ad interim, Doctor Who FanFic
TITLE: ad interim
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: ~3200
CHARACTERS: Rory Williams/Jack Harkness (Also, Rory/Amy and Jack/Rory/Amy)
WARNINGS: Slightly AU. Handjobs in an alley. Spoilers for DW 5x13.
SUMMARY: Stuck on the slow path, Rory meets a time traveler.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned Jack Harkness...
Author's Note: This thing's been floating around in my notebook in various forms pretty much since The Big Bang aired. I'm saying it's slightly AU for 2 reasons. 1) I don't follow the little timeline for the Pandorica we see in the museum. I started writing this without looking at it closely, for one. And then once I had looked at it I decided I liked mine better, anyway. This doesn't outright contradict the canonical timeline...but it's different enough I figured I should warn. 2) I take a few (really, just the one big one...) liberties with what an Auton may or may not be capable of in the bedroom area... Let's just blame it on the fact it's Captain Jack Harkness and he can, and will, figure out a way to shag anything. :)
Also, I'm entirely ignorant as to where to post Doctor Who fic on LJ, so any suggestions are welcome. :)
-----------------------------
Rory’s not exactly surprised by all the attention the Pandorica brings those first few years. It seems only natural the locals will be drawn to a big, strange box and its equally strange guardian. Luckily, most seem satisfied once they’ve actually seen it and the times where Rory must use force are very few and very far between.
Rory spends a great deal of time doing nothing at all. He’d always assumed doing nothing at all would be the ideal occupation. By the mid-eighth century he’s discovered he was horribly wrong.
---
By the eleventh century, the locals barely give Rory and the box a passing glance. Rory vaguely remembers a conversation with the Doctor once: something about a perception filter on the TARDIS that kept people from even thinking about taking a closer look. Sometimes he wonders in the Pandorica hasn’t got a bit of that. People look, but most just shrug after a few moments and carry on about their business.
It’s all very boring. Rory misses being a Roman and stabbing things.
He’s sitting in the chair he built for himself several years before, a cautious distance away from the fire he’s built more for something to do than for actual need of warmth, when suddenly a man appears, standing calmly on the other side of the fire. Rory reaches for his sword and prepares to stand, more than a little eager to stab something, only to have the other man smile at him and hold up his hands in a nearly universal sign of non-aggression. (Rory has a vague memory of a race a billion galaxies away that starts their battles by showing just how unarmed they are...but he thinks they were a lot shorter and purple than the man in front of him...) Rory very suddenly notices what the other man is wearing. He hasn’t paid a huge amount of attention to fashion through the ages, but he’s fairly positive, the last he looked, men’s fashion hadn’t involved trench coats and trousers.
“Hi,” the man says with a toothy smile. Rory stands immediately at the greeting and the man’s smile turns into a lecherous grin. “You really do make a gorgeous Roman.” What the hell was a bloody American doing in Medieval Europe!? “I can see why Amy made you keep the outfit.” Rory does draw his sword then. No one should even know about Amy in this point in time.
“Who are you?” he demands as he circles the fire. The man frowns for a moment before he smiles again.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduces himself warmly. “We have a mutual...friend. Well, we will have in a few hundred years when your lovely bride brings him back.” Rory isn’t entirely sure he understands much of anything the other man is saying, but it’s been so long since he’s actually spoken English he really just wants to let the precious words roll over him. Even if the accent’s American.
“What’s your business here?” Rory demands, every bit the Roman guard he’s meant to be. The man, Jack, walks around the fire to seat himself presumptuously in Rory’s chair. Jack gives the Pandorica a fond look, but makes no move to touch it, and Rory’s tension eases a fraction.
“I was passing through the century, figured I should drop by and check on you. She worries about you, you know?” he says, dipping his head toward the box.
“She’s nearly dead,” Rory says, his voice cracking just slightly. (Hundreds of years isn’t quite long enough for him to come to terms with the possibility that Amy might not be coming back.) He’s surprised by the sympathetic look the other man is giving him.
