. Dry old chap. Boring, actually. Now Jane Austen—there was a lady with fire in her heart! Imagine Lovelace writing Elizabeth Bennett! Or, rather, no, don't. Probably would've made her into some dull girl who reads Edifying Texts all day and permits herself to be married off to the most eligible bachelor around because she's convinced it's her lot in life. And who'd've humanised Darcy then?" He stopped, closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again. "Sorry. Rattling on. Bad habit of that. Where were we? Ah, yes. Loved you not honour—no, sorry, duty—more?"
Wearily, Jack rubbed his face with both hands. "I'm coming with you," he said. "There's no question. Every part of me wants to be with you and Rose, travel with you, laugh with you, for as much of 'forever' as we have together. But I can't just let them fumble through things all on their own. The next twenty years are too important to history. I can't just swan off and hope they work it all out in time."
"Can't you?"
Jack dropped his hands and looked at the Time Lord. "No, I can't. It would be worse than dereliction of duty, it would be leaving the human race open to the alien influences coming their way. The twenty-first century—"
"—is when everything changes, yes," the Doctor agreed. His eyes were very, very dark. "But you're a student of history, Jack; you have to be if you're to become a field operative of the Time Agency. Who is the driving influence behind the survival of the human race in the mid-twenty-first century?"
"Torchwood Cardiff," Jack said.
"No, no, not the group name. The individual names. Who are they?"
What was he getting at? "Tosh, Ianto, Gwen and Owen," Jack told him. "It's why I hired them, and why I've kept them on despite some truly spectacular fuck-ups, a mutiny, attempted murder, and in the case of Owen at least, a desire to strangle him three times a day. I know they're necessary. I know they're the right ones. They just have to be taught how to do it."
The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Interesting phrasing there, Jack. Do they need to be taught, or do they need to learn?"
The Doctor's meaning suddenly became clear. "You're telling me I should leave them to work it out on their own," he said. Anger was welling up in him, a fierce sort of protectiveness. "Just leave them to struggle through as best they can. I can't do that, Doctor. They're my people, my team. They need me."
"Really?" The Doctor laid a gentle hand on Jack's chest, right over his breastbone, and his voice softened. "Then why isn't your name in the history books too?"
It was a simple question, but it caught Jack utterly off-guard. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
"I'm not suggesting you abandon your team," the Doctor went on. "But there's nothing that says you have to be here constantly to keep an eye on them. You've got the four of them together; they know each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they've learned a hell of a lot from you. It's time to let them see what they can do without you for a while."
"So what are you suggesting?" Hope was rising in him, and he tried to quash it without much success.
The Doctor grinned. "Oh, just a bit of jiggery-pokery. Came first in jiggery-pokery, I'll have you know. Won't take long to fix up your mobile so you can be reached anywhere in the universe."
Rose sat up behind the Doctor, yawning and dishevelled from sleep. She draped an arm over the Doctor and rested her chin on his upper arm, curling her hand around Jack's. "Don't let him pull that old jiggery-pokery trick on you. The superphone is all kinds of brilliant, but he'll foist the bill off on you."
"Superphone?" Jack asked.
"Remember my mobile? The one that could phone Mum from Raxacorricofallapatorius? The Doctor jiggery-pokeried it on our first date." She glanced down at the Doctor and grinned, tongue between her teeth. "That was before he almost got me killed. Again."
"What d'you mean, again?" the Doctor demanded, rolling to his back. Recognising the telltale signs of a Doctor-Rose bantering session, Jack propped himself up on an elbow to watch. "You said it yourself: it was our first date. If it was the first one, it couldn't have been again."
"Oh, killer plastic dummies don't count, then?"
"You ran into them. I didn't tell you to go down the basement looking for the chief electrician. In fact, I grabbed your hand and got you out of there, if memory serves."
"Yeah, and then you blew up my job!"
"I remember you mentioning that," Jack said, grinning broadly. "What was it you said? 'It's practically the way he communicates.'"
The Doctor grumbled, and Rose laughed, tucking herself closer along the length of his body. "Speaking of communication, and changing the subject, some communication might have been nice before you decided to assume we didn't want you around and decided on your own to leave us," she told him.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "All right," he said. "All right, I shouldn't have assumed. I should have let you tell me how you felt. I should've asked."
"Yes, you should have," Rose said firmly. "And if you assume again, I'm going to knock your feet out from under you and sit on you until you listen properly."
"Isn't that what you did this time?" Jack asked innocently.
