Fic: A Far, Far Better Thing, by Yamx and Wendymr - 1/2
Story: A Far, Far Better Thing
Authors: yamx and wmr/ wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Wilfred Mott, Jack Harkness
Rated: All Ages
Spoilers: GREAT BIG HUGE SPOILERS for The End Of Time
Disclaimer: So very much not ours!
Summary: "Doctor? Got the strangest feeling you needed me."
So, completely independent of each other, yamx and wendymr had exactly the same thought about one particular element of tEoT, agreed that it was thoroughly and shamelessly self-indulgent - and decided to write it anyway. With very many thanks to dark_aegis and kae_nine for also indulging us by BRing.
A Far, Far Better Thing
- A Shameless Indulgence of Two Writers
It is a far, far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done before
- Sydney Carton, in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities (1859).
Chapter 1
Wilf shakes his head, raising his hands imploringly, as the Doctor steps ever closer to the glass cage. "No! No - no please don't!" Not for him. This wonderful man should not have to die for him. Not for an old fool who was stupid enough to get himself stuck in a box. "Please don't! Please!"
The Doctor's hand is on the door handle of the other side of the cage. He looks at him, his eyes shining with grief and respect, his face set and determined. "Wilfred - it's my honour." He opens the door.
"Doctor?" A new voice asks from the door. Wilfred turns his head. It's a tall bloke in an RAF uniform - though the way he said the Doctor's name sounded American. Wilf squints. Dark hair, blue eyes, a jawline that'd make Donna squeal - somehow the man seems familiar, but he can't place him.
"Doctor," the tall man repeats. "What's going on? Got the strangest feeling that you needed me."
The Doctor's staring at the newcomer. For a split second, his face breaks into a manic grin - but then it falls, and he looks chagrined, distressed. "Captain." He takes a deep breath, swallows. "Jack. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry - but I need you to die for me." He shrugs, helplessly. "Again."
What? Who is this bloke, that the Doctor would sacrifice him so easily? And for him? And… again? "No - Doctor, don't…"
The tall man - Jack - walks towards the Doctor, all business, apparently unconcerned by the Doctor's dire verdict. "What do you need me to do?"
The Doctor indicates the other side of the cage. "Step in there, close the door, press the release button."
"Yes, sir." The Captain doesn't hesitate. As he slams the button and the Doctor quickly pulls Wilf out from his side of the box, he asks "By the way - why?"
The Doctor sends him a small sad smile. "Only way to get Wilf out of there in time."
"In time before…?"
There's an ominous humming sound, and the left side of the cage is basked in red hot light.
"The cage is flooded with radiation." The Doctor's voice almost breaks on the last word.
"Fuck," the stranger mumbles, slowly sliding down the wall, his face a grimace of pain. "One of my least favourites."
Wilf stares, unbelieving, as this young, handsome stranger, this man in the prime of his life, dies for him. Dies for him on the Doctor's command. For the first time, he looks upon the man next to him with trepidation.
"What'd you do that for?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "You shouldn't have, not for me! Young lad like him, whole life ahead of him!" Wilf kneels by the side of the cage, puts his hand on the glass over the man's shoulder. "Not for me."
The Doctor is standing rigid, his hands in his pockets, balancing on the balls of his feet. "It wasn't for you. He did it for me. Mind, he'd have done it for you, as well. That's the kind of man he is."
Wilf is still staring at the motionless body. He's feeling sick to his stomach. This isn't right.
The Doctor looks at one of the blinking screens inside the cage. "It'll be a little bit until the radiation is absorbed. His human body can't hold it all. Will be a while until we can get him out." He pulls that little buzzing tool of his from a pocket. "Let me see if I can speed things up, get us in there quicker."
Wilf shakes his head. He feels a hot tear running down his cheek. "Not like it matters now, is it?"
"Oh, it does, Wilf. It really does." The Doctor steps closer to the cage, and begins running his device over the controls in the open side. "I don't want him to be alone when he comes to."
Wilf looks up at the Doctor in disbelief. "Comes to? You mean…" He feels a small spark of hope. "He'll be all right?"
The Doctor's moving around the box quickly, prodding here and poking there. "Well… 'all right' is such a big concept, don't you think? Rarely applies, not to people like Jack and me. But he'll be alive." Something beeps and a few sparks fly from a switchboard, but the Doctor keeps working, completely undeterred. He's focusing on the machinery, not looking at Wilf or the dead body next to him. "You'll like Jack, Wilf. Old soldier, like you. Fought in the Great War. Both Great Wars. Twice!" A flashed grin that can't hide the guilt and pain underneath.
Both wars? But how can that be possible? He’s far too young even to have fought in the last one. Just who is this Jack? And he’s human? How?
As if the Doctor’s heard his thoughts, he continues, "He's quite something, our Jack. Quite something."
There's a catch in the Doctor's voice that makes Wilf look at him searchingly.
"Wilf… would you do me a favour?" He's still not looking up from the switchboard.
"Of course, sir. Anything, sir." Wilf gets up hurriedly.