“I’ve lived a very long time, Rory Williams,” he says in a suddenly suitably ancient voice. “I’ve learned that hope and patience are essentials for any kind of decent existence.” Jack stands and steps in close to Rory, making Rory realize at some point he’s lowered his sword. “You’re nearly halfway home,” Jack says softly, his breath warm across Rory’s cheek. For one, mad moment, Rory thinks the strange man is going to kiss him. It’s literally been centuries since anyone has touched him, at all, and Rory finds himself very abruptly craving the contact. Jack, however, takes a step back from him, a regretful smile on his face.
“I’d better be off,” he says. Rory has an unexpected urge to reach out to him, to grab on and refuse to let him go. He’s always needed companionship to get by best in life; this time alone has been his own personal kind of Hell. “Just remember: they’re always worth it,” Jack says, taking another step back before he disappears completely.
Rory suddenly feels more alone than he ever has before.
---
Another two and half centuries pass and Rory’s managed to convince himself the mysterious Jack Harkness was just a figment of his extremely bored and lonely imagination. That is, until he’s walking a lap around the Pandorica and comes around the side to find himself face-to-face with said figment. Jack smiles at him like they’re old friends and Rory has enough experience with time travel he finds himself wondering if somewhere, out there, they really are mates.
“Two hundred and fifty years and you’re wearing the same get up?” Rory asks. Jack laughs and looks him over.
“You still look like a Roman Centurion to me,” he tells Rory. Rory can’t help but smile. It’s been nearly sixty years since he’s spoken to anyone, and that had hardly been a conversation - just providing a lost merchant with directions after he’d stumbled upon Them. (It helps Rory to think of he and the Box as a ‘Them’. It makes him feel almost as if Amy really is there.)
“Good point,” Rory says. “I thought I’d imagined you.”
Jack grins wide. “I am the stuff dreams are made of,” he boasts. Rory is amazed he hasn’t forgotten how to roll his eyes. “How’s our girl?” Jack asks as he turns he’s attention to the Pandorica. There’s something affectionate in his tone that keeps Rory from feeling immediately defensive.
“Oh, you know, impenetrable,” Rory replies, earning another grin from Jack.
“You’re almost done,” he assures Rory. He turns serious then, gazing past the Box. “The plague will be here in a few weeks,” he says quietly. Rory has lost track of what year it is, exactly, but he’s known the Black Death would have to happen eventually.
“Will she be safe?” Rory asks. Most people ignore the Pandorica, but Rory has seen the way people look at it sometimes. The Vatican had thought it evil just as often as it’d thought it holy.
“Some people will blame her,” Jack admits. Rory stares at the Pandorica for a long moment.
“Can you help me move her?” he asks Jack. He doesn’t fully trust the other man, but he has no idea where to take Amy to keep her safe; he’s never let himself out of sight of the Pandorica. Jack looks at the Box for a long moment.
“I can’t touch her, not yet,” he says, sounding sad about it. “But I know a place; I can show you.”
Rory’s discovered over the centuries that he’s stronger than even he knows. It’s handy for moments when he needs to single-handedly drag a large, extraterrestrial box nearly fifty kilometers. He has to give Jack credit: the place looks plenty isolated and secure.
“I have to go,” Jack announces once they’ve stopped. Rory stares at the man he’s spent the past 24-hours with and he feels the urge, yet again, to beg the man to stay. They haven’t even said much to each other, but Rory’s taken joy in having something that vaguely resembles companionship. Rory’s never done lonely well, and this whole affair has nearly pushed him to his breaking point.
Jack gives him a gentle smile. “You’ll be okay,” he tells Rory in a reassuring tone. “Not long now...” He’s gone before Rory can even thank him.
---
Rory blinks and really isn’t even all that surprised when he finds Jack standing in front of him, familiar grin in place. “Miss me?” he asks. Rory smiles and stands.
“I’d tell you how much, but I’m sure you’d just let it go to your head,” he says. Jack laughs as he steps closer. “What do you do when you’re not gracing me with your presence?” Rory asks, his boredom increasing his curiosity. Jack shrugs a bit as he takes a moment to check on the Pandorica.
“Oh, this and that. It’s only been about a month for me.” He looks to Rory again. “I see you’re still enjoying the role of Roman...”
