quitehomoerotic: ([wrist strap] check)
Follows this.

It was no lie when Jack said travelling with the transverser might be more uncomfortable than the Vortex Manipulator. In fact, such an idea was quite the understatement. This? This hurt. It felt as though his insides had been ripped out and unceremoniously stuffed back in. Felt so much in fact that he reached a hand down to check that wasn't the case.

Thankfully, he was still in one piece. It made a nice change.

"That'll wake you up in a morning," Jack said, cricking his neck to the side. "You okay?" His hand was still in the Doctor's, and he released the grip to move it around to his back. "Doctor?"

They appeared to be in a city street. A very very empty city street. Empty and quiet. Like it had been abandoned years ago. It felt intrinsically wrong. He glanced down at his wrist strap, still not working. Still not their Universe.

"Okay," he said tentatively. "Lets try and get through this one without the vivisection. We stick together."
quitehomoerotic: ([problem] dark)
Follows this

Jack didn't sleep. Not one wink. It was a long night of lying there with his gaze focussed steadfast on a point on the opposite wall. As the hours passed he realised he could have mapped out the knots in the wood of the panelling. But then he probably could have done that anyway.

It wasn't new for him to lie like this, and so it was easy to lose sense of time. His only guess to it being some sort of morning was when he heard the door click gently as the Doctor left. He hadn't slept either, Jack didn't think.

More time passed, or so Jack assumed. He could have quite easily have stayed there.

But it was a smell that finally roused him. Something that smelt distinctly like... burning. He ignored it at first. But the smell got worse. And Jack realised, it didn't just smell like burning, it was.

So bursting into action, Jack sprung from the bed and out of the room, along the smoke filled corridor until he reached the kitchen, so hazy he could barely see. He pulled a handle by the door (he'd just installed that two weeks ago) and a purple foam rained down from the sky, dousing a fire that originated at the far end of the room.

"Doctor? What the hell are you doing?"
quitehomoerotic: (TARDIS)
Follows this.

Jack carried the Doctor's limp body inside the TARDIS and shut the door behind him with a firm hand. In his mind he could feel the TARDIS bubbling away with worry and concern. She could feel it too, and she didn't understand. Was he alive? Was he really alive? Could he be? What had happened? What had Jack done?

"He'll be okay," he said aloud to her. "He's alive, he'll be fine."

He set the Doctor down on the metal grating of the console room floor. The Doctor looked wrong like that, in the borrowed clothes that didn't fit him. He looked like someone had tried to dress a doll. They'd have things right soon enough. They had to.

Running around the console he set the TARDIS quickly into flight. They had to get away, they couldn't be here, they couldn't be found. That would cause far too many problems.

The Doctor would wake up. He was alive, he had to wake up, and Jack would focus on him as soon as they were away. Anywhere, anywhen, just away.

The vortex was enough for now, no real destination, just far away.

Only when Jack was sure they were safely in flight did he move, and when he did he brought himself down to kneel beside the Doctor.

"Wake up," he whispered. "Please."
quitehomoerotic: ([doctor] cartoon jack/ten)
One Year of
Two Immortals one TARDIS

Now this post may be a little self indulgent, but I think some things are worth celebrating, and this is one of them.

A little over a year ago, I sent [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger a message asking if she might like to do an RP thread set post Children of Earth, exploring a little of how that effected Jack, and how a conversation between he and the Doctor might go. A year ago today, 14th July 2009, we started our first thread. The rest, as they say, is history.

One thread turned into another, and another to another, and what started out small grew and blossomed into something I could have never imagined, and 28 threads and 7008 comments later (yes, I counted) it's still going strong.

The threads have become such an epic story, that has involved so many elements; from adventure to romance, to sadness and loss, to technobabble and spaceships, alien planets and oh such a lot of running. They span over 200 years (well, depending how you look at it), manage to incorporate canon events (and we totally pre-empted 'The Waters of Mars'), and have stories that are seeded and form full arcs (even when we don't quite intend them to!). They've gone places I'd have never expected, both physically and emotionally, and there's not a single tag in there that I don't hold dear to my heart.

I utterly adore re-reading the old threads, and I do it often. While writing the stories in this verse I've laughed, I've cried, I've been shocked and gone without far too much sleep on more than one occasion. It's been a year of writing that I've enjoyed every moment of and I look forward to much more.

