For rude_not_ginger:Two Immortals One TARDIS Insert scene. Valent

[quitehomoerotic]

It had been 50 years since Jack had seen the Doctor. It had been 50 years since Jack had been Jack. 50 years, and he still felt the same. Some days he hated that, it frustrated him and annoyed him and made him want to scream. And some days, it just made him lonely. This was one of those days.

It was Valentines day. A stupid Earth holiday that really meant nothing, but people put so much stock into. Everywhere you went there were balloons shaped like hearts and people holding hands and declaring their love. It made Jack grumpy, and he could never and would never explain why.

So he shut himself away from it. He was in a small flat in a city that seemed to be nothing but small flats. Somewhere full of people where he could at the same time, be completely alone.

And he sat on his own, watching broadcasts on a television with a bottle of scotch to soothe his pains.

50 years, and it still felt like yesterday.

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The Doctor let out a laugh that was not quite a sob. "Yeah," he said. "If I wanted the consequences. Which I don't and you don't so we don't."

He wanted to hold Jack. He wanted to, but he was so far away. Far away and long ago. He sighed and took another drink from the bottle. He was going to make himself sick at this rate, and he was strangely okay with that. It would seem fitting.

"I've been missing," he started, and then he stopped. "You. And planets. Lots of places I've aimed for. And missed. Very badly. Very, very badly."

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"Don't tell me what I want," Jack said, but not harshly. Jack knew what he wanted, he knew all about consequences, his whole life seemed to be consequences.

From the chair, Jack pulled down a cushion and he found himself holding it, clutching it as though it were him.

Again, he closed his eyes. "Need to clean out the temporal buffers," Jack said quietly, as though that was what it was.

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"Probably," the Doctor said, letting out a low chuckle. "Probably that."

He put his hand against the captain's chair, and tried to imagine the fabric felt anything like Jack's coat did. Wait, actually, Jack's coat. He did have it. It was back on Jack's bed, put there so he didn't have to look at it every time he stepped inside.

Without thinking, he scrambled to his feet and promptly went right back down onto the ground.

He cleared his throat and tried to save face.

"And you?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack could hear the fumbling noises of movement and stumbling. It made him wish he was there to stand beside him and catch him when he fell.

"What about me?" he said. "This and that, you know me." And waiting. Not waiting for him, of course. Or at least that's what he told himself. Tried to tell himself.

"You know when you wake up you're going to wish you never called me. Drunk dialling the ex... well, everyone has done it."

Funny really, describing himself like that.

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"I do not drunk dial exes," the Doctor said, very emphatic. "How could you call yourself that? That's terrible!"

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"What am I then?" Jack said, scoffed. "Because by my mind we're pretty.... ex."

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"It's not like that!" the Doctor insisted. "Ex implies...well, it implies---"

What did it imply? It implied they were together and they weren't, which was true. It implied that they were happy and now they weren't, which he supposed was also true. It also implied other things.

"Lots of implications in that word," he said. "Implying!"

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Unfortunately, Jack misread the situation.

"For God's sake at least give me that," he said, incredulous. "It's not like I'm asking for anything from you, it's just a word. I don't care what you don't want now and what you didn't want the last fifty years but don't try and pretend there wasn't something before. So I don't give a damn what I'm implying, it's only the truth."

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"That's not---that's now what I'm saying!" the Doctor said, his voice very nearly a whine. "You used to understand me! Why don't you understand me?"

He felt like flailing like a child. He felt like throwing a proper temper tantrum. It wasn't fair, he hated the universe, he hated the distance, he hated feeling things.

"I'm going to drink more. Hold on."

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"Yeah and I thought I did too!" Jack said, exasperation in his voice. "But maybe I don't. Because I don't understand you since you--" he took a long breath. "Since I last saw you."

He shook his head and cradled his forehead in his hand. He'd wanted to talk to him for so long. So why now like this, a phone call on valentines day that just made him feel so much more alone.

"Stop it," he hissed out. "Stop drinking. That's not right. It's not you. Just stop it, okay?"

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The Doctor swallowed.

"I missed you," he said with a sad breath. "I miss you. And I---I wanted to tell you that. So I called."

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Jack didn't speak for what felt like an eternity. He just took long breaths, trying to keep himself together. For the Doctor to have missed him it meant... oh, so much.

He should hate him for it, he could hate him for it. But he didn't, and he wouldn't.

"I'm here," he said finally, just quietly. "I'm here, Doctor. So talk to me. Just talk to me." And it was almost a plea, because that, he missed as much as anything.

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

"I miss---"

He smiled lazily, remembering back to the good times, the times that seemed so far away now. Times that seemed sharper the more he drank and the more he listened to Jack's voice.

He put the top back on the bottle and set it at an angle against the console.

"I miss you telling me what I should and shouldn't do in that...that Torchwood-y voice when you're being all authoritative. I miss running. With you, still plenty of running here. But with you, especially."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack listened and remembered it. Oh the memories were so strong, so close, and despite the pain, Jack smiled a little.

"Me too," he admitted. "Miss all those adventures, saving the world at the last minute. We made a good team together, you and me, Doctor. Good team. Miss the TARDIS and all those days without sleep, too busy running around, then having to carry you to bed because you've fallen asleep in the console room," he laughed a little, distant and fond as he remembered.

"Don't really have too much call for running, any more," he said.

