Title:  Hearing Things

Author:  Joolz

Genre:  Torchwood/Doctor Who Crossover, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Rating: R (for violence – there’s no sex)

Characters/Pairings: Jack, Doctor, Martha, Torchwood Team; Sorry, there are no real pairings.  Jack/Doctor pre-slash, with hints of Jack/Ianto, Doctor/Master.

Season/Spoilers: Set in early TW S2, with references to the DW S3 Finale Arc, and to the Master’s past during Classic Who.

Word Count: 16,800

Summary:  Jack’s mind is playing tricks on him.  Or is it something more sinister?

Notes: This has taken about a  year to write, as my fan-fiction muse seems to be reinventing herself as a non-fiction muse.  But I wanted to finish it up and get it shared with you all! 

Many thanks as always to my steadfast beta Lady Ra.

Warnings: Violence, as expected from the Master.  Suggestive references to what he might have done to Jack on the Valiant.

Disclaimer:  Not my lovely characters, just playing with them.

 

++++++++++++++++++

 

 

Jack was desperate and scared.  There weren't a lot of things he was actively afraid of anymore, but this was one of them.  His body was apparently going to live a very long time, but what if his mind betrayed him?  He could end up like the poor bastards at Flat Holme, except that there was no secure facility he wouldn't outlast.  It was a complete fucking nightmare, which seemed to be coming closer all the time.

 

He was desperate enough to finally dial the number, pretending that his hands weren't shaking.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Martha, it's Jack.  Jack Harkness," he said, trying to keep his voice steady.  He was calling her at her new flat, and she probably hadn't been awake very long.

 

"Of course it is.  I do recognize your voice, silly.  On the pull again, are you?" she asked teasingly.  After finding out that Martha had decided to stay on Earth instead of going with the Doctor, he'd kept in touch and established an ongoing flirtation.

 

"Ah, no, not this time.  I need your help."  He sighed loudly, expressing his frustration and resignation.  "There's really no easy way to say this.  I think…I think I'm losing my mind."

 

Puzzled, Martha asked, "Jack, what on Earth are you on about?" 

 

"Martha, I'm really sorry to bother you with this, but I just don't know who else to turn to.  I'm not used to asking for help."  Even getting the words out was hard.  "This is the first time I've felt… like I can't… handle something… myself.  I need someone I can trust."

 

"Well you know you can trust me with anything.  But what about your team?"

 

"They're still, um, a bit peeved with me.  You know, for leaving them before."

 

"Oh my god, Jack!" she exclaimed.  "Don't they know the price you already paid for that?"

 

"No!  They don't.  And I'd rather they didn't.  That's one of the reasons I called you.  You'll understand, uh, certain things."  It was getting harder to concentrate.  He didn't have much time left.

 

"Okay, Jack Harkness," Martha said sternly, "talk to me.  What's going on."

 

He said it quickly, to get it out before he had to think about it too much.  "I'm hearing things.  In my head.  That aren't real."

 

"Like what?"

 

"You remember the drumbeat he used to hear?  Of course you do, how could you not?  Well, I'm hearing that.  Sometimes it's deafening.  But that's not the worst.  I hear his voice."

 

"Whose voice?"

 

"His!  You know."

 

"The Master?"

 

Jack winced.  He didn't like using that name.  "Yes.  Look, I can't really talk about this over the phone.  Could you come down here?  I know you're busy, but it's getting worse, and," he swallowed the fear welling up in his throat, "I don't know what to do."

 

"Of course I will.  I've got nothing on today that can't be postponed.  I can be there in a few hours."

 

"Good," he said, relieved.  "Just come to the tourist information office under the Millennium Centre."

 

"Jack," she said, and he could hear the worry in her voice.  "Will you be all right?"

 

"I hope so.  I really do."

 

++++++++

 

 

It was easy to find the place she was looking for.  After all, it had only been five weeks since she and the Doctor had said goodbye to Jack here on the Plass, and he had run eagerly toward home.  Pity the reunion hadn't been everything he'd hoped for, what with the psychopathic ex-partner turning up first thing.

 

She entered the tourist office and a small bell on the door rang.  Behind the counter a young man in a sharp suit looked up.  "Yes, miss, may I help you?"

 

"You must be Ianto," she said.  "I'm Martha Jones and I'm here to see Jack."

 

Barely a flicker of surprise was visible on the man's face.  "I'm not familiar with any local attraction by that name.  I could offer you some brochures…"

 

"Ianto," she said emphatically, leaning forward.  "Captain Jack Harkness.  He called me and asked me to come.  I'm a friend of his.  Ask him yourself."

 

The young man regarded her evenly.  After a moment, he said, "Do you have some identification?"

 

"Yes."  She handed over her driving license.  "I know you have to be careful, but you do realize that some people are aware of Torchwood, yeah?"

 

"Miss Jones," Ianto said.

 

"Doctor Jones, as of next week."

 

"Doctor Jones," he inclined his head, "please wait here a moment."

 

He disappeared through a beaded curtain into another room, and she could hear him speaking quietly.  After a moment he came back and handed her the ID.

 

"Jack isn't answering, which concerns me because I know that he is here."

 

"Well, he's sick.  That's why he called me."

 

With a frown, Ianto pushed a button behind the counter and a section of the wall swung open.  "We'd best go see, then, hadn't we?"

 

They went down a ramp and into an elevator.  When the door opened again, Martha stepped out to see two people, a man and a woman, holding guns on her.  The woman, Gwen, Martha surmised, said, "All right.  I think you should explain your purpose here."

 

With growing impatience, she said, "I already told Ianto.  Jack asked me to come."

 

"She is who she says she is," said a pretty Asian woman, who was sitting in front of an array of computer screens.  Toshiko, then.  "She was involved with the incident when the hospital was transported to the moon, then went missing for a couple of weeks.  Was briefly sought as a terrorist along with Jack and the Doctor, then reappeared at the same time Jack came back, just after the problems on the Valiant."

 

"She says he's sick," Ianto informed them.

 

"That seems unlikely," Gwen replied.  "I've never known him to be sick a day."

 

The skinny man, who must be Owen, said, "Healthy as a horse, always, our Captain."

 

"Except," Toshiko said, "he hasn't seemed himself.  Haven't you noticed?"

 

Ianto nodded.  "I noticed.  I asked, but he insisted he was fine."

 

Gwen lowered her gun and said, a bit uncertainly, "I thought he was just sulking.  He can be quite moody."

 

Martha had had enough.  "I think it's more than that.  Look, if you would just point me toward Jack and get out of the way, I'd really appreciate it."  She walked farther into the cavernous room.  It wasn't exactly an Earth-standard office, but after all she'd seen it didn't rate a comment.

 

Owen tucked his gun into the back of his trousers, making sure she saw that he still had it with him, and said, "I think he's hiding out in his room again.  Been doing that a lot lately.  This way."

 

Martha followed Owen across a walkway, with the other three Torchwood staff members close behind.  They entered an office that had the look and smell of Jack in it, and his greatcoat hanging in the corner.

 

Owen rapped on a metal hatch in the floor.  "Oi, y'r majesty.  You have a visitor."  He tugged the hatch open, and Martha looked down at a tiny, bare bedroom.  It was dark, and she couldn't immediately see Jack, but she could sense that fizzy energy that signalled his presence.  She started down the ladder, then said to the four people peering in from above, "Stay there."

 

Setting her feet on the floor of the odd subterranean room, she peered around the gloom.  Martha gasped when she saw a flash of her friend's cheek illuminated by the light coming in through the hole in the ceiling.  He was sitting on the floor at the foot of the simple bed, his back against the wall, eyes open but unseeing.  "Jack?" 

 

He didn't move or react in any way.  Martha knelt in front of him.  "Jack?"  She reached out and touched his arm.  "Can you hear me?  It's Martha."  There was a slight pinching around his eyes and a few blinks.  With a firmer voice she prompted, "Jack Harkness, look at me right now.  That's an order, mister."

 

Slowly, his eyes focussed on her until recognition animated them.  "Martha," he breathed, still only partially present. 

 

"That's right.  It's me."  She was more than a little freaked out by what she was seeing.  The man before her bore little resemblance to the one she'd said goodbye to only a few weeks previously.  Despite having lived through a year of torture and death, he'd been strong, whole and vital, giving the impression that resilience was his middle name.  This man had dark circles under his eyes, sunken cheeks, and even in the dim light he looked pale.  Somehow he seemed smaller than he had before.  Fragile.  It was terrible to see.

 

"Jack," she said gently.  "Tell me what's going on."

 

His eyes narrowed in concentration.  "Told you, hearing drums and voices.  One voice.  Always his."

 

"The Master," she confirmed, and he nodded.  "Is it only auditory, or do you see things, too?"

 

Jack's brow furrowed.  "See him, sometimes.  More and more.  We're on the Valiant, in the engine room.  I'm strung up in chains, like I was."  Now that he'd started talking, Jack rambled on distractedly.  "You never saw me there, did you?  That's good.  It was ugly.  No way for a human to live.  Tish knows.  She saw it all.  Sometimes I think I'm back there in hell.  All I feel is pain, and all I hear is his voice."

 

Glancing up, Martha saw that four heads were still hanging over the edge.  They had to be hearing this, but there was nothing for it.  They were going to have to know more about what had happened, because Martha wasn't going to be able to deal with this on her own, if at all.  "What does he say?" she asked.

 

"Just like before.  Freak.  Failure.  Weak.  Helpless.  Worthless.  Abomination.  Pervert."  Jack snorted and said savagely, "Fucking hypocrite.  He'd call me a pervert and then touch me.  He'd say, if you're not good I'll hurt Tish or the Doctor.  Or Gwen or Ianto."  His voice weakened again.  "Now he says if I don't give in to him, he'll hurt them.  But he's dead, I know that.  He's just in my head.  It hurts so much, Martha."  His face contorted and Martha was afraid he was going to cry.  This sounded like more than flashbacks.  She thought they might be looking at a full-fledged psychotic break.

 

"What does he want you to do, exactly?" she asked, determined to keep him talking.

 

Jack struggled to answer her.  "Don't know.  He says submit.  Let go and it will all be over.  But I can't.  I won't.  Won't let him win, Martha.  I didn't before, no matter how many times he killed me, won't now.  But he's so strong."

 

"Why didn't you tell me this was happening when we talked on the phone?"

 

"Wasn't bad at first.  Just a niggle.  Started getting worse a few days ago.  Thought it was just reaction, you know?"  She did.  She and all her family were each having their own troubles adjusting, and she said as much.  "But not like this," Jack countered sadly.

 

"No," she agreed.  "Not like this."

 

"I'm there more and here less all the time.  Can't stop it."

 

Jack tipped forward slowly and eased himself into Martha's lap, wrapping his arms around her waist.  She supported his head with her arm and held him, glad that she could do that much for him, at least.

 

Against her abdomen he said, "Hate this.  Sorry.  Don't know what to do."