Now the Doctor looks at the prone form in the cage, his face full of emotions Wilf can't name. "Tell him I said that, would you?"
"But - Doctor, if he's gonna be all right, can't you tell him yourself?"
"I could. Course. Course I could. But… I just... I'm not good at this type of thing."
Wilf shakes his head. This enigmatic alien may be 906 years old, but sometimes he seems very, very young. "Can't do that, sir. He'll have to hear it from you."
The Doctor's eyes snap up in surprise. He cocks his head, then he nods. "Right you are, Wilfred. Quite right."
*****
Consciousness returns, and with it a sudden, painful rush of air to his lungs. That bit’s always a bastard. But at least the burning pain’s gone. He’s absorbed the radiation.
His head’s resting on something soft, and tentative fingers are combing his hair back from his face. He blinks, and sees a very familiar face bending over him. “Doctor?”
“Hello, Jack.” Immediately, the Doctor moves; he’s still supporting him but that tender caress is gone. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” He starts to struggle to his feet, not easy in the confines of the small cage; if he’s not going to get any more of that from the Doctor, there’s little point in remaining on the floor. “Is your friend all right?”
“Yes! Yes. Brilliant! Safe and well.” The Doctor’s standing too, pushing the door open. “Come and meet Wilf, Jack. You’ll like him. Old soldier. Donna’s granddad.”
He follows the Doctor out and turns to greet the grey-haired man waiting for them. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he says, getting in ahead of the Doctor. Instead of offering his hand, he salutes.
“Wilfred Mott, sir. Corporal.” The elderly man salutes in return, posture rigid, eyes facing perfectly forward. For a moment, Jack wonders if it’s possible that Wilf could have been in one of his commands in the Second World War. Unlikely, though. He was using his current name at the time, and he’s well aware that with his looks he’s not forgettable.
He smiles gently. “Stand down, Corporal.” Relaxing his own stance, he adds, “And it’s Jack.”
Wilf nods. “Thank you for what you just did, sir. I told him, I did. Told him to leave me, that he didn’t need to rescue me, but he insisted. I couldn’t stop him. Would’ve been such a waste. He shouldn’t have to die for me.”
The Doctor, standing off to the side, is tugging at his ear, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation - but making no attempt to take part in it. Jack catches his eye and raises one eyebrow. The Doctor’s mouth turns down at the corners.
He frowns. The Doctor’s face is full of cuts and scratches. His suit’s practically in shreds. What the hell’s been going on here?
All he knew is that he had the strangest feeling that he was needed. There he was, in a bar on a planet two galaxies over, and while he was getting so drunk he couldn’t remember his own name he kept hearing a voice in his head, familiar though he couldn’t quite place it, repeating this place, this date, this time. And the Doctor’s name.
Just as well he found parts to repair his Vortex manipulator a couple of months back.
He’ll make the Doctor explain later, before he leaves. For now, though, he’s going to tell the Doctor’s new friend what the Time Lord clearly can’t.
“He’d have done it and been happy to, Wilf. Because that’s the kind of man he is.” Especially when it’s someone the Doctor’s clearly fond of, as he seems to be of this man. Though he’s glad that the Doctor didn’t have to go through with it. Yes, he’d regenerate, but if the old Time Lord legends are correct there aren’t unlimited regenerations. And, besides, he likes this version of the Doctor.
Wilf cocks his head to one side. “Seems to me it’s the kind of man you are too, sir.” Before Jack can answer, the old man turns to the Doctor and raises his eyebrows, his look expectant.
The Doctor’s eyes widen and suddenly he looks more terrified than when he was facing a fleet of Daleks. “I... um...”
“Go on, Doctor.” Wilf gestures with his hand. “You know you can do it.”
The Doctor’s gaze switches to Jack, and he swallows. “Jack... um... yes. Thank you. I... yes, of course I would have been fine, but it was good not to have to... well.” He swallows again, a hand raking awkwardly through the back of his hair.
“Doctor,” Wilf says softly.
“Yes.” The Doctor stares at the floor. “You’re a good man, Jack. Always thought so. Don’t say it often enough. Well. Don’t say it at all, really, do I? I’m...” He gives a strangled swallow, and raises his head. Ancient brown eyes meet his, and Jack feels a shiver run through him. “I’m proud to have you as a friend.”
His jaw almost hits the floor. Now he’s got to swallow, to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I... Doctor, you’ve got to know that I’m honoured that you consider me a friend.”
The Doctor doesn’t reply, but there’s guilt and apology in his eyes. Until, suddenly, he moves, his whole demeanour changing completely. “Anyway! Wilf!” He takes the shorter man by the shoulders. “Time we got you home! Back to Chiswick. Chiswick, Chiswick, Chiswick!”
He starts to steer the old soldier out of this room, whatever it is - and, by the look of it, some kind of major battle’s taken place here. Seems like the Doctor’s lucky to have escaped with the few scratches he’s got.
Jack stays where he is, watching the other two men heading towards the door, unsure whether to follow them. Has he just received his dismissal from the Doctor? Task over, death died to save the Doctor’s life, is he now surplus to requirements once more?