“It helps keep the mystery alive,” Rory says. “They want to take her away from me,” he adds quietly once Jack has finished his circuit around the box. Jack meets his gaze before he sighs and sits in the second chair Rory had made in hopes of company.
“Museums?” he asks. Rory nods. Rory had never really considered how museums were formed; where they got all of the old stuff from. In the past decade he’s had to scare off no less than twenty expeditions, all hoping to get their hands on the Pandorica for their collections. “You’re going to have to let her go eventually.” Rory looks at him in surprise and feels a spark of betrayal in his gut. Jack leans forward in his chair and speaks gently, “Amy has places to be soon - and one of those is the National Museum.”
“But...”
“You can still keep her safe there,” Jack promises him. “You just might have to be a bit more...inconspicuous.” Rory frowns, trying to figure out what the hell that means. Jack rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “As much as I adore you in that short skirt of yours, Victorian England will soon be upon us and, take it from me, that is one queen you do not want to scandalize.”
Rory glances down at the clothes he’s been wearing for nearly two thousand years. It’s been so long they feel like they’re a part of him. Will he even exist without them? Would Amy recognize him without them? Would the Doctor?
“Hey.” Rory looks up at the sound of Jack’s voice. “The clothes really don’t make the man, you know...”
Rory looks down at his hands and, without really meaning to, says, “I’m not really a man though, am I?”
Jack frowns at him and after a moment stands to put a gentle hand on Rory’s arm. “You’re not entirely Auton, either,” he tells Rory. “The Nestene had no clue what they were doing when they imprinted a human soul on living plastic. You can feel...and that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Jack drops his hand and gives Rory a reassuring smile. “The Doctor never puts faith in things that don’t deserve it, Rory.”
Rory takes a shaky breath and glances back at the Pandorica. He needs Amy to be here, saying these words to him.
“She’s so close,” Jack whispers. “Just keep yourself sane for another couple of centuries...” Rory scoffs, but there’s a hint of laughter to it and Jack gives him an encouraging smile when he looks back at him.
“So...the next time an expedition comes by...?”
“Let them take her on the condition you go, too. Museums need guards, after all.” Jack sighs and looks longingly at the box for a moment before he turns his attention back to Rory. “I’ll see you again soon, Mr. Williams.”
He’s gone again just as suddenly as he came.
---
Upon reflection, Rory can’t be that surprised that the next time he sees Jack, the sky is almost literally falling.
The bulk of the museum’s collection had been shipped out of the city or hidden away in secure, underground vaults. When it’d come to the Pandorica, however, they’d come to the conclusion it was too heavy and too cumbersome to move very far. They’d stashed her away in a warehouse just on the edge of the city and Rory spends every night anxiously watching the sky.
The bombs are creeping closer. Rory’s made himself a small office in the corner of the warehouse right next to the Pandorica and he stands at his makeshift desk, poring over his city maps as he tries to figure out a safer place for Amy.
“You have about fifteen minutes to get the hell out of here,” a familiar voice says. Rory looks up, startled, and only relaxes minutely when he spots Jack. “And you might want to put this on.” Rory reaches up and catches his Roman helmet on reflex when Jack throws it at him. “You won’t heal if a piece of debris hits you in that plastic head of yours.”
“You have somewhere in mind?” Rory asks as he sets the helm upon his head.
“I know a place,” Jack confirms with a nod of his head. “Grab our girl and let’s go!”
Rory barely manages to keep up with Jack as the other man darts between the rubble. The bombs are nearly on top of them as Rory struggles to drag the Pandorica along. He panics the moment he realizes he’s lost sight of Jack until he feels a presence at his side. “We’re almost there,” Jack murmurs in his ear and suddenly his load’s a little lighter.
The spot Jack’s chosen has them tucking the Pandorica into a short alley flanked by two sturdy, tall buildings. Rory looks around doubtfully, wondering if this is really any better than that warehouse.
“It’s safe,” Jack assures him. “There are blocks between here and where the closest bomb will fall.” Rory doesn’t bother to ask him how he knows. He takes off his helmet to scratch at his head. Looking around, he spots a stack of empty crates next to the Pandorica and he sets the helmet down. It’s too much of a reminder of how long he’s been this...thing that’s not quite man and not quite plastic.
