for quitehomoerotic: Welcome to the 27th century

[rude_not_ginger]

Follows this.

It was one thing, watching your companion be ripped apart.

One very terrible thing, mind you, but one thing. The Doctor stayed prone on the ground, the sound of Jack's death screams ringing in his ears as that thing, whatever it was, tore him into several unpleasant pieces. It reminded him of the Year That Wasn't, of Jack's screams while the Master tortured him and the Doctor's frail body keeping him from helping. That was torture, far more brutal than anything the Master's tools could produce.

Once the loud stomps of the creature faded away, the Doctor struggled to get to his feet and limped to the place where Jack had been.

It was another thing, having to find his body for it to regrow.

It took some time to find his upper torso, limp and lifeless. It didn't take too terribly long to drag said upper torso to a safe, empty cave not far from the forest's edge (after all, what Jack no longer had in height, he also lost in weight. It didn't take long for time to start snapping around him and his body to start to regrow.

That was something else all together. Muscle and bone formed out of nothing, and while Jack wasn't coherent, he was still alive, screaming and thrashing as he reformed. The Doctor pressed his fingertips to Jack's temple and tried to take away the pain, but when that failed, he pressed his mind into a quiet, comatose state.

While Jack repaired, the Doctor covered him with his coat and sat, waiting. For all that they'd fought, for all that the Doctor swore he'd never want Jack back on the TARDIS again, he did care about him. He wanted him happy, even if he wasn't certain he could handle having him so close. Jack was willing to die for the Doctor, and this was just another example of how he could.

But the Doctor wouldn't leave. Not this time.

Comments

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack opened his mouth to comment on the Doctor's trickery on the Master, but he swiftly closed it again when the Doctor went on.

He shifted again, turning his head to look at him a little more straight on.

"Huh," he said, intrigued as he looked at him. It didn't escape his mind completely how familiar that concept was. How he felt for Gwen could quite easily squeeze into such an ideal. But this wasn't about him and Gwen, it was about him and the Doctor.

"So show me then."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor would've liked to have thought a lot of mental stimuli would've gone through his head at that moment. He would've been working exactly how to show Jack he cared without having to actually confess anything, and therefore change it. He would've been plotting out exactly what to do next, exactly how to pull him back and show him, because Jack wasn't demanding words, he wanted action. And the Doctor was a man of action, generally.

Instead, the only thing he was thinking was the only thing that came out of his mouth:

"Don't I?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack couldn't help but laugh. Well, no, he probably could usually, but not now.

"Doctor," he said, propping himself back on his elbow, "Over the last few days I've had you accuse me of poisoning you -among other things- and just today I've had you tell me I'm not welcome on the TARDIS." He smirked a little and breathed out slowly, leaning back once more.

"But... I've also had you almost sacrifice the TARDIS for me and try and rip up half the universe. So I suppose it evens out."

He smiled, but his smile was soon replaced by a confused frown. "You know, come to think of it, you're really good at mixed messages you know. How'm I supposed to know where I stand when one minute you're giving us fourteen hours and holding my hands and having talks like that one in the TARDIS and the next minute you're ready to bolt. What are you so scared of? And you know what I'm just going to shut up now. I think I've picked up a touch of that thing you've got."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Well, I hope I pick up what you had."

It started to get very dark outside, and the Doctor moved towards Jack tentatively, nervous again about the closeness. Did he send off mixed signals? Well, the way Jack described it certainly made it seem like he did. He wanted to explain that each of those instances was a different moment, and to live as long as the Doctor had with as many pains and loves as the Doctor held onto, life became nothing but a series of moments. He wanted to explain, but he wasn't sure he could.

"How close we are," he said. "Just---the way we've become. I haven't been like this with someone in a very long time. There are rules and they're there for a reason." He let out a long-suffering sigh that was very nearly genuine. "But with you, Jack Harkness, with you things don't ever follow the rules."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack gazed over at the Doctor and gave him a lazy little cheeky grin. "Oh that's me," he said, proud of the fact, "rule breaker extraordinaire."

His cheeky grin faded though, and he wiped a hand over his face as if trying to sober himself up. It didn't really work, but it helped him focus nonetheless. "I know all that stuff," he said, waving a hand vaguely.