But then the Doctor glances back over his shoulder. “Well, come on, Jack! You don’t want to stay here all day, do you?”
The voice is on the edge of irritated impatience - but there’s something different in the Doctor’s eyes. A silent plea.
He nods once, pulls his coat more securely around him, and follows the two men out of the room.
*****
The TARDIS is only a short walk away, waiting in a temporal pocket a couple of seconds in the future. The whole way there, the Doctor keeps glancing at Jack - his friend, his brilliant friend who's just allowed him to live, to escape the prophecy, to cheat death by taking his suffering upon himself. Part of him wants to hug and kiss the man. Part of him wants to run, run so far away he'll never have to look him in the eyes again.
He notices Wilf watching him, a concerned expression on his face. At one point, he takes the Doctor's elbow, making it look like he needs support for his old knees, but in truth steadying the Doctor.
He should talk to Jack, he knows. The Captain deserves an explanation. Also, he needs to find out what brought him here, and at just the right time. Got the strangest feeling that you needed me, the Captain said. Well, the Doctor doesn’t believe in coincidences and, while he does believe in strange feelings and premonitions, he's convinced there's always a solid reason for those.
But first things first. Chiswick. Getting Wilf home to his family.
As the Doctor summons the TARDIS, Wilf looks at him. "So - are we going to fly through space?"
"Nah. She disappears here, appears right in Chiswick. No need to go to orbit." The Doctor notices a brief flicker of regret on Wilf's face. "Well, don't you want to check on Donna and Sylvia?"
"Well, yes, sir. Of course. It's just… seeing Earth from space earlier… it was… Well, just wish I'd had a bit of time to enjoy it more, you know? When we didn't have to worry about some maniac having turned everyone into…" He shudders.
The Doctor hesitates. He throws a brief glance at Jack over Wilf's shoulder. The Captain's grinning, and moving his head in a Come on gesture. And damn, he's right. Wilf deserves it. They all do. He grins.
"Well, Wilf, how about - after you go and check on your family - you, me and Jack take a little pleasure trip?"
He sees sudden surprise on Jack's face. He didn't think he'd be included. The Doctor winces inwardly. Has he really treated him so badly?
Wilf's eyes are shining with excitement. "Well, sir, that would be… it'd be bloody marvellous!" He laughs, and rubs his hands gleefully. "Me, Corporal Wilfred Mott, space explorer!"
"Well, then - allons-y! First stop Chiswick, then… the universe!" He bounds into the TARDIS, ushering Wilf with him. A brief glance over his shoulder to make sure, but yes, Jack is right behind them. As the Doctor enters the coordinates, Jack takes his place at right angles from him and starts making adjustments on the console. The Doctor throws him a startled glance that turns into a proud smile. "Good man."
Seconds later, they materialise. "Go on, Wilf. Still can't risk Donna seeing me - either of us - but you take all the time you need. We'll wait." He smiles, squeezing Wilf's shoulder warmly.
Jack nods respectfully to the old man as he leaves, then turns to the Doctor. "Smooth. I take it you want to talk to me."
Oh, that sounded defensive. Like Jack expects to be attacked, criticised, and put down. And really, why wouldn't he? The Doctor consciously takes a step back, hunches his shoulders and ruffles his hair. It's not confrontation he's after. Jack deserve better than that.
"Jack… I just wanted to know how you got there. At the perfect time to save my life, no less. You said something about a feeling…"
Jack nods. "I was in a bar on Decrinox Twelve, trying to get drunk. And suddenly, I knew I had to leave. Didn't know why, but this voice kept telling me when and where, and that you needed me."
The Doctor pulls his earlobe. Many possible explanations for this - Time Lords, Ood… or someone else entirely. This could be good. Very, very good. Brilliant, in fact. Or it could be bad. So, so bad. And he can only think of one way to find out.
He takes a step towards Jack. Slowly, very slowly, he raises a hand to the Captain's face. "I'd like to look, Jack."
Jack's body stiffens, and it's a visible effort for him not to back away. He says nothing, just glowers at the Doctor.
The Doctor cocks his head. "All right?"
Now Jack looks confused. "You're giving me a choice?"
He winces. Every time Jack says something like this, the way he's treated this man in the past is thrown into stark relief and fills him with shame so deep he almost wishes he had been the one to step into that cage. "I wouldn't force you, Jack. It's your mind. But… please?"
Jack bites his lips. "Yeah." He swallows. "Yeah, okay."
The Doctor touches the contact points. "Close your eyes." He opens the barriers.
Pain. That's the first thing that floods his consciousness. Red hot pain, pain so deep the human mind shouldn't be able to contain it. And darkness. So much darkness and cold. He gasps. And it takes all his control to keep the connection open.
Slowly, he begins to sort through the onslaught. He's trying to respect Jack's privacy, but the emotional turmoil in the Captain's mind forces him to sort through memories that have nothing to do with Decrinox Twelve, but are closely linked to the ever-present pain. The Doctor has to fight down a sob. He knew about the events that made Jack leave Earth - a fixed point he'd been forced to let occur, much as he wanted to come and help - but seeing it all through Jack's mind is excruciating. Unbearable.