 

"Well," she said decisively, stroking his back.  "First thing is to get out of this hole.  You have equipment out there, yeah?  We're going to run some tests.  See if there's an organic cause, some lingering injury.  See if you have an illness or infection that can be treated."

 

"I've died.  Since.  A couple of times.  Can't be from the Valiant."

 

She didn't know exactly how Jack's immortality worked but it was a place to start, so she insisted.  "Humour me.  Tests won't hurt anything."

 

"Martha."   He looked up at her, his eyes wide and desolate.  "If we can't fix it, I don't know what I'll become.  Could be dangerous.  Nuke me.  Cover me in cement and drop me in the deep ocean.  Have the Doctor think of something.  Don't let me hurt anyone."

 

"We won't let you hurt anyone."  It was easy to promise, since he was weak as a kitten, but she knew that might not always be the case.  There was one thing she was glad he'd brought up.  "Jack, I'm going to need to call the Doctor."

 

"No!" he said sharply, then continued tiredly.  "No.  Please.  Don't want him to see me like this."

 

Martha wasn't surprised to hear him say that.  She knew how Jack felt about the Doctor, and how hard all this already was for him, without adding the Time Lord into the mix.

 

She sighed, "All right, for now.  Let’s run the tests, see what they say.  If I feel it's necessary, though, I'll call him.  Understand?  If this has something to do with the Master…."

 

He nodded in acquiescence.

 

She looked up.  "I could use some help getting him out of here."

 

There was a flurry of motion and Ianto appeared beside them.  Placing a hand on Jack's back, he said briskly but kindly, "I'm here, sir.  Shall we get you up and seen to, then?"

 

"Ianto," Jack sighed weakly.  "Sorry about this."

 

"I don't believe there's any apology necessary, sir.  Not on your part, anyway."

 

Martha looked at him, but couldn't tell what he was thinking. 

 

The young man helped Jack sit up, but it took both of them to get him onto his feet.  It was good that Ianto had come down, since of all of them he was the nearest to Jack's size; the same height, but slighter of build.  He was confident handling Jack, who seemed to accept the help without resistance. 

 

They got Jack started up the ladder with Ianto directly behind him, bracing him when he slipped or sagged.  Owen took hold of him and pulled him the rest of the way up none too soon, as Jack suddenly went limp and collapsed to the floor.  By the time Martha had climbed up to the office, Owen, Ianto and Gwen were carrying their boss down a few stairs to the lower level.

 

Toshiko was waiting for Martha, her eyes wide and serious.  "How long?"  She asked.  "How long was he on the Valiant?"

 

"A year," she answered.  "A year of being tortured and killed.  I wasn't there, but my parents and sister were, held hostage.  From what they've told me it was bad, and I'm sure they don't know all of it."

 

"And the Master?"  Toshiko asked.  "Who was he?"

 

"Prime Minister Saxon.  Actually an alien, the same kind as the Doctor.  But think of the worst mass-murders you can imagine - Hitler, Pol Pot, Rwanda - and he made them look like amateurs.  We defeated him in the end, the Doctor, Jack and me, and turned back time, but at a cost."  Martha watched the others carry Jack down a curved staircase into what looked like a morgue.

 

"One that's still being paid, it seems," Toshiko said.

 

"Yeah."  She followed them down, ready to start the tests.  Hoping they would provide some answers.

 

++++++++

 

 

Martha watched as Dr. Owen Harper studied the readout on his computer screen. He made puzzled faces and hmm'd a few times.  She exchanged a look with Toshiko, who was standing beside her, with Gwen and Ianto close behind them.

 

"What is it?" Martha asked.  "What does it show?"

 

"Well," Owen said, leaning back in his chair.  "As I said, this is a hybrid of an f.M.R.I. machine and some alien tech.  Since Tosh and I finished it, we haven't had a lot of opportunity to test it.  We did take baseline readings of everyone on staff, though.  This," he turned the screen so that they could all see, "is Jack's normal brain activity."

 

The monitor showed a three dimensional image of a brain, coloured to indicate the intensity of brain activity.  The colours oscillated as electrical currents sparked, ebbed and flowed between the different sections – right hemisphere to left, brain stem to motor cortex, etc. –faster than the eye could follow.

 

"As much as I hate to say it," Owen went on, "when compared to ours, Jack's scan showed an average of one third more activity."

 

"Huh," said Gwen, with interest.  "You never mentioned that."

 

"Wouldn't, would I?  Have some sense of self-preservation.  He'd gloat about it for weeks."

 

"Would he?"  Ianto asked quietly.  "Somehow I don't think it would come as a surprise to him.  There's not much about Jack that's average."

 

"Oi, Teaboy," Owen said, "don't start with the tape measure again."

 

Martha rolled her eyes.  She could see exactly why Jack felt at home with these people.

 

"Let's try to stay on topic," she admonished.  "This was taken before he went away?"

 

"Yeah, about a month before."  He pressed some keys, and the screen divided in half to show a second image.  "And this is now."

 

Even at a casual glance the difference was clear.  The new image was brighter, more active everywhere, with a few areas lit up blindingly.  "May I?" she asked.

 

Owen stood and motioned toward the chair with feigned gallantry.

 

Martha sat and studied the images, then glanced at Jack where he lay on a nearby lab table, his head encased in a mesh cap lined with sensors, which was connected to a piece of equipment no larger than a toaster.  He was unconscious, but not resting easily.  Shifting facial expressions and muscular twitches telegraphed his distress.

 

On the screen his brain activity was displayed in real-time, with a startling level of detail.  You could turn the image, zoom in to the interior of the organ, follow the paths of individual electrical currents.  Alternately, it could be set to measure blood flow changes at the same level of detail.  This was an amazing diagnostic tool that would change the field of neuroscience overnight, but that could wait until the immediate problem was solved.

 

She pointed to the brightest spot.  "This is the pre-frontal cortex, executive control; planning, reasoning, concentration."  Then another.  "The primary auditory cortex; the drums and voices, I'd guess.  The gamma rhythm radiation is off the charts."   She indicated a few of the darker spots.  "Some of the other sensory processing areas are dampened."

 

"What does it mean?" Toshiko asked.  "Can you tell what's wrong with him?"

 

Martha sighed.  "Not really.  Not so that it helps us.  Just that there really is something wrong, but it’s not a tumour or other observable physical cause.  His blood work came back normal, the other tests were normal given the stress he's experiencing.  This is clearly not normal, but we can't tell what's causing it.  And I don't know what will happens if it keeps up.  Will his brain burn out, will he shift to a new level of consciousness, or some other science fiction nightmare?"

 

"I dunno either," Owen said, "but I think we can assume it won't be good.  There are drugs we can use to numb parts of his brain, try to slow this down."

 

"Yeah, maybe," Martha said thoughtfully, "but not yet.  I'm going to request a consultation."  She took out her mobile phone and hit the speed dial number.  Jack hadn't wanted the Doctor to see him having a nervous breakdown, but this appeared to be a lot more than that.

 

The Doctor answered after a few rings.  "Martha Jones, old girl!  Do you miss me already?" he asked cheerfully.

 

"Absolutely pining, and watch who you're calling old," she said with a smile, then became serious.  "We've got a problem."

 

"Oh?"

 

"It's Jack.  He's in trouble."

 

"Why am I not surprised?" the Doctor asked dryly.

 

"Not that kind of trouble.  Look, I don't actually know what's wrong with him, but he's lying here unconscious and his brain is about to explode.  He's been having hallucinations; hearing the Master's voice and seeing him, hearing drums.  At this point we can't get him to come out of it at all."

 

"Martha," the Doctor was now completely serious, "when did this start?"

 

"A couple of days ago, apparently.  He called me this morning and I came right down.  Look, I don't know if this is something you can help with or not.  There isn't exactly a wealth of medical knowledge about Jack's physiology - his team here probably has more experience with that than anyone else.”  Other than the Master, but she wasn’t going there.  “I could use a second opinion, Doctor.  This is beyond me."

 

"Of course I'll come.  Torchwood, Cardiff, I suppose?" he asked unhappily.

 

"That's right.  But no one here will give you a hard time," she said, glaring at each of Jack's team in turn.  They nodded their agreement.

 

"On my way, then."  The connection broke.

 

"He's coming," Martha told the others.  "He should be here within a few minutes."

 

"Will he land in his usual spot on the Plass?" Ianto asked. 

 

Martha's eyebrows jumped with surprise.  "I expect so."

 

"I'll go escort him in, then."  Ianto headed up the stairs, and Owen went to remove the sensor net from Jack's head.

 

"His usual spot?" Martha asked the women.

 

"We've been trying to piece together information," Gwen said, "about what happened while Jack was away.  Doctor sightings, CCTV records, Saxon's televised statements, the bit about contact with an alien race."

 

"We've surmised that it had to do with the Archangel Network," Toshiko added.  "Some kind of hypnotic suggestion.  It worked on me," she said, amazed.  "Despite all my electronic shielding, I didn't suspect a thing.  Not even when they were building the Valiant.  I assumed UNIT was using their own alien technology, but that wasn't it, was it?  It was Saxon.  The Master."

 

Gwen said, "We knew something happened on the Valiant, but that part has never been clear.  We had no idea."  She looked at Jack mournfully.

 

"Did any of you think to ask Jack?" Martha challenged.

 

"I did," Gwen said.  "He said he'd died a lot, but then changed the subject.  He won't talk to us about his time away."

 

"Is that why you've been punishing him?"

 

"Who's been punishing Jack?" a familiar voice asked from the upper level.

 

Martha looked up and smiled with relief.  "Hello, Doctor."

 

++++++++++

 

 

The Doctor took in the scene below him.  Jack was lying on a table surrounded by equipment, and the rest of the people were clustered together talking.  He hurried down the stairs and skirted around them to stand next to Jack, studying him carefully.  He looked terrible, and the Doctor picked up one of his slack hands.

 

Martha answered his question.  "I was trying to find out why no one noticed what was happening to Jack until I got here today.  This might have been easier to deal with before it got so bad."

 

"In fairness," the Asian woman said, "we did notice something was wrong, but he was hiding it from us."

 

Martha rejoined, "And why didn't he feel he could tell you?  Because you were still angry at him for leaving."

 

"We aren’t holding a grudge," the familiar-looking dark-haired woman said, “but we’re not pretending it didn’t happen, either.  You see, we'd all just been through some very traumatic experiences.  We'd betrayed Jack, unimaginably, but then he saved our lives by sacrificing himself to a monster.  He saved our broken hearts by finally coming back to life again.  And then he saved our souls by forgiving us everything.  We were all pretty raw, and that's the moment he disappeared into thin air.  We thought he'd left us.  We needed him, and he chose to be with you."  She looked at the Doctor accusingly.

 

The Doctor definitely wanted to hear that whole story, but frowned back.  "Nothing to do with me.  A bit more communication among you lot might be in order."  Though, really, the Doctor knew he was probably worse about that than all of them combined.

