Broken Threads 4/6?
Story: Broken Threads
Author: wmr wendymr
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Jack Harkness; appearances by Toshiko Sato, Owen Harper, Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper
Rated: PG13
Spoilers: Doctor Who universe up to Voyage of the Damned and AU from there; Torchwood universe: reference to many S2 episodes, up to and including Fragments, but AU from Sleeper onwards.
Summary: “Knew you always wanted me, Jack. I thought that if I gave you what you wanted... you might say yes.”
With very many thanks to dark_aegis for BRing and lots of brainstorming help.
Chapter 1: Proposition l Chapter 2: Tensions l Chapter 3: Decisions
Chapter 4: Departures
Grey. If there’s any chance he can find Grey - and without having to resort to crawling to that bastard Hart, or whatever name he’s using now - it’ll be worth any sacrifice.
Yes, it’d be nice to travel with the Doctor again. For a moment, too, it was tempting to consider going back to the future, to a time that’s more technologically and ideologically advanced, or even to tell the Doctor he wants to take him up on his earlier offer, but none of those matter half so much as finding his kid brother.
“Brother? You never mentioned family, Jack.”
He moves back to lean against the door, arms folded. “You never asked.”
The Doctor nods in acknowledgement, his expression sober. “No, I didn’t, did I? And I should have. Of course I should. I’ve just been realising how little I know about you, Jack. But!” the Doctor exclaims then, a finger pointing firmly in his direction. “You could have told me. All that time we were together, the three of us, you could have told me any time. Asked me to help. You’re not going to blame it all on me. Are you honestly gonna tell me you thought I wouldn’t have helped?”
Did he? Truth be told, it never seriously occurred to him to ask. And anyway... “Never thought you’d leave me behind on a deserted space station, either, did I?”
“Oh, no.” The Doctor wags his finger. “We’re not bringing that one up again. You want me to say it, Jack? Then I will. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have left you. But that was after. Still doesn’t explain why you never asked me.”
He rubs a hand wearily over his eyes. “Rose told me what happened when you took her back to see her dad, Doctor. And I thought Grey was dead. So...” He shrugs. “What was the point?”
“You said thought.”
“Yeah.” He exhales sharply. “Until a few weeks ago. Someone from my time - another ex-Time Agent - turned up here. Told me he found Grey, then vanished before I could ask him... before I could...” His voice gives out and he stares at the floor, fighting sobs.
“And you’re only telling me all this now? When I’m on the point of leaving?” The Doctor’s far closer than he was seconds ago. “Humans.” He can hear exasperation - and something else, something that almost sounds like hurt - in the Doctor’s voice. “As long as I live, I don’t think I’ll ever understand you lot.”
Jack raises his head, emotions mostly under control. “And I don’t think I’ll ever understand Time Lords - and I’m gonna live a hell of a lot longer than you will.”
“Maybe, maybe not, Jack,” the Doctor comments, tugging at his ear and avoiding his gaze for a moment. “Told you, I don’t know. But we can try to find out, if you want. Not now. More important things to deal with. Anyway. This Time Agent, is he someone you’d trust?”
“Him? Hell, no. I don’t think he’d know the truth if it slapped him in the face.” Right. And he knows what the Doctor’s next question is, so he gets in first. “It’s just... I was searching for so long...” It’s why he joined the Time Agency, after all, but he never did get the chance to go back to Boeshane. And then, after he left the Agency and went freelance, he was scared to. Afraid of what he’d find.
“I know,” the Doctor says softly. “When you want something that badly, when you’ve missed it so much, you’d be willing to believe anything if it meant getting it back.”
The empathy in the Doctor’s voice is almost overwhelming, and for the first time he really understands why his friend was so willing to forgive the Master. He’s reminded, too, of the look on the Doctor’s face back at the end of the universe as they talked about Rose, trapped in a parallel universe. Yes, the Doctor understands why he needs to believe that Grey’s alive.
“Well, there’s really only one more question for now, Jack.” The Doctor’s tone is brisk again. “How long do you need to be ready? An hour? A week? A month?”