No more than he deserves.
He finally finds the memories of the last two days. Hears the voice, weaving through Jack’s mind like spun gold. He gathers the threads, follows them deeper and deeper into Jack's mind - and stands in awe at what he finds. Surprised, humbled, overwhelmed, he breaks the mental connection.
The Doctor stares at Jack, his mouth slightly open, looking for words to explain. But Jack seems to read something else in his eyes. With an annoyed eyeroll and a sigh, he extends his left wrist. "Yeah, I know."
The Doctor blinks, confused. "Wh - what?"
"You saw my memories. Saw that I fixed it. So now you're going to disable it again. Despite the fact that this was what brought me here in time to…" His voice trails off. "Get on with it, then."
The Doctor follows Jack's gaze, and finally understands. The Vortex manipulator. The device that allowed Jack to get off Satellite Five after he'd stranded him there. That brought them back from Malcassiro. That enabled Jack to come and help him during the Dalek invasion. A space hopper, he once called it. And, even though Jack's only ever used it for the very best of purposes - more than he can say for himself and his TARDIS, after Bowie Base One - he's disabled it time and time again. Must have been like a slap in the face for Jack. An I don't trust you with this, from an unjust and undeserving parent.
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I never should have. Never will again. In fact…" He briefly runs the sonic screwdriver over the device. "It won't burn out on you ever again."
Jack's staring at him, disbelieving. Then he swallows. "Must have been quite something you found in my mind."
“It’s not that. Well.” He swallows. “Not just that, anyway. You... after everything, all I’ve done, all I’ve not done, everything you’ve been through, you just came because I needed you. And you walked right into that cage to die for me without even asking why.” He snorts. “You know why I asked you? Because I was too selfish to regenerate.”
Jack makes a dismissive gesture. “If I’d known that’s what was happening before I got into the room, I’d have shoved you out of the way before you could say a word. But you were going to go in there yourself. You would have, if I hadn’t come in. Right?”
Jack would have done that? But that’s no surprise. He does know this man well enough to know that’s exactly what he would have done without a second’s hesitation. And probably even if he wasn’t immortal; after all, Jack laid down his mortal life for him without question.
Jack deserves to know the full story; why he would willingly have died to save Wilfred Mott. “That old man - Wilf. I couldn’t let him die.” His fingers curl around the edge of the console. “Aside from the fact that he’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant... he’s Donna’s granddad. I’ve taken too much from her already. How could I...” His voice cracks, and he stares down at the console.
“Anyway.” Composure regained, he looks across at Jack again. “What did I see in your head? Oh, lots of stuff. You know about some of it - and we need to talk about that. Need to explain why I didn’t come. Fixed point,” he adds, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Really, really hate those. There was nothing I could do, Jack. Nothing. And... I’m a coward. Stayed away rather than come and see if you were all right.”
It’s Jack’s turn to look away. “Thought it must have been something like that.”
Really? Or is Jack just saying that, covering up the fact that he felt betrayed? But he didn’t see anything of himself in Jack’s memories of that event, the memories that are so raw, so brutally painful that they leapt out at him even though he was trying to confine himself to that one piece of information.
“Anyway,” he says again - he really must widen his vocabulary. “You want to know what told you to come here? Or who, rather.”
Jack nods, his eyes bright and glassy.
“Rose.”
Jack gasps audibly at the name. “How? She’s... didn’t I hear you left her and the other you in the parallel universe?”
“Not that Rose.” He starts to pace; easier to talk that way. “Do you remember I told you what she did on Satellite Five? With the Time Vortex? It gave her the kind of power that no-one should have. The kind of power I hope no-one will have ever again.” He tugs on his ear. “It was Rose. She wasn’t going to take over the universe, or destroy planets, or anything like that. She just wanted the people she...” His throat’s constricted suddenly. “The people she loved safe. So she saved me, and then saved you. And she told me... I can see everything... all that is, all that was, all that ever could be. She sent messages - to herself, to come back to me. Into her past, but into her future as well - Bad Wolf Bay in Norway,” he muses aloud. And, of course, on Shan Shen. “And she sent a message to you.”
“So that I’d come and save your life.” Jack’s rubbing his palms over his face now.
“Yep.” That would be Rose, wouldn’t it? Though why she didn’t do anything to help Jack against the 456...
Unless...
“So that we could save each other,” he finishes aloud, slowly, as realisation dawns. Because, if Jack hadn’t appeared today, when would he have thought to do something for the Captain? And what would he have done? Not talked to him, no; he knows himself too well to pretend he would. Some gesture, a token, a signal, perhaps, that he knew what Jack had been through and wanted to make sure he was all right, but nothing that actually made a difference.
“Save each... what do you mean?” Jack frowns, staring at him again.
And right at that moment there are four knocks on the TARDIS door.