 

The skinny bloke said sarcastically, "We’ll book a nice teambuilding workshop.  But we'll need Jack back for that, so if we could get on with fixing him."

 

"Quite right."  The Doctor was ready to focus on Jack, and glad for the change of topic.  "Who are you and what do you know?" he asked the room in general.

 

Martha introduced the team using their full names, and they seemed surprised at how much she knew about them.  She told them, "Jack talks about you," which apparently made them feel worse.

 

Martha went over what Jack had said he was experiencing before losing consciousness entirely.  It was quite disturbing, and the Doctor stared worriedly at Jack while he listened.

 

He heard Toshiko Sato ask, "The Master really is dead?  You're sure?  Is it possible he's trying to do that mind control thing again?"

 

"He's dead," Martha said without great conviction.  "We all saw it."

 

"But?" Toshiko prompted.

 

The Doctor answered, "But it's never that simple.  The Master attempted to destroy everything he touched, and took special pleasure in tormenting Jack.  I wouldn't be surprised if he found a way to continue trying even from the grave."

 

"Can you help him?" Ianto Jones asked softly. 

 

"Oh yes," the Doctor said with conviction.  "I'll help him.  I promise you that."  He took out his sonic screwdriver and scanned Jack's body.  The readings were entirely inconclusive.  "Show me what you've got."

 

Martha outlined the physical test results, also inconclusive, as Owen motioned for him to look at the computer screen.  Now that was interesting!  He'd always known there was more to the Captain than met the eye.  A bit more than human, in fact.  Nice tech, too.

 

"Lovely scanner, this is.  Where did you get it?"

 

Toshiko said, "We built it, Owen and I, using contemporary Earth tech and an alien artefact that came through the rift.  Jack thought it was of Letrian origin."

 

The Doctor grinned at her.  "He was right about that.  Nicely done!"  True, it was beyond what Earth humans should have access to at this time, but not dangerously so.  And knowing Torchwood, they weren't likely to share it.

 

The woman beamed at the praise. 

 

"Does it help, Doctor?" Martha asked.  "Can you tell what's wrong with him?"

 

"Nope!"  The 'p' popped loudly.  "Gives me some ideas of where to look, though."

 

"Look, how?" Gwen Cooper asked.

 

"Well, I'm going to have to go in, aren't I?  Have a poke around.  See what's what."

 

"You're going to operate?"  Gwen looked nauseous.

 

"Oh, heavens no.  No need for such primitive things as cutting him open.  I'm psychic, me.  I'll just have a look in his mind, see if I can find the problem."  The Doctor contemplated Jack's position lying on the autopsy table.  "First we need to move him.  He may be unconscious, but that cold metal table won't be helping him relax at all."

 

"I have just the thing," Ianto said.  "Clear a place on the floor."

 

As the others shifted machinery and furniture to create an open space, the young man brought out a thick square of vinyl.  When he pulled a tab on the article, air hissed into it and it inflated into a common air mattress.

 

"Will this do?" Ianto asked. 

 

"Yes, that's perfect.  Let's move him and get on with it, shall we?"

 

As they shifted Jack to the mattress, the Doctor asked, "So what ideas have you had for treatment?"

 

"Not many, I'm afraid, not without knowing the cause," Martha said.  "Drugs, maybe.  Talk therapy clearly isn't an option."

 

"We could kill him," Owen said, and the Doctor turned to stare at him, trying to see into the man's soul. "I'm not saying I want to.  I really, really don't want to kill him."  The young man blanched when he said that.  "But it has to be on the table as an option.  Anything that's wrong with Jack heals when he comes back to life."

 

Typical bloody Torchwood.  The Doctor told them, "No one's killing Jack.  That's final."

 

Owen held up his hands in surrender.  "You'll get no argument from me.  You can find a better way, I'm all for it."

 

The Doctor sat on the edge of the mattress and began preparing himself.  If this didn't work, he would take Jack to the TARDIS.  His equipment might show something they were missing, and they could try the Zero Room.  If this was an external influence, it might help.

 

"All right, I'm going to start."

 

Without waiting for any acknowledgement on their part, he placed his fingertips on and around Jack's temples.  The Doctor immediately heard a roar, which he couldn't readily identify.  It grew in volume and intensity as he moved farther into Jack's mental field, until it crashed over him like a freight train.  With a shout, he flew back and landed on his arse on the floor.

 

Martha knelt by him with one hand on his arm, and the other on his back.  "Doctor!  Are you all right?"

 

"Yes, I'm fine."  He shook himself, then shuddered for good measure.

 

"What is it?" Gwen asked.  "What happened?"

 

The Doctor had to think for a moment before he could answer, trying to understand it himself.  "It's pain.  Jack's mind is engulfed in a wall of pain.  Quite extraordinary.  There's no way he could remain conscious through that.”

 

Frowning, Ianto asked, "Does that mean you won't be able to go in as you'd planned?"

 

"No, I will.  I'll just have to take a different approach."  He re-seated himself next to Jack, and began preparing again, with more focus.  Before connecting with Jack this time, he encased himself in a protective bubble, and reinforced the barrier several times over.  Replacing his hands on Jack's head, he said, "Here I go."

 

This time he proceeded carefully as he entered Jack's mental field, ready for the impact when it came.  Inside his protective shield he was untouched, but the noise was deafening.  The Doctor hadn't experienced anything like this before, and while he was worried about what was causing this within his friend, he was also very curious. 

 

He experienced the pain barrier as resistance, like trying to walk forward in a straight line while being buffeted by a gale.  He carefully put one foot in front of another – figuratively at first, then he began to visualize himself physically walking through the storm.  There was resistance with each step, but he leaned into it stubbornly.  He'd done much harder things; he could do this.

 

All of a sudden he was through, and he gasped at the cessation of noise.  Reorienting himself, the Doctor found himself standing in a corridor he recognized from the Valiant.  It bode ill for Jack that this was the internal landscape he was projecting.  The more safe, comfortable and familiar the setting, the more peaceful and balanced the mind, and this was far from safe.

 

From a purely representational perspective, the pre-frontal cortex, which had exhibited the most intense activity, might have been the bridge of the ship.  However, the Doctor remembered Martha saying that Jack was seeing himself in the engine room, so he decided to start there.

 

As he walked down the hallway, some of the rooms on either side were decorated and populated, but he didn't stop to look.  Other rooms were shrouded in darkness, as though in those spaces it was the middle of the night.  That would be Jack's awareness of past and current events dampening to compensate for the higher energy use elsewhere.

 

In addition to the Doctor’s unease in this environment, there was something else underlying everything; a hum or vibration.  It made his skin crawl.  The Doctor recognized it as the Time Vortex being filtered through Jack.  He had become accustomed to it as part of being around Jack in the physical world, but in here it was greatly magnified.  He consciously muted his perception of it so that it wouldn’t distract him.

 

Continuing down the corridor, the light grew brighter, making him think he was on the right track.  Then, in a grey industrial space lined with steaming pipes, he found what he was looking for.

 

Jack was standing naked, his arms held out parallel with the floor by thick chains, just as they had so often been during That Year.  As he approached, the Doctor saw that Jack's body was covered with wounds.  Strips of skin had been peeled off and left raw.  Chunks of flesh were missing, as though someone had embedded fish hooks and pulled them straight out.  There were lash marks, burns, bruises, and cuts.  His face was battered so much as to be nearly unrecognizable, with his eyes swollen closed.  The injuries were at varying stages of healing, some looking fresh, while others looked quite old.

 

Appalled, the Doctor said, "Oh, Jack.  What has happened to you?"

 

The man in front of him gasped a shallow breath at the words, and his eyes opened a crack.  Jack looked at him blankly for several moments, then said, his voice weak and cracking, "Wishf'l thinking.  Y're not here."

 

The Doctor wanted to touch him, but didn't dare.  "I am here, I assure you.  Martha called me, and I've come to try and help.  What's doing this to you, Jack?"

 

A voice came from behind him.  "I am, of course."

 

The Doctor spun around, shocked to see the Master standing there wearing a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a red and black striped tie.  Looking as whole and real and smug as the last time the Doctor had seen him on the bridge of the Valiant.

 

"Master.  How…?"

 

"Oh, come now, Doctor.  Why so surprised?  This is a contingency plan that I put in place in case should it be necessary."  The Master walked forward and the Doctor stepped back, but the other Time Lord continued toward Jack and began carding his fingers through the man's dishevelled brown hair.  "During some of our more intense moments, while dear Jack was otherwise distracted, I planted a seed in his mind.  So satisfying, to rip his mind open as I ripped his body.  I left a copy of myself, dormant, unnoticeable unless activated.  Which was only in the event of my untimely death, of course.  Wouldn't do to have more than one of me wandering around, would it?  I don’t like that much competition."

 

"But why?" the Doctor asked.  "What do you hope to achieve?  Are you that obsessed with torturing Jack that you would go to these lengths?"

 

The Master raised his eyebrows.  "Do you mean you still haven't guessed?  This body, this immortal body, will be my next vessel.  I never have accepted death as quite final, have I?"

 

The Doctor was aghast.  He had half guessed - he knew what the Master was capable of, after all - but he had refused to really consider the epic disaster that it would be. 

 

"You can't be serious."

 

But of course the Master was deadly serious.  "Why not?  It's a perfect solution."

 

"Then why," the Doctor challenged, "haven't you done it?  Why are you torturing Jack instead of just taking over?"

 

"It is amusing to hear him scream," the Master said, then pouted.  "Oh, well, I admit that he's put up rather a better fight than I anticipated.  Very stubborn, your darling companion.  Quite irritating," he growled and glared at Jack, then slapped a broken cheek bone quite hard. 

 

Jack barely flinched.  He just blinked his eyes back open to continue observing their conversation.

 

"You can't take his body, can you?" the Doctor asked with some relish.  "He's stronger than any of your previous victims.  Jack has a high level of natural psychic ability of his own, Time Agent training against mental influence, and there's the Time Vortex itself to consider.  You can't take over."

 

"It's just a matter of time," the Master responded, certainty evident in his expression.  "He will break, and then his body will be mine.  There's nothing you can do about it.  I’ve studied this thoroughly, Doctor.  Once his consciousness is replaced, mine will be permanent, unaffected by deaths."

 

The Doctor shook his head.  "You planned this all along.  You knew I would defeat you on the Valiant."

 

The Master grinned arrogantly.  "Doctor, when have you ever known me not to have a plan B?"

 

"And plans C, D, E and F, as well," the Doctor agreed.  "I should have expected something like this."

 

"Yes, you should have.  But you didn't, so wrapped up in your pathetic grief.  And now it's too late.  I all but have possession of this body.  Think of it!" he crowed gleefully.  "A body that won't be burned out by my powerful presence.  One that will be impervious to physical threat, that can survive any attack or natural disaster.  No need even for regeneration.  I will be invincible!  I saw the possibilities the moment I understood what your little pet was, and I had time to prepare for this eventuality."