Jack’s staring at him when Rory turns back around “I won’t see you again for a very long time,” Jack whispers, barely audible over the rumble of the nearby Blitz. Rory frowns at him. Their meetings have only ever been centuries apart. Rory wouldn’t know what to do if they met often. He’s about to point this out when Jack steps up to him, takes Rory’s face in his hands, and kisses him, slow and deep in a way Rory thinks is supposed to be familiar.
Before Rory can think to stop it, he’s pressed against the wall of one of the buildings, Jack’s thigh slipping its way between his legs. The feel of another person pressed so fully against him drives all other thoughts from Rory’s head and suddenly he’s grabbing at as much of Jack as he can reach. Jack’s hand fumbles between them and Rory gasps, his head falling back against the wall.
“For plastic, you’re surprisingly malleable,” Jack murmurs against his lips as his hand keeps doing very interesting things. Rory surprises himself when he growls and twists their positions, pinning Jack to the wall. God it feels good to make someone else moan, to have someone there who doesn’t ignore him or fear him. Rory loves Amy, but he’s needed to be touched for so long and he has a feeling Amy won’t begrudge him this one...
It’s all over very fast; Rory blames it on the fact it’s been a couple thousand years. Jack gives him the same fond smile he gives the Pandorica and kisses him softly once they’ve straightened their clothes.
“I’m beginning to think you know me very well in the future...” Rory comments. Jack grins in response.
“I’d love to give you the dirty details, but there’s a certain someone who’s already annoyed with me for all these little visits. I would really like to have a word with whoever taught him the word ‘spoiler’...” Jack turns serious again. “I expect you to make it through to the future.”
“I think I pretty much have to,” Rory agrees.
“See ya around, Centurion Williams,” Jack says with a sloppy salute. For the first time, Rory’s smiling when he disappears.
---
Ever since the Doctor crashed their wedding, Rory’s had little flashes of two thousand years worth of memories. The Doctor’s told him not to worry about them and Amy seems to think he’s mostly just making them up, anyway...so Rory spends a lot of time ignoring thoughts of what it was like to spend hundreds of years as a plastic Roman.
All three of them are in the console room; Rory and Amy watching in amusement while the Doctor mutters to himself as he fiddles with controls. (He seems to have forgotten what half of them even do...again.) The two humans jump when they hear a click from the door, Rory automatically reaching for a weapon that isn’t there (it’s an annoying habit he picked up somewhere during that Time They Don’t Talk About). The Doctor seems totally unconcerned about the strange noise, but that doesn’t really ease Rory’s mind much. (The Doctor shows very little concern for a good deal of very dangerous things.)
The door creaks open to admit a tall man in a long coat. He seems to be enthralled by what he’s found inside the TARDIS, but Rory gets the feeling it’s not just because he’s found it’s bigger on the inside...
The stranger spots the Doctor, who Rory suddenly realizes has stopped muttering and has turned to face the man. “Did you try to change the locks on me?” the man asks with an odd American accent. Rory sucks in a breath as a new set of old memories rush back to him.
When the Doctor says, “Meet Captain Jack Harkness,” Rory can’t help but burst out in laughter.
---
The first Jack, the one who somehow managed to pick the lock on a time machine, isn’t Rory’s Jack. Not that Rory’s ever really thought of either Jack as his, but there’s a distinct difference between this Jack and the one who occasionally kept Rory company during his vigil (namely, there’s the fact that this Jack hasn’t actually met that Rory yet...).
Still...he is Jack...and Rory really isn’t all that surprised when he wakes up one morning with Amy asleep in his arms and Jack snoring rudely in his ear and the Doctor in the doorway shaking his head in dismay at the lot of them.
---
They run into his Jack in a 63rd-century marketplace two months after they’d dropped the other Jack off on some planet he’d claimed as practically being his second home. His Jack greets them all with entirely inappropriate kisses and a grin so bright it gives Rory a headache. Rory grins back and pulls him back in for more.