***
Two hours, Jack says. When he questions, Jack’s firm about it: he hates protracted goodbyes, and he insists all he needs is to see to some things in his office - a few papers he needs to take with him, some artefacts that need to be locked away and so on - brief Gwen on protocols and then say his goodbyes.
Of course, he assures Jack, it needn’t be for long. Time machine. They could be back tomorrow, if he wants. It’s not. The others need some time without him, Jack argues; he’s not going to go into reasons, though at least one of them’s obvious. It’s beginning to seem as if Jack’s going to make another request once they’ve found out what happened to his brother: that he’ll want to be taken somewhere in the future, back to the fifty-first century or somewhere close to then.
Well. It’s not as if he doesn’t owe Jack enough. But he’s not convinced that that’s the right decision either. Something about today, or maybe events leading up today as well, has shaken Jack’s confidence, both in himself and in his bond with the Torchwood team. Once he’s had time to put it all in perspective, Jack will want to come back. That’s a certainty. He cares about this team, this place, far too much to walk away permanently.
A little over two hours later, he’s leaning against the TARDIS door, having changed out of his bloody shirt, holding Jack’s rucksack - and that’s a familiar feeling - as Jack, also in clean clothes, says goodbye to his team. It’s a second, and public, farewell for all of them; Jack’s had them in his office, one by one, for private conversation.
A long, fond embrace and kiss on the forehead for the timid, highly intelligent Toshiko. A hug, too, for Owen, who - surprisingly - hugs back. Oh, if Jack thinks these people won’t miss him, he’s very mistaken. Another long hug and forehead kiss for Gwen, who looks as if she was hoping for a kiss on the lips. And finally Ianto, who takes the initiative and kisses Jack full on the mouth, giving the Doctor a look over Jack’s shoulder that makes the statement of possession clear.
Jack really does protest too much. He loves all of these people, including the one he says is just a convenient bed-partner.
And then it’s over, and Jack’s running to the TARDIS. “Let’s go,” he says, with a clap to his shoulder.
Yes. He’s been here - in Torchwood, a name that still gives him the shivers - far longer than he intended or wanted to be. Nodding, he leads the way into the ship, dropping Jack’s rucksack just inside, and runs to the console. Jack joins him, showing immediately that he’s forgotten very little about flying the TARDIS.
The dematerialisation sequence starts, and they’re away.
How ironic. He’s got what he wanted, what he practically begged Jack for, when he came here this morning, and after he’d concluded that he really didn’t want it after all, that Jack’s the last person he needs as a travelling companion, for so very many reasons. Yet here they are, the Time Lord and the Man who Can’t Die.
As a swashbuckling duo setting out together to save the universe, they probably would make a great team. Brilliant, in fact. If they had any notion of trying to save each other... no, quite the opposite, he’s certain of it.
***
They’re leaving. He’s leaving.
After all this time, over a hundred and forty years, he’s finally getting away from Earth three thousand years before he was born. Oh, yeah, he got away briefly over a year ago, but that hardly counts; the Doctor had him back on Earth, back in this time, within a few hours. This time, he doesn’t intend to come back.
He glances at the Doctor, who seems to be avoiding his gaze. And, right, there’s that expression he caught on the Doctor’s face as he turned after Ianto kissed him. Pity, primarily, but also something that looked a bit like... well, in a human he’d call it jealousy, but maybe the Doctor’s not that different after all.
“You know, you really don’t need to let Ianto get to you. Only a year ago, in his timeline anyway, he was hiding his Cyberised girlfriend in the basement.”
And, anyway, everything’s cool with Ianto, even despite that last kiss. Yes, there’s a bit of territorial behaviour going on, but Ianto took the news of his departure with equanimity, even when he hinted at a slight possibility that he might not be coming back. “Course I’ll miss you. But I always knew you’d leave some day,” his lover told him before kissing him, hard. “And if you do come back, you know we’ll be glad to have you.”