*****
tbc in chapter 2
Authors: yamx and wmr/ wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Wilfred Mott, Jack Harkness
Rated: All Ages
Spoilers: GREAT BIG HUGE SPOILERS for The End Of Time
Disclaimer: So very much not ours!
Summary: "Doctor? Got the strangest feeling you needed me."
So, completely independent of each other, yamx and wendymr had exactly the same thought about one particular element of tEoT, agreed that it was thoroughly and shamelessly self-indulgent - and decided to write it anyway. With very many thanks to dark_aegis and kae_nine for also indulging us by BRing.
A Far, Far Better Thing
- A Shameless Indulgence of Two Writers
It is a far, far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done before
- Sydney Carton, in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities (1859).
Chapter 1
Wilf shakes his head, raising his hands imploringly, as the Doctor steps ever closer to the glass cage. "No! No - no please don't!" Not for him. This wonderful man should not have to die for him. Not for an old fool who was stupid enough to get himself stuck in a box. "Please don't! Please!"
The Doctor's hand is on the door handle of the other side of the cage. He looks at him, his eyes shining with grief and respect, his face set and determined. "Wilfred - it's my honour." He opens the door.
"Doctor?" A new voice asks from the door. Wilfred turns his head. It's a tall bloke in an RAF uniform - though the way he said the Doctor's name sounded American. Wilf squints. Dark hair, blue eyes, a jawline that'd make Donna squeal - somehow the man seems familiar, but he can't place him.
"Doctor," the tall man repeats. "What's going on? Got the strangest feeling that you needed me."
The Doctor's staring at the newcomer. For a split second, his face breaks into a manic grin - but then it falls, and he looks chagrined, distressed. "Captain." He takes a deep breath, swallows. "Jack. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry - but I need you to die for me." He shrugs, helplessly. "Again."
What? Who is this bloke, that the Doctor would sacrifice him so easily? And for him? And… again? "No - Doctor, don't…"
The tall man - Jack - walks towards the Doctor, all business, apparently unconcerned by the Doctor's dire verdict. "What do you need me to do?"
The Doctor indicates the other side of the cage. "Step in there, close the door, press the release button."
"Yes, sir." The Captain doesn't hesitate. As he slams the button and the Doctor quickly pulls Wilf out from his side of the box, he asks "By the way - why?"
The Doctor sends him a small sad smile. "Only way to get Wilf out of there in time."
"In time before…?"
There's an ominous humming sound, and the left side of the cage is basked in red hot light.
"The cage is flooded with radiation." The Doctor's voice almost breaks on the last word.
"Fuck," the stranger mumbles, slowly sliding down the wall, his face a grimace of pain. "One of my least favourites."
Wilf stares, unbelieving, as this young, handsome stranger, this man in the prime of his life, dies for him. Dies for him on the Doctor's command. For the first time, he looks upon the man next to him with trepidation.
"What'd you do that for?" He throws his hands up in frustration. "You shouldn't have, not for me! Young lad like him, whole life ahead of him!" Wilf kneels by the side of the cage, puts his hand on the glass over the man's shoulder. "Not for me."
The Doctor is standing rigid, his hands in his pockets, balancing on the balls of his feet. "It wasn't for you. He did it for me. Mind, he'd have done it for you, as well. That's the kind of man he is."
Wilf is still staring at the motionless body. He's feeling sick to his stomach. This isn't right.
The Doctor looks at one of the blinking screens inside the cage. "It'll be a little bit until the radiation is absorbed. His human body can't hold it all. Will be a while until we can get him out." He pulls that little buzzing tool of his from a pocket. "Let me see if I can speed things up, get us in there quicker."
Wilf shakes his head. He feels a hot tear running down his cheek. "Not like it matters now, is it?"
"Oh, it does, Wilf. It really does." The Doctor steps closer to the cage, and begins running his device over the controls in the open side. "I don't want him to be alone when he comes to."
Wilf looks up at the Doctor in disbelief. "Comes to? You mean…" He feels a small spark of hope. "He'll be all right?"
The Doctor's moving around the box quickly, prodding here and poking there. "Well… 'all right' is such a big concept, don't you think? Rarely applies, not to people like Jack and me. But he'll be alive." Something beeps and a few sparks fly from a switchboard, but the Doctor keeps working, completely undeterred. He's focusing on the machinery, not looking at Wilf or the dead body next to him. "You'll like Jack, Wilf. Old soldier, like you. Fought in the Great War. Both Great Wars. Twice!" A flashed grin that can't hide the guilt and pain underneath.
Both wars? But how can that be possible? He’s far too young even to have fought in the last one. Just who is this Jack? And he’s human? How?
As if the Doctor’s heard his thoughts, he continues, "He's quite something, our Jack. Quite something."
There's a catch in the Doctor's voice that makes Wilf look at him searchingly.
"Wilf… would you do me a favour?" He's still not looking up from the switchboard.
"Of course, sir. Anything, sir." Wilf gets up hurriedly.
Now the Doctor looks at the prone form in the cage, his face full of emotions Wilf can't name. "Tell him I said that, would you?"