 

Pleased with himself, the Master went on, "Besides, I got to know this body quite well while I had it in my care."  He slid the palm of his hand over Jack's chest, heedless of the injuries that were aggravated by the action.  "I think it will do nicely.  If one is going to spend eternity in a single body, it's quite preferable that it be attractive and physically imposing.  It gives one so many pleasurable options."  The Master's eyes slipped out of focus, as though he were imagining the pain and humiliation he could inflict on others with a more powerful physique.

 

The Doctor glared.  "I won't let you do this.  I'll stop you just as I did before."

 

"Oh, you can try," the Master said.  "I'm firmly embedded in his mind, and in the end I am stronger than he is.  You know that's true.  You might as well accept it."

 

"Never," the Doctor vowed.  He stepped forward and reached for one of Jack's manacled wrists.  As he approached, he hit an invisible barrier and had to stop. 

 

"I won't let you interfere," the Master informed him mildly.  "And frankly, I don't know why you would want to.  It’s for the best, don't you see, Doctor?  Don't you want me back, so you won't be alone?  I've seen the Freak's memories.  I know how devastated you were when you thought I'd died.  You need me, admit it."

 

An ugly smile crossed the Master's face.  "And I know you fancy your handsome Jack.  Quite a bit, in fact.  But you can't get around the pesky detail that he's a mere human, can you?  Different species, different thought patterns, not able to join minds as well as bodies.  Poor Doctor, doomed to admire from afar, forever denying yourself what you desire."

 

The Master stepped closer, leaning to speak intently, his eyes narrowed.  "And I know how you feel about me, too.  Your desperation for the connection to another of your own species, your sentimentality for your boyhood friend.  I'm offering you a way to have both.  Think about it, Doctor.  When I take over you will have me, with the mind and abilities of a Time Lord, with all our shared history, and his pretty body as well."

 

The Master moved closer again, so that his breath brushed the Doctor's cheek.  "Imagine us twined together, those hands on your skin, that body fucking you, my mind melded to yours, with millennia to explore each other, the endless crests of deepening ecstasy.  We're moments away from that becoming a reality.  Tell him to let go, Doctor.  He'll obey you.  And then you'll have everything you want."

 

The Doctor's breath caught as the sensation of how it would feel ran through his body.  The Master's unique qualities – his inventiveness, focus and, the Doctor admitted with a thrill, his dominance – coupled with Jack's beauty and strength.  For a moment the wave of desire almost overwhelmed him.

 

Only for a moment, and only almost.  Because the sacrifice required to achieve that selfish fantasy would be far too great, and he knew it.  The Master could not be allowed to obtain an immortal body.  The entire universe would be forfeit.  The pleasure the Doctor might experience would take place in between acts of unimaginable violence and destruction, which the Doctor would be helpless to prevent.  His own soul would be lost if he in any way allowed that to happen.

 

But most of all, there was Jack.  Everything that Jack was, apart from his body, would be obliterated, and that was unacceptable.  Jack was a living being, unique and valuable even without the immortality.  The Doctor thought of that person, with all of his complexities.  At once experienced and guarded while also open and oddly childlike.  His frequent lapses into violence were balanced by a warm and compassionate heart.  Even though there were many things about Jack that annoyed and angered him, there were many more that made him want to laugh out loud or secretly made him proud.  The thought of losing Jack forever effectively quashed any desire for the thing that would bring it about.

 

He said evenly, his breath now brushing the Master's cheek, "No.  Master, you overestimate your allure, and underestimate Jack's.  I'm not saying I wouldn't like to have you back.  That would be a lie, and you would know it was.  But the thought of you looking at me through Jack's eyes, touching me with Jack's hands, is horrifying beyond words.  He has a right to his own life, and I won't trade that away, not even for you."

 

The Master purred, tickling the Doctor's mind as he psychically tried to influence the Doctor to believe his lies, "But think, Doctor.  You would have an eternity to turn me to your do-gooding ways.  Wouldn't you like to remake me in your image?"

 

"I did want to help you," the Doctor admitted.  "I did want to save you from the mania that so tragically distorted your mind.  But that isn't possible in this situation.  An act of such evil would never result in good.  Besides, I don't think the whole thing would turn out quite as you hope.  The hate inside you, combined with the Vortex energy, would soon enough warp and twist the body you inhabited.  You'd end up stuck for eternity in a hideous shell.  You've already experienced that once, Master.  Are you so anxious for more?"

 

The Master's eyes flashed as he shoved the Doctor and stalked away.  Turning, he spat, "Be that way, then.  It's your loss, because I will have this body.  You could have saved some of the lives you feel are so precious, but no, you'd rather stick to your high moral ground.  Once I have control of your Captain Jack's body, the first thing I'm going to do is use it to torture and kill his little friends.  You could have spared them.  Think about that as you watch me enslave the universe.  Think of all the deaths you could have prevented."

"That won't happen," the Doctor stated, "because I'm going to stop you."  He motioned to include Jack.  "We are going to stop you.  You know I can do it, because I always have before.  Always.  One disadvantage of being monomaniacal is that you insist on believing that you're invincible, no matter how often it is demonstrated otherwise.  This will be no exception."

 

A blast of the Master's will hit the Doctor, as the other Time Lord glared at him furiously.  "We shall see, Doctor."

 

Under the onslaught, the Doctor hastily pulled his shield bubble back into place.  He was being pushed backward, and would be pushed out, he realized.  Turning to Jack, who was watching them through slitted eyelids, the blue barely visible, he said, "You hold on, Jack, a little longer.  Whatever you do, don't give in, because I will be back.  Do you understand?”

 

Jack nodded weakly.  That would have to be enough.  The Doctor would have to depend on Jack's ability to endure.  He urged, "Just hold on.  I promise I’ll get you out of this.”

 

Even as he forced the Doctor backward, the Master laughed.  "Oh, yes.  We all know how dependable your promises are, Doctor.  Now it's your turn to lie rather than admit the truth."

 

Before he could respond, the Doctor entered the barrier of pain within which Jack's mind was trapped.  He grit his teeth and concentrated on maintaining the protective shield as he was propelled through the raging storm. 

 

Suddenly the Doctor was back in his own body, Jack's face beneath his finger tips.  He sat up, feeling shaky from the strain, and Martha was there to steady him.

 

"Doctor, what happened?" she asked.

 

He took a deep breath and looked around at the people watching him so attentively.  "'S not good," he said.  "Very not good.  It's the Master all right.  He's taken up residence in Jack's mind, and is attempting to take over Jack's body."

 

"Wha'd'ya mean, he's in Jack's mind?" Owen asked.  "Not literally, right?"

 

"Yes, literally.  The Master was a powerful telepath.  He left a duplicate of himself in Jack's mind, like a time bomb, set to go off if the corporeal Master should die."

 

"A horcrux," Ianto said, and the others looked at him with bafflement.  "From Harry Potter.  Voldemort hid bits of his soul in things, so that he could revive himself from them if necessary."

 

Owen smacked the young man.  "This isn’t a sodding children’s story, you pitiful wanker."

 

The Doctor said, "Actually, it is similar, and quite as dramatic.  Jack is experiencing this as a very real attack.  He's being tortured horrendously, with little other than his extraordinary stubbornness preventing the Master from replacing him in control of his body.  If he loses, he'll be gone forever."

 

"But how?" Gwen asked.  "This Master fellow's dead.  He can't just possess Jack, can he, like a demon?"

 

"I'm afraid he can."  The Doctor explained, "The Master has done this before, I don't know how many times.  Normally all he has to do is touch a person - he slips into their bodies and they cease to exist.  The last time he did it that I'm aware of, he animated the ashen remains of his cremated body by turning it into a thick, mobile sludge, after having been thoroughly and painstakingly executed by the Time Lord High Council.  Then he slithered around in that form until he chose a victim.” 

 

He went on, "If the Master's consciousness was strong enough to do that, this should be child's play.  Jack should already be gone.  I don't know why the Master hasn't simply displaced him.  It's very much to Jack's credit that he's been able to resist, but ultimately the Master will win."  The thought haunted the Doctor.  "I don't know if I would be able to withstand the assault he's experiencing."

 

"Doctor," Martha said, and he turned to face her.  "You're bleeding."  She motioned with her hand.  "From your nose."

 

He touched his fingers to his upper lip and they came away red.  "Oh, yes.  The Master is quite…formidable.  We mustn't waste time; I need to get back in there and rescue Jack."

 

Toshiko asked, "How will you do that?"

 

"That's the problem.  I have no idea."

 

++++++++++

 

 

Martha didn't like hearing that; she counted on the Doctor to know what to do.  She was worried about Jack, but the Doctor looked exhausted as well, after only a few minutes of the mind link.

 

As Gwen brought the Doctor a towel for his bloody nose, Martha asked, "What do you need, Doctor?  Just tell us."

 

"Thank you, Martha, but I don't believe there's much you can do.  You, Dr. Harper," he said, and the medic sat up straighter.  "Can you keep Jack hydrated and supply nutrients?  He needs all the strength he can get right how."

 

"Yeah, I can do that," Owen said, scrambling to his feet.  "I'll start him on an IV."

 

"Get him a blanket," the Doctor went on, "and keep his body as comfortable as you can.  I don't know if it will help very much, but just in case.  If he should recover quite suddenly, be prepared to restrain him any way you need to, until we can be sure whether it's him or the Master.  Your lives and many others would be forfeit if you should fail."

 

Martha saw Jack's team exchange uneasy glances.  This was all strange to them, and it couldn't be easy for them to trust Jack's fate to a man they'd known only by reputation.  But the Doctor had a way of winning over even the most resistant, so they voiced no objections.

 

"And what will you do?" Martha asked the Doctor.

 

"I need to meditate.  There is an answer, I'm sure of it.  I just need to sort it out in this busy old noggin of mine.  Is there a quiet place I could be alone?"

 

"You can use Jack's office," Toshiko said.  "It has a door that closes."

 

"That will be fine."  The Doctor began to stand, and Martha helped him.  She was concerned about how drained the Doctor appeared.

 

"I won't be long," the Time Lord said.  "Jack doesn't have much time.  It moves differently there, time does, inside his mind; the Master's doing I suppose.  Every few minutes will seem like an hour to him.  I promised I would be back."

 

"Then Jack will wait," Martha assured him.  "He believes in you."

 

The Doctor sighed.  "I hope his faith is well placed."

 

She and the Doctor moved up the stairs, with Ianto accompanying them, while the others tried to make Jack comfortable.

 

As they entered Jack's office, Ianto asked, "Is there anything I can get you, sir?  Something to eat or drink?  Do you have any, er, unusual dietary requirements?"

 

"Some babies would be nice.”  The Doctor smiled at his expression.  “Jelly Babies that is.  No?  In that case a cup of tea would be just the thing.  Or whatever's about.  I'm not fussy.  No pears."