I'm not one to ever really recommend my own writing, but this verse is one I'm immensely proud of, and as such I'd link anyone interested towards the master post here where everything is linked together chronologically.

And to [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger? Thank you so much for what you've put into this verse with me. I think the love that goes into it really shows and I adore it (and you) completely.

Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] best_served_hot for the graphic! Amazing as always!
quitehomoerotic: (Dead Jack is very dead)
Follows this.

His eyes creaked open, and it felt like he'd been asleep too long.

He was lying on his back, and the light above him felt bright. Every muscle in his body ached, and though he thought about moving them, it was little more than that; a thought. The fingers on his hand curled a little, and he was dimly aware of a bleep of a monitor, and something attached to his arm.

He wondered where he was, but then he realised he already knew the answer to that, like it was hard wired inside him. He was in the TARDIS, and that was good. Good. That was very good.

The light penetrated his eyes and it felt sore, he blinked them a couple of times, trying to pull the world into focus, but there was still a haze, and the action itself seemed to tire him out, so he let them close, and he filled his lungs with a bigger breath of air.

How long had he been here? How long had he been dead or been lost? Something told him, something in the ache of his bones, that it had been a very long time.
quitehomoerotic: ([problem] staring)
Follows this.

The console in front of Jack lit up with a rainbow of colours. The different sectors were flashing on and off with a sequence of alarms and alerts, one after the other.

"Doctor we've lost the whole of sector six!" Jack called out. He was only just about getting enough time to cancel out and work out what was alerting before it started all over again. Above him, he could hear the explosions inside the building, and they seemed to be getting ever closer to the control room. Another one, and the roof shook and plaster started to fall.

"We're running out of time here!" he shouted.

"Sector nine has been breached. Doctor, get out of there!"
quitehomoerotic: ([sad] sitting in the corner)
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.
quitehomoerotic: ([thoughtful] lip touch)
Follows this.

Jack slept.

Lately, he slept longer and deeper than he used to. His old lifestyle meant he always had to be ready, and many nights he'd sleep for a few short hours, if at all, and often times it would be days between getting to touch his head to a pillow. Now being Jack Harkness and being who (and perhaps what) he was, that was fine, he needed less; he managed. But now? Now things had changed. That wasn't to say they couldn't change back, of course. But things took time. Just like everything.

Through the night he woke. The Doctor was there at first, and then not. Dreams were not unusual to Jack, but here with the events of the last day or so they had almost slipped. It used to be he'd dream he was with the Doctor, and now he dreamt he wasn't. Worrying that the reality had been the dream. But then he'd wake and he saw the truth, and it was easier to drift off once again.

It wasn't a short sleep by any standards. And a good seven hours later he was waking up with his required rest under his belt. He was still settled against the couch with his head against his coat. Though the place that had held the Doctor beside him now was just more of his own body sprawled out and hugging part of the sofa itself. And over him, he was now covered with the Doctor's own outstretched coat.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking them tiredly as he sat himself up. He looked around the room, again remembering where he was, and looked up, seeing the Doctor sitting not too far away.

"Hey," he said with a smile. He was still there. "Morning." He squinted. "I think?"
quitehomoerotic: (Grin on TARDIS)
Follows this

They had all the time they needed. And true, they did. And an evening that might be a few hours for some could be so much more for them if they desired.

And so, for once, they did. And they indulged in what was available to them. An evening in the TARDIS while she bathed in the sky. A night of simply being together, and sharing. A bath that lasted far too long and a massage that lasted almost longer. That and a bed and a good night's sleep for the both of them.

It was, just about the epitome of relaxing.

And the morning arrived and with it renewed energy and drive, and so, being the people they were, they just had to travel.

After all, the TARDIS needed a run in.

"You know I think this is the smoothest flight we've ever had," Jack said with a grin, looking at the Doctor over the console, one hand rested on his monitor. "All her vitals are spot on."
quitehomoerotic: (Happy : Just water for me)
It had been an interesting little trip to Boeshane for more reasons than one. Full of discoveries, both good and bad. But steps forward, and steps that Jack for now was at least optimistically hoping were positive. It was what allowed him now (redressed and cleaned) to stand tall, smiling, and allowing himself to be happy.

He'd never been here before. He'd been to the end of the universe, of course, but then time was funny and then this was here too. Must have just been a different part of the end of the universe, of course; a different corner.