/end
RATING: R
WORD COUNT: ~3200
CHARACTERS: Rory Williams/Jack Harkness (Also, Rory/Amy and Jack/Rory/Amy)
WARNINGS: Slightly AU. Handjobs in an alley. Spoilers for DW 5x13.
SUMMARY: Stuck on the slow path, Rory meets a time traveler.
AO3 Link | Master Fic List
Disclaimer: I only wish I owned Jack Harkness...
Author's Note: This thing's been floating around in my notebook in various forms pretty much since The Big Bang aired. I'm saying it's slightly AU for 2 reasons. 1) I don't follow the little timeline for the Pandorica we see in the museum. I started writing this without looking at it closely, for one. And then once I had looked at it I decided I liked mine better, anyway. This doesn't outright contradict the canonical timeline...but it's different enough I figured I should warn. 2) I take a few (really, just the one big one...) liberties with what an Auton may or may not be capable of in the bedroom area... Let's just blame it on the fact it's Captain Jack Harkness and he can, and will, figure out a way to shag anything. :)
Also, I'm entirely ignorant as to where to post Doctor Who fic on LJ, so any suggestions are welcome. :)
-----------------------------
Rory’s not exactly surprised by all the attention the Pandorica brings those first few years. It seems only natural the locals will be drawn to a big, strange box and its equally strange guardian. Luckily, most seem satisfied once they’ve actually seen it and the times where Rory must use force are very few and very far between.
Rory spends a great deal of time doing nothing at all. He’d always assumed doing nothing at all would be the ideal occupation. By the mid-eighth century he’s discovered he was horribly wrong.
---
By the eleventh century, the locals barely give Rory and the box a passing glance. Rory vaguely remembers a conversation with the Doctor once: something about a perception filter on the TARDIS that kept people from even thinking about taking a closer look. Sometimes he wonders in the Pandorica hasn’t got a bit of that. People look, but most just shrug after a few moments and carry on about their business.
It’s all very boring. Rory misses being a Roman and stabbing things.
He’s sitting in the chair he built for himself several years before, a cautious distance away from the fire he’s built more for something to do than for actual need of warmth, when suddenly a man appears, standing calmly on the other side of the fire. Rory reaches for his sword and prepares to stand, more than a little eager to stab something, only to have the other man smile at him and hold up his hands in a nearly universal sign of non-aggression. (Rory has a vague memory of a race a billion galaxies away that starts their battles by showing just how unarmed they are...but he thinks they were a lot shorter and purple than the man in front of him...) Rory very suddenly notices what the other man is wearing. He hasn’t paid a huge amount of attention to fashion through the ages, but he’s fairly positive, the last he looked, men’s fashion hadn’t involved trench coats and trousers.
“Hi,” the man says with a toothy smile. Rory stands immediately at the greeting and the man’s smile turns into a lecherous grin. “You really do make a gorgeous Roman.” What the hell was a bloody American doing in Medieval Europe!? “I can see why Amy made you keep the outfit.” Rory does draw his sword then. No one should even know about Amy in this point in time.
“Who are you?” he demands as he circles the fire. The man frowns for a moment before he smiles again.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” he introduces himself warmly. “We have a mutual...friend. Well, we will have in a few hundred years when your lovely bride brings him back.” Rory isn’t entirely sure he understands much of anything the other man is saying, but it’s been so long since he’s actually spoken English he really just wants to let the precious words roll over him. Even if the accent’s American.
“What’s your business here?” Rory demands, every bit the Roman guard he’s meant to be. The man, Jack, walks around the fire to seat himself presumptuously in Rory’s chair. Jack gives the Pandorica a fond look, but makes no move to touch it, and Rory’s tension eases a fraction.
“I was passing through the century, figured I should drop by and check on you. She worries about you, you know?” he says, dipping his head toward the box.
“She’s nearly dead,” Rory says, his voice cracking just slightly. (Hundreds of years isn’t quite long enough for him to come to terms with the possibility that Amy might not be coming back.) He’s surprised by the sympathetic look the other man is giving him.