"But - Doctor, if he's gonna be all right, can't you tell him yourself?"
"I could. Course. Course I could. But… I just... I'm not good at this type of thing."
Wilf shakes his head. This enigmatic alien may be 906 years old, but sometimes he seems very, very young. "Can't do that, sir. He'll have to hear it from you."
The Doctor's eyes snap up in surprise. He cocks his head, then he nods. "Right you are, Wilfred. Quite right."
*****
Consciousness returns, and with it a sudden, painful rush of air to his lungs. That bit’s always a bastard. But at least the burning pain’s gone. He’s absorbed the radiation.
His head’s resting on something soft, and tentative fingers are combing his hair back from his face. He blinks, and sees a very familiar face bending over him. “Doctor?”
“Hello, Jack.” Immediately, the Doctor moves; he’s still supporting him but that tender caress is gone. “Feeling better?”
“Yeah.” He starts to struggle to his feet, not easy in the confines of the small cage; if he’s not going to get any more of that from the Doctor, there’s little point in remaining on the floor. “Is your friend all right?”
“Yes! Yes. Brilliant! Safe and well.” The Doctor’s standing too, pushing the door open. “Come and meet Wilf, Jack. You’ll like him. Old soldier. Donna’s granddad.”
He follows the Doctor out and turns to greet the grey-haired man waiting for them. “Captain Jack Harkness,” he says, getting in ahead of the Doctor. Instead of offering his hand, he salutes.
“Wilfred Mott, sir. Corporal.” The elderly man salutes in return, posture rigid, eyes facing perfectly forward. For a moment, Jack wonders if it’s possible that Wilf could have been in one of his commands in the Second World War. Unlikely, though. He was using his current name at the time, and he’s well aware that with his looks he’s not forgettable.
He smiles gently. “Stand down, Corporal.” Relaxing his own stance, he adds, “And it’s Jack.”
Wilf nods. “Thank you for what you just did, sir. I told him, I did. Told him to leave me, that he didn’t need to rescue me, but he insisted. I couldn’t stop him. Would’ve been such a waste. He shouldn’t have to die for me.”
The Doctor, standing off to the side, is tugging at his ear, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation - but making no attempt to take part in it. Jack catches his eye and raises one eyebrow. The Doctor’s mouth turns down at the corners.
He frowns. The Doctor’s face is full of cuts and scratches. His suit’s practically in shreds. What the hell’s been going on here?
All he knew is that he had the strangest feeling that he was needed. There he was, in a bar on a planet two galaxies over, and while he was getting so drunk he couldn’t remember his own name he kept hearing a voice in his head, familiar though he couldn’t quite place it, repeating this place, this date, this time. And the Doctor’s name.
Just as well he found parts to repair his Vortex manipulator a couple of months back.
He’ll make the Doctor explain later, before he leaves. For now, though, he’s going to tell the Doctor’s new friend what the Time Lord clearly can’t.
“He’d have done it and been happy to, Wilf. Because that’s the kind of man he is.” Especially when it’s someone the Doctor’s clearly fond of, as he seems to be of this man. Though he’s glad that the Doctor didn’t have to go through with it. Yes, he’d regenerate, but if the old Time Lord legends are correct there aren’t unlimited regenerations. And, besides, he likes this version of the Doctor.
Wilf cocks his head to one side. “Seems to me it’s the kind of man you are too, sir.” Before Jack can answer, the old man turns to the Doctor and raises his eyebrows, his look expectant.
The Doctor’s eyes widen and suddenly he looks more terrified than when he was facing a fleet of Daleks. “I... um...”
“Go on, Doctor.” Wilf gestures with his hand. “You know you can do it.”
The Doctor’s gaze switches to Jack, and he swallows. “Jack... um... yes. Thank you. I... yes, of course I would have been fine, but it was good not to have to... well.” He swallows again, a hand raking awkwardly through the back of his hair.
“Doctor,” Wilf says softly.
“Yes.” The Doctor stares at the floor. “You’re a good man, Jack. Always thought so. Don’t say it often enough. Well. Don’t say it at all, really, do I? I’m...” He gives a strangled swallow, and raises his head. Ancient brown eyes meet his, and Jack feels a shiver run through him. “I’m proud to have you as a friend.”
His jaw almost hits the floor. Now he’s got to swallow, to get rid of the lump in his throat. “I... Doctor, you’ve got to know that I’m honoured that you consider me a friend.”
The Doctor doesn’t reply, but there’s guilt and apology in his eyes. Until, suddenly, he moves, his whole demeanour changing completely. “Anyway! Wilf!” He takes the shorter man by the shoulders. “Time we got you home! Back to Chiswick. Chiswick, Chiswick, Chiswick!”
He starts to steer the old soldier out of this room, whatever it is - and, by the look of it, some kind of major battle’s taken place here. Seems like the Doctor’s lucky to have escaped with the few scratches he’s got.
Jack stays where he is, watching the other two men heading towards the door, unsure whether to follow them. Has he just received his dismissal from the Doctor? Task over, death died to save the Doctor’s life, is he now surplus to requirements once more?