"You helped."
"All right," the Doctor said loudly over the laughter of the other two. "I think we should change the subject again. We never finished our first one." He raised an eyebrow at Jack. "I meant what I said, you know," he told Jack, serious now. "We could get you fixed up with a superphone, as Rose calls it, in no time and off we go. And we'll take as much time here as you need to get things settled so you can go with a clear conscience, and we'll come back as often as you need. But I'm not leaving you behind again, Captain." He grinned. "You lost your chance at that. You're stuck with me now." His face fell. "Er. That was a little tactless, wasn't it?"
"Just a bit." Rose rolled her eyes as she reached for Jack's hand. "He's right, though, you know," she said to Jack. "You're stuck with both of us."
He squeezed hers. "Good," he said, his heart brimming.
***
Three weeks later
"So you're really going," Gwen said.
They were on top of the Millennium Centre again, just the two of them, watching as the sky lightened toward imminent sunrise. The farewell party had broken up an hour or two before, and the others had left for their respective homes. Tomorrow, he and Rose and the Doctor would depart for places and times unknown. Rose and the Doc had retired to the TARDIS, giving him some space to say a final goodbye to the city that had been his home for so long.
"Yeah," Jack said. His hands were in his pockets, his coat pushed back, as he stared east over the bay and towards the slowly lightening sky. The sun would be up in less than an hour. His last day here.
Gwen stood beside him, also staring at the horizon, her jacket zipped halfway up, her hands tucked under her arms. Jack never felt the cold anymore, but he figured it probably was pretty chilly out. "I don't blame you," she said. "To be able to explore time and space…the idea's just incredible." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "And to find the people you're meant to be with. That's pretty incredible too. Most people never find one person who suits them as well as the Doctor and Rose do you." She smiled. "I'm happy for you, Jack. But I'm going to miss you as well."
He turned to face her and gave a crooked smile. "I'm going to miss you too," he told her, and held out his arms. She came to him, sliding her hands between his coat and his body and resting her cheek against his shoulder. He held her, chin on her head, soaking in her warmth. "But you can do this," he said quietly. "All of you. And you won't be alone; I'll be just a phone call away. You can reach me any time, any place—past, present, or future, and I'll be there in a blink."
"I know," she said. "But I'm not talking about missing your leadership, or missing having you as my boss. I mean I'll miss you."
He pulled back slightly to look down into her eyes. "I'll be back," he said. "Once a month on the dot. And nothing says you can't just call to talk, you know."
Gwen was silent for a moment. "You're a good friend, Jack," she said at last. "One of my best friends. One of the few people I can really trust, and one of the few I can tell everything to. You and Rose have kept me sane these past few months."
"We're both just a phone call away," he said again reassuringly.
Gwen blinked rapidly, as though holding back tears, and laughed a little helplessly. "Look at me," she said. "I shouldn't be upset. I should be thrilled that you've got your chance at happiness—that you finally found the right sort of Doctor."
She was glancing over his shoulder now, and he turned to look. The Doctor and Rose stood beside the access panel to the roof, smiling. Jack smiled back.
Gwen released him, and when he turned back to her in surprise, kissed his cheek. "I'm off home," she said. "But I'll be back to see you off." And before he could say anything, she walked away, towards the Doctor and Rose. She stopped to say something and gave Rose a hug before slipping back down into the building, leaving the three of them alone together.
"Come to enjoy the sunrise?" Jack asked, grinning in invitation.
His lovers came to him, each wrapping an arm around him from either side. "Come to enjoy the company," the Doctor said. "Unless you'd rather be alone."
"Not a chance," Jack said. They turned towards the east, blinking against the first rays of the rising sun. He took a deep breath. "It's the first really new day I've seen in a long while," he murmured.
"The first of many," the Doctor said quietly.
Together, they watched the golden light spread over the city of Cardiff.
Author:
aibhinnPairings: Jack/Rose, Jack/Ten, Jack/Ten/Rose, Ten/Rose
Rating: PG-13.
Spoilers: Doctor Who through "Doomsday", Torchwood through "End of Days".
Summary: The Rift is much more active than it was, and has been disgorging aliens and out-of-time people at an alarming rate… including one person Jack never expected to see again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Auntie Beeb. I'm stuck here on the far side of the wrong continent, playing in her sandbox.
Betas:
dark_aegis, wendymr, joely_jo, larielromeniel, and sensiblecat—all of whom are AWESOME. Author's note: Wow. I'm absolutely floored by the response to this fic. Thank you so much, everyone! You're amazing, all of you.