A brief widening of the Doctor’s eyes is all the reaction he gets to the Cyber mention. “And why would you think he’s getting to me?”
A grin spreads over his face; oh, the Doctor’s such a master of denial. And he’s feeling so light-hearted, so free for the first time in decades. He moves into the Doctor’s personal space and lifts his palms to the Time Lord’s face. “I haven’t forgotten you had your tongue down my throat this morning, Doctor, even if you have.”
Before the Doctor can reply, he’s kissing him, every bit as hard and intense as he was kissed a few hours earlier. And it’s every bit as good, even if the Doctor pulls away too soon. It’s very gratifying to see that the guy’s breathing heavily. And he kissed him back. There’s no disguising that.
“Enough of that, Jack. Think it’s time you told me about your brother, don’t you?”
And now he’s the one who’s just a bit breathless. This will be the first time he’s told anyone about Grey in almost a century and a half. The first time he’s even said his brother’s name aloud.
And he finds himself procrastinating slightly. Looking away, staring into the Time Rotor as it rises and descends, he begins, “I grew up on the Boeshane Peninsula. It -”
“I remember,” the Doctor interrupts. “The Face of Boe, they called you.”
He laughs, but it’s bitter. “If you knew the first thing about the Boe, you wouldn’t have believed that for a second, Doctor. I was winding you up.” For reasons he has no intention of explaining, either; he’s not going to tell the Doctor that his complete lack of concern about the permanence or otherwise of Jack’s state made him come up with the ridiculous suggestion. “I knew what you’d assume. Come on, Doctor, I know who the Face of Boe is. I’ve met him! And even if I hadn’t, I’d heard about him from Rose back in the day, and I heard Martha telling you about him and that prediction.”
“Right.” The Doctor’s very still all of a sudden. “Right. Of course. You’re immortal. Your body’s got infinite healing capacity. Of course you couldn’t...” He presses his palms flat against the console, staring down at a monitor. Then, abruptly, he looks up again, wide brown eyes staring across at Jack. “I’m glad. I’m glad. Even if I was... well, maybe comforted’s the right word, though I’m not sure... that I was with you. With him. In the end. You know, when he died.”
He’s robbed of breath once again by what’s just been revealed. It’s a few moments before he can shake his head. “I’m sorry. Yeah, I was just kidding. Never imagined you’d take it seriously.”
He receives a look which reminds him of black leather and prominent ears, and almost imagines he hears a Northern voice proclaiming stupid ape.
“Right.” He exhales. “Grey. What you need to know is that the Boe was under constant threat of invasion. As kids, we’d even play invaders and resistance. Anyway,” he adds more quietly, his gaze fixed on the Time Rotor again, “the day it happened that’s what we were doing. My father came and found us. Told us we had to run to safety. He told me to hold Grey’s hand and not let go. And I did. I thought I did.”
He’s there again, back on the Boe, on the day his childhood ended. Unbelievable noise all around - shouts and screams of terror, people calling loved ones’ names, the screech and booms of invasion, of murder and destruction. Smoke and confusion everywhere. Running, running, desperate to escape with his life - with their lives - searching for his dad, trying to get to his mother. Grey struggling to keep up with him.
Finding his mother, then his father - dead, Dad can’t be dead - and his mother asking that question that’ll haunt him for the rest of his life, however long it is.
“Where’s Grey?”
Looking down at his hand, the hand Grey was holding, and finding it empty. The grief and blame in his mother’s eyes. The endless hours of searching, turning over dead bodies, lifting stones and rocks and debris, looking for his brother or for any clue to what happened to him. Finally, days later, being forced by neighbours to leave on one of the evacuation ships with his mother.
Even on the mainland, never giving up searching for Grey, and never being able to look his mother in the eye again. Standing by her graveside six months later, the only words he was able to say, over and over, “I’m sorry.”
He jumps as a hand presses on his shoulder. “Jack. Jack.” Blinking, he looks at the Doctor, almost surprised to see the TARDIS interior rather than the bleak landscape of the Peninsula.
“How old were you?”
