for quitehomoerotic: Welcome to the Boeshane Peninsula

[rude_not_ginger]

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When the Doctor woke, he was prepared to feel stiff and uncomfortable. Usually, when reaching that point of exhaustion, he usually found himself on the floor or on the console, in some sort of an awkward position that left him sore for the next day. This morning, however, he was out of his clothes and stretched out on his bed, under the covers with a heating blanket.

A breathing heating blanket.

He raised an eyebrow and looked to where Jack had an arm around him as he slept. The previous day came rushing back. Pearl Harbor, the goodbyes, the return of Gallifrey, being captured by the Shadow Proclamation, and finally nearly killing Jack. They came so very close. Too close.

Without really thinking about it, the Doctor found himself wrapping an arm around Jack's shoulder. Jack, who was ready and willing to die the previous day. And the Doctor was willing to give him that. He had been willing to give him that. Not anmymore.

Where could they go, now?

Onwards, of course. It was the only way they could go.

The TARDIS wasn't moving anymore, and the Doctor slowly extracted himself from Jack's embrace. He grabbed his trousers and shirt and threw them on quickly, heading towards the console, hopefully before Jack woke.

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"Fine!" Jack said exasperatedly. "Fine. But I die, I wake back up again. You die and you regenerate or worse. Now you tell me which one of those is more traumatic?"

He let out a huff and ducked back under the water to see if he could find some sort of origin for the lightning pulses. It seemed lower, as though it were from under the rocks below somehow. Something hidden there?

He came to the surface again.

"It looks like it's something down there in the rocks. I say we go down, swim to see if there's some sort of a cave."

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"For now!" the Doctor retorted. "For all we know you might---"

And Jack went back under the water.

"Fine!" the Doctor shouted at the water. "Fine! Just be that way! If this were easy, I'd have already talked to you about it! But it isn't!" He spat out a mouthful of water. "I can't get this attached! I can't! Everyone I touch dies, Jack! Everyone! And it was almost you, too!"

But he could never tell that to Jack, could he?

And Jack came back up. He nodded. "Right. Under water creatures. Bit like old times, isn't it?"

He took in a mouthful of air and ducked beneath the surface

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Jack huffed again at the water and smacked his hands against the surface.

"No," he said with an exasperated sigh, "no, it's nothing like old times. Mind you, never listened then either did you."

He took just a moment and a look up to the city in the rapidly decreasing light. This felt almost surreal.

Just a lingering look. And back to the water. He swam down this time, lower to find the mouth of the rocks and the Doctor too. It was hardly the best way of swimming like this, in a heavy coat and full clothing. They really needed to perfect that.

He touched a hand to the Doctor's arm when he got close, and offered a thumbs up before pointing to the rocks. The lightning storm seemed to be brighter there and the flashes more frequent.

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The Doctor was deeply regretting not taking off his coat. He was really regretting a good bit of diving into this water without any of the equipment he'd planned for. But that was him to a T, wasn't it? Leaping in without thought, causing chaos without care?

He struggled with the weight, but eventually managed to kick towards the rocks. He nodded to Jack, and then followed the light to the rocks. At the bottom, a small hole about the size of a man poked out through, the light bright on the opposite side. He swam towards it, his thin body easily slipping through. A tunnel greeted him, and he pressed himself through.

This was possibly suicidal. What if this cave didn't lead to anywhere? What if there wasn't air? What if he couldn't turn around?

It broke out to a wide, open space of water full of bright, crackling light. Above him, a pocket of air near the surface of the cave awaited.

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Jack swam along behind the Doctor, beside him as ever, and there was part of him annoyed to realise that. He always fell into step, and he doubted anything would ever stop him from doing that.

He examined the gap in the rocks. It was a little tighter for him to slip through, but upon tugging aside a little of the sandy stone, it gave him plenty room and he followed behind.

He would be out of breath soon, and though he could manage a while, and the Doctor likely a while longer he knew that confining themselves in a small space wasn't the best of ideas. There was something truly hideous about the thought of the both of them dying mere feet from the beach he played on and would continue to do so.

But then the cave opened up and he swam swiftly upwards to meet the air pocket that awaited him. He took a deep and gasping breath and shook his head to try and right himself.

"You okay?" he asked straight off before looking up and around. "I had no idea this was here."