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV
The Doctor reached up into the cupboard to pull out the teapot that he'd used so little in the years since Martha and Donna had left, and after a moment's thought, scrounged for the tin of loose tea as well. Teabags were good enough for one person; the tea didn't have time to grow cold if you made it a cup at a time. But this was a special occasion, wasn't it? Rose! And Jack! Back on the TARDIS, the three of them together again for the first time since the Game Station.
Pain squeezed his hearts like a vice and he groaned, resting the heels of his hands against the counter and letting his head hang down. It wasn't the three of them, and he knew it. It was Jack and Rose…and him. Two separate entities, a couple and their long-lost friend.
Well, he couldn't blame them. He'd been gone for a very long time in their personal time-lines. He was glad they'd found each other, really; neither of them deserved to be alone. If what Jack had said was true, and they couldn't die, they were going to need each other over the years. It was good to have one person they didn't have to lie to, one person with whom they could truly be themselves, no matter how long they lived.
Yes, he was happy for them. Really. And if it meant that he was left on the sidelines, well, that happened sometimes. It wasn't as if he'd never been alone before, never had companions leave him and get married.
He sighed and pushed himself away from the counter, his limbs as heavy as though he were wearing plate armour. He was, in a way; he'd have to, because they still cared about him, and he couldn't just disappear without a trace. Well, he could, of course he could, and he probably should…but Rose wasn't well yet, and what if they wanted help with trying to lose this horrific immortality of theirs? He was the only one who might be able to find a way, him and the TARDIS. So he couldn't just leave them alone, much as watching them together hurt. Besides, Rose wasn't well yet; she'd need care.
But what if they didn't want him around?
He swallowed as he slid the kettle beneath the tap and turned the water on. Well, he wasn't one to stay where he wasn't wanted. And he had been the one to do the leaving, after all, at least where Jack was concerned. Rose…he'd tried so hard to find a way to her before he'd finally realised it was impossible. And he'd never forgotten her, he'd just forced himself to move on—though he could see how it might have appeared to her as though he'd let himself forget. What was it the Bad Wolf had said? 'You're the dimmest intelligent man I've ever met.' Well, maybe that was true; he'd allowed himself to hope, when he'd seen her, that maybe they could—that she might—
"Doctor."
He whirled, splashing water everywhere. Jack stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, slouched against the doorframe. Shaking his hand to get the worst of the water off, the Doctor turned off the tap and then set the kettle down on its base, flipping the switch. "Oh, Jack," he said. "Good. Now Rose is awake, thought I'd make us all a cup of tea. Or I can make you that coffee I offered earlier? You can help me bring it all back to—Rose." He couldn't quite make himself say my bedroom, silly as that sounded. Not in the context of these two.
Jack came in slowly, cautiously, as though the Doctor were a skittish animal. "This isn't about tea or coffee."
"Ah. Yes. Water!" He nodded energetically. "Rose is probably thirsty, isn't she? And hungry, no doubt. Channelling all that power must have drained her pretty thoroughly." He turned around and started rummaging through one of the cupboards. "I've some HobNobs here somewhere, those chocolate-covered ones she liked so much. I think I might even have an unopened packet…."
Jack's hand closed on his bicep, not restrictively, but the Doctor stilled nonetheless. The heat of Jack's hand was overwhelming, nearly burning him even through the layers of his shirt and jacket. He pressed his lips together and didn't move, waiting for the words he dreaded.
"Rose and I want to talk to you," Jack said quietly. "And without you changing the subject, or babbling on to try to cover up emotions you don't want to admit to having. Will you listen to us? Please?"
All at once, the Doctor felt the weariness of a thousand years of loneliness settle over him, and he just couldn't bear to let it drag on like this. Better to get on with it. He let his hand fall and turned round to face Jack, who was standing just inches away. "You don't have to," he said, just as quietly. "You don't have to say anything. I understand. The two of you are perfect for each other, and I'd be a fool to try to separate you, even if I wanted to. Which I don't," he added a bit defensively and mostly truthfully. "So once Rose is well, I'll just—go."
"Doctor—" Jack began, brow furrowing, but the Doctor held up a hand to stop him.