He swallows. “Fourteen. Grey was eight.”
“Fourteen,” the Doctor echoes. “A child. And you were orphaned?”
“Grey was eight,” he repeats. “Eight, and I let go of him. I should have taken care of him. I should have protected him.”
“You were a child yourself.”
“Kids grew up quickly on the Peninsula,” he comments, hearing the harsh tone of his voice and pausing, swallowing, trying to regain his equilibrium. God, it’s been so long since he’s let himself dwell on this.
The Doctor’s other hand lands on his opposite shoulder, so that he’s got no escape. “What do you want to do, Jack? How do you think we should go about trying to find Grey?”
Good question. But, actually, now that he thinks about it he has an answer. “We go back to the Peninsula, to the day it happened. I want to see what happened to him. We let go of each other - he must have gone somewhere. Did he get killed? Taken hostage? Put onto an evacuation vessel? If I see, then I’ll know and I can find him.”
“Dangerous, Jack.” The Doctor’s voice is soft. “You know the risks of changing history. And even if you’re not intending to change it, or even if you’re not tempted to change it,” he adds, a sterner note in his voice, “the mere fact of being there could change it anyway. You could be seen.”
He shakes his head. “Doctor, I was a Time Agent, remember. I know the risks. If you turn our keys into perception filters, like you did before, we won’t be seen.”
And finally, after more than a century and a half, he’ll know what happened to Grey; whether his brother’s alive or dead, and whether it really was his fault, as he’s believed for so long.
***
Perception filters. It’s a good plan. Should work, too, better than the last time they used them.
In one of the TARDIS workshops, he does what’s needed, with Jack’s help; it’s certainly easier than last time, when he had to assemble tools from whatever they could scavenge. They’ll work better this time. Still wouldn’t fool another Time Lord, but then it’s not as if they need to.
“What did you do, Jack?” he asks, and he’s wishing he’d asked all of this a long time ago. He just took Jack at face value then, assumed there was nothing more to him than a former Time Agent who’d made a few bad choices and just about deserved a chance to redeem himself. He never even offered to help with Jack’s lost memories.
Did Rose ask? It’s the sort of thing she would have. She’d have wanted to know about Jack, where he came from, what he did before they met him. That’s Rose all over; interested in people, wanting to know their stories. But Jack never really liked talking about his past, so... Not that that’s any excuse for him not asking.
“Your mother died. You were fourteen. What did you do?”
Jack shrugs, attention apparently focused on his task. “I did what every other kid in my position did. I survived. I was lucky,” he adds after a moment. “Got caught running a scam to earn money, and the guy who caught me gave me a break. Said I had skills that’d be better used elsewhere. He gave me a job and twelve months to prove I could stay out of trouble, and then he recruited me into the Time Agency.”
Somehow, that doesn’t surprise him. “But how old were you then?”
Jack glances up then, and his smile’s almost the old conman Jack. “Sixteen. But I said I was eighteen. There was no way of checking - all the records back on the Peninsula were destroyed.”
Good time to ask something else he’s wondered about. “So, how many times have you changed your name?”
Jack shows no surprise that he knows. “Lost count somewhere around twenty. When I was a Time Agent I had at least twelve different identities. By the time I quit, the name I was born with barely meant anything to me any more.” He shrugs. “I became Jack Harkness a few months before I met you and Rose. I guess I liked the man I was then, so I kept the name.”
“Even after I left you?”
Jack exhales noisily. “Didn’t know why you left, did I? For a while, I thought maybe it was a mistake. I thought maybe you’d be looking for me, and if I changed my name again... So I kept it, for all the good it did me.”
He smiles. “It’s a good name. Suits you. I think he’d be proud.” Before Jack can react to that, he continues, holding up the keys, “Right! That should do it. Want to go now?”
Just for a moment, Jack looks... well, if he had to describe it, he’d say terrified. The fake smile that appears a moment later is further evidence. “How about sex first?”