"You forget, Doctor, you're not talking to someone who doesn't understand all that. I distance myself from people for the same reasons you do. Or at least I guess a bunch of the reasons are the same. I don't let myself fall for people for the same reasons. So sure, I'm a bit more, I dunno, open about certain things, than you are, but you're not the only one with rules," he prodded him gently in the chest, "and I'm not the only one breaking them."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"Well, you're certainly that," the Doctor said with a small, teasing grin. "But, I don't know how you can open yourself up for one without potentially opening yourself up for the other. Unless you're significantly better at negotiating emotions than I am."

He nodded to the world outside of the mouth of the cave. "It's different out there, now. In a few millenia, when I'm created, well, they'll have set up standards. Emotions are verymuch a not-to-do, but I started in on them early. I learned why they emphasized indifference. It's better than heartache."

He looked back at Jack. "I know, I know, you're not going to. It's habit. For me."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Is it though?" Jack asked, genuinely not sure of the answer. "Is it better to just go on through life that way. You know sometimes I think it is, because caring for people? Loving people and everything that goes with it? It hurts, god does it hurt. Especially when you know it can't last." He shook his head and sighed.

"I've cut myself off from people. Not let them get close. But in the long run I think it's worse. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it's just wishful thinking. Trust me, if I ever work it out you'll be the first to know."

He glanced out beyond the cave and quickly back, "And no," he answered belatedly, "I'm not better at emotion. I'm pretty bad at it, actually, just ask... well, anyone. I just pretend I am."

He propped himself up again, fidgeting and getting more animated as he considered. "You know what the problem is? People always want something they can't have from me. People want that ideal view of a relationship and a cosy little home and really, I don't think that'd ever be me. I can't bend myself to fit that idea and that upsets people before I've even done anything. I mean sure, I can do it a bit but it's still not they want. I'm different, and not just because of the whole immortality thing. The people I've known? They rarely see that. I suppose it's ironic really that I'm pretty sure you've got it in your head that's what I want with you. Seriously, Doctor, I thought you knew me better than that. I'm not about to order a picket fence."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The very idea of Jack with a picket fence was almost enough to make the Doctor laugh. He imagined that Jack might've tried it once and decided against it. The Doctor had never had that option. He'd been married once, had children once, and lost all of them because he couldn't stay still.

To his relief, the tongue-loosening effects of the drug appeared to have completely evaporated, leaving all of those thoughts firmly in his mind.

"I don't know what you want from me," the Doctor admitted. "I really wish you'd tell me so I could show you I'm in absolutely no condition for giving anything."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Well it went so great the last time I tried to tell you, didn't it?" Jack scoffed a little. Really it'd gone terribly.

He shook his head and thought about it. What did he want? What exactly did he want? It'd probably be much easier to explain it if he could possibly understand it himself.

"Nothing," he said finally, looking up at the roof of the cave. "Nothing really. I mean- you're my best friend, Doctor, you mean the world to me, you really do. And you know, I'd just really been starting to enjoy whatever was changing. I guess we'd never been alone together for so long before to realise it might. And you know, that sort of stuff?" he shrugged his shoulders back, "How we were getting? I just think that'd be nice. More of that, without worrying about what it means and having to question it. Maybe that's just too much me and not enough you, but I don't know, I don't think it is, and you know I've definitely got a dose of what you had."

He frowned slightly. He was being rather frank, wasn't he? Maybe the effects were just slower on Jack. A delay on his less advanced metabolism.

"Oh and that's a lie," he added, "because you already give so much. And it's a fine line between can't and won't."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

There was. It was a very fine line, he supposed. He wanted to think that he couldn't, but the truth was, he was too afraid. He could admit that, couldn't he?

No, no, he couldn't. In fact, he found he'd forgotten how to speak entirely. Must've been the next stage in this drug. That was, well, really unfortunate. They were almost getting somewhere with this conversation.

It left acting, only. How should he act? Should he kiss Jack? Pull away? Instead, the Doctor sat there, petrified between his options.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack took out a long breath and flopped his head to the side to look at the Doctor.

