Chapter Six
The first thing Jack Harkness heard when he woke up was the sound of water running in the hotel bathroom. So he threw on a robe and tiptoed over to the door, hoping to catch another glimpse of the slim Time Lord's semi-naked self while the alien did whatever needed doing in the loo. After reaching the sliver of light that was beaming from under the door, Jack slid the door open without a sound and almost tripped over something soft and firm. He stiffened, not wanting to look for fear of what he might find. And he was right. Because the 904 year old alien he'd gone on a three-day medically-prescribed bender with was lying in a semi-loose fetal position on the bathroom floor. A hard grimace turned Jack's lips as he knelt down to check the Doctor's vitals. It was a scary sight, seeing the man like that.
"H-h-hello J-J-Jack!" The Time Lord gasped faintly between shivers. "Did you...h-have a...g-g-g-good n-night's r-r-rest?"
"Easy there, Doctor." Jack said, reaching out to take one of those long, trembling hands. "Is this a hangover? Tell me what you need."
But the Doctor just smiled and clutched the side of the tub in an effort to keep from shaking and to push himself up. "N-not the alcohol, Jack. On a g-good day, I could drink any one of you un-under the t-t-table. Not the alcohol...something, something else. Something impossible!" The Time Agent linked his arms around the alien's waist and made to lift him, but the Doctor would have none of it, smacking the man away in his excitement. "DO NOT move me until my condition is stable, though I could use some hot milk or something. I'm freezing! And I don't often say that." The grin he beamed could have lit the entire Torchwood building for several months, Jack was certain.
"Condition? You don't mean..."
The alien's face brightened suddenly, like that of a very happy deer stuck in headlights. "Oh, yes! Captain Jack Harkness, we are having a baby. Apparently my clone made contact with the universe on his side and convinced it to come back through and plug the breech. Or it convinced him. Not sure how it went but that's it, for now. At any rate, the bun for this side's back in the oven where it belongs, and that's fantastic!"
Jack was confused. He felt the Time Lord's stomach, sucking in a breath when his searching fingers found a small, hard lump beneath the tight abdominals. "So...I take it this means the new universe isn't expanding anymore? It's contained in the gap?"
"Oh that tickles. Stop it. Stop it! But yes, Jack. Everything is as it should be. No more sub-molecular expansion equals no more extraneous pain or bleeding. Over with! Done! Finito! Now all that's left for me is to take it slow till my time comes." The alien paused a minute, looking down at his hands and feet. "Ah, finally! Shivers'r done with, for the moment. Now help me to the bed so I can lie back down, would you? I should keep horizontal for a while until my stomach settles." So Jack hefted his weight and gingerly helped him stagger to the big bed, onto which he promptly sank like the rather bouncy invalid he may or may not have been.
When he was finally settled in under sheet and quilt and coverlet, his back propped with only one meager pillow, the Time Lord busied himself with watching the Time Agent pace around the room in his great worry. "Sit down, Jack! This baby won't be born for another few hours, so stop worrying! But, ah, there is one small thing you CAN do..." He murmured, donning his best puppy dog pout and coupling it with a rather famous little boy sniff he'd always used on Rose. "Got milk?"
Jack groaned when he saw this display, because he knew his friend all too well. "You're lucky you're pregnant, Doctor," He groaned with a harsh little laugh. "...because if you weren't, I would have you over my knee this instant."
The alien just smiled and gave a hurt expression, holding his firm, flat belly for effect. "Oh really? What if I pulled rank? Or age, for that matter? I am in a most delicate way, young man, and do most honestly protest this vein of conversation. Why, I daresay it isn't even proper to address one so fragile as myself in such a fashion! Huh! What WOULD my doctor say to such poor treatment, I wonder?"
Just then Martha's voice slid through the door and into hearing range. "Well, she would say shut up and drink this milk, I expect."
The doctor's grin returned as he watched Martha Jones enter the room, his thin face beaming with renewed energy and an almost tangible delight. "Martha!" Then he had to close his eyes and rest, because the edges of his vision had begun to blur.
"Doctor!" Jack and Martha said at once, rushing to his side.
