Relict, 3/? (DW, 9/J/R, Teen)
Jack saw the dilation of the steel-blue eyes and felt a little surge of triumph at this sign of arousal - nice to know he wasn’t alone in that - but within a fraction of a moment, he realized that the irises had lost control, the muscles in fine spasm like those in the taut body bridging his. Swiftly, Jack slipped his hands free, ready to catch the Doctor as his elbows collapsed. Bodies collided awkwardly, and Jack rolled to the side to cradle him, but the Doctor was stiff-arming him like a cat that doesn’t want to be held.
“Doctor!” cried Rose, and Jack felt her poised right beside him as the Doctor rolled away from him, his body trembling as he struggled to get to his hands and knees. Unsuccessfully. He fell back hard onto his hip, knees pulling inward as his hands slid out from under him, and his elbows and jaw hit the grating before his chest. The twisted position was awkward, and Rose’s voice became a shriek as she called his name again, racing around to fall on her knees on his other side.
“What’s happening?” Rose’s panic was rising, but Jack was trying to marshal his tripping heart and run down his first aid checklist.
“Don’t touch him,” he warned, leaning over to look into the staring eyes with their blown pupils.
Then, suddenly, the Doctor blinked and the shaking body stilled. Jack’s hands, and Rose’s, hovered over him, and both held their breath, waiting for any response.
“Doctor!” Jack’s voice was hoarse and sharp, and the eyes blinked again, then closed as the still body went limp. Jack’s hands were immediately on the thin shoulders, and Rose slid her hand between his cheek and the grating as Jack turned the Doctor over carefully.
A low moan broke from his throat, the lashes fluttering for a moment before opening as Jack succeeded in getting him on his back, cradled in his arm. The steel-blue irises tightened around the contracting pupils, visibly focusing, and Jack grinned, relieved.
“Hi, there.”
Another blink, a swallow, and suddenly, the Doctor was rolling easily to his feet, as light and springy as ever, tugging down the T-shirt that had twisted up around his ribs. Rose was immediately on her feet, reaching up to touch his face with tentative fingertips. “Are you all right?” she asked, jerking her hand back when he flinched at her fingers along his jaw.
“Yeah, fine,” he said, shrugging it off, but at Rose’s look of hurt concern, his entire body softened toward her, and he put his hand on her shoulder, rubbing gently as his voice deepened reassuringly. “I’m fine, Rose.”
“You didn’t look fine just a minute ago,” she protested softly, her hand coming to rest on his waist. His hand came up to cup her face, thumb gently caressing her flushed, tear-streaked cheek.
“I’m fine, Rose,” he repeated, his voice resonating warmly through the console room, and Rose’s small body melted into his as he slid one arm around her, holding her close to his side. She closed her eyes, winding her arms tightly around his waist as she buried her face in his shoulder, and the Doctor reached out his free hand to Jack, one eyebrow arched questioningly.
“Y’know, I had fantasies of you falling into my arms.” Jack grinned as he let himself be pulled up to his feet, although he was certain his worry still showed in his eyes. “But this really wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“I’ll bet,” drawled the Doctor dryly, but the lingering caress of his fingers along the sides of Jack’s as he released his hand produced a last-minute flutter to Jack’s pulse that wasn’t just adrenaline.
He turned his curiosity to a cover. “What was that?”
“Dunno,” said the Doctor, his fingers lightly stroking Rose’s tousled hair. He looked down into her eyes so lovingly as her head tilted back into his hand that Jack was torn between turning away and giving them privacy, and using this opportunity to reach out and push them together in that kiss that was always hovering just on the edge of every look they exchanged.
“Don’t you think we ought to find out?” asked Rose, and the Doctor’s sudden smile broke over his face.
“Yeah, probably,” he agreed, patting her waist, and her hand smoothed over his chest, a caress through the thin cotton T-shirt that was also clearly meant to check his hearts. She rested her head against his shoulder once more, exchanging a worried look with Jack.
“Medlab,” Jack declared, stepping forward, but the Doctor shook his head.
“Nah. Well, I’ll go. You two should get lunch, yeah?” His tone was offhand, but Jack could feel the intractability underneath.
“What about you?” asked Rose, wiping a straggling tear from her cheek. “Shouldn’t you eat?”
“Shouldn’t one of us go with you?” Jack was not easily put off.
“Yeah, take the readings and such?” The shock was beginning to wear off, and Rose’s persistence was rising again.
“Nah, ’s a bit boring.” The more casual the tone, the more steel in the eyes, noted Jack. “The TARDIS can run a full physical in about fifteen minutes. Not much to do but just lie there.”
“We could keep you company.” Rose wasn’t letting him go easily, either.
“Doesn’t work that way, Rose.” His eyes softened as he looked down at her, hand gently rubbing her back. “I have to lie still and quiet. Might even drift off to sleep.”
“Might even have another seizure,” Jack pointed out firmly.
“Then the medlab’s the best place for me, isn’t it?” The smile was bright and sharp as a razor.
Rose reluctantly let him go, and Jack folded his arms as they watched him down the corridor.
“Great ass,” he declared. “Thick skull.”
Rose’s giggle caught on a little sob. “Yeah.”
***
Jack stirred his iced tea thoughtfully with a straw. “So, I’ve been on board for about a week, and I don’t think I’ve seen him eat a meal.”
Rose tucked her hair behind her ear as she rested her cheek on her hand. She had been pushing her salad from one side of the plate to the other since she’d sat down. “No, he doesn’t eat much. He’ll eat if we’re out somewhere, or he’ll steal my chips-” She smiled suddenly, blushing a little, and Jack could practically see the memory replaying in her head.
