Auction fic: That Which Is Perfect (TAGD-verse)
Story: That Which Is Perfect
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: G
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly - set some unspecified time after The Beholder's Eye, while Jack is still with the Time Agency. See the Through A Glass Darkly-verse index post for full chronology and guide.
Summary: "Just decided to drop in."
For yamx, for her generous donation to the Wiggie's Posse bid on me in the Support Auction; prompt at the end of the ficlet. Yes, I am working on the full-length story won by the Posse, but I took a break to write this. 1000 words exactly. With grateful thanks to dark_aegis for the BR, despite her crazy schedule and being away from home.
That Which Is Perfect
Slowly, he drags himself up the stairs to his seldom-used apartment. Almost four months since he’s been here, but the beer will still be fresh. And cold. There should be half a bottle of hypervodka left as well, if he remembers correctly. It’s gonna be needed.
He’s so exhausted and pissed off that it takes two attempts to get the key in the lock. Stumbling inside, he’s so focused on that beer he’s going to pour the instant he makes it to the kitchen that he doesn’t first notice the visitor sitting in his armchair.
Or the big blue box in the corner.
“Gonna say hello, Jack?”
“Doctor!” Beer forgotten, he swings around to face his visitor. It’s not until his heartbeat returns to normal, once he takes in the leather jacket and close-cropped hair, that he realises what he was afraid of. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He glances at his wrist-computer; did a message go astray?
“Just decided to drop in.” The Doctor’s tone is casual, but his expression isn’t.
“You know, don’t you?”
The Doctor stands. “That you lost three of your crew in a pointless fight with Athlo’onians? Yep.”
Did he have to spell it out so baldly? But that’s the Doctor. “Didn’t think it was pointless when we went into it.”
A nod. “What was it? Bad intel? Someone out to pick a fight?”
“Could be either. There’s an investigation,” he says, shrugging off his flight jacket. “I just spent the last three days being interviewed.”
“And you’re knackered.” The Doctor hasn’t come any closer to him, but he can feel the man’s gaze on him. “What’re your plans?”
He releases a long, slow breath. “To get as drunk as I can as quickly as I can.” Raising an eyebrow, he adds, “Could be persuaded to do it in bed.”
“An’ why would I want to go to bed with a drunkard?” The Doctor strolls over to the TARDIS and pushes the door open. “I’m off. Coming?”
That’s it? No words of comfort, not even a hug - just an I’m off and a casual invitation to come or not? For just one second, he’s tempted to tell the Doctor to bugger off; he’s got a date with a cold beer and a hypervodka.
Then he sees the way the Doctor’s looking at him. This is comfort. This is why his lover came tonight.
The beer will still be here when he gets back. Three paces takes him to the TARDIS, and one more takes him inside. The Doctor’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Made the right choice.”
He just nods, following the Time Lord to the console. There’s a red jacket thrown over the rail. “New companion?”
“Been with me a while,” the Doctor answers, tone casual. “She’s visiting her family. Said I’d be back in the morning.”
He assimilates the information without comment. The Doctor frequently has people - usually young women, and generally, but not always, one at a time - travelling with him. Despite his protests, the Doctor really doesn’t like being alone, and besides travelling’s much more fun when you’ve got someone to show off to.
As far as he knows, none of these temporary inhabitants share the Doctor’s bed - not that he’d have any reason to object if they did. It’s generally years, sometimes decades, between these visits for the Doctor. And besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have any other bed partners.
“Where are we going?”
The Doctor looks up from the console. “Where would you like to go?”
Instead of answering, he slides a finger back and forth along the coral edge. The alien controls, tied together with bits and pieces of salvaged scrap the Doctor’s picked up over the centuries, fade away and instead he’s seeing the second ship in his command engulfed by a fireball.
It happened so damn suddenly there was no time for evasive action. All they were supposed to be doing was observing, gathering intel on a rumour that the Athlo’onians were starting to increase weaponpower.
And then, out of the blue, an ambush.
They were outnumbered, and he’d just issued an order to the four other ships in his command not to engage, head back to base. He’d sent out the universal we are retreating signal, expecting that the Athlo’onians would respect it. Instead, they blew Jamel and his crew out of the sky.
It’s not as if he hasn’t lost people before, but this was so abrupt, so pointless, just as the Doctor said - and he can’t help asking what he could have done to prevent it.
The inquiry will ask questions, but he’ll bet there won’t be answers. Maybe Jamel was just too slow to signal his retreat; perhaps it was a trigger-happy Athlo’onian. Or maybe it was a set-up.
The Doctor’s still waiting for an answer. He looks up. “Somewhere... peaceful.”
In return, he gets a wide smile. “I know just the place.”
***
“It’s called the Eye of Orion,” the Doctor says as he steps outside onto the lush green grass, taking in the distant hills, the stream winding beside the rocky track leading away from the TARDIS, and the warm sun beating down. “Was inhabited centuries ago, but it’s been deserted except for plant and animal life since.”
“It’s beautiful. Perfect.” He starts walking, breathing deeply to inhale the sweet, fresh air. No trace of spaceships, fire, fighting or even the general detritus of human or humanoid life here. Right now, he wouldn’t even trade a double hypervodka for this.
The Doctor’s arm wraps loosely around his shoulders. “Yep. My favourite place in the universe.”
Oh. “Why’d we never come here before, then?”
A pause; then the Doctor says, “Never brought anyone else here before.”
He starts, begins to speak. But it’s obvious that this isn’t something to ask questions about. The Doctor brought him here now, and that’s all that matters.
Instead, he gestures ahead, his heart lighter already. “Race you to the top of that hill!”