"I wish I could tell what you're thinking when you look at me," he told him honestly with a slight slur to his voice. "I just can't read you, Doctor."

He sighed and reached his hand out, tapping the Doctor's arm as if to let him off the hook. "Don't worry. You don't have to say anything. I understand."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He wanted to tell him, but more often than not he wasn't certain himself.

Well, that was very nice of Jack. It almost made his paralyzing inability to speak seem all right. Almost, of course.

Unsure how to act next, the Doctor decided to do what felt natural. And, right now, his natural reaction was to try, somehow, to show Jack that he cared. That he was more than mere words.

He leaned forward and brushed a kiss to Jack's mouth.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack closed his eyes. He felt tired. Tired and as though he'd said too much... again. He couldn't help it though, he supposed, but really that was no excuse. There was no excuse at all. He'd made the Doctor uncomfortable, he considered, and he really didn't want to do that. He wanted quite the opposite; for them to feel at ease around each other.

The last thing he expected though was for the Doctor to embrace him further, let alone kiss him.

His eyes quickly opened in surprise, and he almost faltered. Almost. Tentatively, he lifted a hand and just touched it gently against the Doctor's cheek, lifting his own head a little to return the kiss with a soft smile on his lips.

"Okay," he whispered afterwards, staying close. "Okay. Good."

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

He wanted to say that this couldn't mean with with.

He wanted to say it didn't have to mean with with.

And part of him wanted to say that he desired with with, in a way. It was frustrating, his conflicting emotions. The pangs of jealousy towards Jack's former lovers and the frustration in how much he cared for him. He wanted to express that.

But he couldn't say anything.

Which is when he heard the click of an energy weapon behind them.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It meant more to Jack than he could really express, that the Doctor had broached the distance there and kissed him. Not the physical distance, of course, they were more than a little close. But a mental distance, and one he could have quite easily widened. It might have hurt a little, but it would, Jack thought, have been safer.

He wanted to thank him, though he wasn't sure how. But he had no time for thanks.

He heard the noise and he breathed out, closing his eyes a moment and internally cursing. "On three, Doctor, I'm going to stand and turn," he whispered to him and slowly, slowly moved his hands away and up.

"One... Two.... Three..."

He pulled himself to standing and turned, hands in the air. In the process, he almost fell. The drugs must have been stronger than he knew.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor's eyes moved to the silvery robot behind them, and his first reaction was to tell Jack not to move. Don't move, the Raston Warrior Robots are based on movement and they'd see him if he moved.

But he couldn't, the words were caught in his throat. He couldn't even move his lips, he just sat there, frozen. He tried, desperately, to tell Jack to stay still with his eyes. Stupid stupid stupid poisoned food!

The robot fired an arrow the moment Jack fell.

The Doctor couldn't even make a cry of protest.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack felt the sharp burn of the shot as it penetrated through his chest. It narrowly avoided his heart, but hit and punctured squarely through his left lung. He let out a gasp of air as he fell to the floor, and tried to breathe with his one functioning lung; shallow breaths to keep himself going.

"Doctor..." he breathed, hoarse, not really words. He reached an arm back with a flailing hand, feeling himself dizzy and lightheaded and he couldn't tell if it was from the lack of oxygen or the drugs in his system.

He blinked slowly a few times, trying to make the world come into focus, and he pushed a hand uselessly against the ground to try and stand. But it was pointless, and with a last ditch deep breath he fell back, flat to the ground, and collapsed.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

No, Jack---

The Doctor wanted to drop down and help Jack, but if he moved, the next arrow, the one positioned on the robot's other arm, would go straight for him. He stayed perfectly still, struggling to not even breathe.

Any moment now. Any moment now, Jack. It will leave and the Doctor would help him. He couldn't even offer up a word of comfort to his friend. Nothing, just frozen out of fear of the monster with his voice caught in his throat.

The robot leveled another arrow for Jack's head, but changed its mind and turned, fleeing in a burst of light.

The Doctor dropped down to Jack's side instantly. He put a hand to the other man's throat. Pulse. Faint, but there. He wouldn't last much longer with the arrow in his chest, that must've been why the creature fled.