 

"Right away."

 

When Ianto was gone, Martha and the Doctor shared a long, serious look, all humour gone from the room.

 

“Martha, I don’t know how to fix this.”

 

“You’ll figure it out.  I believe in you, too.”

 

Unfortunately, the Doctor didn’t look convinced.

 

+++++++

 

 

Settled comfortably, the Doctor's mind was drifting, weaving toward a meditative state, when a slight tickle in his awareness brought him back to the room.  Looking around Jack's office, his eyes fell on the cluttered desk.

 

He leaned forward in surprise and slipped on his glasses.  "Well, hello!" he said, as he peered at the piece of coral sitting on one corner.  The Doctor had some serious misgivings about finding a piece of TARDIS coral in Torchwood's hands, but not enough that he felt the need to take action.  It would be hundreds of years before that piece of coral matured, and who better to care for it than Jack?  He was sure Jack knew exactly what it was.

 

Ianto came in carrying a tray.  He set it down on a side table, poured the tea and offered the Doctor a plate.  The Doctor removed the glasses, accepted the sandwich gratefully and motioned to the other chair.  "Sit," he offered. 

 

Ianto did, and for a few moments the Doctor concentrated on eating, until he realised that he was being watched.  He looked up to find Ianto studying him carefully. 

 

"What?"

 

"Nothing, sir.  Sorry."

 

"No, go ahead.  You're thinking something."

 

"It's just," Ianto started, and the inexpressive mask dropped away, leaving him looking very young, "I was thinking about what an important role you've played in my life, and yet I'm only meeting you for the first time."

 

Puzzled, the Doctor asked, "Oh? What do you mean?"

 

"You've been part of everything that has happened to me for years now.  I was still at University when I was recruited to work for Torchwood in London."

 

The Doctor's eyes narrowed and he looked at Ianto critically, but the young man didn't react to his scrutiny. 

 

Ianto went on, "The first thing they told me about was you.  The great enemy of humanity.  If it weren't for you, Torchwood wouldn't exit – I sometimes wonder what I would have done with my life otherwise."  He smiled wistfully.  "If I'd have an office job, eat my sack lunch in the park, go back to my flat in the evening to play video games."  He shook his head.  "Never mind.

 

"Torchwood did exist," Ianto continued, "and there I met Lisa, and we fell so very much in love.  For that alone I thank you.  I wouldn't give up the time with her for anything, even considering…"  Ianto's face saddened.  "We were there at Canary Warf the day the Daleks and Cybermen came."

 

The Doctor stopped eating and frowned in sympathy.

 

"We were captured," Ianto said simply, but with profound emotion.  "But you were there, and saved the day.  At the moment you sent them away, they were in the middle of converting Lisa, and she was left like that.  Half woman, half cyber.  Not dead, but not alive either, really.  Had you acted one minute earlier or one minute later it would have ended there."

 

The food turned to lead in the Doctor's stomach, imagining what that would be like.  "I'm so sorry." 

 

"Thank you.  I'm aware that you lost someone that day as well.  So many did.  The next period of my life revolved around Lisa, because, you see, I couldn't let her go.  I tried to save her.  That's how I came to be here.  I convinced Jack to hire me so that I would have access to Torchwood's resources.  I hid her in the lower levels."  He sighed.  "That ended badly. 

 

"But then there was Jack, who not only forewent the pleasure of killing me, as I deserved, but who went rather out of his way to bring me back to life.  He became my anchor.  And imagine," he shook his head, "as I got to know him, I realized that you, of all people, were his anchor.  He didn't say, but I put the pieces together.  The hand, his disdain for Torchwood's mandate, certain comments he thought I wouldn't understand.  His focus always came back to you."

 

The Doctor wasn't comfortable with that piece of information, but he listened attentively, having the impression that the young Welshman didn't often unburden himself this way.

 

"There have been times," Ianto said philosophically, "that, though you weren’t there, it seemed you were more real to him than I was.  And since he found you again, that's even more true.  Still, I can't imagine my life without Jack, and now you're the one who will save him."  He finished, "It's amazing how the threads of one's life are woven so closely with another's, when they've never even met."

 

The Doctor had to agree.  Until the young man had politely invited the Doctor to accompany him into Torchwood earlier that day, he hadn't even been aware of the existence of Ianto Jones, other than as a faceless member of Jack's team.  That didn't make the threads any less tightly woven.

 

"And," Ianto said, "if you can give Jack back to us, I will be grateful to you for the rest of my life."

 

The Doctor saw the strands of time twist and cross into the future, and warned, "Gratitude pulls the web tighter, Ianto Jones.  I would go easy on it, if I were you."

 

Drawing back into himself, Ianto nodded his acknowledgement, then stood up.  "You should be preparing, not listening to me prattle.  I'll leave you to it."

 

After Ianto closed the office door behind himself, the Doctor finished his sandwich and the salt and vinegar crisps that accompanied it.  He resisted the urge to savour the rest of the small pot of tea, refocusing himself.  More lives were at stake today than just Jack's.

 

+++++++++

 

 

The Doctor’s mind processed the information he had into neat boxes on a graph; what he knew about the present situation, what he knew about the Master, what he knew about Jack.  He shuffled the boxes around, looking for patterns, waiting for connections to spark.  There were unknowns, too, and they got their own empty boxes.

 

The graph became three dimensional, exploring the depths and overlaps of the data.  Adding Time took it to a fourth dimension, and he consciously avoided looking at the possible futures.  They were capricious, and only served to frighten or entice.

 

Then he went beyond, to the fifth dimension that was native only to the mind of a Time Lord.  The Master also had access to it, even in his current state, but the Doctor doubted that he was capable of suppressing his demons long enough to make full use of it.  It was, perhaps, the only advantage the Doctor had.

 

In this heightened mental state, information was more fluid, yet more tightly bound.  It circulated in complex interlocking wheels and twisted into shapes that could not be imagined in the physical world.  The mechanism that formed attracted and generated Energy, Light, Sound, Emotion.  It crept close to something that could be called Truth.

 

When the process concluded there was a solution, clear and full of potential.  Potential for catastrophic failure as well as success, but that was irrelevant.  One had to act.  He had to act.  When had he ever had a choice about that?

 

With an acknowledgement of thanks to the Dimension that made this permutation possible, the Doctor dismantled the construct and returned to the world of the everyday.  He steeled himself a moment before rejoining the others, because he did not want to do this.  He Did Not.

 

++++++++++

 

 

Martha looked up in surprise as the Doctor slowly descended the stairs.  She was seated with Jack’s head in her lap, carding her fingers through his hair.  She didn’t know if it helped him, but it made her feel better.

 

“That didn’t take long,” she observed.

 

“Genius, me,” he said with a suspiciously bright smile.  “I did mention that, didn’t I?”

 

She played along.  “May have done, a time or two.”

 

The others gathered around expectantly.  The Doctor didn’t keep them in suspense.

 

“I know what to do,” he informed them.  “There is some risk involved, to Jack and to me.  If I fail, all I can do is apologize in advance.  If I fail, you’ll be left to clean up the mess, which won’t be pretty.”

 

“Mess?” Owen asked cautiously.

 

“Oh, I don’t mean here, in the room.  Won’t be any blood or splattered viscera, I shouldn’t think.  At least I certainly hope not.  No, I mean that the Master in Jack’s body could be one of the greatest dangers ever to exist in the universe.  You would want to keep it contained quite as long as you can manage.”

 

“Right,” Tosh said, nonplussed.

 

“But!” the Doctor went on brightly.  “Won’t happen, everything will be fine and dandy.  Shall we get started then?  No use standing about chin-wagging when there’s work to do, handsome captains to rescue.”

 

They shifted to give the Doctor room beside Jack, and Martha managed a quick hug and a whispered, “Good luck.”  She was startled when the Doctor responded by tightening his arms around her firmly.

 

“Thank you, Martha Jones.  And trust me.  Whatever happens, don’t let these well-meaning amateurs interfere.”

 

“Count on me.”

 

“I always do.”  His eyes were warm with affection, which made her feel happy and worried at the same time.

 

+++++++++++

 

 

The Doctor walked down the familiar ugly corridor, the item he had created feeling heavier in his pocket than its size and density accounted for. 

 

Jack was where he had last seen him, looking even worse.  Fresh blood pooled on the grating around his feet, and he looked like he was standing through will alone rather than muscle coordination.  But he was still there, and that was what counted.

 

“Jack,” he said.

 

The other man shifted and peered at him listlessly.  “Y’c’m back,” he said through swollen lips. 

 

“Told you I would.  Thank you for waiting.”  He wouldn’t have blamed Jack if he’d given up.  For him to have endured such evident pain on no more than his faith in the Doctor was humbling.  It wasn’t as if he didn’t have cause to doubt. 

 

“Isn’t that sweet,” the other voice said from the side of the room.  The Master sneered, “Come to say goodbye to your pet, did you?”

 

The Doctor turned to face his old friend/nemesis.  “No, Master.  I came to stop you.”

 

“Oh,” the Master clapped, “this should be good.  What clever scheme have you come up with?  You always are entertaining, I’ll give you that.”

 

The Doctor thought that the less he engaged in conversation with the Master, the better.  He needed to stay focused, and couldn’t afford to be distracted or manipulated by someone he knew was fully capable of both.  He removed the item from his pocket and raised it, pointed at the Master.  He kept his eyes on the other man’s face, rather than acknowledge the object more than he had to.

 

The Master stood up straight with surprise, and even bounced a bit on his toes.  “Oh, Doctor!  Noooo.  Not really.  Really?  You?  A gun?  You hate guns, quite obsessively and irrationally.  You must be so, so, desperate.”  He was starting to look smug again, and not frightened in the least.

 

“Needs must,” the Doctor answered curtly. The surface of the gun felt cool and oily in his hand.

 

“Do you even know how to use it?” the Master asked with sadistic pleasure.  “Have you fired a gun before?  Have you ever killed a man with a gun?” 

 

Of course he had.  The Doctor had done many reprehensible things in his life, mostly because he hadn’t been bright enough to find another way.  None of those instances were among his finest moments.  The older he got, the greater his aversion to firearms, but they declined to leave him be.

 

The Doctor was intensely aware of Jack’s gaze.  After all the times he had stopped Jack from using a gun in what most would consider entirely reasonable self-defence, what must he be thinking?  The Doctor was not unaware of the irony.

 

When the Doctor didn’t respond to his taunts, the Master gloated, “I love it, I really do.  Oh, the pathos!  The irony!  Like the famous gun that could kill Time Lords which turned out to be fake, because the Good Doctor would never resort to such barbarism.”  His voice filled with false sympathy.  “My own incarnation so recently cut short by the gun in a woman’s hand; oh how you cried.  Poor, poor, Doctor.  I’ve driven you to betray everything you believe in, haven’t I?”  He frowned exaggeratedly.

