Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who or the rest
Warnings: Slash. Don't like? Don't read.
a/ns: I started writing this in a fury after 'The Christmas Invasion" when they neglected to mention Jack at all (he was supposed to be dead, after all) and then, me being me, abandoned it for three months. I have, however, written a sizeable amount already and am waaaay into this story now.I'm pretty sure Jack/Ten would be the hottest thing ever, so here is my offering...
spoilers:series one and TCI
"On sleepless roads the sleepless go." -Hear You Me, Jimmy Eat World
It wasn't until afterwards –after the regeneration, after they'd saved the Earth (and Christmas), after she'd had to say goodbye to her mum yet again- and they were on their way to God knows where that Rose had even time to start thinking about it.
She supposed she'd been avoiding it really, what happened on Satellite 5, because every time she even dwelled on it she got a heavy, sick feeling in the pit of the stomach.
But now, with the TARDIS hurtling through space and the Doctor locked in his bathroom examining his new body (he'd been there for over two hours), there was nothing left for her to do but face the reality.
Jack was dead.
It hurt. It hurt every bone in her body. Hurt so much she felt like she could crawl into bed and never have to wake up again.
Jack was dead. She'd lost him. She'd lost them both, or at least that was what it felt like.
She knew, logically, that the Doctor was still the Doctor, but it felt strange, different. Did this Doctor even remember Jack? Did he realise Jack was dead?
Oh God, Jack was dead.
It happened suddenly. One minute she was leaning against the kitchen counter, staring at Jack's Bart Simpson mug on the mug tree (she had shown him an episode once and he hadn't stopped talking about it for weeks afterwards) and the next she was sitting on the floor, hands clenched into tight fists as great, noisy sobs wracked her body. She buried her face in her hands, pulling her knees to her chest and cried, for Jack, for her Doctor, for her mother, for herself because suddenly she didn't want to be here in the middle of the universe. She wanted to be at home, in front of the telly with a cup of her mum's tea and listening to Jackie yack on the phone while she tried to watch Eastenders.
She didn't realise he was even in the room with her until she felt his arms encircle her, pulling her against him, and she pressed her face into the unfamiliar material of his coat and cried.
"Shh," he whispered, and all she could think was that he didn't smell right, and that she wanted Jack more than she had wanted anything in her life.
"He's gone," she sobbed. "He's dead."
"I know," he replied softly, stroking her hair, and Rose was so glad he didn't ask her who she was talking about. She didn't think she could handle that.
She pulled away, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes and taking deep shuddering breaths.
"Sorry," she managed. "I just haven't really had time to think about it and then I was looking at his mug and I-"
She broke off, bursting into a wave of fresh tears, and didn't resist as the Doctor reached for her again.
He waited until she was all cried out, then gently pulled her to her feet. He was so much
shorter than he was before, she realised, as he led her along the corridor that went from the kitchen. He used to tower over her, but now he wasn't that much taller than she was. His arm around her was slimmer, his hand smaller. She bit her lip and tried not to cry again.
"Let's get you to bed," he said. "I'll make you a cuppa and bring it in."
He was trying, she could tell, but there was a slight note of strain in his voice. They didn't know each other anymore. He didn't know how to help her.
"It's okay," she said, pulling away from him. "I just need to sleep a little bit."
He nodded, and she saw the uncertainty in his eyes.
"I'll just…leave you to it then."
She forced a smile.
"Thanks."
He hesitated a moment more, then nodded again and turned back down the corridor.
She watched him, his strange tweed coat fitted around the slim, unfamiliar form, and felt such longing rise up in her chest that she had to look away, closing the door to her bedroom and leaning against it, squeezing her eyes shut.
Maybe she should have stayed. Maybe she was wrong to think that it could be okay. Not the same, she knew it couldn't be the same, but she thought she could have gotten used to the different. She thought it could have been okay. But perhaps it would have been better to stay.
Perhaps it would have been better to let Jack's memory fade. To let the new Doctor get on with his own life. She should have stayed.
She wished she had stayed.
At night, the noises were the worst.
The screams and cries echoed down the glass corridors, when all the lights had gone out, the sound bouncing endlessly from wall to wall, making any semblance of either sleep or work impossible.
In a square glass office, sitting in a glass chair at a glass desk, a young man lay down his pen with a sigh. It was no good. He couldn't possibly concentrate on his reports with all this screaming.
He rubbed a tired hand over his eyes and wondered if he could possibly catch a bit of sleep in one of the off duty rooms. Maybe with some industrial strength earplugs.
There was a sharp rap on his office door, and he could see Magson through the glass. He pressed a small, silver button on his desk, and her voice filtered through.
