(no subject)
Title: One Chance
Author: Becky_H
Character(s): Jack - both of him.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG, for language.
Spoilers: Boomtown, The Parting Of The Ways.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,100
Prompt: Set2Music Prompt 11: I've been you
Summary: Jack has a message to deliver - to himself.
Author's Notes: The art was made by the wonderful (fantastic, amazing, not enough words for how good) Laurab1. Feedback for it can, and should, be left here
One chance.
One chance was all he was going to get. He had to get it right. One slip might mean the end of everything, and he wouldn't get a second try.
When the time rolled around, he gave everyone the day off and made damn sure they were out of the hub. Once it was empty, he used Tosh's station to watch the outside monitors.
He saw the TARDIS materialize. He watched himself go out shopping with Rose and come back. He missed Mickey's arrival while he was getting coffee but returned in time to see the foursome leave the little blue box, and laughed at his younger self's joke.
God, he'd been so young.
While the group from the TARDIS went out to lunch, Jack had cold coffee and leftover pizza at Tosh's desk. He finished -- near as he could remember -- long before they did. Of course, he wasn't the one doing the alien catching. Not that he didn't want to be, but the alien he wanted to get his hands on wasn't the one in public office.
By the time they got back to the police box, Slitheen prisoner in tow, Jack had cleared away his trash, had three coffee refills, and done most -- all right, all -- of Tosh's paperwork.
All he could do now was wait. He watched Rose and Mickey come out to talk and made game of trying to predict when the Doctor would emerge with “Margaret” by replaying what he remembered of what was happening inside the TARDIS. He was only off by about 90 seconds. Not bad after a century and a half.
He watched the Doctor walk off to his dinner with Blon Fel Flatch. He realized after long moments that he was holding onto the desk so tightly it was cutting his hand and that he'd been holding his breath.
He pushed the chair back, grabbed his coat and ran out of the hub. He didn't have a lot of time and he couldn't use the lift because the TARDIS was parked on top of it.
Jack didn't stop running until he was stepping into the Visitor's Center. He forced himself to slow to a walk and got his breathing under control. His key was out before he'd made it to the TARDIS door. It took him three tries to get it in, his hand was shaking so hard.
He didn't open the door far, just enough for him to slip in. He pulled it closed behind him, shut his eyes and leaned back against it. Even after all these years the TARDIS still felt safe, still felt welcoming.
But he didn't have time to enjoy it, even if he'd been given a chance.
Jack hadn't seen his younger, muscle bound and pompadour-wearing self in the glimpse of the TARDIS he'd caught before he closed his eyes. He didn't have to look to know that he was on the floor, half-buried inside the console's innards.
Jack opened his eyes just in time to see himself walking across the floor, wiping his hands clean as he prowled closer.
"What's with the hair?" he tried to joke, and failed miserably. This was wrong, and the least of what made it wrong was his destructive urge to dispose of his younger, stupider, self and take his place. To try it again and do it right.
"What's with the timeline hopping?"
"You know, I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by and say hello."
Mr. Naive's eyebrow went up at that, and he put his hands on his hips. "You're risking the universe tearing itself apart to say hi."
The guy had a point. Maybe he hadn't been as stupid as he remembered being, after all. "Actually, I stopped by to give you a message."
The Elvis-wannabe version of himself rolled his eyes, made a “get on with it” gesture and said, "Uh huh."
He got on with it. He really didn't have time to dawdle, no matter how much he wanted to stay here, before it all went to hell. "He's going to leave you. Soon. You've got to be ready."
He didn't flinch when the punch landed on the TARDIS wall, just inches from his head. For one thing, the response was predictable. He remembered himself, and the response to those words wasn’t surprising. Even more, he knew that there was no way, even young and moronic, that he'd ever risk touching another version of himself.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the harsh sound of the mortal Jack's labored breathing.
Jack watched while he processed the message, and then rejected it. For just a second, there'd been a hint of something different in his eyes. A return of cynicism, maybe. It didn't matter what it was, as much as it had been there.
"I don't believe you."
"I know. You don't have to." He'd been heard. That was the important part.
Little boy blue backed off a couple of steps. "Get out."
Only too glad to comply -- and giddy with relief -- he opened the door, turned his back to step out and then pivoted back around. "Oh, and those pants," he said, implying a question without really asking one.
"What about them?"
"They make your ass look huge. Try the leather ones." He gave himself a crooked little grin, a sloppy salute, and got the hell out of there before one of them could change their minds.
Later, back at the hub, he'd watch the rest of tonight's events unfold and keep an eye on the timeline as far as he was able. Playing with time was risky business, but he thought maybe, just maybe, it had been worth the risk.
Time would tell.
_______________________________________________________
On Satellite Five, Jack wakes up from being exterminated.
He's disoriented; he doesn't understand what's happened or why he's still here. He remembers being exterminated, but he's not dead. He staggers to his feet and spots piles of dust where the Daleks were. It doesn't make any sense. He drops down to one knee to examine it.
Then he hears the TARDIS engine.
He's on his feet and running in no time flat, but it's too late. He gets there just in time to see the TARDIS disappear.
Standing there, with desperation and tears threatening to choke him, he remembers his encounter with himself in Cardiff and has to laugh.
He'd been giving himself a warning, but what he got was hope. He knows he'll get off this graveyard satellite, he knows he'll make it back to earth. He knows he has a future. In Cardiff. Everything is going to be fine.
And he is still going to be one crafty son of a bitch.
Author: Becky_H
Character(s): Jack - both of him.