A moan issued from the bed, but soon a soft smile had mustered itself for the pair. "Uhh. Sorry," the Time Lord murmured once he'd recovered himself enough to speak for any length of time again. "...got a bit dizzy. It takes an inordinate amount of energetic expenditure to sustain a growing universe inside one's body. Thank you for coming, Martha." He blinked, his eyes retaining more of their usual luster with each shallow breath. "See, I was taking the brunt of the drain, because my clone, being half-human, couldn't possibly have balanced the fluctuating energies without dying. The universe, having been assisted into tangibility by myself, knew that intuitively, and so, made contact with my clone through a similar arrangement, i.e. his own resultant pregnancy, which of course happened before the original incident involving yours truly because of the temporo-differential discrepancies between our two respective universes. I dare say that, with the lag in timelines now decently accounted for between us, he should have given birth to a healthy daughter by now. In fact, he probably has. Which means I shan't have long to wait until the momentous occasion, given that I've calculated all the variables properly and allowed for certain relational-reflective changes in all the micro-realities created by this little affair. In essence, when the dust cleared after their little meeting, time folded back on itself and pushed an alternate, later version of the fetus -a self-creating reflection which could safely contain the energetic spillover, if you will- into this universe, and lodged in my body, where it rightfully belonged, me being the only one of the two of us who could keep it stable whilst it formed." He let out a long, slow breath. "Oh gobs but that was a mouthful for a tired man. And I would like my milk now, if you please, Doctor Jones." The bemused and pallid alien flashed his friends another winning smile, if a bit more wan and strained than the first four-hundred odd. So Martha brought him his nice warm milk at last, which he promptly took and gulped like a five-year old with a freshly-baked cookie. He'd even held his hand out like one.
"Hey! Be careful, you'll choke!" Martha warned, tapping him lightly with a wooden tongue depressor.
But the Time Lord just laughed merrily, shaking his head as he handed the glass back to her. "Impossible, Martha. Time Lords have a respiratory bypass system that prevents unseemly bits like that." He was positively beaming, while her hand, she found to her utter delight, was fairly itching to smack him.
'You just watch that mouth of yours, mister, or I'll stick this in it!" She quipped as she waggled the tongue depressor, unable to keep herself from grinning any longer. It was just impossible to stay mad at him. 'Just...take your rest and stop piping up!"
The Doctor clicked his tongue at her in a mock warning, hand fixed on his belly, ever-mindful of the small life growing under his slender fingers. "All right, you two. No more of that, or I'll be coughing up bits of baby again." He snorted, one hand lifting lazily to his hair to smooth back the still-unruly mess, and then he lowered it back down, amusing himself with the Time Agent's sad attempts to stop laughing.
"You started it, old man." Jack blurted out, which immediately began another round of wild guffawing. "Martha! Oh my god did you see that? He just...snorted milk...out of his nose! Oh goddddd! Ah-hahahahah!"
But a low, feral grunt from the bed made it all go away, and they both stared at the Doctor with worry sprung afresh on their faces.
He swayed as he sat there, clutching his side, mouth open and panting as he was obviously out of breath. "I've a name for her and everything," he whispered, his dark, boundless gaze glittering with the light of distant memories. "...it'll be fantastic!" Then he hunched over, gagging violently as the child he'd carried for all of three days made her slow ascent into the world. A soft little plop came next, and the newborn fell gently into his slender hands, his sweet and goodly lass, all plump and perfect.
"A second Gallifreya. The Messaline. Right...then. Sally...it is..." Her name lolled off his tongue like a tumbled stone, and he seemed to deflate. But she was there, in his arms and alive, though he himself lay like a dead man across the sheets, her small white body cradled protectively in the crook of his arm.
Martha and Jack eyed one another from opposite sides of the room, then quickly converged on the sleeping figure strewn over the bed.
"How is he, Martha?" Jack whispered across the scruffy alien's still form. Martha's hands were at his neck and wrist, checking his cardiac rhythms for any abnormalities.
"His pulse is a bit faster than I'd like, him being unconscious, but other than he seems okay. Knowing the Doctor, he'll pop back in no time. Baby looks healthy, if a bit small, but that could be normal for his people, judging from what he said earlier. So, I'll...continue to monitor, but for now let's just let them stay like this. At least he's getting some sleep today." She caught Jack's eye, sharing his proud uncle grin. "And he's going to need it. Who knows what tomorrow will turn up?"
Fin...
Continued in: Song of the Messaline
(coming soon to an e-mail prejoinder relatively close to your supraspatial existence)