He'd be here again, though, and though he might not realise that now, one day it would be so very important, and things that had happened would soon be happening, both now and a few thousand years away.

But for this Jack? Now? All he had to contend with was finding them a table and getting them a drink.

"Four course special," he said, gesturing up to a board in the corner. "Sounds right up our alley."

A server greeted them and took them over towards a table (table 42). Jack waited for the Doctor to sit before he did (after all, chivalry didn't have to be dead, did it?) He smiled at him.

"So, about this drink then?"
quitehomoerotic: (Chained up)
Follows this

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The sound of water, somewhere in the distance, escaping from a pipe and falling against a cold stone surface. Jack knew the sound well, and in the back of his mind he could imagine himself in the Hub.

But in the Hub there wasn't that metal biting into his wrists. Not that cold feeling of tight bolts holding him in place, nor the sound of metal touching against metal as chains moved as he did.

It woke him up. And he opened his eyes.

The room was dark and stone. Not at all unlike the bowels of the Hub, but so much older. It looked as though it had been there forever and the stone was as organic as the air itself. An air, that he noted, was stale and old and hadn't seen the light of day in a very long time.

He was chained to the wall. Opposite him, he could see the Doctor in exactly the same position, head still ducked, still out of it.

"Doctor," Jack called over, his heart racing. "Doctor can you hear me?"

Start at the beginning. Then they could work out where exactly they'd got themselves.
quitehomoerotic: (Team TARDIS 2.0)
AN: This is written for the wonderful [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger mun to hopefully put a smile on her face. It's set within the two immortals verse at some point in the future. It's a little silly, hopefully fun!

When people who are around each other a lot change how they behave with one another it can be hard for the people themselves to notice. After all, the people in question share company so much that noting the change themselves can be difficult, even if they're aware there is one.

It can be harder still when the pair in question are both very stubborn by nature. Stubborn to the degree that they will both (to anyone but themselves) deny that they have changed at all. Even if they're fully aware that they have.

So it's perhaps that stubbornness then that means the Doctor and Captain Jack Harkness assure themselves that nothing will be noticed when Martha Jones comes to visit. Well really, how could she notice something when there's nothing to notice?

But Martha isn't so foolish, and she notices. She notices before she even enters the TARDIS.


Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring.

Martha stands in her kitchen with her laptop open and her mobile phone to her ear. She waits.

Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring. Ring ring ring.


"Docto--," she stops. Frowns. "Jack?"

"Martha Jones. Voice of a nightingale! And that's me. Least last time I checked. This a social call or--"

Another voice chirps up from the background. The Doctor's voice. And Martha can tell even from the tone he's likely running around as though his feet were on fire.

"Is that Martha?"

"Yes it's Martha."

"Oh that's ni--- 300 meters to impact!"

Jack's attention returns to the phone. "Look we're kind of in the middle of something here but, is there something you need?"

She lets out a breath of a laugh. "Something in the water, Jack. I'm at Mum's. I--"

His voice cuts her off, "Yup, water, Mom's, got it. See you soon, Martha."

The phone line goes dead and Martha pulls back just staring at the phone. Well that was surreal. )

Word count: 3561
quitehomoerotic: (Srs bsns)
Follows this.

Jack held tight to the TARDIS console as they shook back and forth in flight. His heart in his chest raced. The Ood. Well that was good. Really, it was. The Ood could help (he hoped) and then things would be easier. Things would make more sense and be less confusing for both of them.

It'd be better.

But what if they couldn't? There was always that chance. If they couldn't, he and the Doctor were at a dead end and maybe they'd just have to get used to the fact their memories would never be repaired and that history would never be fixed. They'd have to start again and see where that would take them.

But no, Jack wasn't ready to think about that. The Ood would help, they had to.

They landed and the TARDIS promptly stopped shaking; the central column slowing to a stop.

"Right then," he nodded, "looks like our stop." He smoothed down the front of his coat and nodded to the door, "Doctor's first."
quitehomoerotic: (Srs bsns)
Follows this.


Jack landed on the marbled floor with an unceremonious fall.

"Yeah, but you missed it," he said finishing the sentiment the Doctor started before he activated the manipulator.

He pulled himself up from the floor and stretched himself out, looking over to the Doctor to make sure he was okay and all in one piece.

