Sojourn

Part Five

Sleep eluded him.

He'd lain awake in the hours since their return trying to lure it in, to sneak up on it, but it evaded him at every turn. Recognising futility he gave up, pulled on jeans, shrugged into a t-shirt, and followed the sounds of tapping to the TARDIS's control room.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

The Doctor was tinkering, rapping delicately at an open panel with a mallet. He looked up at Jack's question, pondered before answering, "Not so much, no."

"Time Lords don't need sleep?"

"Well, I wouldn't go that far; but I'm not like you little humans, your systems shutting down and sending you all crazy if you don't get your 8 hours a day."

Jack nodded, not rising to the bait. He'd heard innumerable different versions of the 'Time Lords are better than humans' spiel, had observed the pointlessness of entering into the endless round of banter it inevitably sparked.

He wandered around the console, peering over the Doctor's shoulder into the open panel.

"No nasty side effects from all those pink drinks?"

Glancing down, he saw the guileless grin with no reflection in the fathomless eyes.

He laughed. "Nah. I once drank a whole case of Rivalian brandy, only woke up with a headache...of course, it was three days later."

Another grin, wider this time. "Well, if you're up you may as well make yourself useful." He waved the mallet, pointing towards the gleaming array of levers above his head. "Just flip those, one after the other, 'til I tell you to stop."

He complied, leaning forward to the accompaniment of bangs, crashes and a muffled oath in a language he didn't recognise.

"Ahhh, that's got it. Just flip that fifth one again?"

Emerging from under the panel the Doctor exuded smug self-satisfaction. "Right, that's that little problem taken care of. Fancy a cuppa?"

Alarms went off in his head. He suspected the offer was a precursor to questions he couldn't answer.

"Mmmm, no. Think I'll just sit out here for awhile, admire the view." He swept a hand towards the console's flashing green lights. "It's kind of soothing."

Met those dark eyes and looked away.

"Right'o." The Doctor clattered down the hall, leaving him alone with the glowing controls. Wandering, he ran his fingers across the levers, flipped the toggles, aimlessly distracting himself. Glancing at the doodles stuck on the screen he shook his head.

He was tired: tired of not sleeping, tired of uncertainty and just plain tired. Throwing himself down onto the bench he propped his feet on the console and tipped his head back, eyes closed.

Drifted.

Started as warmth brushed his cheek, opened his eyes to find his vision filled with white which resolved into a mug grasped in a large hand.

"Here, brought you one anyway. Milk and sugar, right?"

He accepted the cup of tea thrust at him, wrapping his fingers around its warmth; almost spilled it when the Doctor shoved his feet off the console and took their place, leaning back, gazing thoughtfully at him.

"So," the Doctor sipped his tea, tone casual. Jack's tension rose; waiting, waiting for what might be coming. "Three sleazy aliens?"

Relief.

He heaved a sigh, struggling to conceal it. "Delvos wasn't quite the refined destination it once was. More a hang-out for grunt end trader crews. Couple of them thought Rose looked tasty." He waved a hand carelessly. "It was simple. No problem."

"Looked tasty?" There was menace behind those words.

Maybe not so simple.

"Yes, Doctor. They were sleazy, nasty scum who took a fancy to Rose and weren't particularly concerned with whether she returned their affections."

"And you rushed to the rescue, did you?"

The question struck him, struck right down deep at the core of his doubts, vibrating down the fault line transecting his foundations. Dragged the memory of his hesitation from behind the walls, dangled it in front of him, taunting.

He wanted to be indignant, defensive. To protest that of course he'd leapt to the rescue. And he had, it just hadn't been as simple as that.

He'd hesitated too long.

"Just going to leave her there, were you?" The tone was even, deceptively so.

He decided to take the offensive. "Hey, you're the one who sent her off with me."

"Well, wasn't like there was another option, was there?" Another sip of tea, another dark look directed his way. "I wasn't taking you in there, either."

He snorted. "You could have sent her back to the TARDIS. And I can look after myself."

A single brow rose, eloquent with doubt.

"You have no idea what I'm capable of, Doctor." His voice was dark and he could feel the wolf circling, disturbed. Remembering things he'd done and the hole in his memories, a black hole with a beast at the bottom.

Good days, he raged at what had been stolen from him; bad days, he was terrified he'd surrendered them. Wondered what could have been so obscene he couldn't bear to remember it.

"She wouldn't have stayed here anyway."

"What?" He dragged himself back to the conversation.

"Rose. She wouldn't have stayed. If I'd told her to wait in the TARDIS it would've been about five minutes before she was getting into trouble." A pointed look was followed by: "That was what sending her off with you was supposed to avoid."

"Sometimes trouble finds you, Doctor. You can't avoid it."

"Good point, that; particularly where Rose is concerned."

He nodded agreement. Silence fell, broken only by the hums and wheezes of the TARDIS.

"She would have, you know."

"What?"

