Title: Duty Calls
Author: Gillian Taylor
Rating: PG
Characters: Tenth Doctor, Rose Tyler, Jack Harkness, Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, & (briefly) Harriet Jones
Summary: He was getting too old for this.Spoilers: The Christmas Invasion & 'A Brave New World'
Disclaimer: Don't own them. I just like playing with them...a lot.
Archive: Sure, just let me know.
A/N: So, 'A Brave New World' was supposed to be a one-shot wonder. But then NNWest said 'Wouldn't it be cool if Jack met the Brigadier?' and it went downhill from there. Needless to say, what follows is the result of the bunny that bit me, and bit me hard, when there were other things for me to be working on instead. However, when the Brig talks, I have to listen. Thanks, as always, to my partner in crime and beta for this fic NNWest.
"Duty Calls"
by Gillian Taylor
He was getting too old for this.
Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart, retired, leaned back into the faux leather chair with an audible creak. Light filtered through the blinds in the Torchwood commander's office, casting patterns of shadows and light across the floor that he traced with his eyes as he searched for the words to continue. Doris had once accused him of not truly retiring if every time the world found itself in a pickle, he rushed in to help save the day. There would come a time, perhaps soon, perhaps not, wherein the youngsters that had inherited Earth's defence would be left to fend for themselves. He feared for that day.
He could not truthfully say that he was proud of the brave new world that Torchwood had wrought. When a weapon was used to attack a defeated enemy, an enemy that was retreating with a message of warning from the Doctor, they became no better than their foe. Humanity's future was no longer bright and Britain's golden age had become tarnished. "A young lady once asked me how this was better, Captain. We must be able to defend ourselves, but to what extent? The Sycorax were leaving, and the Prime Minister committed genocide."
The Captain sighed. Part of him could easily agree with the Brigadier, a part that he had once thought permanently numbed. However, he was in a military command. Orders must be followed, even if he disagreed with them. "I don't have a say..."
"Yes, you do, Captain Harkness. You're from the future. You know what should happen, what must happen. Torchwood should never have been fired. We're getting noticed, and if this is how we are known out there, I fear what might be coming next. The Sycorax are just a taste of what's to come - the next aliens to come to Earth might not even be courteous enough to send us a message. They might shoot first and I can't honestly blame them."
"Humanity has a right to defend itself," Jack replied, shaking his head in denial.
"Yes, I'm not arguing with that. What I am arguing for is the need to actually weigh the decision before deciding to fire first and ask questions later. It's true, the Sycorax might have returned with an army but they might not have. As a military man, I know that sometimes it's better to let your enemy retreat. It's sometimes better to let them have that chance to prove themselves better than just an enemy. We never gave them that chance. What happens when we start travelling through the stars? If someone shoots us as we're leaving their world? They would stir up a hornet's nest and I fear that that is exactly what Harriet Jones has done."
"We don't know that for a fact, Brigadier. I'm afraid that there's nothing that I can do for you."
"Nothing?" Alistair repeated. "I disagree. There is plenty that you can do. As Torchwood's commander, you can make those judgements. Weigh the future against the present, weigh what has to be done over what someone wants you to do. Your job isn't easy, just as mine never was. However, we have a duty.."
"Yes, we have a duty to obey orders." It was easier that way. It helped to dull the pain that two years of living on Earth had left him with.
"You have a duty to do what's right. That is all that I am asking."
"There's more to it than that. Right and orders don't always march hand in hand."
"That's where you have to make a choice. I have done plenty in my day that I have disagreed with, and plenty that make it hard for me to sleep at night. You're still young, Captain, you still have a chance. One of my regrets is not being able to sleep at night for the memories of what I have done in defence of this planet. Don't become like me."
"I'm sorry, Brigadier."
Lethbridge-Stewart shook his head. How could he hope to fulfil the Doctor's wishes when he encountered such stubbornness? "I have it on good authority that we're starting down paths that humanity was never meant to travel. Torchwood was never meant to be used like this."
"You told someone about Torchwood?" Jack's voice turned almost threatening. Despite Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart's legend, despite his rank, despite his actions in the past, there was no excuse for violating an oath of secrecy.
"I didn't have to. He already knew because he was there."
It felt as if his stomach had dropped a few metres in reaction. "He?" There was only one 'he' it could be. The same 'he' that had left him on Satellite Five.
"Yes, the Doctor."
"How...how is he doing?" Jack silently cursed the slight break in his voice, knowing that the older man could easily pick up on it. Damn the Doctor for doing this to him. Damn Rose as well. They had left him. They had left him, yet even still he had to know. He had to know they were okay even though they had torn his heart to shreds in their wake.
Alistair looked at him knowingly. "Ah, I see you know the Doctor."