“I’ve lived a very long time, Rory Williams,” he says in a suddenly suitably ancient voice. “I’ve learned that hope and patience are essentials for any kind of decent existence.” Jack stands and steps in close to Rory, making Rory realize at some point he’s lowered his sword. “You’re nearly halfway home,” Jack says softly, his breath warm across Rory’s cheek. For one, mad moment, Rory thinks the strange man is going to kiss him. It’s literally been centuries since anyone has touched him, at all, and Rory finds himself very abruptly craving the contact. Jack, however, takes a step back from him, a regretful smile on his face.
“I’d better be off,” he says. Rory has an unexpected urge to reach out to him, to grab on and refuse to let him go. He’s always needed companionship to get by best in life; this time alone has been his own personal kind of Hell. “Just remember: they’re always worth it,” Jack says, taking another step back before he disappears completely.
Rory suddenly feels more alone than he ever has before.
---
Another two and half centuries pass and Rory’s managed to convince himself the mysterious Jack Harkness was just a figment of his extremely bored and lonely imagination. That is, until he’s walking a lap around the Pandorica and comes around the side to find himself face-to-face with said figment. Jack smiles at him like they’re old friends and Rory has enough experience with time travel he finds himself wondering if somewhere, out there, they really are mates.
“Two hundred and fifty years and you’re wearing the same get up?” Rory asks. Jack laughs and looks him over.
“You still look like a Roman Centurion to me,” he tells Rory. Rory can’t help but smile. It’s been nearly sixty years since he’s spoken to anyone, and that had hardly been a conversation - just providing a lost merchant with directions after he’d stumbled upon Them. (It helps Rory to think of he and the Box as a ‘Them’. It makes him feel almost as if Amy really is there.)
“Good point,” Rory says. “I thought I’d imagined you.”
Jack grins wide. “I am the stuff dreams are made of,” he boasts. Rory is amazed he hasn’t forgotten how to roll his eyes. “How’s our girl?” Jack asks as he turns he’s attention to the Pandorica. There’s something affectionate in his tone that keeps Rory from feeling immediately defensive.
“Oh, you know, impenetrable,” Rory replies, earning another grin from Jack.
“You’re almost done,” he assures Rory. He turns serious then, gazing past the Box. “The plague will be here in a few weeks,” he says quietly. Rory has lost track of what year it is, exactly, but he’s known the Black Death would have to happen eventually.
“Will she be safe?” Rory asks. Most people ignore the Pandorica, but Rory has seen the way people look at it sometimes. The Vatican had thought it evil just as often as it’d thought it holy.
“Some people will blame her,” Jack admits. Rory stares at the Pandorica for a long moment.
“Can you help me move her?” he asks Jack. He doesn’t fully trust the other man, but he has no idea where to take Amy to keep her safe; he’s never let himself out of sight of the Pandorica. Jack looks at the Box for a long moment.
“I can’t touch her, not yet,” he says, sounding sad about it. “But I know a place; I can show you.”
Rory’s discovered over the centuries that he’s stronger than even he knows. It’s handy for moments when he needs to single-handedly drag a large, extraterrestrial box nearly fifty kilometers. He has to give Jack credit: the place looks plenty isolated and secure.
“I have to go,” Jack announces once they’ve stopped. Rory stares at the man he’s spent the past 24-hours with and he feels the urge, yet again, to beg the man to stay. They haven’t even said much to each other, but Rory’s taken joy in having something that vaguely resembles companionship. Rory’s never done lonely well, and this whole affair has nearly pushed him to his breaking point.
Jack gives him a gentle smile. “You’ll be okay,” he tells Rory in a reassuring tone. “Not long now...” He’s gone before Rory can even thank him.
---
Rory blinks and really isn’t even all that surprised when he finds Jack standing in front of him, familiar grin in place. “Miss me?” he asks. Rory smiles and stands.
“I’d tell you how much, but I’m sure you’d just let it go to your head,” he says. Jack laughs as he steps closer. “What do you do when you’re not gracing me with your presence?” Rory asks, his boredom increasing his curiosity. Jack shrugs a bit as he takes a moment to check on the Pandorica.
“Oh, this and that. It’s only been about a month for me.” He looks to Rory again. “I see you’re still enjoying the role of Roman...”