"I don't blame you, Jack. Or Rose, either. Sometimes…things just work out this way. You two are happy, and that makes me happy." A half-truth if there ever was one. "And I won't be gone forever, I promise. I'll make sure you have a way of contacting me if you need me. But you two deserve to be able to make your life together without someone else hanging round, getting in the way, and—"
"Rose is right," Jack interrupted. "You never do stop talking, do you?" And, to the Doctor's utter shock, he reached out, took the Time Lord's face in his hands, and kissed him.
Taken aback, the Doctor stood unmoving as Jack's lips moved over his. They were soft and warm, and Jack's hands cradled his face with a gentleness that he knew he'd never been worthy of. Unwillingly, the Doctor's own hands came up to rest against Jack's sides, feeling the heat and solidity of him even through the wool of the greatcoat.
Jack pulled away slowly, never releasing the Doctor's face. The Doctor allowed his eyes to flutter open, only to be captured by the intense blue of Jack's gaze. Jack's thumbs brushed over his cheekbones.
"We don't want you to go," Jack whispered.
Those six words sank into the Doctor's consciousness, battering down all his barriers. His last defence against heartbreak shattered under the weight of that whisper. With a low sound, half a groan and half a whimper, the Doctor pulled Jack toward him and claimed his lips again.
This time there was no gentleness. It was rough and hard and want and need, and the Doctor clutched at Jack, pulling him closer and ravaging his mouth. One of Jack's hands reached around the Doctor's waist, pulling him tight against his body; the other twined in the Doctor's hair, pulling almost painfully, but the Doctor couldn't bring himself to care. They didn't want him to go. It chanted through his brain like a mantra, over and over. We don't want you to go.
At last they broke apart again, gasping for air and holding onto each other as though they were drowning. The Doctor thought he might actually be doing so; drowning in the emotions he'd denied himself for—ever, really. He was lost at sea in the midst of an unfamiliar ocean of possibilities and emotional reefs, with nothing in sight to hide behind. It was amazing. It was terrifying.
"Well," said Rose. The two men turned to look at her: she stood in the doorway, clearly tired but just as clearly herself again. "Looks like all my carefully-crafted arguments aren't needed after all."
The Doctor glanced at Jack, who had glanced back at him. A feeling he hadn't felt in far too long bubbled up inside him, and he laughed in delight. It was joy—sheer, unadulterated joy. He held out a hand to Rose, and she grinned and came to join them in their embrace, holding them as close to her as they held her to them. Her head tilted up in invitation, and he took it, finally indulging in the taste of her for the first time since that horrific day at Canary Wharf.
After a moment, the Doctor pulled away slightly, just enough so he could look at each of them. "We should get Rose back to the bedroom."
Rose grinned, tongue between her teeth. "Sounds good to me," she said saucily.
The Doctor raised an eyebrow, but an answering grin played around his lips. "You need to rest."
"Oh, I think you'd be amazed how much resting I've already got done." Still grinning, she took both men by the hand and together they walked out of the galley.
***
Later—much later—Jack lay on his side, head pillowed beside the Doctor's, arm flung over the Doctor's body so his hand rested on the curve of Rose's waist. The other two were sound asleep—and no wonder, he thought with a smirk, given the, erm, enthusiasm of their first night together—but he hardly ever slept any more. And even if he had, the thoughts running through his head would have kept him awake in any case.
He wasn't going to let the two of them go. Not ever. He'd waited too long for this, for the feeling of together and family that he'd always had with the two of them, even before the Game Station. But he couldn't just walk away and leave his team, either. He hadn't been kidding during that first conversation with Gwen, in the pub, the night he'd Retconned her. The twenty-first century was when everything changed—and that change was going to be coming sooner than anyone, except perhaps the Doctor and maybe Rose, knew. He had to get his people ready, because they were going to be the front line. He knew it. He'd seen it—Torchwood Cardiff was a phrase as recognisable to 51st-century schoolchildren as King Tut was to schoolchildren of this time. He couldn't walk away from his responsibilities here.
But the Doctor would never agree to settle down in one place for very long, either. A week in one place would have him taking the TARDIS console apart and putting it back together again just for something to do. Two weeks and he'd either be manufacturing crises out of sheer boredom or driving everyone around the bend. Or both. And it wasn't fair to ask him to hang about, anyway; this was Jack's responsibility, not his.
So where did that leave them?
He sighed and rolled over onto his back, rubbing his forehead briefly before letting his hand drop back to the mattress. There had to be a way around this. There had to be something he could do so he wasn't just leaving his team.
Damn it all, anyway.
The mattress shifted next to him, and he looked over to see the Doctor on his side, head propped on a hand, looking at him soberly. "What's wrong, Jack?" he asked.