"We're about 800 years to the left," he said as he checked his wrist strap. "Set it on random, thought it'd be more fun that way."

He grinned over at him, and stretched his neck out a little more as he looked around.

What he saw, was nothing short of spectacular.

The walls looked to be made of stone and were decorated with gargoyles and elaborate gold filigree flourishes. Ahead of them, up on the wall, was a vast round glass stain window. Small lights illuminated it around the circle, but just about visible through the other side was the vague starlight in the distance. They were still in space, not on a planet surface.

"Well this is new... what is this, some sort of space monastery?"
quitehomoerotic: (Sad : Lonely)
Follows this.

Three weeks. That's how long it should have been. Three weeks for Jack to fix what was broken. For Jack to play the role of the hero and save the world again.

He did it in two.

Three weeks and he went back to that spot. Went back and waited for the sound of the engines and the appearance of a little blue box. He waited there all day, waited in the pleasant summer's day and waited as the day turned to balmy evening, and the evening to cool night.

He waited there the day after, in case he'd got it wrong, in case he'd made a mistake (but he knew he hadn't).

He waited, but nothing came. No engines, no little blue box, no familiar face in a pinstripe suit and messed up hair. Nothing.

He waited and when nothing came, he found he had nowhere to go.

Martha had tried to be sympathetic, and Jack had lied and said he was fine. The Doctor was a busy man, he probably just got side tracked. But then Martha couldn't really understand, could she? She couldn't know how things changed. She couldn't know how Jack needed the Doctor now (and how Jack had hoped he was needed too).

She'd suggested he go home, back to Cardiff. Gwen'd love to see him and there's still the rift that needed looking after and you know technically Torchwood still existed and it was still in his control.

But no. He couldn't do that. He wasn't ready and even the mention of it infuriated him. It made him snap and made him cold. He felt bad for it, but he didn't apologise.

Nowhere to go, and as the weeks passed Jack would return each one, the same day each week to that place, just in case the TARDIS arrived. But it never did, and as each week came and went, the little voice of hope that thought maybe, just maybe he would, got quieter and faded into nothing.

He had to wait though. He couldn't go because what if the Doctor did need him? What if the Doctor came back and he wasn't there? No, he wouldn't do that. He'd wait. He wouldn't use the vortex manipulator and run, as appealing as the idea could be.

The weeks turned to months, and Jack had had to find a place to wait. A home, well that was easy enough, and Martha was only too happy to give him something to do. But he stayed under the radar. He didn't want to be too noticed. Not by UNIT or the Government or a woman in Cardiff who'd not long given birth.

He became reclusive as the time went on. He didn't want to make conversation, and he wouldn't. He stopped wanting to help and fell back to how he had been when he ran from Earth. But this time, in limbo. Waiting, still waiting. He'd spent his whole life waiting.

This time though, he waited with a bottle in one hand and a gun in the other. Turned out London had quite the Weevil infestation. Well at least that was something he could deal with.

Five months had passed since he left the Doctor. Five months in a life as long as Jack's could seem like nothing at all. But it didn't, it seemed like forever. He'd stopped going to check for the TARDIS, because he was sure it wouldn't come. He'd considered ringing him and asking what the hell he thought he was doing, but no, they didn't need an over the phone domestic. If the Doctor wanted to come, he'd come. Jack wouldn't chase, not any more. He was worried about him too, of course, and perhaps in truth that was a larger part of the reason he wouldn't call. Just in case there was no answer. Just in case something had happened to him. He'd rather not have that confirmed.

So there he was, living in a top floor apartment that overlooked the Thames. An apartment not unlike the one in Cardiff. Modern and a little bland, with barely a touch to describe it as belonging to him. There he sat with an open bottle of whisky and a bank of open laptops around him, tracking and working and busying himself with anything.

Busying himself with nothing. While he waited.
quitehomoerotic: (Doctor : With Ten in the Bay)
Jack pressed the button on the manipulator and in a flash they were gone. Away from the tower, away from Gallifrey, through the vortex and through the rift. It pulled them through time and space and everything in between.

Until they were there.

Barely a moment and they were there, feet first on the carpet inside Jack's Cardiff flat. The tug had been immense and unpleasant, but that was fine. That was fine because they'd got away. They'd got away and they were (relatively) safe.

