A Bit Off; For quitehomoerotic.
The Doctor was bored. Well, not bored. Okay, yes, bored. He'd left Rose and Jack in Kyoto to [hopefully just] sight see, and had decided to do some sightseeing of his own. After all, he'd seen Kyoto. Plenty. And there happened to be a fantastic Festival of the Shrieking Bells on the planet Dewfan that he'd been trying to get to for the past
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Jack had started out on transporters and mining ships, but he soon discovered that he couldn't pretend to be part of that world, and that even if he was trying to escape himself there, danger still found him, like that fire on Transporter 45. He'd read about that fire once. had no idea he was involved.
So he came here, maybe something to see or something to do.
The last thing he'd expected to see was him.
Well actually, no, to say he'd seen him would be nothing short of a lie, because he hadn't. But he'd heard him. And it was him, that voice. The one that he met lifetimes ago.
So he had to run. And run he did.
But he should have known it, he'd be seen. Or felt. Or whatever it was the Doctor could tell about him. And so halfway down a side street, he stopped. Stopped and closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
And he turned.
"Hi."
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"Hullo." The Doctor stopped about three feet from Jack, staring at him like he'd just grown a second (Jack only had the one) head. He was Jack, but not. Older, yeah, heavier behind the eyes, but that wasn't the problem. Like a bit of Jack and a bit of time, and that wasn't right at all. Nobody should be a bit of time, except a Time Lord. Time wasn't people (except Time Lords), it was events. And Jack had become an event. Or a Time Lord, but...
He sniffed the air. No, not a Time Lord. Something was off. Like a bit of meat left too long. He tried not to grin at what he imagined Jack's reaction to the imagery would be.
It didn't exactly work, so he ended up with an awkward half-grin. "I thought you didn't want to hear the Shrieking Bells."
Small talk. The Doctor could do it (much better than the Dewfanians), even if there were bigger, more important things he wanted to ask.
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Jack had missed any Doctor. He'd missed the Doctor since he last saw him and they towed the Earth home. He'd missed him since he'd never turned up when the world (his world) had fallen apart.
He missed him. And he wanted so much to see him.
But he'd forgotten just how much he'd missed this him. After all, all those years he searched and he waited, this was the man, this was the face in his mind.
Seeing him, even here, made his chest tighten and lift at the same time.
He wondered just how much of that played on his face.
He realised, somewhat belatedly, that he was being spoken to, and he urged his mind to catch up. Shrieking Bells? It sounded familiar. He supposed it should. And then he realised just why. And just when.
Maybe he could have this conversation. Pretend. But he was far too tired for that.
"I can't be here," he told him, instead. "Not with you. You know that. You must know that."
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So much had passed across Jack's face that he'd taken a moment to catch it all and process. A lot had happened in a short time. Or a lot in a long time. The Doctor wasn't sure, because he still hadn't figured out what was going on, exactly. Naturally, that bothered him.
"You're from my future. You ran, it's a bit obvious. Don't tell me, then. But," he leaned forward. "Tell me what happened to you. You're off, and you shouldn't be. You're not right."
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