Genre: Gen
Rating: PG, for language.
Spoilers: Boomtown, The Parting Of The Ways.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 1,100
Prompt: Set2Music Prompt 11: I've been you
Summary: Jack has a message to deliver - to himself.
Author's Notes: The art was made by the wonderful (fantastic, amazing, not enough words for how good) Laurab1. Feedback for it can, and should, be left here
One chance.
One chance was all he was going to get. He had to get it right. One slip might mean the end of everything, and he wouldn't get a second try.
When the time rolled around, he gave everyone the day off and made damn sure they were out of the hub. Once it was empty, he used Tosh's station to watch the outside monitors.
He saw the TARDIS materialize. He watched himself go out shopping with Rose and come back. He missed Mickey's arrival while he was getting coffee but returned in time to see the foursome leave the little blue box, and laughed at his younger self's joke.
God, he'd been so young.
While the group from the TARDIS went out to lunch, Jack had cold coffee and leftover pizza at Tosh's desk. He finished -- near as he could remember -- long before they did. Of course, he wasn't the one doing the alien catching. Not that he didn't want to be, but the alien he wanted to get his hands on wasn't the one in public office.
By the time they got back to the police box, Slitheen prisoner in tow, Jack had cleared away his trash, had three coffee refills, and done most -- all right, all -- of Tosh's paperwork.
All he could do now was wait. He watched Rose and Mickey come out to talk and made game of trying to predict when the Doctor would emerge with “Margaret” by replaying what he remembered of what was happening inside the TARDIS. He was only off by about 90 seconds. Not bad after a century and a half.
He watched the Doctor walk off to his dinner with Blon Fel Flatch. He realized after long moments that he was holding onto the desk so tightly it was cutting his hand and that he'd been holding his breath.
He pushed the chair back, grabbed his coat and ran out of the hub. He didn't have a lot of time and he couldn't use the lift because the TARDIS was parked on top of it.
Jack didn't stop running until he was stepping into the Visitor's Center. He forced himself to slow to a walk and got his breathing under control. His key was out before he'd made it to the TARDIS door. It took him three tries to get it in, his hand was shaking so hard.
He didn't open the door far, just enough for him to slip in. He pulled it closed behind him, shut his eyes and leaned back against it. Even after all these years the TARDIS still felt safe, still felt welcoming.
But he didn't have time to enjoy it, even if he'd been given a chance.
Jack hadn't seen his younger, muscle bound and pompadour-wearing self in the glimpse of the TARDIS he'd caught before he closed his eyes. He didn't have to look to know that he was on the floor, half-buried inside the console's innards.
Jack opened his eyes just in time to see himself walking across the floor, wiping his hands clean as he prowled closer.
"What's with the hair?" he tried to joke, and failed miserably. This was wrong, and the least of what made it wrong was his destructive urge to dispose of his younger, stupider, self and take his place. To try it again and do it right.
"What's with the timeline hopping?"
"You know, I was in the neighborhood, thought I'd stop by and say hello."
Mr. Naive's eyebrow went up at that, and he put his hands on his hips. "You're risking the universe tearing itself apart to say hi."
The guy had a point. Maybe he hadn't been as stupid as he remembered being, after all. "Actually, I stopped by to give you a message."
The Elvis-wannabe version of himself rolled his eyes, made a “get on with it” gesture and said, "Uh huh."
He got on with it. He really didn't have time to dawdle, no matter how much he wanted to stay here, before it all went to hell. "He's going to leave you. Soon. You've got to be ready."
He didn't flinch when the punch landed on the TARDIS wall, just inches from his head. For one thing, the response was predictable. He remembered himself, and the response to those words wasn’t surprising. Even more, he knew that there was no way, even young and moronic, that he'd ever risk touching another version of himself.
Silence fell between them, broken only by the harsh sound of the mortal Jack's labored breathing.
Jack watched while he processed the message, and then rejected it. For just a second, there'd been a hint of something different in his eyes. A return of cynicism, maybe. It didn't matter what it was, as much as it had been there.
"I don't believe you."
"I know. You don't have to." He'd been heard. That was the important part.
Little boy blue backed off a couple of steps. "Get out."
Only too glad to comply -- and giddy with relief -- he opened the door, turned his back to step out and then pivoted back around. "Oh, and those pants," he said, implying a question without really asking one.
"What about them?"
"They make your ass look huge. Try the leather ones." He gave himself a crooked little grin, a sloppy salute, and got the hell out of there before one of them could change their minds.
Later, back at the hub, he'd watch the rest of tonight's events unfold and keep an eye on the timeline as far as he was able. Playing with time was risky business, but he thought maybe, just maybe, it had been worth the risk.
Time would tell.
_______________________________________________________
On Satellite Five, Jack wakes up from being exterminated.
He's disoriented; he doesn't understand what's happened or why he's still here. He remembers being exterminated, but he's not dead. He staggers to his feet and spots piles of dust where the Daleks were. It doesn't make any sense. He drops down to one knee to examine it.
Then he hears the TARDIS engine.
He's on his feet and running in no time flat, but it's too late. He gets there just in time to see the TARDIS disappear.
Standing there, with desperation and tears threatening to choke him, he remembers his encounter with himself in Cardiff and has to laugh.
He'd been giving himself a warning, but what he got was hope. He knows he'll get off this graveyard satellite, he knows he'll make it back to earth. He knows he has a future. In Cardiff. Everything is going to be fine.
And he is still going to be one crafty son of a bitch.