"Doctor you did it!" Jack beamed, spinning around to look at him, making himself dizzy in the process. "We're here, we're back. Oh you genius!"
quitehomoerotic: (Doctor : Srs bsns)
This is the master post for all threads in the 'two immortals one TARDIS' verse written with [livejournal.com profile] rude_not_ginger. This post will be updated with details as the verse continues, including links back to individual threads and summaries of what happens.

Onwards to the posts... )
quitehomoerotic: (Concerned)
Follows on from this

Jack held fast to the controls of the ship as they plunged into hyperspace. The g-forces on his body pressed him into the chair, and he focused all of his attention on keeping the craft smooth and flying. He'd worry about just where it was they were going later.

It was a strong craft, a good ship. But it was built for leisure, built for transporting rich people to unimportant places. There was no hardened shell and it wasn't well shielded, and so it wasn't ever constructed to contend with such difficult conditions. It was something like trying to drive a sports car through the desert in a sandstorm.

The ship started shaking as they moved through space; fixtures and fittings coming unstuck from their various homes in the craft. Somewhere inside there was a smash as a vase fell from a shelf and not even the gravity cushion was enough to restrain it.

"Make sure your trays are in the upright condition and your seatbelts are fastened until the pilot has turned off the seatbelt light," Jack said with a grin as he moved the craft along. There was an undeniable rush with it. The thrill of the adventure and the danger. You really had to be a certain sort of person to enjoy it as he did.

Jack had seen the vortex before. Travelled through it, even, clung to the outside of the TARDIS. The Doctor had seen it too, many times, Jack suspected. But the Doctor didn't need to know that right now. So Jack leaned forward and pressed a button on the panel that blackened out the window in front of them so they wouldn't have to see the vortex now as the vortex manipulator directed the ship through it.

"Hold on tight!" Jack called as they travelled. Just a little longer, just a little bit more. The ship continued to rattle and he worried it might not keep together, but then without warning or sign the shaking stopped.

"We're out," Jack breathed with a wide grin as the adrenaline rushed through his system. He reached forward and pressed the button to clear the glass. What he saw outside wiped the smile right off his face.

Below them, a few hundred feet or so was the surface of a planet. A planet covered in a dark cloud, devoid of light and life. It looked sick, like the planet itself was rotting. It sent a chill down Jack's spine.

"So don't tell me," Jack said, "The Death's Spiral, right?"
quitehomoerotic: (Sad : Sigh)
Follows on from this

When Jack came to he was in a hospital bed. He'd been sedated, or he'd passed out, or... something. Whatever it was, he wasn't where he last remembered being and he didn't like it. He didn't feel in control.

He looked down at himself and he'd been redressed in some sort of hospital scrubs. The dried blood had been cleaned away and he felt somewhere in the general vicinity of healthy. He was hooked up to monitors, heart rate and others he didn't recognise.

The curtain around his bed was drawn closed and he called out, "Hey, do I at least get a hot nurse or something?"
quitehomoerotic: (General : Profile)
Follows on from this

When Jack woke it took him a while to realise where he was, a while to catch up with the night before.

But it soon came rushing back.

The sleep, what little he'd had, had still been more than he'd had in weeks. Though it still wasn't enough to relieve the ache he felt inside. An ache that only seemed to grow when he thought about the night before.

He felt like a fool. A fool for attempting to push aside pain. Guilty for it too. Guilty for trying. Guilty too for making a fool out of himself in front of the one person who might understand.

One thing he knew though, almost immediately; he should leave. The TARDIS wasn't the place for him. Not any more. It was once, when he was a man who could die, a man who could sleep a dreamless sleep. But he wasn't that man now. And besides, the Doctor had hardly asked him to stay, had he? If he left it would remove the need for the inevitable conversation that would only leave them both feeling awkward. And besides, Jack didn't want to have to hear the Doctor asking him to leave.

So he washed and dressed (and he had to admit he was thankful for the shower), and he made his way back to the console room. His feet padding as quietly as they could along the endless corridors.

He took one last look around the room, touching a light hand against the walls as he took his coat and put it back on. He smiled at it, at the memories this place and the man who owns it hold.

And he walked to the doors to leave.


quitehomoerotic: (Default)
Captain Jack Harkness

July 2011

     1 2


RSS Atom

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 23rd, 2017 03:02 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios