TAGD-verse Fic: Understand All Mysteries
Story: Understand All Mysteries
Author: wmr/ wendymr
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: PG
Summary: "You don't need a scar on your face, Jack lad; you've got enough on your heart."
A TAGD-verse ficlet, set a couple of weeks after Burned. Written for yamx in grateful appreciation for this lovely surprise.
Understand All Mysteries
The bandages came off this morning.
Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, Jack traces his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth with fingertips that still shake. Less than two weeks ago, he escaped an inferno - no, was saved from an inferno, the wanton destruction of his planet and his people by enemies he will never forgive.
He’s only alive because the Doctor risked his own life to save him. And he’s only recovered as well as this because of the Doctor’s skills - and his love. No doubt about that.
Jack’s face is still red in some places and white in others, but he knows enough about dermal regeneration technology to know that in a few weeks’ time no-one will ever know he was burned. His hands have recovered most of their mobility, and with a few more exercise and sonic therapy sessions will be good as new.
In a few weeks’ time, there’ll be nothing left on his body to remind him or the Doctor that he was pulled from Schattenwelt seconds before the planet exploded.
He’ll never forget, and he’s well aware the Doctor won’t either.
Part of him, as he studies his reflection, wishes there were scars. It doesn’t seem fair that everyone else died and he’s escaped unscathed. He should carry some permanent mark of Schattenwelt’s destruction, if only as a reminder-
“You don’t need a reminder, lad.”
“Damnit, stop sneaking up on me.” He turns, facing the Doctor, who’s now leaning against the door-jamb. “How could you possibly know what I was thinking?”
“Way you were lookin’ at yourself, wasn’t difficult to figure out.” The Doctor straightens, comes closer. “You honestly think you need a physical reminder? You’ll never forget.” A large hand lands on his shoulder. “You’ll be thinking about something completely different, an’ suddenly a stray thought’ll hit you and you’ll be back there all over again. You’ll turn a corner, see a face that looks vaguely familiar, and it’ll all come back. You don’t need a scar on your face, Jack lad; you’ve got enough on your heart.”
Jack nods. He couldn’t speak if he tried. There’s a lump the size of his fist swelling in his throat. It’s a sensation he’s getting used to.
But this is different. The Doctor’s never spoken to him like this before.
Oh, for as long as he’s known the Doctor he’s known that the Doctor lost his planet - that he’s the last of his kind. He met the Doctor just after it happened, after all. Not that the sixteen-year-old kid he was then had a clue about what the stranger with the cool bigger-on-the-inside box had experienced, or how he must be feeling inside. Now, though... oh, now he knows.
They’ve never really talked about Gallifrey - correction, the Doctor’s never really talked about Gallifrey. Apart from the occasional casual remark - about his time at university, or the hidebound traditionalism of his people - it’s as if the Doctor never did anything in his life other than travel in the TARDIS.
But he did. He once had a home, too. And it burned. It’s gone.
Jack’s known that, but never really got it. Not until now.
“Does it-” He swallows. “Does it ever get better?”
The Doctor pauses, then tilts his head slightly. “What d’you think? You’ve known me long enough.”
“I know you’re good at pretending,” he answers immediately - and it’s true; it’s only now that he really sees how good.
“Maybe.” The Doctor lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Yeah, it gets better. Never completely - you’re never gonna wake up an’ just not care any more. But there are things that help, besides time.”
“Like what?” He knows he sounds desperate, but... well, he is. This just hurts too goddamn much. Okay, he never wants to forget, but if there’s a way he can wake up and not feel this tearing agony in his heart...
The Doctor smiles. “Like a sixteen-year-old boy with wonder in his eyes when he sees the TARDIS for the first time. Or the pride in a young man’s face when he graduated from the Time Agency. Or realising that even an eight hundred year-old Time Lord can be loved - and love in return. An’ I don’t just mean sex, though that did help.” A wicked grin hovers over the Doctor’s lips. “Lots of things will help, lad, once you’re ready to let them.”
The lump’s back in his throat again. He really made that much difference?
Strong arms wrap around him, folding him into a hug. “Yeah, you helped. An’ now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”
The Doctor steers him back into the bedroom. “Mind, there’ll be times you’ll hate me for it. Not gonna let you hide yourself away indefinitely, I’m not. You’re alive, Jack. Gonna make sure you live. Not immediately,” he adds quickly as Jack flinches. “But when you’re ready - when I think you’re ready. That’s a promise.”
Knowing the Doctor, he means it. But as long as Jack doesn’t have to deal with that today, it’s okay.
Today, just being alive is more than he can come to terms with. But, if the Doctor’s right, some day he will be okay with it.
And one thing he’s learned, in all these years of knowing the Doctor, is that the man’s almost never wrong.