Jack allowed a corner of his mouth to quirk up wryly. "Musing on a famous quotation from English literature," he said. "'I could not love thee, dear, so much / Lov'd I not honour more.' Though replace 'honour' with 'duty' and you're closer to the mark."
"Lovelace," the Doctor identified. "Richard. English poet of the seventeenth century. The quotation is from his poem 'To Lucasta, Going to the Warres'. Considered one of the greats of English literature, but really, he didn't have much of a sense of humour. Dry old chap. Boring, actually. Now Jane Austen—there was a lady with fire in her heart! Imagine Lovelace writing Elizabeth Bennett! Or, rather, no, don't. Probably would've made her into some dull girl who reads Edifying Texts all day and permits herself to be married off to the most eligible bachelor around because she's convinced it's her lot in life. And who'd've humanised Darcy then?" He stopped, closed his eyes, shook his head, and opened them again. "Sorry. Rattling on. Bad habit of that. Where were we? Ah, yes. Loved you not honour—no, sorry, duty—more?"
Wearily, Jack rubbed his face with both hands. "I'm coming with you," he said. "There's no question. Every part of me wants to be with you and Rose, travel with you, laugh with you, for as much of 'forever' as we have together. But I can't just let them fumble through things all on their own. The next twenty years are too important to history. I can't just swan off and hope they work it all out in time."
"Can't you?"
Jack dropped his hands and looked at the Time Lord. "No, I can't. It would be worse than dereliction of duty, it would be leaving the human race open to the alien influences coming their way. The twenty-first century—"
"—is when everything changes, yes," the Doctor agreed. His eyes were very, very dark. "But you're a student of history, Jack; you have to be if you're to become a field operative of the Time Agency. Who is the driving influence behind the survival of the human race in the mid-twenty-first century?"
"Torchwood Cardiff," Jack said.
"No, no, not the group name. The individual names. Who are they?"
What was he getting at? "Tosh, Ianto, Gwen and Owen," Jack told him. "It's why I hired them, and why I've kept them on despite some truly spectacular fuck-ups, a mutiny, attempted murder, and in the case of Owen at least, a desire to strangle him three times a day. I know they're necessary. I know they're the right ones. They just have to be taught how to do it."
The Doctor's eyebrows rose. "Interesting phrasing there, Jack. Do they need to be taught, or do they need to learn?"
The Doctor's meaning suddenly became clear. "You're telling me I should leave them to work it out on their own," he said. Anger was welling up in him, a fierce sort of protectiveness. "Just leave them to struggle through as best they can. I can't do that, Doctor. They're my people, my team. They need me."
"Really?" The Doctor laid a gentle hand on Jack's chest, right over his breastbone, and his voice softened. "Then why isn't your name in the history books too?"
It was a simple question, but it caught Jack utterly off-guard. He opened his mouth to reply, then closed it again.
"I'm not suggesting you abandon your team," the Doctor went on. "But there's nothing that says you have to be here constantly to keep an eye on them. You've got the four of them together; they know each other's strengths and weaknesses, and they've learned a hell of a lot from you. It's time to let them see what they can do without you for a while."
"So what are you suggesting?" Hope was rising in him, and he tried to quash it without much success.
The Doctor grinned. "Oh, just a bit of jiggery-pokery. Came first in jiggery-pokery, I'll have you know. Won't take long to fix up your mobile so you can be reached anywhere in the universe."
Rose sat up behind the Doctor, yawning and dishevelled from sleep. She draped an arm over the Doctor and rested her chin on his upper arm, curling her hand around Jack's. "Don't let him pull that old jiggery-pokery trick on you. The superphone is all kinds of brilliant, but he'll foist the bill off on you."
"Superphone?" Jack asked.
"Remember my mobile? The one that could phone Mum from Raxacorricofallapatorius? The Doctor jiggery-pokeried it on our first date." She glanced down at the Doctor and grinned, tongue between her teeth. "That was before he almost got me killed. Again."
"What d'you mean, again?" the Doctor demanded, rolling to his back. Recognising the telltale signs of a Doctor-Rose bantering session, Jack propped himself up on an elbow to watch. "You said it yourself: it was our first date. If it was the first one, it couldn't have been again."
"Oh, killer plastic dummies don't count, then?"
"You ran into them. I didn't tell you to go down the basement looking for the chief electrician. In fact, I grabbed your hand and got you out of there, if memory serves."
"Yeah, and then you blew up my job!"