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"I don't think it was," the Doctor said, running a hand along the top of the cave. "Look at the stone. Rough and scratched, like by claws or a machine. Not smooth like the rocks back out there. Also..."

He pressed his palm flat. "Warm. Something is pulling the heat from the water around it."

The room was bright, the lightning coming all around them. But no creature, nothing it could actually come from.

"Here," he said, gesturing ahead. He led the way deeper into the cave, keeping one hand on the wall. "It looks like it goes all the way---"

Something ice-cold wrapped itself around the Doctor's leg, and without even a second to catch his breath, he found himself pulled beneath the surface of the water.

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Jack looked around to examine the rocks. The Doctor was right, this was new and manufactured. He touched a hand to the rock and felt the etched markings.

They advanced ahead and the water seemed colder the further they went. Whatever was drawing the heat? They were closing in on it.

He opened his mouth to say something but he was swiftly cut off by the Doctor suddenly disappearing from view.

"Doctor!" Jack called, looking down at the water to try and see what happened. He could see nothing though but the bright light and an indistinguishable shape. And so he took a deep breath and plunged under.

What he saw there, chilled him. A creature of some sort that seemed to be connected to the rock, a little as though it were part of it, and from it tentacles that stretched out and pulsed the electric shocks that spanned through the water. One tentacle however was dark, and that one hooked around the Doctor's leg as it pulled on him.

Jack swam to it and reached out, attempting to dislodge the hold as it wrapped around him. He tugged and pulled, but it wouldn't give.

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The Doctor's initial reaction--to kick whatever it was off of himself--became immediately impossible. His leg felt numb, like he'd been stabbed with a block of ice or some sort of an anesthetic. The feeling spread to his other leg, and he was left flailing, caught by something cold and strong. The tentacle appeared to have some sort of talons along the side, and he felt them dig into his flesh, cutting wounds into his muscles and nerves.

Was this it? Would this be how he died? After everything that happened, he'd be pulled to his own death by something unexpected and strong? It seemed unfair. So utterly anticlimactic after the fight with the Master and the Time Lords. And what about the Marquis? Or the ten thousand other things that could've killed him in this lifetime? But this? This was unfair!

He could feel Jack near him, trying to unlodge the tentacle, but it was stuck, tight into his skin. The Doctor felt light-headed, a little dizzy, and he couldn't---

Suddenly, the tentacle released, snapping back into the darkness.

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Jack continued to tug and to pull. He could see the tentacle and how it latched onto the Doctor's leg, just like it had latched onto the wall, consuming and absorbing and merging with it. He wished then that he had a gun that would work underwater.

He realised though, he had one thing. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out from the inside of his heavy wet coat. Pressed it just once at the tentacle and whether by result of it or by coincidence, it released the Doctor's leg.

He tried then to pull him up to the surface, but they were both heavy beneath it, with coats and clothes and whatever the creature had done to the Doctor.

Jack looked to the Doctor who looked as though he might be loosing consciousness, and again upwards. They'd come down quite far from the surface and so Jack made a decision.

He took whatever air remained in his lungs and he moved to the Doctor, pressing his mouth to his and opening it, he breathed what was left of the oxygen in his lungs into the Doctor's mouth, breathing for him before he reached under his arms, dizzy himself then, and he tried to get them to the surface.

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Drowning wasn't a pleasant thing, he decided. His cells were deciding whether or not it was time to start regenerating, and his hearts were starting to slow, and then---

Oxygen, at a combination with a good deal of nitrogen, was suddenly in his mouth. He sucked in the air greedily, not caring at first where it was coming from, only that it was there and he was breathing it.

Jack. Saving him again.

Half of him wanted to be furious, but the other half was too grateful to bother with that. His legs felt stronger, and he gave a solid kick, keeping his arms around Jack. They went up, towards the surface.

What had happened? What did that thing do to him? He tried to assess his physical changes, but the limited air in his system kept him from fully sorting exactly what had happened. He didn't feel ill, but that didn't mean he was safe.

He broke the surface and took in another breath of air.

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Jack felt as though his head was full of cotton wool. And it became hard to tell exactly what was going on until they broke the surface and he took a very deep, much needed breath.

He looked around frantically, seeing the Doctor beside him, and he nodded, still catching his breath.

It struck him then, only briefly, that he might have yet again done something the Doctor didn't want him to. Was that his whole point? Did he want to get himself into trouble? Well Jack couldn't allow himself to find that out.