But then the Doctor glances back over his shoulder. “Well, come on, Jack! You don’t want to stay here all day, do you?”
The voice is on the edge of irritated impatience - but there’s something different in the Doctor’s eyes. A silent plea.
He nods once, pulls his coat more securely around him, and follows the two men out of the room.
*****
The TARDIS is only a short walk away, waiting in a temporal pocket a couple of seconds in the future. The whole way there, the Doctor keeps glancing at Jack - his friend, his brilliant friend who's just allowed him to live, to escape the prophecy, to cheat death by taking his suffering upon himself. Part of him wants to hug and kiss the man. Part of him wants to run, run so far away he'll never have to look him in the eyes again.
He notices Wilf watching him, a concerned expression on his face. At one point, he takes the Doctor's elbow, making it look like he needs support for his old knees, but in truth steadying the Doctor.
He should talk to Jack, he knows. The Captain deserves an explanation. Also, he needs to find out what brought him here, and at just the right time. Got the strangest feeling that you needed me, the Captain said. Well, the Doctor doesn’t believe in coincidences and, while he does believe in strange feelings and premonitions, he's convinced there's always a solid reason for those.
But first things first. Chiswick. Getting Wilf home to his family.
As the Doctor summons the TARDIS, Wilf looks at him. "So - are we going to fly through space?"
"Nah. She disappears here, appears right in Chiswick. No need to go to orbit." The Doctor notices a brief flicker of regret on Wilf's face. "Well, don't you want to check on Donna and Sylvia?"
"Well, yes, sir. Of course. It's just… seeing Earth from space earlier… it was… Well, just wish I'd had a bit of time to enjoy it more, you know? When we didn't have to worry about some maniac having turned everyone into…" He shudders.
The Doctor hesitates. He throws a brief glance at Jack over Wilf's shoulder. The Captain's grinning, and moving his head in a Come on gesture. And damn, he's right. Wilf deserves it. They all do. He grins.
"Well, Wilf, how about - after you go and check on your family - you, me and Jack take a little pleasure trip?"
He sees sudden surprise on Jack's face. He didn't think he'd be included. The Doctor winces inwardly. Has he really treated him so badly?
Wilf's eyes are shining with excitement. "Well, sir, that would be… it'd be bloody marvellous!" He laughs, and rubs his hands gleefully. "Me, Corporal Wilfred Mott, space explorer!"
"Well, then - allons-y! First stop Chiswick, then… the universe!" He bounds into the TARDIS, ushering Wilf with him. A brief glance over his shoulder to make sure, but yes, Jack is right behind them. As the Doctor enters the coordinates, Jack takes his place at right angles from him and starts making adjustments on the console. The Doctor throws him a startled glance that turns into a proud smile. "Good man."
Seconds later, they materialise. "Go on, Wilf. Still can't risk Donna seeing me - either of us - but you take all the time you need. We'll wait." He smiles, squeezing Wilf's shoulder warmly.
Jack nods respectfully to the old man as he leaves, then turns to the Doctor. "Smooth. I take it you want to talk to me."
Oh, that sounded defensive. Like Jack expects to be attacked, criticised, and put down. And really, why wouldn't he? The Doctor consciously takes a step back, hunches his shoulders and ruffles his hair. It's not confrontation he's after. Jack deserve better than that.
"Jack… I just wanted to know how you got there. At the perfect time to save my life, no less. You said something about a feeling…"
Jack nods. "I was in a bar on Decrinox Twelve, trying to get drunk. And suddenly, I knew I had to leave. Didn't know why, but this voice kept telling me when and where, and that you needed me."
The Doctor pulls his earlobe. Many possible explanations for this - Time Lords, Ood… or someone else entirely. This could be good. Very, very good. Brilliant, in fact. Or it could be bad. So, so bad. And he can only think of one way to find out.
He takes a step towards Jack. Slowly, very slowly, he raises a hand to the Captain's face. "I'd like to look, Jack."
Jack's body stiffens, and it's a visible effort for him not to back away. He says nothing, just glowers at the Doctor.
The Doctor cocks his head. "All right?"
Now Jack looks confused. "You're giving me a choice?"
He winces. Every time Jack says something like this, the way he's treated this man in the past is thrown into stark relief and fills him with shame so deep he almost wishes he had been the one to step into that cage. "I wouldn't force you, Jack. It's your mind. But… please?"
Jack bites his lips. "Yeah." He swallows. "Yeah, okay."
The Doctor touches the contact points. "Close your eyes." He opens the barriers.
Pain. That's the first thing that floods his consciousness. Red hot pain, pain so deep the human mind shouldn't be able to contain it. And darkness. So much darkness and cold. He gasps. And it takes all his control to keep the connection open.
Slowly, he begins to sort through the onslaught. He's trying to respect Jack's privacy, but the emotional turmoil in the Captain's mind forces him to sort through memories that have nothing to do with Decrinox Twelve, but are closely linked to the ever-present pain. The Doctor has to fight down a sob. He knew about the events that made Jack leave Earth - a fixed point he'd been forced to let occur, much as he wanted to come and help - but seeing it all through Jack's mind is excruciating. Unbearable.