- end
Author: wmr/ wendymr
Universe: Through A Glass Darkly
Characters: Ninth Doctor, Jack Harkness (Pete's World)
Rated: PG
Summary: "You don't need a scar on your face, Jack lad; you've got enough on your heart."
A TAGD-verse ficlet, set a couple of weeks after Burned. Written for yamx in grateful appreciation for this lovely surprise.
Understand All Mysteries
The bandages came off this morning.
Standing in front of the mirror in his bathroom, Jack traces his jaw, his cheeks, his mouth with fingertips that still shake. Less than two weeks ago, he escaped an inferno - no, was saved from an inferno, the wanton destruction of his planet and his people by enemies he will never forgive.
He’s only alive because the Doctor risked his own life to save him. And he’s only recovered as well as this because of the Doctor’s skills - and his love. No doubt about that.
Jack’s face is still red in some places and white in others, but he knows enough about dermal regeneration technology to know that in a few weeks’ time no-one will ever know he was burned. His hands have recovered most of their mobility, and with a few more exercise and sonic therapy sessions will be good as new.
In a few weeks’ time, there’ll be nothing left on his body to remind him or the Doctor that he was pulled from Schattenwelt seconds before the planet exploded.
He’ll never forget, and he’s well aware the Doctor won’t either.
Part of him, as he studies his reflection, wishes there were scars. It doesn’t seem fair that everyone else died and he’s escaped unscathed. He should carry some permanent mark of Schattenwelt’s destruction, if only as a reminder-
“You don’t need a reminder, lad.”
“Damnit, stop sneaking up on me.” He turns, facing the Doctor, who’s now leaning against the door-jamb. “How could you possibly know what I was thinking?”
“Way you were lookin’ at yourself, wasn’t difficult to figure out.” The Doctor straightens, comes closer. “You honestly think you need a physical reminder? You’ll never forget.” A large hand lands on his shoulder. “You’ll be thinking about something completely different, an’ suddenly a stray thought’ll hit you and you’ll be back there all over again. You’ll turn a corner, see a face that looks vaguely familiar, and it’ll all come back. You don’t need a scar on your face, Jack lad; you’ve got enough on your heart.”
Jack nods. He couldn’t speak if he tried. There’s a lump the size of his fist swelling in his throat. It’s a sensation he’s getting used to.
But this is different. The Doctor’s never spoken to him like this before.
Oh, for as long as he’s known the Doctor he’s known that the Doctor lost his planet - that he’s the last of his kind. He met the Doctor just after it happened, after all. Not that the sixteen-year-old kid he was then had a clue about what the stranger with the cool bigger-on-the-inside box had experienced, or how he must be feeling inside. Now, though... oh, now he knows.
They’ve never really talked about Gallifrey - correction, the Doctor’s never really talked about Gallifrey. Apart from the occasional casual remark - about his time at university, or the hidebound traditionalism of his people - it’s as if the Doctor never did anything in his life other than travel in the TARDIS.
But he did. He once had a home, too. And it burned. It’s gone.
Jack’s known that, but never really got it. Not until now.
“Does it-” He swallows. “Does it ever get better?”
The Doctor pauses, then tilts his head slightly. “What d’you think? You’ve known me long enough.”
“I know you’re good at pretending,” he answers immediately - and it’s true; it’s only now that he really sees how good.
“Maybe.” The Doctor lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. “Yeah, it gets better. Never completely - you’re never gonna wake up an’ just not care any more. But there are things that help, besides time.”
“Like what?” He knows he sounds desperate, but... well, he is. This just hurts too goddamn much. Okay, he never wants to forget, but if there’s a way he can wake up and not feel this tearing agony in his heart...
The Doctor smiles. “Like a sixteen-year-old boy with wonder in his eyes when he sees the TARDIS for the first time. Or the pride in a young man’s face when he graduated from the Time Agency. Or realising that even an eight hundred year-old Time Lord can be loved - and love in return. An’ I don’t just mean sex, though that did help.” A wicked grin hovers over the Doctor’s lips. “Lots of things will help, lad, once you’re ready to let them.”
The lump’s back in his throat again. He really made that much difference?
Strong arms wrap around him, folding him into a hug. “Yeah, you helped. An’ now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”
The Doctor steers him back into the bedroom. “Mind, there’ll be times you’ll hate me for it. Not gonna let you hide yourself away indefinitely, I’m not. You’re alive, Jack. Gonna make sure you live. Not immediately,” he adds quickly as Jack flinches. “But when you’re ready - when I think you’re ready. That’s a promise.”
Knowing the Doctor, he means it. But as long as Jack doesn’t have to deal with that today, it’s okay.
Today, just being alive is more than he can come to terms with. But, if the Doctor’s right, some day he will be okay with it.
And one thing he’s learned, in all these years of knowing the Doctor, is that the man’s almost never wrong.
- end