 

Then the Master tapped his chest, spread his arms in invitation and brightened maniacally.  “Well, go on, then.  Take your best shot, as they say.  Find out if it makes the slightest bit of difference.”

 

The Doctor held the stance for a few moments, then sighed and lowered his arm.  “Chance would be fine, but no, that wouldn’t work, would it?  You’re not really substantial enough, are you?  Your appearance is mostly a projection of Jack’s imagination; you’re not physically here.”

 

“Oh, Doctor, don’t be sad!  Have a go anyway, I insist.  It’ll make you feel like you made the effort, and maybe cut down on the pouting I’ll have to endure later.”

 

The Doctor shook his head.  “No point in that.  Especially as that wasn’t actually my plan at all.”  He turned to face Jack and raised his weapon to the new target.

 

Jack’s eyebrows jumped, showing his surprise, and he made the effort to stand up straighter.

 

The Doctor kept his eyes on Jack, but heard the confusion in the Master’s voice.  “That’s your plan?  Have you decided to speed things up after all?  Anxious to get your hands on my new body, are you?”

 

“This is how I will defeat you, Master.  You gave yourself away without realizing.”

 

“Oh,” the Master said, a hint of concern starting to creep into his voice, “how so, exactly?”

 

“We’ve been here before, haven’t we, manner of speaking.  On the Valiant, Jack in chains, you enjoying a bit of recreational torture.  I know your style.  For you, the best part was killing him.  You got so much satisfaction from watching the life fade from his body, and from watching it return so you could begin again.  Yet all the time you’ve had him here, you haven’t killed him once.  Why is that?”

 

“What makes you think I haven’t?” the Master asked defensively.

 

“Some of the wounds on him are new, others old.  Some are a week old, at least.  If you’d killed him, they would have healed cleanly.”

 

“I can’t believe you are objecting that I haven’t killed your pet often enough!”

 

“You know what I think, Master?  I think that if this Jack, his inner self, dies here then he’ll be restored and you’ll be gone for good.  You had to be compressed and hidden to weather his physical death, but now you’re too deeply embedded in his mind to survive.  The Time Vortex won’t let itself be taken by force.  You need him to yield voluntarily, but he’s stronger than you expected.”

 

Suddenly calculating, the Master crossed his arms and leaned back against a pipe.  “Interesting theory, Doctor.  Are you so sure of it that you’re willing to risk everything?  If you’re wrong, you could be responsible for my final victory.  Your precious Jack snuffed out forever, and,” he emphasized, “by your hand.  I would ask if you could live with that, but we already know that you had no trouble exterminating every last being in the universe that you cared about.  Really Doctor, don’t you think this is getting to be a bit too easy for you?  Casual murder; sounds more like me, doesn’t it?”

 

The Doctor couldn’t say that he’d had no problem exterminating every last being he cared about, but he had done it.  And he had lived - with the permanent pain of it in his hearts.  Trust the Master to use that now.

 

“Not the same,” he asserted.

 

“Not so different.  But then perhaps living with it is not an issue, because you are in here, too.  You’re also entwined with the Freak’s mind.  If you kill him, you could be wiped from existence.  No regeneration.”

 

Without moving the weapon away from his friend and target, the Doctor turned his head to look at the Master.  “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.  It would be a kind of poetic justice; the last two Time Lords swallowed by the Vortex.  Worth it to keep you from becoming immortal.”

 

Then the Master resorted to bargaining.  “I’m not saying that you’re right, but this has gone far enough.  Let’s consider the alternatives.  Together we could extract me from here.  We could find an alternate host.  Say, one who is recently deceased, so you won’t have pangs of conscience about my taking their life.  Surely you have no objection to that?  I just want to live, Doctor,” he pleaded.  “you can understand that.”

 

The Doctor had expected that tactic, and was prepared for the painful temptation he experienced.  But the Master would soon escape the Doctor’s best efforts to contain him, as he always did, and the cycle of horror would begin again.

 

“No,” he said.  “You’ve had more chances than you deserved.  You used all your regenerations and were given more.  You took innocent lives to buy yourself more time, and it’s all too clear that you’ve not changed.  It ends here.  It has to end.”  The affirmation was as much to strengthen the Doctor’s resolve as it was for the Master.

 

The Master’s face flared with anger.  “I forbid you to interfere,” he snarled.  A wall of psychic energy flashed toward the Doctor, who was ready and raised his shield against it. 

 

Untouched by the assault, he said sadly, “Goodbye, Master.  I am sorry.”  Turning to look at Jack again, he repeated, “I am sorry.  I don’t know if this will work, but it’s the best I can do.”

 

Jack’s face was expressionless, but his eyes met and held the Doctor’s and he nodded once, bestowing consent and sharing the responsibility.  The Doctor heard Jack’s voice in his memory, ‘Never doubted him, never will.’  Jack was trusting his own existence and billions of innocent lives to the Doctor’s judgement.  It both lightened his hearts and burdened him further.

 

“What?  No. I won’t allow it!” the Master shouted, and the barrier between Jack and the Doctor pulsed with power. 

 

The Doctor drew the sonic screwdriver from his pocket with his free hand; it was symbolic in this setting, but comfortingly familiar.  He activated the algorithm which had been generated from his meditative analysis.  It cycled through and found the frequency to disrupt the field, which fell for the briefest moment before the Master re-established it. 

 

Over the space of a split second, the algorithm did its work again, and again.  After the field was disrupted several times there was a hiccup, a fleeting pause before it re-formed.  At that moment the Doctor pulled the trigger and watched a projectile speed in slow motion toward Jack’s head.  The bullet hit, slamming Jack back in his restraints, and then there was nothing.

 

++++++++

 

 

Martha watched the tableau in front of her with a worried frown.  Soon after re-establishing the connection, the Doctor had slumped down until he looked about to topple over, so they had arranged him to lie next to Jack on the air mattress, the two turned slightly towards each other, being careful to not break the contact of his finger tips to Jack’s head.

 

It was pretty wonderful to have a friend with advanced intelligence and psychic abilities like the Doctor, who could sashay in and sort things out with a dramatic gesture, but it made a normal human like Martha feel a bit useless sometimes.  She heard Gwen sigh loudly and knew that she wasn’t the only one who found waiting difficult.

 

“So,” Martha asked the group, making conversation, “have you know Jack long?”

Tosh answered, “Some of us longer than others.  Not that we can say we know him well.  We didn’t even know he couldn’t die until recently.”

 

“Yeah,” Owen agreed.  “I went years thinking he was just a great bossy prat, poncing about in a stupid coat.”

 

Gwen grinned at him.  “Wasn’t all you thought of him, I’m sure.”

 

Owen checked the IV bag that was feeding into a vein on the back of Jack’s hand and shrugged.  “Well, obviously, he knew things, about aliens and whatnot, that no one should know.  And he would have to be over a hundred years old to have had all the sexual adventures he claimed, even if he is unnaturally attractive and charming.”

 

Ianto smirked.  “Shall I tell him you think he’s a hottie, then?”

 

“Only if you want to die, you tosser,” he shot back.  “Besides, he’s too old for me, what with actually being over a hundred, and all.  Got my kinks, but geriatrics isn’t one of ‘em.”

 

Gwen snorted, then said to Martha.  “I’m the new one around here.  It’s barely been a year since Jack walked into my life and changed it forever.”

 

“He does tend to have that effect,” Ianto agreed, “of changing one’s life.  Not that life can’t be quite volatile even without Jack Harkness.”

 

They all nodded and fell into a pensive silence.  Then Toshiko said softly.  “Changed my life, yes.  It would be more accurate to say that he saved it.”

 

“Yeah,” Owen agreed, a shadow crossing his face.

 

“Another of his talents,” Ianto added.

 

As the group retreated into their thoughts again, Martha studied them.   They gave the impression of being an ill-matched lot, but maybe there was more depth there than she gave them credit for.

 

Jack’s little family, she thought, as she turned her gaze back to him.  Them and the Doctor, and she included herself, too.  Jack wasn’t exactly having a conventional life, but he wasn’t doing too badly, either.

 

It was just as well that she was watching Jack, or she might have missed it.  From one second to the next, the Doctor’s hands relaxed away from Jack’s head, and they stopped breathing, both of them.

 

Martha sat up sharply in alarm, the others leaned forward anxiously, and for a moment nobody spoke.  They had been unconscious before, but the difference was evident; life was gone, from both of them.

 

Then Gwen said, “That can’t be good.”

 

“We should...” Owen began, shifting toward them.

 

“No,” Martha said, and put a hand on his arm to stop him.  “We wait.”

 

“Wait for what?” the acerbic doctor protested.  “We can resuscitate them.”

 

“Oh, can we?” she asked.  “Have you noticed resuscitation working particularly well on Jack?  Do you know how to go about resuscitating an alien with two hearts?”

 

“We should at least try,” he said, “or would you prefer we sit here on our hands and let them die?”

 

“Wait,” Martha said firmly.  The Doctor had told her to trust him, to not let the others interfere.  She hoped to any gods that might be listening that this was what he meant.  “Give them a chance.”

 

Martha saw the Torchwood team exchange looks and knew that within moments she would have to start physically fighting them off.

 

“Wait,” she said again.

 

Tense seconds passed, and Martha noted Ianto shifting and preparing to act.  This could get ugly very fast.

 

Before anyone could make a move, Jack gasped, coming noisily back to life.  His eyes opened, but they were glassy and unfocused.

 

“Jack!” Gwen cried, but he either didn’t hear or ignored her.  Jack’s uncoordinated hands sought and grasped the Doctor’s head, then he lunged forward and pressed his lips to the Time Lord’s.

 

And that was... a surprise.  He was an uninhibited dog with a crush on the Doctor, but under the circumstances snogging a dead man was an unexpected move, even for Jack. 

 

Martha blinked to try to clear her eyes as she thought she saw a faint glow around their heads.  Her blood sugar was probably low or something.  Stress could do that.

 

Then the Doctor drew in a sharp breath, and Martha thanked any applicable gods for that.  His eyes fluttered open and locked with Jack’s for a moment, then closed again in sleep.  Jack drew him closer, slipping an arm around the Doctor’s back and settling his head on Jack’s shoulder, before melting back onto the mattress and slipping into sleep himself.

 

Martha almost laughed with relief.  It had worked.  Whatever it was they’d done, it had worked.  There was no way the man tenderly cuddling the Doctor was the Master.  The murdering bastard must be gone.

 

Glancing at the others, Martha saw that Toshiko and Gwen were tightly clasping each others’ hands and staring at the recently revived men, mouths open, with matching expressions of shock and happiness.  Ianto’s eyes were closed and he nodded to himself briefly, an affirmation of relief. 

 

Owen’s head was cocked to one side with a half smile twisting his mouth.  “Right, then,” he announced.  “Crisis averted.  I’d best remove that IV, or I’ll have to catheterize the other end soon.  I think we could all do without that.”  He proceeded to efficiently disconnect the tube.