No more than he deserves.
He finally finds the memories of the last two days. Hears the voice, weaving through Jack’s mind like spun gold. He gathers the threads, follows them deeper and deeper into Jack's mind - and stands in awe at what he finds. Surprised, humbled, overwhelmed, he breaks the mental connection.
The Doctor stares at Jack, his mouth slightly open, looking for words to explain. But Jack seems to read something else in his eyes. With an annoyed eyeroll and a sigh, he extends his left wrist. "Yeah, I know."
The Doctor blinks, confused. "Wh - what?"
"You saw my memories. Saw that I fixed it. So now you're going to disable it again. Despite the fact that this was what brought me here in time to…" His voice trails off. "Get on with it, then."
The Doctor follows Jack's gaze, and finally understands. The Vortex manipulator. The device that allowed Jack to get off Satellite Five after he'd stranded him there. That brought them back from Malcassiro. That enabled Jack to come and help him during the Dalek invasion. A space hopper, he once called it. And, even though Jack's only ever used it for the very best of purposes - more than he can say for himself and his TARDIS, after Bowie Base One - he's disabled it time and time again. Must have been like a slap in the face for Jack. An I don't trust you with this, from an unjust and undeserving parent.
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry. I never should have. Never will again. In fact…" He briefly runs the sonic screwdriver over the device. "It won't burn out on you ever again."
Jack's staring at him, disbelieving. Then he swallows. "Must have been quite something you found in my mind."
“It’s not that. Well.” He swallows. “Not just that, anyway. You... after everything, all I’ve done, all I’ve not done, everything you’ve been through, you just came because I needed you. And you walked right into that cage to die for me without even asking why.” He snorts. “You know why I asked you? Because I was too selfish to regenerate.”
Jack makes a dismissive gesture. “If I’d known that’s what was happening before I got into the room, I’d have shoved you out of the way before you could say a word. But you were going to go in there yourself. You would have, if I hadn’t come in. Right?”
Jack would have done that? But that’s no surprise. He does know this man well enough to know that’s exactly what he would have done without a second’s hesitation. And probably even if he wasn’t immortal; after all, Jack laid down his mortal life for him without question.
Jack deserves to know the full story; why he would willingly have died to save Wilfred Mott. “That old man - Wilf. I couldn’t let him die.” His fingers curl around the edge of the console. “Aside from the fact that he’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant... he’s Donna’s granddad. I’ve taken too much from her already. How could I...” His voice cracks, and he stares down at the console.
“Anyway.” Composure regained, he looks across at Jack again. “What did I see in your head? Oh, lots of stuff. You know about some of it - and we need to talk about that. Need to explain why I didn’t come. Fixed point,” he adds, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Really, really hate those. There was nothing I could do, Jack. Nothing. And... I’m a coward. Stayed away rather than come and see if you were all right.”
It’s Jack’s turn to look away. “Thought it must have been something like that.”
Really? Or is Jack just saying that, covering up the fact that he felt betrayed? But he didn’t see anything of himself in Jack’s memories of that event, the memories that are so raw, so brutally painful that they leapt out at him even though he was trying to confine himself to that one piece of information.
“Anyway,” he says again - he really must widen his vocabulary. “You want to know what told you to come here? Or who, rather.”
Jack nods, his eyes bright and glassy.
“Rose.”
Jack gasps audibly at the name. “How? She’s... didn’t I hear you left her and the other you in the parallel universe?”
“Not that Rose.” He starts to pace; easier to talk that way. “Do you remember I told you what she did on Satellite Five? With the Time Vortex? It gave her the kind of power that no-one should have. The kind of power I hope no-one will have ever again.” He tugs on his ear. “It was Rose. She wasn’t going to take over the universe, or destroy planets, or anything like that. She just wanted the people she...” His throat’s constricted suddenly. “The people she loved safe. So she saved me, and then saved you. And she told me... I can see everything... all that is, all that was, all that ever could be. She sent messages - to herself, to come back to me. Into her past, but into her future as well - Bad Wolf Bay in Norway,” he muses aloud. And, of course, on Shan Shen. “And she sent a message to you.”
“So that I’d come and save your life.” Jack’s rubbing his palms over his face now.
“Yep.” That would be Rose, wouldn’t it? Though why she didn’t do anything to help Jack against the 456...
Unless...
“So that we could save each other,” he finishes aloud, slowly, as realisation dawns. Because, if Jack hadn’t appeared today, when would he have thought to do something for the Captain? And what would he have done? Not talked to him, no; he knows himself too well to pretend he would. Some gesture, a token, a signal, perhaps, that he knew what Jack had been through and wanted to make sure he was all right, but nothing that actually made a difference.
“Save each... what do you mean?” Jack frowns, staring at him again.
And right at that moment there are four knocks on the TARDIS door.
*****
tbc in chapter 2