“That explains the svelte silhouette.” Jack took a sip of his tea. “Given the frequency at which he vibrates, you’d think he’d have the metabolism of a hummingbird. Which would need far more fuel than he seems to take in. And he doesn’t sleep.”
Rose was suddenly very interested in the bits of carrot in her salad.
“Rooooose,” prompted Jack, grinning as he leaned forward conspiratorially. “Does he sleep?”
Her ears were turning an eponymous shade of pink, and she made a vague gesture with her fingers before returning her cheek to her hand, spearing a bit of red onion before dropping it on the edge of her plate. “Sometimes. Not a lot.” She lifted her eyes to his. “Do you think it’s as simple as him just not eating or sleeping properly?”
Rose managed to look both hopeful and doubtful at once, and Jack was charmed, but he couldn’t lie. “No.”
“It was just a few seconds,” she ventured tentatively. “Maybe it was just a one-off thing.”
Jack raised an eyebrow, and she poked almost angrily at a bit of lettuce.
“Okay, then, got any tea brewed?”
The Doctor’s voice was downright chirrupy as he breezed into the galley, looking refreshed and energetic in clean black slacks and a cobalt-blue jumper under the customary black leather jacket. The clear blue eyes noted the contents of Jack’s glass, and Jack grinned as he ostentatiously enjoyed a long pull on the straw.
The Doctor shook his head and rolled his eyes, reaching into the pantry for the tin of Darjeeling.
“What did the tests say?” Rose ignored their byplay and spoke the unspoken.
“Nothing much,” he responded easily, spooning tea leaves into the pot. “Prob’ly just a slight chemical imbalance.” He turned on the kettle and grinned as he snagged a banana from the fruitbowl and waggled it at them.
Rose didn’t look particularly convinced, and Jack certainly wasn’t, though he appreciated the view as the Doctor rested his hips against the counter and crossing his long legs in front of him. “Look, everything’s in the normal range,” he said, peeling the banana. “Nothing to be worried about.”
“Could it have been something about the vortex?” asked Rose.
The Doctor stopped in mid-bite, almost imperceptibly. He chewed and swallowed thoughtfully. “Could be. Probably not, though. Anything that could get past the TARDIS’s shielding, and I’d have seized for longer than a couple of seconds.”
“Felt long enough for me,” sighed Rose, and the Doctor smiled gently.
“So. What would you like to do this evening? Woodstock? Fireworks on Llaylior? The casinos of New New Monte Carlo?”
“How about dinner and a movie?”
Brown eyes and blue swung to him in surprise, and Jack got up to take his plate to the dishwasher.
“You tryin’ to coddle me, Captain?” The dangerous edge was back in the rich voice, and the twinkle in the gunmetal eyes was anything but jolly.
“Maybe a little,” conceded Jack, stowing his dishes. “But we’ve been out seeing the sights for the past week, and I say, why not take a little downtime?”
The twinkle became a glitter. “How ’bout dinner and dancing?”
***
Rose smoothed down the bronze silk with a trembling hand as she tried to take a deep breath. The corset made it a bit of a challenge, but the reflection in the mirror made her forget any discomfort. She had thought the dress she had worn to Victorian Cardiff was beautiful. This was something else again. The cut was simple, a bodice that smoothed over her hips to a gored skirt that fell straight in front but swept around to a soft gather behind and fell in a rounded train. Her shoulders and arms were bare, although a drape of lace and fringe made of tiny champagne-coloured crystal beads served as a semblance of sleeves and a decoration of the rather low-cut, straight neckline. The gloves reached almost to the fringe on her upper arms, and topaz dangled from her ears among the soft tendrils of blonde hair, artfully escaping from a simple but elegant hairstyle her hands suddenly seemed to know how to make.
“Am I ready for a ball, or what?” Jack’s boisterous entry broke her reverie, and he held his arms out to make a full turn. With a flourish, he put his white-gloved hands on his hips to sweep back the tailed evening coat and display his black watered silk waistcoat, pearl shirt studs, and white tie over a high, stiff collar.
Rose giggled at the juxtaposition of his casual attitude and the elegant clothes, but she suddenly hiccuped and caught her breath, her hand automatically went to the rapid pulse at the base of her throat. “Oops, this dress makes it a little hard to laugh.” Her breath hitched again. “Or breathe.”
“Ah, but it’s worth it,” purred Jack, reaching out to take her hands in his, spreading them so that he could get the full effect of the dress.
“It’s probably just as well I can’t take a deep breath, I think I’d pop right out of this.”
“That would definitely be worth it,” teased Jack with a broad grin, guiding her into a turn with one hand over her head, and they both stopped as the Doctor appeared at the door of the wardrobe, white gloves in one long hand.
Rose suddenly found that breathing was no longer difficult, but impossible. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as her fingers slipped free of Jack’s and their arms fell to their sides.
She’d just never expected him to change out of the jumper and jacket. Certainly not into full turn-of-the-twentieth-century evening wear, complete with white tie, white waistcoat, and tails.
No, that was untrue. It wasn’t just that. While Jack might be able to pull off just about any style with his classic features, she wouldn’t have bet on her rough-edged, Northern-accented, big-eared Doctor not looking like a little boy being forced to dress up for a wedding. Instead…
“Wow, Doc-”
A lifted eyebrow.
“-tor,” breathed Jack, almost without a hitch. “You look…”
“Beautiful,” finished Rose automatically. And suddenly, her mouth ran away with her, grinning as it added, “For an alien.”
Thanks to wmr for a thorough and quick beta!