He wanted to scoff. He didn't know the Doctor, he loved him. How could one know the enigmatic Time Lord and fail to do so? The same was all too true of Rose as well. "I did, a long time ago." Or would. Or will. Tenses tended to be shot straight to hell when time travel was concerned. To him, two long years had passed since he had been left on Satellite Five. He knew when he was not wanted, but to have it sprung upon him like that? Even he could never imagine the Doctor to be so cruel.
"He's doing well, though I'm sure he'll pop by for a visit this weekend. If you'd like, I can tell him you asked about him..."
"No!" The word was explosive in it's force and Jack winced. "Sorry, I mean no. That's alright. I don't want him to know I was asking about him."
"Why ever not?"
Why ever not? He repeated the words in his mind, tasting their bitterness, their sharpness, and their pain. He was a wounded man even though his body seemed to be whole. Jack could imagine the Doctor's face, grinning in triumph at knowing that he had affected him so. He was nothing more than a plaything for what should have been a myth. He shook his head. "He wouldn't want to see me, wouldn't want to know..." Know what? Know that he was still pining for his travels with the darkly handsome Doctor and the bright beauty that was Rose? Know that he still was in love, even after all this time? Know that he was dying, trapped in this century, trapped on this planet, trapped without the Time Lord?
"Don't you think he should have a say in that?" Alistair asked gently.
"He..." Jack's voice trailed off as he shrugged helplessly. There was only so much that he wanted to reveal, even though the Brigadier seemed perfectly willing to listen.
Lethbridge-Stewart hummed under his breath, shaking his head slightly. It was obvious that something had happened between Jack Harkness and the Doctor, but he knew little about the other man's background. The Captain had turned up literally on UNIT's doorstep two years ago, far worse for the wear. He had muttered something about Daleks before collapsing into Bambera's arms. Since that point, he had been rather tight-lipped about his past. To learn that Jack had had something to do with the Time Lord was unsurprising. What was surprising was his reaction after the fact. "Try giving him some credit, Jack. The Doctor is many things, but he would never turn away a friend."
"He already did," Jack replied in a dead tone of voice.
"I did?" A new voice joined in the conversation and Jack turned to face a man wearing a long trench coat, a pin-striped suit, and, of all things, a battered pair of tennis shoes. His deep brown eyes spoke of sorrow and an ancient wisdom that belied his youthful appearance. There was something familiar about him, though the former Time Agent knew that he had never seen the man before. He could hardly forget a handsome face, but why did this newcomer remind him of another man who wore dark leather?
He stood and approached the newcomer, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Who are you?" Jack asked just before a blonde-haired blur tackled him in a hug.
"JACK!" His name was shouted with joy and he looked down in befuddlement at an armful of Rose Tyler.
"Rose?" It wasn't possible. It wasn't. They had left him. They had left him and Rose was hugging him. They had abandoned him on Satellite Five. He gently disengaged himself from her, stepping backward to keep a decent amount of distance. The hurt on Rose's face made him want to reassure her, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. They had left him, yet why did it hurt to step away from Rose?
"Hallo." Rose greeted him softly. She moved closer to the stranger, grabbing his hand as if it were some sort of safety net. Who was that man? Where was the Doctor?
"How can you be here? Why are you here? Didn't you already do enough?" He forced himself to stop before he poured out his griefs into Rose's unknowing ears. Jack wasn't strong enough for this.
"Jack..." Rose's voice was distressed. "We, I, we didn't know. We thought you were dead. At least, at first. I..."
"So you and the Doctor knew I was alive and you didn't do anything? Just continued on your little adventures through time and space, better with two, and decided to show up now?" He had to stop. This wasn't helping, if anything it was making things worse. He felt horrible for the distressed expression on Rose's face. He had caused that, he had hurt her - so why did he still care?
"It wasn't like that," Rose protested weakly.
"No? Then where's the Doctor to back you up, Rose?"
"He's right here." The stranger squeezed Rose's hand gently and glared at Jack. The righteous anger, the instinct to protect Rose against any and all threats - he knew those expressions. Yet, how could it be the Doctor?
"No you're not."
"He is," the Brigadier joined in the conversation, as he turned in his chair and stood. He nodded slightly at the Doctor and Rose before focusing on Jack. "He is as much the Doctor as the man you knew or the one that I have known off and on for the past thirty years."
"Impossible." Jack shook his head.
"Not for a Time Lord. We have a sort of trick to defeat death, but to do it I had to change. This is me now, though I'm still rather disappointed I'm not ginger." The Doctor's expression turned faintly melancholy before he brightened visibly. "I do have a mole, though. Love the mole."