He wanted to say something, but he couldn't. Instead, he took a breath, took a hold of the arrow, and pulled it sharply from Jack's chest.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Oww!" Jack let out a large noise in pain as the arrow was pulled from his chest; his eyes opening wide and suddenly as air rushes back into his lung. It doesn't last long though, and even as he sits up sharply, he could feel himself losing breath as the air escaped through the puncture wound in the tissue.

"Jesus Christ that hurt," he said, struggling for words but feeling he has to say them, his body overcome with the urge to speak everything he though, just as the Doctor earlier had.

"What wa--" he clutched a hand to his chest, trying to concentrate and breathe deep breaths enough to fill his functioning lung.

"Doctor, can't- can't breathe-"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor wanted to calm him, but he couldn't find the words to comfort. Instead, he pulled out the wadded-up scrub bottoms and pressed them against his bleeding wound.

Interesting, he wanted to say. It appears without actually dying, your wounds stay fairly intact. Is this a common thing, Jack?

But he couldn't.

He reached out and patted Jack's cheek with his other hand.

It'll be all right, he also wanted to say.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack reached a hand up and covered it over the Doctor's on his chest. He could just about breathe, but barely, and it was getting worse as fluid from the wound seeped into his open lung.

Looking at the Doctor, with his vision swimming in front of his eyes, he shook his head. "No," he said, taking too much effort to speak.

He suspected what might happen here, it had happened before, if in different ways. Somehow this was worse than a terribly gruesome death like the one he had earlier. This was barely a death at all. It was a slow painful loss of the ability to live. His breathing would get harder, and the pain would get worse, and he had to strain himself through it.

"No, Doctor," he said again, struggling against the lack of air. He fumbled his hand out and tried to reach for the bloodied arrow, his fingers fumbling and not reaching.

"Are you-" he breathed in, wheezed, "are you okay?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

Don't speak, he wanted to say, but couldn't. He pressed down on the wound, but he knew this was fatal. Jack would drown in his own blood. A few years ago, he might have even watched the process with indifference. After all, Jack would just come back to life.

Now, he knew it hurt. He knew this wasn't as easy as life and death. He didn't want Jack to die.

He nodded in response to Jack's question, because he couldn't say anything else.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

With a second attempt, Jack managed to grab hold of the arrow. He lifted it, his hand clasped tightly around it, and he pressed it to the Doctor's hand over his chest.

"Finish it," he asked hoarsely, coughing and tasting iron in the back of his throat, "please. Quicker."

He was going to die. If that was something he guessed at before he was certain of it now. He'd grown to the point he could almost be blase about dying. It was so much more pleasant to have it over and done with. He thought it was a recklessness with life that might get him in trouble one day. It had certainly got himself in trouble.

He didn't want to ask the Doctor to kill him. It'd never be a nice thing for someone you cared about, and who cared about you to have to do. But, if it meant the pain would go, and it meant that he might be better quicker, then it seemed the most logical option.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor wanted to say No and promise Jack that he'd fix it, he'd save him. But the fact that his throat was locked up was not the only reason he didn't.

Jack could die, and then he wouldn't be in pain.

The Doctor had done far worse in his life. And Jack needed him. He'd turn the universe upside down for Jack, couldn't he do this?

He nodded, and then took Jack's head, turned it roughly to the side, and stabbed the arrow in the base of his neck, up to the brain stem. Quick and painless. Even a Raston Warrior Robot couldn't be that efficient.

Jack's blood was warm against his fingertips, and brain matter came out with the arrow as he pulled it free of Jack's skull.

He wanted to say he was sorry, but he couldn't.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Five minutes. Five minutes or not even that, that's how long Jack was dead in the Doctor's arms, his body limp and limbs loose.

The blood from his wounds was still wet, but the damage behind it had healed, and his body as ever reset itself as though nothing had ever happened. Like a mistake rubbed off a blackboard. All gone.

Five minutes or less and he opened his eyes and took a deep gasp of breath. His muscles awoke and tightened, and his grip firm on the Doctor's arm. His eyes searched in confusion before he, seconds later, acclimatised to his situation.

"Doctor!" he breathed out deeply, deep breaths to fill his fixed lungs. "Doctor what was that thing?"