He tuts. “Behave.” Although, to be fair, he is the one who put it on the agenda, so to speak, even if he’s now thought better of it. He’s pretty sure, all the same, that Jack’s only procrastinating. He loops his arm around the Captain’s shoulders. “Come on. No point delaying, is there? The sooner we go...”
“The sooner you can dump me again?” Jack suggests, an edge to his voice.
“Did I say that? I was going to say the sooner you’ll know what happened to your brother.” Taking his arm back, he rams his hands deep into his trouser pockets and brushes past Jack on the way out of the room.
“Sorry.” Jack hurries to catch up. “Guess I’m just a bit on edge. I’m past all that, I swear.”
“Mm.” They walk in silence back to the console room, but the Doctor pauses before going to the controls. “Y’know, Martha said something you should think about. Made me think too, she did. She said - it was after I turned our keys into perception filters the first time - she said if I really wanted to keep you away permanently I’d have changed the lock. Never did. Your key still worked, remember? Still works now.”
Jack stills. “True. So...” He spins around on his heel, and blue eyes look directly into the Doctor’s. “That mean you’d let me stay, after I find Grey, or I find out what happened to him?”
He sighs and marches to the console before answering. “Course I wouldn’t kick you out. But isn’t it about time you decided what you actually want, instead of letting other people make that decision for you? I mean, Jack. First the Time Agency. Then Rose and me, and then me again. And then Torchwood. Me again, if you want to look at it that way. And... ooh, today, that was a few ghosts of the past, and your team as well. Right?”
“What I want,” Jack repeats, sounding deep in thought as he comes to stand by the console. Just like old times, really, having him over there to the right, except that Rose should be in between them, and she’s not. Still. No helping that. “You know, I spent almost a hundred and forty years thinking I knew what I wanted, and even then I don’t think I got it right. What I really want - apart from finding Grey - is a home. Somewhere to belong.”
Well, that makes two of them. Except he does have a home, really - one last piece of home, the TARDIS. Without that... well, he’d be as lost as Jack.
Where he belongs... that’s something Jack’s going to have to work out for himself. However much the Doctor might want to fix what he once broke, that’s something that’s not as simple as a quick buzz of the sonic screwdriver, or a trip in the TARDIS. One thing he’s determined on, though: if he can do anything at all to help Jack, he will.
***
Of course, there’s no response from the Doctor to that. Afraid he’s going to want more than the Doctor’s prepared to give. For a while, this place felt like home; for those few months when it was the three of them travelling and saving the day and laughing and having fun together. It was like a dream - but, like all dreams, it ended.
Still. Enough. “So, need co-ordinates for the Boeshane?” Time to remind the Doctor what they’re supposed to be doing.
“Nope, got it. Need a date, though.”
He gives it, and the Doctor’s in the middle of programming their destination when suddenly he stops, stares at the console and exclaims, “What? What!”
“Doctor?”
“No! Not now!” He tears at his hair, still staring at the screen. “Can’t you see I’m busy!”
“What?” A rush of something - excitement? relief? - fills him. “She’s not malfunctioning?”
The Doctor gives him a disgusted look. “My TARDIS? Malfunctioning? Wash your mouth out with soap!”
“What then?”
The Doctor stabs at the console with a slender finger. “Mauve alert! Got to respond. Can’t just ignore a mauve alert.”
“Course not.” He’s smiling. Grinning. “Where’s it coming from?”
“The TARDIS is tracing it. Sorry. Means finding your brother will have to wait.”
That should matter. But the longer they delay, the longer he can tell himself that Grey survived, that he’s alive and well somewhere with a very good reason why he never tried to find his family.
“Got it! Saluratii Major. Now, that’s weird -”
“Isn’t that a nuclear wasteland?” he interjects. “Massive radiation fallout everywhere, toxic levels way beyond fatal? Or is the signal coming from before that happened?”
“Nope, looks like about eleven Earth years after the war.” That’s right. It was the final act in a devastating civil war that tore apart the planet and eventually destroyed it. “Definitely weird. Shouldn’t be anything living at all on that planet. Not now.”