 

Martha was at a loss now that the worst seemed to be over.  “Right,” she agreed blandly.  She felt relief that Jack and the Doctor would be all right, but even more relief that she wouldn’t have to face the Master again, in any form.  She’d grown strong over the last year or so, but she didn’t think she’d have the strength to tell her mum that the Master was back.

 

As she relaxed, the stress of the day left her dizzy with fatigue.  And the sight of Jack and the Doctor curled around each other was more unsettling than she liked – her feelings for the Doctor weren’t as thoroughly resolved as she would like.  Nor were her feelings for Jack, if it came to it.  A little apart-time might be in order.

 

++++++++

 

 

The Doctor woke slowly, feeling rather warm and comfortable.  His pillow moved up and down gently, like a rising and falling tide, and there was a muted rhythmic thumping coming from within it.  His head felt remarkably at home on Jack’s chest and he was disinclined to dislocate himself immediately.  In fact, he slid an arm across Jack’s torso and snuggled himself closer, one leg settling between the other man’s. 

 

Really, remarkably comfortable.  He didn’t suppose it would hurt anything to enjoy it for just a wee while more.

 

++++++++++

 

 

Jack awoke feeling well rested and clear headed, hearing nothing that shouldn’t be there, which was a greater relief than he could express.  It had been a close thing – he’d come very near to reaching his limit and giving up.  It was only the Doctor’s urging that had made him hold out.  It was needing to know what the Doctor would do, as much as anything, that had motivated him.

 

Stretching, Jack sat up. He was on an air mattress on the floor of the autopsy room, with Gwen sitting nearby leaning against the wall.

 

“Hey, there, sleepyhead,” she said.

 

“Hey,” he said, and gave her a big smile.  “How long have I been out?”

 

“That depends on what you mean by out.  It’s been,” she checked her watch, “four hours since the exorcism concluded.  You are alone in your head now, aren’t you?  Not hearing things?  No new desires for universal domination?”

 

Jack shook his head.  “No new one’s, just the simple hopes and dreams of a simple man.  Where is everyone?” he asked.

 

“Your friend Martha is asleep on the sofa.  Tosh and Owen went out to look into an anomalous energy reading.”  At Jack’s concerned reaction, she went on, “Nothing major.  Mostly of interest to Tosh and her equipment, apparently.  Ianto’s about somewhere.”

 

“And you, faithfully keeping guard while I slept,” he observed.

 

“Yeah, guard is right.”  She lifted her hand from her lap, revealing a sizable tazer.  “Just making sure you hadn’t become a world destroying megalomaniac.”

 

Jack shrugged and said philosophically, “Fair enough.”  Apparently she, they, had been filled in on the Master and his activities.  He supposed that it was inevitable and sensible, considering.  At least he hadn’t had to tell them about it himself.  He stood and offered Gwen a hand up.

 

Gwen warned him, “You’re in trouble for not telling us what happened to you, you know.  Did you think we wouldn’t care?”

 

So he wasn’t going to get out of talking about it entirely.

 

“No, it wasn’t that.  I was just glad to be back.  I wanted to forget the whole thing and get on with my life.  Here and now is what’s important to me.  And you.  All of you.”

 

“Jack,” she said seriously, “when you were talking to Martha I heard you say that the Master had threatened me and Ianto to gain your cooperation."

 

"Yes," he said reluctantly.  "About six months into the Year that Never Was, he captured the two of you.  He held you on Earth as hostages to my good behaviour, as though the Doctor, the Jones family, everyone on board the Valiant, and the entire planet in general weren't already enough.  If there was one thing the Master excelled at, it was overkill."

 

Gwen's eyes were wide.  "Did we…?  What did he…?"

 

"Stop," Jack said firmly.  "It didn't happen.  It doesn't matter." 

 

Jack could see Gwen deciding how to respond, weighing the relative tactical advantages of different approaches, and began preparing himself for a fight.  When Gwen wanted to know something she didn't stop picking at it until everyone was torn and bleeding, which was why he’d hired her, but Jack had no intention of reliving any more of those events than he absolutely had to.

 

So he was surprised when eventually she said, "No, I don't suppose it does."  She looked up at him steadily.  "I just want to make one thing clear.  If you ever let anyone hurt you or use you just to protect me, I'll kill you myself, Jack Harkness.  Is that understood?"  She smiled at him slightly to lighten the tone.  "I wouldn't want that, you know?  I really wouldn't."

 

A wave of affection had him pulling her into an embrace.  "I know," he said as he held her.  He understood, but you don't always get what you want.  He was making no promises on that one.

 

After a moment he released her and asked, "So, is the Doctor still around?"  He wouldn't be surprised if the Time Lord had gotten away at the first opportunity, but he would be disappointed.

 

"Oh, yes," Gwen said.  "He's in your office again.  Meditating, I think.  He seems to like it there."

 

"I think I'll go check on him, then."

 

When Jack entered his office, the Doctor was sitting in the comfortable guest chair, and Ianto was clearing up the remains of tea and biscuits.

 

He stopped a moment to look at the two of them – the Doctor sitting there quietly, relaxed, and Ianto bustling about solicitously.  He'd wondered what it would be like if the two of them met each other.  Okay, truthfully, he'd wondered what it would be like to have both of them together in bed with him, but that was another matter.  They seemed to be getting along well enough, and he was glad that Ianto was extending his caretaking instincts to the Doctor.  Few enough people did.

 

They noticed him at the same time, and both smiled their very different smiles.

 

"There you are," said the Doctor.

"It's good to see you up and around, sir," said Ianto.

 

Jack smiled back.  "And not a homicidal maniac, either," he said lightly.

 

"No more than usual, anyway," Ianto teased dryly.  "I'll take this away," he said, lifting the tray.

 

"Thank you for the tea," the Doctor said to him as he was leaving.

 

"My pleasure."

 

Jack caught and squeezed Ianto’s arm as he passed, and they shared a warm look of acknowledgement.  Then Jack was alone with the Doctor.  He took in the Doctor's appearance, relieved at how healthy he looked.

 

"Doctor," he said fondly.

 

"Jack."

 

The Doctor stood up, walked to Jack and looked into his eyes.

 

"You're all right, then?" the Doctor asked.

 

"I am," he answered.  "I really am.  I feel completely back to my old self."  He shook his head.  "I don't know how that's possible.  Nothing actually happened to my body this time, but it seems like something should be different.  I should be a basket case.  I was a basket case."

 

The Doctor stepped back and said thoughtfully, "I have a theory about that.  When you die your body resets, and I think there must be something similar that happens with your mind.  Given what you've been through, and I'm sorry to say what you will probably go through in the future, there must be some kind of healing that takes place, or you'd go mad.  I can't really see any other explanation."

 

Jack hadn't ever questioned that.  "I thought I was just well adjusted."

 

"Well, you may be that too."  The Doctor laughed, then turned solemn.  "I can tell you exactly how many times I've died, Jack, and count them on the fingers of two hands.  Nothing compared to what you've experienced, but I do know it's never easy.  The worst part is often what happens leading up to the death rather than the specific injury.  Traumatic stuff, generally.  And yet you continue to be a functional, fairly happy person.  It puts my mind at ease to think that you'll go on that way, no matter what."

 

It would be a relief to Jack as well if it were true.  "I hope so, too.  But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to," he waved toward his head, “have a look and make sure he’s really gone.  Not squirreled away in there getting ready to have another go.”

 

The Doctor flashed him an easy smile.  “I think you’re all right now, but I’ll check again if it makes you feel better.”

 

“Would you?” Jack asked apologetically.  The Doctor no doubt had had enough of the inside of Jack’s head for a while.

 

The Doctor brushed his fingers against Jack’s temple then nodded and gave his scalp a quick, affectionate scratch.  “All clear.”

 

Jack took and released a deep breath.  “Good.  Thanks.  And what about you?  Are you sure his isn’t,” he waved a hand toward the Doctor’s head, “in there somewhere?  Doing his Time Lord Mojo thing on you?”

 

Squinting his eyes and tilting his head, the Doctor was clearly checking to be sure.  “No, not in here either, thank Rassilon, but you’re right to ask.  I should probably make the rounds and check out other people who were close to the Master in this last incarnation, just in case.  Should have done it before, really.”

 

Jack grimaced.  “You’d better come up with a cover story for why you need to rummage in their minds.  If you tell them that the Master could be hiding in there, some perfectly nice people will never be able to sleep at night again, if they can now.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right.  Might have Martha help me with that.  She’s got that reassuring bedside manner about her.”

 

“Martha to the rescue again.  I’m really glad she was here for me to call.”

 

“I left my number with your young Ianto so you can ring me directly if the need should arise.  No standing on ceremony, now,” he teased.  “Sometimes you need a Doctor.”

 

Jack liked the idea of the Doctor being a phone call away, but still felt uncomfortable.  “Okay, but I’m used to taking care of myself, you know.  I’ve been doing that for a lot of years now.  Longer than most lifetimes.”

 

That made the Doctor look sad, so Jack dropped his head and looked up through his eyelashes in what he hoped was a pitiable manner.  "That said, it hasn't been a great day.  Would you mind if," he held his arms out toward the Doctor, seeing an opportunity to finagle a hug from the physically undemonstrative Doctor.

 

The Doctor held out a hand to Jack, as well.  "No, I wouldn't mind.  Had a bit of a wobble today myself."

 

Jack moved to the Time Lord and wrapped his arms around him where he stood with his back to the window.  They would be visible from virtually anywhere in the central Hub, but he didn't care.  Holding the Doctor, feeling the Doctor's body against his, was comforting almost to the point of being heart-rending.

 

"Thank you, Doctor," he said softly.

 

His chin resting on Jack's shoulder, the Doctor said, "He's taken other people before, and it's a horrible thing.  I'd do whatever I could to stop him doing that to anyone."

 

Jack shrugged slightly.  "Thank you anyway.  You saved more than my life today."

 

"And I believe you returned the favour."

 

"Couldn't let you die."

 

Jack enjoyed being held for a few more moments, savouring it, because what he was going to say next would probably end the cuddling.

 

"So you fancy me, do you?" he asked, smiling.

 

The Doctor banged his chin pointedly against Jack's collar bone.  "The Master said that, I didn't."

 

"But you were tempted by his offer."  Jack tried to keep it light, but as expected, the Doctor gently pushed Jack an arm's length away and looked at him warily.  Jack continued mildly, "I saw that you were.  You could have had him back, and me, too, without it actually being me.  You thought about it."

 

The Doctor regarded him seriously.  "I was tempted,” he admitted.  “I'm sorry."

 

Jack shrugged and shot a self-deprecating glance at the ceiling.  "I have experience with temptation, Doctor.  A lot.  Enough to know that feeling it isn't what's important, it's what you do as a result.  I admire and am grateful for the choice you made.  I haven't always done so well at resisting temptation, myself."