"You know what I really miss?" he went on. "When something was bad, so bad, and we both knew it, but you'd look at me and I just knew we'd sort it out." He glanced down, and though he smiled, there were tears in his eyes.

"Still hoping we might."

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"I can't lose you again," the Doctor said. His mind had jumped tracks, of course. Other ways, hopping about, never quite on the level with everyone else.

"I remember you there, on the Dead planet with the Marquis. I thought you were dead, Jack. And it almost destroyed me. I couldn't----I couldn't do that again."

Because the Doctor know what would happen if he went back for Jack. Jack didn't know.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It hurt to hear, because Jack didn't understand. If the Doctor was so afraid of losing him then why did he leave him all those years ago?

"It's been fifty years," Jack said sadly. "And I'm here-- I'm still-- If you came back, I'd go with you." Too much to reveal and too much to tell him. Opening up to a drunk man that would only push him back, he was sure.

"I feel dead like this," he said, "more dead than back there." The Doctor called him Jack, and it was the first time in fifty years the name had been his.

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"But you're not, you're alive," the Doctor said. "You've got so much living to do, Jack, you don't even---it's not---you've just got so much there. So much to give and I---I can't take that away by coming back, I can't."

He wanted to reach out and hold Jack. He wanted to hold him and make him feel alive again. But to feel alive for a moment and then die forever, was that worth it? Could the Doctor willingly do that to him?

"Fifty years," he murmured. "Me, too."

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"I'm not," Jack stressed, "I'm not. This isn't living. That was living, there, with you, us.. and not even us like-- that too but it's not even that. And you wouldn't! You couldn't. Wouldn't you love it, Doctor? One more? Just one more adventure. Me and you running in those stars? Jack and the Doctor. I could shout at you in that voice. We could do so much."

He wasn't even trying to persuade him, not really, just telling him what he thought should be.

"When I die now," he said, "there's nobody there waiting when I wake up."

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"Yeah," he said, feeling his eyes burn with Jack's words. "Next stop everywhere. The Doctor and Jack, saving the day!" The last was said with a little flourish, though he felt even more like crying as he spoke. He should never have called. He should never have given Jack this sort of cruel remembrance to what they were.

"At least you wake up," he said. "Because if you didn't---Jack---the universe would be empty."

He was being over dramatic. He didn't care.

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"Good things," Jack said sadly, "good times. They were-- good times."

Better than good, really. Heartbreaking, at times, completely painful and agonising at others, but worth it, so worth it. Even now, looking from the distance from it, he could say that.

"Most the time I wish I didn't," he admitted sadly. He didn't want to feel that way, but he did. He was a man with a need for a purpose, and the purpose he'd utterly lost.

"The universe doesn't even know I'm here," he said. "I'm not important. I'm not you."

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"See," the Doctor said, pointing to the chair as though Jack were standing there in front of him. "That's where you're wrong. The universe needs you."

He closed his eyes and felt a hot tear hit his cheek. He hadn't realized he was about to start crying. He was crying, and it was part the conversation and part the timing and mostly the alcohol keeping him from holding it all in.

He kept it silent, though. Jack didn't have to know.

"And if you died, Jack, I'd never forgive myself."

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"I'm not going to die," Jack said, and even as he spoke the words he felt like he was lying. He felt dead already, and felt anything that was left was ebbing away.

"Pretend," he said in a whisper. "Just pretend for me. Tell me you'll be here in the morning. We'll have that breakfast and we'll go for an adventure. We will, won't we? Just tell me you will, I know you won't but say you will?"

Jack was good at pretending, and maybe if he heard the words, he could hold them and break the truth from them and hold it to his heart.

"It'll be good to see you again," he went on, as though it would happen. "Fifty years worth of hugs waiting, Doctor. First thing I'll do. Promise I won't even try and kiss you. Sound like a deal?"

[rude-not-ginger.livejournal.com]

The Doctor shut his eyes tight, as though he could block out the world that kept him here, pissed at the end of the universe with the person he wanted to be with somewhere on the other. He moved the phone away from his ear, in case he made some sort of sob Jack might hear.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. He wanted to destroy the universe, he wanted to tear it apart the way the Master wanted to. He wanted to stop every happy person in the universe because he couldn't be happy here. Not like this.

He brought the phone back to his ear again.

"I'll be there first thing," he said, his voice calm. "Pick you up. We'll go to Santeim 6 after I burn breakfast. Fantastic coffee there."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's eyes burned even more as he heard the words. He thought it would help but it didn't, it was just painful. Try as he might he couldn't pretend it was true. He wished he could, but he knew the Doctor too well for that.

"We'll never make it to the coffee," he said, his own voice breaking as he tried to laugh through it. "Something's bound to go wrong before then. I'll have to save your ass from something. Really, Doctor, how've you survived this long without me?"

It hurt. It hurt more than Jack could describe and somehow, even with that, he felt more alive than he had in so long. The pain was real, and it reminded him of the world around him.

"Go there," he said, "tomorrow, Santeim 6. Go there." It wouldn't be with him, he knew that.

"Would it be that bad?" he asked quietly. "Five minutes. Just to say hello. You could be here and gone so soon..."

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Majenta was out there.

Of course, he was in a time machine. He could be back for two hours ago if he needed to be. He reached up and pressed a button to lock the present coordinates. He wouldn't miss it, wouldn't miss her. She'd understand.

Then, realizing he'd left the phone on the floor, he stumbled over and picked it up.

"Where are you?"