PG, Captain Jack / The Doctor (Nine)
...And Back Again
By elfin
Dark eyes glisten, stars in the desert sky. Large hands
cradle his head while strong arms support his weakening body.
Slumped helplessly against the lean form, Captain Jack wishes he's able
do more but lie there and die.
"I thought you were dead." The voice is rough, emotion scraping over
sandpaper.
"I was." That pathetic half-whisper is all he can manage. "I will be."
"I would never have left you."
"I know."
He
tries to lift a hand - just one hand - to the all-too-familiar face.
But his arm won't budge and instead the Doctor does it for him, taking
one hand into his own and holding it. He slides hot fingers between
Jack's cold digits.
"Stay with me." The pain in the Doctor's voice is palpable.
"I... I don't think I can." Jack gives the Doctor a wan smile. "Sorry."
"Don't...." A single tear breaks from the dark eyes, rare and beyond
sad. "I won’t lose you. I've only just found you again."
There’s
a sudden pain and the Doctor tightens his grip, glancing down at their
joined hands... at the shards of light that slice through his pale
flesh.
What...? But before he can make sense of it, Jack's hand
slackens. "No.... No." The heartfelt pain of losing the man he’d
believed dead for so long mingles with his own physical pain. He tries
to shout at Jack, to keep him there, but all he can do is bite off a
cry as the bright shards tear further along his arm.
Regeneration.
Why...?! Why now?
He can’t stop it.
The
Doctor throws back his head, holding Jack's precious body in his arms
even as the fierce agony rips through him and the scream is torn from
him.
But instead of stripping his own skin from his bones, the
light soaks into Jack's motionless form, healing the wounds, sealing
flesh, shocking the heart into restarting.
Jack’s head falls
back and the first breath he takes is carried on a yell of terror. It
grates down into his lungs and comes rushing back out too quickly. His
eyes open wide, fearful, and he stares at the Doctor as the light pours
of out him.
He doesn’t want this. He doesn’t want to take what
the Doctor can’t afford to give. But he doesn’t know how to stop it or
even if it’s possible without killing them both. For a second time he’s
being brought back to life and his time it hurts, more than anything
he’s ever known.
His limbs are on fire, his clothes burning on
his skin. Where the phaser seared through flesh and muscle and
important internal organs, the path burns brightest. Struggling is
pointless, he hasn’t the energy to move a finger still trapped between
the Doctor’s.
He would gladly shift from the tight hold if he
could but he’s being hugged as if all life in the universe depended on
him being in the Doctor’s arms.
A blink of an eye, time holds
steady in strands pulled tight. Then the moment ticks past. The light
fading, taking the pain with it.
The Doctor gracefully topples
backwards, head hitting the metal grille beneath them, muscles in his
thighs pulled tight, arms loosening.
Jack heaves in a breath,
fighting a body that no longer feels like his own. He raises one
trembling hand to his face, drawing his fingers over his features,
confirming they’re still his own while reaching his other hand to the
Doctor’s chest, trying to find a heartbeat. One will do.
“Doctor?”
His voice sounds alien to him, but it *is* his voice, not that of a
stranger. And he’s oddly relieved, as if living isn’t enough. He wants
to live as himself.
‘How fucking selfish, Jacky.’
Somehow
he pushes himself up, his weight on one shaking arm, fingers scrabbling
at the Doctor’s T-shirt. “Come on, Doc… please. You can’t be dead. Not
for me… I’m nothing. Not for me.” He lifts his hand to wipe harshly at
the wetness in his eyes before edging closer, pulling again on the dark
cloth. “Doctor….”
Hand spread on the Doctor’s chest he suddenly
feels it – two hearts start to beat in that eternal rhythm. And
relieved, Jack lets himself drop back to the hard, cold floor. “Okay…
okay. You’re alive. It’s okay.”
He doesn’t move from there for a while.
~
Rose
watches the two men crashed out on the low couch – lying half-on,
half-off the battered leather-like material. Legs spread.
Jack’s
left ankle is hooked over the Doctor’s right. Jack’s head tucked in
against the Doctor’s shoulder, his arms crossed over his chest. The
Doctor has his head tipped against the back of the couch but one arm is
wrapped possessively around Jack’s shoulders. Both of them are snoring
softly.
She has them both back alive. She’s tried to understand
what happened but the Doctor isn’t sure how or why he was able to use
his regeneration to save Jack and Jack… Jack’s in awe of what the
Doctor did for him – whether he meant to or not.
For a while the
balance will continue to shift until they all settle again into what
might be new roles. She doesn’t know how to feel about that. But she
will and until then she’s happy to wait and watch because she hasn’t
seen the Doctor happy since Satellite 5. He hasn't danced since
they left Jack, dead at the whim of the Daleks. Maybe he'll dance
again.
end
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