"I remember you mentioning that," Jack said, grinning broadly. "What was it you said? 'It's practically the way he communicates.'"
The Doctor grumbled, and Rose laughed, tucking herself closer along the length of his body. "Speaking of communication, and changing the subject, some communication might have been nice before you decided to assume we didn't want you around and decided on your own to leave us," she told him.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. "All right," he said. "All right, I shouldn't have assumed. I should have let you tell me how you felt. I should've asked."
"Yes, you should have," Rose said firmly. "And if you assume again, I'm going to knock your feet out from under you and sit on you until you listen properly."
"Isn't that what you did this time?" Jack asked innocently.
"You helped."
"All right," the Doctor said loudly over the laughter of the other two. "I think we should change the subject again. We never finished our first one." He raised an eyebrow at Jack. "I meant what I said, you know," he told Jack, serious now. "We could get you fixed up with a superphone, as Rose calls it, in no time and off we go. And we'll take as much time here as you need to get things settled so you can go with a clear conscience, and we'll come back as often as you need. But I'm not leaving you behind again, Captain." He grinned. "You lost your chance at that. You're stuck with me now." His face fell. "Er. That was a little tactless, wasn't it?"
"Just a bit." Rose rolled her eyes as she reached for Jack's hand. "He's right, though, you know," she said to Jack. "You're stuck with both of us."
He squeezed hers. "Good," he said, his heart brimming.
***
Three weeks later
"So you're really going," Gwen said.
They were on top of the Millennium Centre again, just the two of them, watching as the sky lightened toward imminent sunrise. The farewell party had broken up an hour or two before, and the others had left for their respective homes. Tomorrow, he and Rose and the Doctor would depart for places and times unknown. Rose and the Doc had retired to the TARDIS, giving him some space to say a final goodbye to the city that had been his home for so long.
"Yeah," Jack said. His hands were in his pockets, his coat pushed back, as he stared east over the bay and towards the slowly lightening sky. The sun would be up in less than an hour. His last day here.
Gwen stood beside him, also staring at the horizon, her jacket zipped halfway up, her hands tucked under her arms. Jack never felt the cold anymore, but he figured it probably was pretty chilly out. "I don't blame you," she said. "To be able to explore time and space…the idea's just incredible." She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. "And to find the people you're meant to be with. That's pretty incredible too. Most people never find one person who suits them as well as the Doctor and Rose do you." She smiled. "I'm happy for you, Jack. But I'm going to miss you as well."
He turned to face her and gave a crooked smile. "I'm going to miss you too," he told her, and held out his arms. She came to him, sliding her hands between his coat and his body and resting her cheek against his shoulder. He held her, chin on her head, soaking in her warmth. "But you can do this," he said quietly. "All of you. And you won't be alone; I'll be just a phone call away. You can reach me any time, any place—past, present, or future, and I'll be there in a blink."
"I know," she said. "But I'm not talking about missing your leadership, or missing having you as my boss. I mean I'll miss you."
He pulled back slightly to look down into her eyes. "I'll be back," he said. "Once a month on the dot. And nothing says you can't just call to talk, you know."
Gwen was silent for a moment. "You're a good friend, Jack," she said at last. "One of my best friends. One of the few people I can really trust, and one of the few I can tell everything to. You and Rose have kept me sane these past few months."
"We're both just a phone call away," he said again reassuringly.
Gwen blinked rapidly, as though holding back tears, and laughed a little helplessly. "Look at me," she said. "I shouldn't be upset. I should be thrilled that you've got your chance at happiness—that you finally found the right sort of Doctor."
She was glancing over his shoulder now, and he turned to look. The Doctor and Rose stood beside the access panel to the roof, smiling. Jack smiled back.
Gwen released him, and when he turned back to her in surprise, kissed his cheek. "I'm off home," she said. "But I'll be back to see you off." And before he could say anything, she walked away, towards the Doctor and Rose. She stopped to say something and gave Rose a hug before slipping back down into the building, leaving the three of them alone together.
"Come to enjoy the sunrise?" Jack asked, grinning in invitation.
His lovers came to him, each wrapping an arm around him from either side. "Come to enjoy the company," the Doctor said. "Unless you'd rather be alone."
"Not a chance," Jack said. They turned towards the east, blinking against the first rays of the rising sun. He took a deep breath. "It's the first really new day I've seen in a long while," he murmured.
"The first of many," the Doctor said quietly.
Together, they watched the golden light spread over the city of Cardiff.