 

"Contrary to what you may think, Jack, it wasn't hard.  There was no choice, really.  I wouldn't trade you for him.  Would you have let go, if I'd asked?"

 

"Maybe.  Probably."  He didn't say that if the Doctor had chosen the Master over him to that extent, it would have been easy to let himself disappear, and the words were tight in his chest.

 

"Jack," the Doctor said gently, "I value you more than that.  You should, too."

 

The Doctor had chosen him, had fought and nearly died for him, and was admitting out loud that he cared.  He used that knowledge to push aside his doubts.

 

With a grin he said, "So, does that mean you'll go out with me?"

 

The Doctor sputtered.  "Incorrigible!" 

 

Jack smiled happily at the compliment.  "Yup!  Hey, I fancy you, you fancy me, so why not?"  Then he toned it down.  "No, really, I know you don't want me.  But I live in hope."

 

The Doctor looked at him thoughtfully.  "All this has made me think, actually.  Not very smart to insist on only having a relationship with someone of my own species, when I'm the last of my species.  I don't actually want to go through the rest of my life alone.  Worth considering, anyway."

 

Surprised, Jack exclaimed, "Really?  Doctor, are you joking?"

 

Holding up one finger in warning, the Doctor admonished, "Just considering the concept, I said.  Don't hold your breath."

 

That was just, wow.  The Doctor was allowing for the possibility of an actual relationship, and Jack was apparently to some degree in the running as a potential partner.  Would wonders never cease?

 

His mouth might have been hanging open, because the Doctor, slightly offended, said, “You needn’t look so gobsmacked.  I’m not heartless.  And I’m not a eunuch, either.” 

 

“No, I didn’t mean...” Jack protested.  “I know you had feelings for Rose, though I don’t know what happened between you two after, uh, we were separated.  I know you had feelings for the Master.  I just never thought I would be near good enough for you to....  You know what?  I’m going to stop talking now.”  Jack was flushed and regretted having said anything.

 

The Doctor wandered back to the chair and sat himself in it heavily.  “I know you have every reason to think that.  I haven’t been the best at conveying, things like, esteem.  Towards you.  But keep in mind what happened today, Jack.  I wouldn’t trust the Master with immortality, but I do trust you.  There’s really no higher compliment I can think of giving.”

 

“Oh,” Jack said, feeling a little fluttery inside.  It wasn’t poetry and roses, but he guessed that from the Doctor’s perspective it was pretty close.  The man who can see all of time, who feels personally responsible for it, trusts him with it.  Nice.

 

“So,” he said, his grin returning.  “You will go out with me?”

 

Laughing lightly, the Doctor stood up and walked over to Jack.  “No,” he said.  “I won’t go out with you, even if you are gorgeous.”  He leaned in and gave Jack a quick peck on the lips.  “Not yet.”

 

Encouraged, Jack said, “That’s okay.  I can wait.  I’ve got time.”  Then he smiled mischievously.  “I’ll get you yet, Doctor.”

 

“Yeah,” the Doctor responded easily, “you probably will.  You’re impossible.  Incorrigible.  Irrepressible.  And ultimately, probably irresistible.”

 

“That’s what they tell me,” Jack said, bouncing his eyebrows.

 

The Doctor rolled his eyes good naturedly.  “Well, for now, it’s time I was going.  Let’s wake Martha, and I’ll give her a ride home.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

They left Jack’s office and wandered past the work stations to where their friend was sprawled none too demurely over the couch.  Jack had been so scared earlier, but now there was a spring in his step and hope in his heart.

 

+++++++++++

 

 

Something was tickling her face, and Martha waved a hand at it, smacking into warm flesh.  Opening her eyes, Jack’s face was inches from her own, with that killer smile on it.

 

“Wha..?” she said incoherently.

 

From where he was kneeling beside her, Jack murmured, “After saving me again, kissing you awake is the least I can do,” and leaned in to nibble lightly down the bridge of her nose.

 

Heat coursed through her at the intimacy, and she shoved him away out of self preservation.  The last thing she needed was to fall for Jack bloody Harkness, trans-galactic man of mystery. 

 

The Doctor leaned over Jack’s shoulder and peered down at her.  “You awake, then?  Thought we might be on our way.  Some things I’d like to talk to you about.”

 

She hauled herself to a seated position, still slightly disoriented, and looked at their faces.  Two very handsome faces on two very dear men.  Instead of being stroppy with them, she softened and put a hand on each of their cheeks.  “Rascals, the both of you,” she scolded affectionately.  “You scared me today.”

 

“All sorted now,” the Doctor made his cheerful face.  “Everyone right as rain.”

 

Except the Master, but if the Doctor wasn’t dealing with that, neither would she.

 

The barrier door rolled away with a rumble and Toshiko and Owen came in carrying a couple of equipment cases each.  When Toshiko saw them she put the cases down quickly and came over.  Putting her hands on Jack’s arms, she smiled up at him.

 

“Jack, you’re all right?”

 

 “Never better,” he responded warmly.  “Especially after seeing your beautiful face.”

 

She tightened her grip.  “I’m glad.  And in case I didn’t say it before, I’m glad you came back.  We need you here, Jack.”

 

Jack looked touched by that, and said, “Thanks,” then included Owen, “Thank you both for helping with what just happened.  I, uh, wish it hadn’t.”

 

Owen shrugged.  “All pretty normal for this loony bin.  I’m just annoyed that it was necessary to call in a specialist,” he nodded toward the Doctor, his scowl teasing, “as though we can’t handle a little alien possession on our own.”

 

The Doctor beamed back at him.  “You’re very welcome!  Always glad to lend a hand.”

 

“Really?” asked Toshiko.  “Then maybe you can help with something.  We found the most interesting thing just now.  It was a thread of energy that spanned a river just outside of town.  It was like a stitch sewing fabric together, with one end in the past and the other in the future.  I think.”  Now she frowned.  “That’s the best I could do with the equipment I had.  I’m sure you could tell us much more about it.”

 

The Doctor looked interested.  “Just outside of town, eh?” and Martha saw a detour in their future.

 

“It was,” Toshiko answered.  “It faded out, but I’m hoping to find it again.”

 

The Doctor shook his head apologetically.  “Unlikely.  Small flaws like that tend to right themselves quickly.  You’re quite lucky to have seen it at all.”

 

“But you could probably improve my scanner to take better readings on that type of phenomenon,” the scientist said hopefully.  She scurried to her equipment case and fished out a hand-held device.  When she offered it to the Doctor he stepped back and declined to take it.

 

“Actually, it might be best if I don’t look too closely at Torchwood’s equipment.  Not this visit, anyway.  We might have some disagreements on what is appropriate for your use and what isn’t.”

 

“That’s right,” Jack said, glaring good-naturedly at the Doctor.  “He would probably start deactivating perfectly good and useful devices, even those that are expressly someone’s personal property.”

 

The Doctor’s chin came up and he said, unrepentant, “It was for the best.”

 

Martha broke in, “Well, I for one would love to come back and see what you have, the medical equipment anyway.  Once I’ve finished the formalities for my degree.”

 

“You, Martha Jones,” Jack said, “are welcome here anytime.”

 

“But,” the Doctor stated, “I’ll be spiriting her away for now.  Things to do, people to see, worlds to save.”

 

Conflicted, Martha said, “Doctor, I’m not travelling with you.  I told you.”

 

“Yes you did, and very clearly, too.  Just want a consult and perhaps to make some plans for collaboration on a project.”

 

“Well, we can talk,” she allowed.

 

“Thank you, Doctor Jones,” the Doctor said, bowing his head to her.

 

Gwen and Ianto came up from the lower level to join them, but the Doctor was clearly not keen on further chatter, and began shepherding Martha toward the door.  “It’s been lovely, thanks for the cuppa, we’ll be going now.  Take care of Jacky-boy for me.”

 

Martha saw Owen mouth with amusement, ‘Jacky-boy’?  Jack was in for some mocking about that.

 

Jack’s team was an odd group of people, but nobody could say they weren’t interesting.  Especially Jack.  She found that she was going to miss them, much to her surprise.

 

+++++++++

 

 

The Doctor was eager to be on his way before Owen found out that he had followed his suggestion after all, and resolved the situation by killing Jack.  The man might not have cared, but the Doctor knew exactly how judgemental his reaction the Owen’s words had been.  He didn’t like being reminded of things like that. 

 

The Doctor had almost succeeded in extracting Martha and escaping from the Hub when Ianto stopped him and put out his hand.  “You do have my thanks,” the young man said.

 

Shaking the offered hand, the Doctor said, “I warned you about that, didn’t I, Mr. Jones?”

 

Ianto’s lips quirked into a small smile.  “Nonetheless.”

 

Suddenly Jack was there, insinuating himself between them.  “What’s that?  Did I miss something?”

 

“No, not a thing!” the Doctor exclaimed, and guided Martha into the lift.  Whereupon he found five other people crowding in with them for the ride to the Plass level.

 

The fresh air outside was a relief.  While he could admit that at this point they weren’t nefarious and evil, it was unlikely he would ever be comfortable in a Torchwood facility.  Too many bad memories.

 

He would try to make the effort, though.  After all, Jack’s unpleasant memories of his time with the Doctor had to greatly outweigh the good ones, and he didn’t hold it against him.  Jack was a good example, that way.

 

Martha went to open the TARDIS door, and the Doctor turned to Jack, who looked at him with a soft expression – part shy, part tender.  “I will see you again soon, I hope,” Jack said.

 

Given the tight quiver in the Doctor’s stomach, he definitely would.  He said, “I reckon so.  Sooner than you might think.  Might need your help with that little project and, well, in general.  Yes, soon.”

 

Jack seemed to understand that the Doctor meant that he did want to see Jack again, but answered, “I don’t know what I could do to help with that.  You’re the psychic, not me.”

 

“Oh, I think you’ll be surprised by what you can do with a little guidance, Mr. 51^st Century evolution.  That’s for another time, though.”  He didn’t want to lose the new bond he felt with Jack and was tempted to – he wasn’t exactly sure what - touch Jack somehow.   But he decided discretion would serve better and started toward the TARDIS.

 

Halfway there, the Doctor stopped and looked back at Jack, standing with the others arrayed around him.  Not long ago, Jack had been hurt and in need of his friends, but this was his normal bearing; stable, a planet surrounded by satellites which orbited Jack’s magnetic centre.

 

Martha called from the doorway, “Doctor.”

 

The Doctor was the same, except not quite as stable.  His own satellites tended to go their own ways, but they would never be entirely free of him, nor he of them. 

 

It occurred to him that his and Jack’s respective orbits overlapped with the inevitability of gravity.  Like the strong force holding quarks together, it didn’t diminish with distance and periodically carried them into close proximity, bringing their companions along for the ride. 

 

It was a comforting thought.  He might be the last Time Lord, but he wasn’t alone.  Not at all.

 

 

 

End

 

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