“Maybe someone landed there accidentally - or crashed. If they’ve been exposed to the environment, they’ll be dead by now.”
The Doctor’s response is exactly what he’d expect, all the same. “Doesn’t matter. They’re calling for help. I’m responding.”
“Good thing you’ve got me, then,” he comments wryly. After all, the Doctor certainly can’t go onto the surface of the planet; his body would be poisoned in seconds and he’d die painfully - within weeks or years, depending how high the radiation levels are out there. Blind within seconds, perhaps, and his entire immune system wiped out within twenty-four hours.
The Doctor gives him a very fleeting glance and a slow nod. “Good thing, yes.”
***
It is a good thing, but it’s also a bad thing. He can’t just expect it of Jack that he’ll sacrifice himself over and over again, that he’ll die, often painfully, whenever he’s called upon to do so. What’s his death-count by now? Well into the thousands, he knows even without exploring Jack’s timelines closely.
Oh, he’ll be all right this time; the radiation won’t kill him at all, just as the stet radiation didn’t. Still doesn’t make it fair, though.
“Think I’ve got a radiation suit somewhere,” he comments casually. It’s enough to let Jack know that he doesn’t have to be the one to go.
“Oh, yeah? And how old is it? When was it last tested?”
“Jack, this is the TARDIS, not your odds and ends cupboard at Torchwood. It’ll be in perfect working order.”
“Doctor, with all due respect, shut up.”
“Well, I like that!” he protests. “With all due respect? No respect at all, you mean.”
Jack glances his way with a half-smile. “There’s no-one I respect more, and you know it.” He’s already running towards the door; they’re materialising, after all. No time to get that radiation suit, then. At the door, Jack pauses and salutes. “See you in hell. Sir.”
“Wait!” he shouts, checking the viewscreen. “At least let me see what’s out there.” He knows Jack’s showing off, but he’s not going to let the bloke be an idiot on top of it.
“I’m guessing a wasteland plus some new dead bodies,” Jack comments dryly, but stills his hand on the door.
Jack’s right about the landscape. It’s bleak and barren, full of craters - and there are even faint wisps of smoke coming from some of them - and the few bits of vegetation visible are no more than withered, blackened twigs. It’s definitely highly irradiated, too; warning indicators are flashing all over the console. No sign of life... No, wait. There. A small craft, barely large enough to carry a human toddler, resting on the edge of a crater just a few yards from the door, and the TARDIS is detecting heat signals. Whoever’s inside is alive.
He relays the information to Jack, who nods. “Hope it’s airtight. Okay, back in a few.” Jack opens the door, and a second later he appears on the viewscreen, picking his way across the ground, apparently unaffected by the toxic atmosphere.
As he watches, the phone in his pocket rings. Surprised, he answers it, only to hear Jack’s voice in his ear. “Didn’t feel the same doing this without talking to you.”
“Right.” He grins; same old Jack. “Though you can’t see me this time. Can see you, though. That’s - what, the fifth time you almost tripped?”
“You try walking on this surface,” Jack retorts.
“I’ll have you know my sense of balance is excellent,” he points out.
The viewscreen shows that Jack’s crouching down in front of the craft now. “Looking inside it now, Doctor,” Jack tells him. “There’s someone inside, all right.”
But there’s a sound... something beeping? “Jack! What’s that noise? Sounds like a timer?”
There’s a pause, during which all he can hear is the intermittent beeps, at perfect one-second intervals. Then, just as he’s about to demand that Jack talk to him, the answer comes. “Looks like the ship’s emergency defence system kicked in. I think the guy inside’s dead.”
Emergency defence? “It’s going to blow up? Jack, get out of there!”
But Jack’s not moving. “Hang on, just checking something.”
“Jack!” Yes, Jack can’t die - but can he? If his body’s dismembered in an explosion, then what? Maybe he’ll be all right, but what if he’s not? “Jack, you’ll have seconds - oh, bloody hell!”
Throwing the phone to the floor, he breaks into a run, heading for the door.
***
tbc