- end
Prompt: Jack’s upset about something, so Nine takes him somewhere to cheer him up, somewhere he’s never taken a companion before
Author: wmr / wendymr
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: G
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly - set some unspecified time after The Beholder's Eye, while Jack is still with the Time Agency. See the Through A Glass Darkly-verse index post for full chronology and guide.
Summary: "Just decided to drop in."
For yamx, for her generous donation to the Wiggie's Posse bid on me in the Support Auction; prompt at the end of the ficlet. Yes, I am working on the full-length story won by the Posse, but I took a break to write this. 1000 words exactly. With grateful thanks to dark_aegis for the BR, despite her crazy schedule and being away from home.
That Which Is Perfect
Slowly, he drags himself up the stairs to his seldom-used apartment. Almost four months since he’s been here, but the beer will still be fresh. And cold. There should be half a bottle of hypervodka left as well, if he remembers correctly. It’s gonna be needed.
He’s so exhausted and pissed off that it takes two attempts to get the key in the lock. Stumbling inside, he’s so focused on that beer he’s going to pour the instant he makes it to the kitchen that he doesn’t first notice the visitor sitting in his armchair.
Or the big blue box in the corner.
“Gonna say hello, Jack?”
“Doctor!” Beer forgotten, he swings around to face his visitor. It’s not until his heartbeat returns to normal, once he takes in the leather jacket and close-cropped hair, that he realises what he was afraid of. “I wasn’t expecting you.” He glances at his wrist-computer; did a message go astray?
“Just decided to drop in.” The Doctor’s tone is casual, but his expression isn’t.
“You know, don’t you?”
The Doctor stands. “That you lost three of your crew in a pointless fight with Athlo’onians? Yep.”
Did he have to spell it out so baldly? But that’s the Doctor. “Didn’t think it was pointless when we went into it.”
A nod. “What was it? Bad intel? Someone out to pick a fight?”
“Could be either. There’s an investigation,” he says, shrugging off his flight jacket. “I just spent the last three days being interviewed.”
“And you’re knackered.” The Doctor hasn’t come any closer to him, but he can feel the man’s gaze on him. “What’re your plans?”
He releases a long, slow breath. “To get as drunk as I can as quickly as I can.” Raising an eyebrow, he adds, “Could be persuaded to do it in bed.”
“An’ why would I want to go to bed with a drunkard?” The Doctor strolls over to the TARDIS and pushes the door open. “I’m off. Coming?”
That’s it? No words of comfort, not even a hug - just an I’m off and a casual invitation to come or not? For just one second, he’s tempted to tell the Doctor to bugger off; he’s got a date with a cold beer and a hypervodka.
Then he sees the way the Doctor’s looking at him. This is comfort. This is why his lover came tonight.
The beer will still be here when he gets back. Three paces takes him to the TARDIS, and one more takes him inside. The Doctor’s hand lands on his shoulder. “Made the right choice.”
He just nods, following the Time Lord to the console. There’s a red jacket thrown over the rail. “New companion?”
“Been with me a while,” the Doctor answers, tone casual. “She’s visiting her family. Said I’d be back in the morning.”
He assimilates the information without comment. The Doctor frequently has people - usually young women, and generally, but not always, one at a time - travelling with him. Despite his protests, the Doctor really doesn’t like being alone, and besides travelling’s much more fun when you’ve got someone to show off to.
As far as he knows, none of these temporary inhabitants share the Doctor’s bed - not that he’d have any reason to object if they did. It’s generally years, sometimes decades, between these visits for the Doctor. And besides, it’s not like he doesn’t have any other bed partners.
“Where are we going?”
The Doctor looks up from the console. “Where would you like to go?”
Instead of answering, he slides a finger back and forth along the coral edge. The alien controls, tied together with bits and pieces of salvaged scrap the Doctor’s picked up over the centuries, fade away and instead he’s seeing the second ship in his command engulfed by a fireball.
It happened so damn suddenly there was no time for evasive action. All they were supposed to be doing was observing, gathering intel on a rumour that the Athlo’onians were starting to increase weaponpower.
And then, out of the blue, an ambush.
They were outnumbered, and he’d just issued an order to the four other ships in his command not to engage, head back to base. He’d sent out the universal we are retreating signal, expecting that the Athlo’onians would respect it. Instead, they blew Jamel and his crew out of the sky.
It’s not as if he hasn’t lost people before, but this was so abrupt, so pointless, just as the Doctor said - and he can’t help asking what he could have done to prevent it.
The inquiry will ask questions, but he’ll bet there won’t be answers. Maybe Jamel was just too slow to signal his retreat; perhaps it was a trigger-happy Athlo’onian. Or maybe it was a set-up.
The Doctor’s still waiting for an answer. He looks up. “Somewhere... peaceful.”
In return, he gets a wide smile. “I know just the place.”
***
“It’s called the Eye of Orion,” the Doctor says as he steps outside onto the lush green grass, taking in the distant hills, the stream winding beside the rocky track leading away from the TARDIS, and the warm sun beating down. “Was inhabited centuries ago, but it’s been deserted except for plant and animal life since.”
“It’s beautiful. Perfect.” He starts walking, breathing deeply to inhale the sweet, fresh air. No trace of spaceships, fire, fighting or even the general detritus of human or humanoid life here. Right now, he wouldn’t even trade a double hypervodka for this.
The Doctor’s arm wraps loosely around his shoulders. “Yep. My favourite place in the universe.”
Oh. “Why’d we never come here before, then?”
A pause; then the Doctor says, “Never brought anyone else here before.”
He starts, begins to speak. But it’s obvious that this isn’t something to ask questions about. The Doctor brought him here now, and that’s all that matters.
Instead, he gestures ahead, his heart lighter already. “Race you to the top of that hill!”
- end
Prompt: Jack’s upset about something, so Nine takes him somewhere to cheer him up, somewhere he’s never taken a companion before