"You okay?" he asked when he finally had breath enough to. "I don't know what that thing was, but it was huge, I saw it."

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"I don't know," the Doctor said. He felt odd, like the breath hadn't made him better, hadn't fixed his ability to breathe. It was like dying.

He kicked away from Jack. "Something's happening."

He looked down at his hand, where the cells began to radiate white-hot energy. Regeneration energy. He was regenerating. How---how could he be regenerating? He wasn't---it wasn't---he hadn't died. He hadn't earned regeneration.

He felt the cells in his hand begin to relax as he thought that. His body began to normalize. He concentrated, and he could feel them start to activate again.

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Jack looked over at the Doctor, worried.

"What?" he asked sharply. "What's happening?"

He glanced where the Doctor looked, his hand. Oh no, this couldn't be what he thought, could it?

"But you were barely under there!" he said, not wanting to believe it. "There's got to be something we can do."

And then, a realisation, and somewhat quieter.

"That's if you want us to do something?"

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"I don't know," the Doctor said, shocked at the energy moving from one cell to the next. "Poison, maybe? Something fast-acting?" He made a face. "That's a bit undramatic, isn't it?"

Did he want to do something? This life, this regeneration, it went so totally wrong, didn't it? It started out so promising, and now he was old, angry, and crippled by the weight of his failures. A fresh start, that was what he wanted, wasn't it? It was why he resented Jack's appearance, taking away his death in that room.

But...what if things were different? What if he regenerated into someone worse? It was hard with regeneration. He could never tell what he was going to get. But it wasn't as if he had a choice. It was too late, now.

"I-I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so sorry, Jack."

The energy moved through his cells, and he waited for the inevitable crash as he lost himself to someone else. Nothing. It was as if the energy were waiting for something.

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This wasn't the time to get emotional, Jack told himself. It certainly wasn't the time to feel sorry for himself or mourn a loss. If the Doctor was going to regenerate then that would be okay. It was merely his body saving himself, right? And the Doctor would still be there. He'd still be the Doctor.

"I'll be here," he said insistently, refusing his apology. "I'm not going anywhere. It won't change that, okay?"

And though he knew it wasn't entirely safe to be close to the Doctor in a moment like that, he moved over in the water and touched a hand to his shoulder.

"So many adventures waiting for you, Doctor. Just think of those."

But even as he spoke he was getting emotional. Because it wasn't the same as the last time he'd seen the Doctor start to regenerate. There was more, and though that more might be gone? He didn't want this.

But maybe the Doctor did, so maybe that made it okay.

"I'll make sure you're okay," he urged. "I'll get you back to the TARDIS, I'll get you home."

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Of course he would. Jack would take care of him, wouldn't let him down. He never did, that was part of who Jack was. Part of why the Doctor counted on him.

"I love you," he said, because if there was a better time for last confessions, the Doctor couldn't think of it.

He might change completely. He might be non-human or unrecognizably daft in comparison to who he was now. Some terribly selfish buzz in the back of his mind told him that he might not have a mole on his back or like his tea with milk or...

"What's it waiting for?" he found himself saying. The energy clung to him, but it didn't shift, it didn't take over his cells. He didn't feel like he was dying; there was no pain. But the energy hung there, as if asking for approval.

"Something's wrong, Jack," the Doctor said. "This isn't how it should be. I'm not a Time Lady, I don't get a say about whether or not I regenerate."

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And if Jack had thought he could hide his emotion then he couldn't, not now, not when the Doctor made his admission.

"I love you too," he said back to him, his voice choked up. "And I always will. Whoever you are."

But then while that was true it wasn't as true as he might like it to be. Because Jack always loved the Doctor, yes, but he was in love with this Doctor. And he'd miss him. Oh how he'd miss him.

But he went on and there was something wrong? It sent him into an internal panic. What if it didn't work? What if the Doctor died and didn't regenerate at all? It was too terrifying to imagine.

He shook his head sharply and looked again down to the water. For a moment he plunged himself back underneath and looked out at the occasional sparks of electricity. One of which seemed to curl around the Doctor's form.

He again came to the surface. "It's the current!" he said. "There's some sort of connection to you."

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That was good. Jack would love him even after he changed. It felt almost like he'd made a decision, then, like the regeneration was ready to take place, like he was ready to go.