He opened his mouth to reply before closing it with an almost audible snap. This man's quicksilver moods were oddly reminiscent of the Doctor he knew, but it did not change what had happened. It did not change, Doctor or not, that he had been left behind. "You left me."
"Er, yes. 'Bout that. You had to be here Jack, it was already historical fact. They needed you here on Earth during the past, what's it been for you, two years? What's done is done." The joviality, with just a hint of darkness, that the Doctor used in his reply caused Jack to reel back on his heels.
He knew the risks of changing history, but that did not cause his feelings of betrayal to disappear. He had been left behind on a dying space station with nothing more than dead bodies and dust. He had alternated between depression and rage as he wondered just how long it would take before death claimed him. He had felt death's icy tendrils for a moment, but then he felt himself slam back into his body in time to watch the final betrayal of the disappearing TARDIS. He lived, but it was a half life, a meaningless life because it was without them.
"For what it's worth," the Doctor said, stepping forward to gently touch Jack's shoulder. "I'm sorry."
He stiffened reflexively under the touch before his resistance melted under the Time Lord's concerned gaze. Though the blue eyes that he had once known and loved were now brown, he could see the same man looking at him. "I thought..." His voice trailed off, though he completed the words in his mind. 'I thought you didn't want me anymore. I thought this was your way of saying life was better with just two.'
"I know." With those words, the Doctor pulled him into a loose hug. "But to answer your thought, never."
Jack felt a slender pair of arms slip around him from behind. "We missed you, Jack." Rose's voice was muffled against the back of his jacket.
"Why now? Why come back now?" He had to steel himself, no matter what they said.
"Those two years are up. History's duty is done, Jack. It's time to come home. Well, that an' we were supposed to visit the Brigadier this weekend and I got the timing a little off. Figured we'd pop over here instead an' pick you up a little early." Jack turned his head slightly to see the Doctor's brilliant grin, before it faded slightly at Jack's expression. "That is if you want to come home."
"Home?" He repeated somewhat dumbly.
"'Course, home. The TARDIS, silly," Rose replied as she released her grip on him. "It's not the same without you."
"Even after all this time, you still want me to come with you?" Jack asked, astonished. Did they really love him that much? Could he dare to believe that?
The Doctor smiled. "What we do? It's better with three." With an additional squeeze, he let go of him and pulled away.
How could he argue with that? How could he argue when he could see the truth shining out of the Time Lord's eyes? How could he object when he could see that the same emotion glittered in Rose's gaze? "Okay."
"Fantastic."
"Hmmm, well looks like Torchwood's without a commanding officer," Jack smiled faintly. He turned toward the Brigadier, who had been silent for most of his exchange with the Doctor and Rose. "Interested in a new job?"
He was definitely too old for this, though his lips quirked upward as he imagined his wife's reaction. "Doris would kill me. Though, I believe that UNIT would do well. Brigadier Bambera is due to be back from her sabbatical, and I can't think of finer hands to have in control."
"Who's going to tell the Prime Minister of the change?" Rose asked curiously.
"Leave that to me," the Brigadier grinned.
Twenty-four Hours Later...
Dusk fell over the grounds of the Lethbridge-Stewart estate, colouring the foliage in a deep orange. A faint smile crossed his face as he dialled his phone. He knew that this conversation would turn out to be rather interesting. "Good evening, Prime Minister. This is Brigadier Alistair Lethbridge-Stewart."
A rather harried voice replied, "Brigadier, what a pleasure to speak with you at last. What can I do for you?"
"It is not what you can do for me, ma'am, but what I must inform you about some...changes in UNIT command." He caught the muffled giggle from across the room and winked at Rose.
"Oh?"
There were dozens of ways of conveying his message. Alistair chose the easiest, "Torchwood has, shall we say, changed hands."
"What!" The Prime Minister's astonishment was easily read over the phone, as was a growing anger.
"As of this moment, UNIT has control of the Torchwood device. I am afraid that you won't be able to use it as easily as you have before."
"Excuse me, Brigadier, but I am the Prime Minister." Harriet Jones' voice was irate.
"Yes, you are," he agreed readily, "but Torchwood is under the auspices of the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. If there's anyone we have to answer to, it's the United Nations. You had your chance, Prime Minister."
"I can have your rank stripped because of this," she threatened.
"No," he smiled, "you can't. I'm retired. Have a good day, madam." Alistair could hear her tiny voice shouting through the receiver even as he carefully hung up. "I'm getting too old for this," he told his friend.
"Ah, Alistair, you've been saying that for years. Hasn't stopped you yet." The Doctor grinned brightly.
"Hmm, too true. Just don't let Doris hear you saying that. I'd never hear the end of it."
"Wouldn't dream of it," the Doctor assured him.