“It helps keep the mystery alive,” Rory says. “They want to take her away from me,” he adds quietly once Jack has finished his circuit around the box. Jack meets his gaze before he sighs and sits in the second chair Rory had made in hopes of company.
“Museums?” he asks. Rory nods. Rory had never really considered how museums were formed; where they got all of the old stuff from. In the past decade he’s had to scare off no less than twenty expeditions, all hoping to get their hands on the Pandorica for their collections. “You’re going to have to let her go eventually.” Rory looks at him in surprise and feels a spark of betrayal in his gut. Jack leans forward in his chair and speaks gently, “Amy has places to be soon - and one of those is the National Museum.”
“But...”
“You can still keep her safe there,” Jack promises him. “You just might have to be a bit more...inconspicuous.” Rory frowns, trying to figure out what the hell that means. Jack rolls his eyes and leans back in his chair. “As much as I adore you in that short skirt of yours, Victorian England will soon be upon us and, take it from me, that is one queen you do not want to scandalize.”
Rory glances down at the clothes he’s been wearing for nearly two thousand years. It’s been so long they feel like they’re a part of him. Will he even exist without them? Would Amy recognize him without them? Would the Doctor?
“Hey.” Rory looks up at the sound of Jack’s voice. “The clothes really don’t make the man, you know...”
Rory looks down at his hands and, without really meaning to, says, “I’m not really a man though, am I?”
Jack frowns at him and after a moment stands to put a gentle hand on Rory’s arm. “You’re not entirely Auton, either,” he tells Rory. “The Nestene had no clue what they were doing when they imprinted a human soul on living plastic. You can feel...and that wasn’t supposed to happen.” Jack drops his hand and gives Rory a reassuring smile. “The Doctor never puts faith in things that don’t deserve it, Rory.”
Rory takes a shaky breath and glances back at the Pandorica. He needs Amy to be here, saying these words to him.
“She’s so close,” Jack whispers. “Just keep yourself sane for another couple of centuries...” Rory scoffs, but there’s a hint of laughter to it and Jack gives him an encouraging smile when he looks back at him.
“So...the next time an expedition comes by...?”
“Let them take her on the condition you go, too. Museums need guards, after all.” Jack sighs and looks longingly at the box for a moment before he turns his attention back to Rory. “I’ll see you again soon, Mr. Williams.”
He’s gone again just as suddenly as he came.
---
Upon reflection, Rory can’t be that surprised that the next time he sees Jack, the sky is almost literally falling.
The bulk of the museum’s collection had been shipped out of the city or hidden away in secure, underground vaults. When it’d come to the Pandorica, however, they’d come to the conclusion it was too heavy and too cumbersome to move very far. They’d stashed her away in a warehouse just on the edge of the city and Rory spends every night anxiously watching the sky.
The bombs are creeping closer. Rory’s made himself a small office in the corner of the warehouse right next to the Pandorica and he stands at his makeshift desk, poring over his city maps as he tries to figure out a safer place for Amy.
“You have about fifteen minutes to get the hell out of here,” a familiar voice says. Rory looks up, startled, and only relaxes minutely when he spots Jack. “And you might want to put this on.” Rory reaches up and catches his Roman helmet on reflex when Jack throws it at him. “You won’t heal if a piece of debris hits you in that plastic head of yours.”
“You have somewhere in mind?” Rory asks as he sets the helm upon his head.
“I know a place,” Jack confirms with a nod of his head. “Grab our girl and let’s go!”
Rory barely manages to keep up with Jack as the other man darts between the rubble. The bombs are nearly on top of them as Rory struggles to drag the Pandorica along. He panics the moment he realizes he’s lost sight of Jack until he feels a presence at his side. “We’re almost there,” Jack murmurs in his ear and suddenly his load’s a little lighter.
The spot Jack’s chosen has them tucking the Pandorica into a short alley flanked by two sturdy, tall buildings. Rory looks around doubtfully, wondering if this is really any better than that warehouse.
“It’s safe,” Jack assures him. “There are blocks between here and where the closest bomb will fall.” Rory doesn’t bother to ask him how he knows. He takes off his helmet to scratch at his head. Looking around, he spots a stack of empty crates next to the Pandorica and he sets the helmet down. It’s too much of a reminder of how long he’s been this...thing that’s not quite man and not quite plastic.