"Stayed. She stayed here on that planet with the rocks, what was it, Tervin?" Tervin, that was it. Where the Doctor had gone off, leaving him alone with Rose. Rose who had obliterated his defences; who had leaned against him, warm and trusting.

The Doctor looked closely at him. "Yeah, but she wasn't alone, was she?"

And that brought them to the point he'd been running from.

Calmly, poised in the eye of the storm, he breathed deep, set down his cup and asked the question. "Why am I here?"

"What, is this some great philosophical debate? 'Why am I here?', 'What's it all about?'"

"No, why am I here, here on the TARDIS."

"I really don't do this domestic stuff, Jack. You're here because you're here. If you want to go, you can go, walk out anytime. If you want to stay, you can stay. Simple, really."

"It's not simple, Doctor, not simple at all. I'm not like Rose. You don't know me, don't know anything about me."

Driving to his feet he paced across the floor.

"Hell, there's things I don't know about me. There's a great big hole in my memories, remember?"

The things he'd done, the ones he remembered, were bad enough.

"You know what she said to me, Doctor? She said she trusted me. Trusted me. How stupid is that?" His thoughts were in turmoil, bubbling up through the fissures, the cracks in his foundations.

"Is it?"

"Of course it is. She may be acting like I'm the latest stray puppy you've dragged aboard, Doctor, but you and I know better. So what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Jack. You're here because we came after you. You're still here because you haven't left."

"Hey, I made a mistake with that damn ambulance but I think I more than paid for it. I never asked to get dragged around the universe, playing happy families with the two of you. I was a Time Agent, Doctor, one of the best. No one ever gets free of the Agency. But I did. I escaped."

He paused, gathering up his thoughts, trying to make sense of what was whirling through his mind; walked back towards the Doctor, trying to make him understand.

"They stole part of my mind, sentenced me to death, but I got free of them."

The Doctor set his cup carefully on the console, looking up at him impassively.

"You think you're free."

"Excuse me?"

"You think you escaped, but you didn't. Not really."

The Doctor was calm, delivering his matter of fact pronouncements like a prophet looking down from on high.

"You'll never be free until you let it go. They made you into what they needed; stole your memories, tried to destroy anything good in you."

He was stunned, breath shallow. This was beyond him.

"Didn't work, though."

His walls were being ripped from him: bricks and mortar, weakened by minor assaults, were tumbling with great echoing thuds leaving him with nothing, nothing between him and the Doctor's words.

"You were too strong for that. That part of you? It just got buried under everything."

And his pulse was speeding up and the pounding of his heart was loud in his ears.

"And I know, 'cause I've seen it. Rose has seen it." A twisted, solemn version of the Doctor's usual manic grin made a fleeting appearance, the console painting weird highlights across his skin, giving him the look of some demonic entity come to foretell Jack's doom. "You've seen it."

"As long as you're living the life they made for you, they've won. Don't let them win, Jack. You're better than that."

Tearing his gaze from the Doctor's calm eyes, he wrapped his arms around himself but they couldn't protect him: nothing could and he tried to walk away.

He didn't get far.

The Doctor grasped his shoulder gently, pulling him around. "Jack, listen to me. I know what I'm talking about. You are better than that."

At those last words, he crumbled; a barely perceptible gasp escaped and he shuddered.

No, no, no a familiar voice was screaming at him. But another voice, a new voice, was whispering yes, and it sounded like Rose and it sounded like the Doctor and it sounded like a young man, long ago lost, who'd been full of idealism and joy.

He clamped his eyes shut, not before a single tear escaped but quickly enough to prevent its brethren from following.

The Doctor swore, abandoned his apparent disinterest and hauled him forward, wrapping his arms around him, saying nothing; just holding him, refusing to let go.

It felt like a promise.

He buried his face in the warm chest, gasping but not giving in to the pressure behind his eyes, hands gripping the rough jumper like it was salvation as past memories, rapacious and angry, sunk their teeth into him, tearing and biting.

His first day at the Agency academy, so excited to be chosen from the countless applicants...

His first mission, all eagerness and anticipation...

His first kill, a throat sliced from behind without even a hint of warning, a death that as far as he could tell accomplished nothing...

The slow dissolution of his optimism, the transformation of idealism to cynicism...

The first time he seduced someone to protect himself: his Commander, with orders to send him to the war on Tarlen, more than willing to change the orders to keep his new love by his side...

The first time he sold someone out to advance his interests: the Commander, watching as he was dragged away to face court-martial for changing orders without authorisation...

Waking up in the neural lab, dark and screaming pain ripping through him, a void in his memory, clothes soaked with blood not his own; the need for erasure so desperate there'd been no delay...

All his training, his lethality, his sexuality, all subsumed into the wolf in his mind. A calculating predator, pacing and eager; other people now no more than targets, tools, to be bent, used and discarded...

Faces, bodies, parading past – reminding him what he was: an amoral conman, a killer when required, all he'd ever be.

But new images appeared, pitting themselves against memory's ferocity:

The swirl of confusion, facing them: one dark, one bright, but both the same. Watching them face down the monsters he'd created.