Except--

Except he didn't want to go. He didn't want to change. He had so much left he could do, so much he had to atone for. He didn't want to just die, now. He didn't want to change. He would, one day, but not yet.

"Connected?" he called over to Jack. "Is that what's draining the energy from me? Killing me?"

But the regeneration felt wrong.

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"I don't know," Jack said urgently. "It's like... one of the pulses, the lightning? It's focused on you. It's holding onto you."

He ducked again under the water. He could see the creature, whatever it was, with a tentacle twisting out into the water and retreating again. But it was leaving Jack alone, why? Why had it focused on the Doctor. And Jack wondered, why him and not me? What was the key?

Again he came up from the water, hands reached out towards him. "Doctor I don't know what this is. I'm sorry I don't know. Let me get you out of here. Whatever that thing is it's doing something to you."

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Maybe he could focus the regenerative energy and heal his cells without having to die. Maybe? But he didn't know what was killing him, which meant healing the necessary cells would be impossible. But he didn't want to die. He didn't want to go. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, not end completely.

He could do so much.

When Jack submerged, he found himself choking out a frustrated breath. "I don't want to go."

It was like a hook in him had suddenly been pulled out, like the regeneration energy he'd been weighted down by suddenly lifted. The tether of lightning released, trailing off into the water.

"What was it doing?" the Doctor asked, looking down into the depths. "Something? What sort of something?"

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It seemed like a snap in the water, and Jack could almost imagine he'd heard it, like a crack of sheet lightning hitting the sky. It withdrew and the cave seemed to grow a little darker.

"What happened?" he asked with confusion. "Doctor what happened, what's happening?"

And again he looked down and up again. "The pulses," he said, "they were wrapping around you. Like waves, like brainwaves. Doctor's the creature's still down there, I could see it and it wasn't attacking me. It's like it's waiting."

He was terrified then though, because what was happening? He had no idea. Was the Doctor about to regenerate?

"Doctor are you changing? Is it happening?"

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"I don't know," the Doctor said. He looked down at his hand. The freckles, the hairs, they were all totally familiar to him. He could feel the mole between his shoulderblades brushing against the back of his shirt. He was still himself. That...that didn't make any sense.

"Brainwaves," he repeated. "My brainwaves, the ones that were begging for regeneration moments ago. Practically pleading with the universe for it. And when I changed my mind..."

He wiggled his leg, now totally injury-free. It was strange, surreal. He was ready for death, but he wasn't. And that thing, whatever it was, was willing to give it to him.

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"It could hear you," Jack suggested. "What you were thinking, Doctor it could hear it."

He looked back to the water, wondering about the creature that lurked just beneath them. What it was and why it did what it did.

And then Jack thought again on what the Doctor had said and he turned his head sharply towards him. "Is that what you want?" he said. "You want it that badly? It's that bad being you?"

He shook his head. He felt lost. What could he do here? He didn't know what that thing was, he didn't know what the Doctor wanted, and he couldn't work any of it out.

"Doctor just tell me wha--" and then he listened a little more. "You changed your mind?"

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"You have no idea," the Doctor said. After a second, he added, in a more flippant tone, "No, wait, maybe you do. You've been me, before."

What was that creature? Why would it do that?

The Doctor sniffed, then nodded, keeping his eyes on the water. "A Time Lord only has thirteen lives. Losing one because I don't want to deal with the life I've led's a bit immature, don't you think? I'd like to think I've outlived that much immaturity."

He took in a breath, then swam downwards, wary of any stray tentacles. But the creature seemed to be still. For now.

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"Yeah," he said, "and you've been me, so I think we can do without the games."

Jack still worried. He had no idea what was going on here, but apparently the Doctor wasn't regenerating? At least it appeared that way. He didn't seem to Jack that he was very bothered either way, and he couldn't tell if that was his holding in emotion or just that he didn't care.

And then again he was gone. Jack saved just a moment to give an incredulous stare at the water. "I wish I knew what the hell you were thinking," he said to the air around him, and then took a deep breath to follow him down.

Under the water it seemed as though the creature had retreated somewhat, but the electric pulses still continued in the water, like a heartbeat.

Jack touched a hand to the Doctor's side to get his attention and made a confused gesture in his direction. He wasn't happy with any of this, and he had the overriding feeling that they should get out.