Jack’s staring at him when Rory turns back around “I won’t see you again for a very long time,” Jack whispers, barely audible over the rumble of the nearby Blitz. Rory frowns at him. Their meetings have only ever been centuries apart. Rory wouldn’t know what to do if they met often. He’s about to point this out when Jack steps up to him, takes Rory’s face in his hands, and kisses him, slow and deep in a way Rory thinks is supposed to be familiar.
Before Rory can think to stop it, he’s pressed against the wall of one of the buildings, Jack’s thigh slipping its way between his legs. The feel of another person pressed so fully against him drives all other thoughts from Rory’s head and suddenly he’s grabbing at as much of Jack as he can reach. Jack’s hand fumbles between them and Rory gasps, his head falling back against the wall.
“For plastic, you’re surprisingly malleable,” Jack murmurs against his lips as his hand keeps doing very interesting things. Rory surprises himself when he growls and twists their positions, pinning Jack to the wall. God it feels good to make someone else moan, to have someone there who doesn’t ignore him or fear him. Rory loves Amy, but he’s needed to be touched for so long and he has a feeling Amy won’t begrudge him this one...
It’s all over very fast; Rory blames it on the fact it’s been a couple thousand years. Jack gives him the same fond smile he gives the Pandorica and kisses him softly once they’ve straightened their clothes.
“I’m beginning to think you know me very well in the future...” Rory comments. Jack grins in response.
“I’d love to give you the dirty details, but there’s a certain someone who’s already annoyed with me for all these little visits. I would really like to have a word with whoever taught him the word ‘spoiler’...” Jack turns serious again. “I expect you to make it through to the future.”
“I think I pretty much have to,” Rory agrees.
“See ya around, Centurion Williams,” Jack says with a sloppy salute. For the first time, Rory’s smiling when he disappears.
---
Ever since the Doctor crashed their wedding, Rory’s had little flashes of two thousand years worth of memories. The Doctor’s told him not to worry about them and Amy seems to think he’s mostly just making them up, anyway...so Rory spends a lot of time ignoring thoughts of what it was like to spend hundreds of years as a plastic Roman.
All three of them are in the console room; Rory and Amy watching in amusement while the Doctor mutters to himself as he fiddles with controls. (He seems to have forgotten what half of them even do...again.) The two humans jump when they hear a click from the door, Rory automatically reaching for a weapon that isn’t there (it’s an annoying habit he picked up somewhere during that Time They Don’t Talk About). The Doctor seems totally unconcerned about the strange noise, but that doesn’t really ease Rory’s mind much. (The Doctor shows very little concern for a good deal of very dangerous things.)
The door creaks open to admit a tall man in a long coat. He seems to be enthralled by what he’s found inside the TARDIS, but Rory gets the feeling it’s not just because he’s found it’s bigger on the inside...
The stranger spots the Doctor, who Rory suddenly realizes has stopped muttering and has turned to face the man. “Did you try to change the locks on me?” the man asks with an odd American accent. Rory sucks in a breath as a new set of old memories rush back to him.
When the Doctor says, “Meet Captain Jack Harkness,” Rory can’t help but burst out in laughter.
---
The first Jack, the one who somehow managed to pick the lock on a time machine, isn’t Rory’s Jack. Not that Rory’s ever really thought of either Jack as his, but there’s a distinct difference between this Jack and the one who occasionally kept Rory company during his vigil (namely, there’s the fact that this Jack hasn’t actually met that Rory yet...).
Still...he is Jack...and Rory really isn’t all that surprised when he wakes up one morning with Amy asleep in his arms and Jack snoring rudely in his ear and the Doctor in the doorway shaking his head in dismay at the lot of them.
---
They run into his Jack in a 63rd-century marketplace two months after they’d dropped the other Jack off on some planet he’d claimed as practically being his second home. His Jack greets them all with entirely inappropriate kisses and a grin so bright it gives Rory a headache. Rory grins back and pulls him back in for more.
/end