The moment he chose sacrifice to save them.

The moment he chose her over his own greed: hesitating, but acting.

Seeking comfort, offering it return: warm body pressed against him, innocent in her trust.

Hands touching him, seeking nothing, offering everything: reaching out to him, for him, silently promising to catch him when he fell.

The moment she'd claimed him as her own: claimed them together as belonging to her.

Their eyes, filled with anger for him.

Watching them, brilliant and laughing, opening their joy to him: reaching out, drawing him in.

The first time the wolf stirred in protection.

Howling in rage the memories retreated, slunk away, unable to stand in the face of the swirling images; unable to stand against you're better than that.

Calmness was flooding his mind, spreading through him, radiating out from the strong hands splayed across his back. Awareness returned, physical reality intruding, bringing him back to this moment.

A smell of leather and something undefinable, sharp and fresh.

The strength in the lean body, unstintingly supporting him.

Took a moment to appreciate the feel of that body, long length pressed against him, unconsciously drawing closer.

Released his grip, knuckles creaking, stiff from the strength of his hold.

Pulled back, carefully reconstructing the pieces of his composure, unsure of how much time had passed.

Felt strong arms let him go and as he stepped away, he felt hollow. Not empty, but rather waiting for something new to fill him.

Looked up, uncertain, to see compassion and understanding.

Hesitated.

The Doctor clapped his hands, the sharp sound breaking the tension. "So, any more questions?"

The cheerful voice, the wide grin, were so normal, so welcome, they drew a smile.

"Any conundrums of the universe I can shed enlightenment on?"

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling its heavy length sliding through his fingers; looked up, glancing through his lashes at the Doctor. Felt his grin, shaky but present, reasserting itself; felt the self-confidence returning, rushing in, filling him as uncertainty fell away.

He laughed; couldn't help it, didn't even try.

"What does a Time Lord keep in his pockets?"

He ducked the Doctor's cheerful grab, grinning with a sense of freedom. He could still feel the wolf inside, but it was bright-eyed and eager, seducer still – that always would be, always had been, part of him – but filled with a fierce protectiveness; seeking to preserve their joy, wanting to be part of it.

A yawn surprised him, erupting out of his throat and he stretched, feeling the pull of every muscle.

"Go to bed, Jack."

"Alone?"

"You wouldn't know what to do with me if you had me. Go on, off with you."

He turned, heading for the hallway.

"Jack!"

Turned back, fumbling to catch the object flying across the room. Held it up to spin, reflecting green and gold in the TARDIS's lights.

"If you're staying, you're gonna need a key."

He looked down. Looked up, wicked grin spreading across his face. "Does this mean I get to drive?"

"Not a chance."

A perfect frozen curl, scintillating in the cold light of the dying sun, towering above the remnants of mountains ground to sand by the press of centuries. The world's final moments, preserved forever in the blue amber of the frozen sea.

…and women wept.

The land caressed by the sea: Women Wept.

Its name prophetic: women wept as the world ended. Women wept as the sky wept, crying diamond tears that fell from the last clouds that would cloak this land.

The final wave, the ocean's hope, driving to escape its doom, cresting 100 feet above the beach. Forever.

Nothing moved. Not a breath of wind. Pure, utter stillness; a deceptive serenity.

Broken.

Light, pulsing a staccato heartbeat across the dead expanse. Reverberating: light, movement, colour; a moment's benediction granted to the long-dead world, the ephemeral illusion of life.

Light, crystallising into a single point. A blue shape, a source of solace, advertising its willingness to aid in words emblazoned on its surface.

Its appearance was far too late for this world.

Figures, three together, emerged from its confines, born into the desolation bearing wonder and amazement.

A holy trinity of life and emotion, orbiting each other; centred on the light, bright and shining, which flowed between them, tangible.

The three walked away from the box, stopped. Stared in amazement.

Looked up, up at the frozen wave caught in the moment of its death, preserving all that had looked to it for salvation, to carry them out of the dying ocean, as it had failed to preserve them at the last.

The dark one stood back. This world knew him; his presence had graced the barren land before.

He watched as his companions moved, slowly, oh so slowly, across the glinting sands, eyes fixed on the crest stretching above them, disappearing beyond their sight.

Reached it, touched it. Marvelling at the creatures trapped within.

Shivered at the enormity of the destruction wrought here: an entire world frozen in the moment between one heartbeat and the next, infinitesimal and eternal.

Stood, motionless and silent.

Hands reached for each other. Grabbed. Held. Grasping after proof that the end of this world was not the end of all worlds. That life existed.

He walked to stand with them in the shadow of the wave. Pulled them into the circle of his body, joined by touch, an affirmation of life.

The End

A/N: I don't know if anyone is interested, but the idea for this was born while musing over the difference between Jack in TEC/TDD and Boom Town, and my brain suddenly went 'Of course! The empty child wasn't just the little boy; it was Jack.', and thus Sojourn began.