"Dr Cartwright."
"Yes, what is it?"
"It's prisoner 20599 sir."
Cartwright sighed
"At it again, is he?"
"Yes sir."
He nodded.
"I'll be right there. Thank you Magson."
She nodded, and he watched her move swiftly down the hallway.
Perfect. Exactly what he needed tonight. More trouble from prisoner 20599.
He stood wearily and went to the door, pressing his hand against the security pad on the wall. It slid open with a hiss and he stepped out into the corridor, the door closing and locking behind him. His footsteps were sharp and precise on the glass floor as he moved swiftly down the maze of corridors, ignoring the screaming inmates in various cells.
Magson turned as he approached cell 319, and beyond her he could see frantic movements.
"We can't calm him down, sir."
He nodded.
"That's alright, Magson. I'll take it from here."
She stepped aside, revealing prisoner 20599 through the glass wall, both hands held out in front of him, clutching empty air, his eyes wide and unseeing, shouts only slightly muffled by the glass.
"Stay away!" he screamed. "Stay away!"
Cartwright pressed his hand against the access panel, and the door slid open. The prisoner turned to him sharply, his hands tightening, as if he held a weapon.
"Don't come any closer!"
Cartwright stepped into the room.
"Come on," he said, voice calm. "You're dreaming again. There's nothing there. I'm not going to hurt you."
The prisoner shook his head, movements wild and exaggerated.
"No! Stay away. I'll shoot!"
"You don't have a weapon," Cartwright said patiently, stepping closer. "You can't shoot me. Calm down."
"No!" the prisoner cried. "No! NO!"
Cartwright closed the distance between them, and clasped his hands around the prisoner's wrists, holding them firmly.
"Wake up now," he said, shaking him gently. "Wake up."
The prisoner wavered slightly, then went suddenly limp in his grip.
"There now." Cartwright carefully lowered the prisoner onto the floor, where he curled into a foetal position, shaking.
"You're okay. Come on."
Cartwright waited patiently for the prisoner to stop shaking and sit up, his blue eyes cloudy and red rimmed.
"Where am I?" he rasped.
"In the Foraline Institution for Dangerous Criminals," Cartwright replied.
The prisoner stared at him for a few moments, the information sinking in.
"Institution for dangerous criminals?" he repeated. "Why?"
"Because you murdered over a hundred people," Cartwright replied bluntly, regretting it when he saw the other man's eyes widen in shock.
"What?"
The prisoner looked wildly around him, and Cartwright felt a pang of pity for the man. They had gone through this routine every night for the past two weeks.
"I didn't murder anybody. You've got it wrong!"
"I'm afraid not. You were found at the scene of the crime."
"No!" The prisoner shook his head desperately. "I didn't, I wouldn't!"
Cartwright ignored his objections, and asked "Do you know your name?"
The prisoner glared at him.
"Of course I know my name. It's-"
He stopped suddenly, his whole face paling.
"I don't know my name," he whispered.
"You have a form of temporary amnesia," Cartwright explained. "We expect your memory to return in the near future."
The prisoner stared at him.
"I don't know who I am. I've been locked away for a crime I can't even remember!"
Cartwright observed him coolly.
"You were found on the Gamestation with over one hundred dead bodies, the only survivor. If you weren't the one who killed them, then who did, and why did they leave you alive?"
"This is bullshit!" the prisoner yelled, jumping violently up from the floor. "You can't lock me away on circumstance. I didn't do anything!"
"How do you know?" Cartwright asked. "If you can't remember?"
The prisoner went very still for a moment, then made a futile leap for the door, banging his fists on the glass.
"Let me out!" he screamed. "Let me OUT!"
Cartwright pressed the button on his wrist communicator.
"Magson, I believe it is time for prisoner 20599's sedation."
There were footsteps outside, then the prisoner fell backwards as several guards forced him away from the door, holding him still as Magson came in with a hypodermic needle. She sank it cleanly into his neck, despite his struggles, and the prisoner's shouts died very suddenly, his body going slack in the guards' hold.
"Thank you, Magson," Cartwright said, stepping carefully over the still form. "I think I'll go and have a quick rest in one of the off duty rooms. Call me if you need anything."
Magson nodded smartly, and Cartwright walked quickly off the down the corridor, stopping outside an off duty room and pressing the access panel.
The off duty rooms were the only ones in the entire facility that were not transparent, instead the glass here was smoky and dark. They weren't soundproof, however, and as Cartwright lay back on the bed, he tried to block out the sounds of the nightmares that went on all around him.
He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, blacking out his sight as he tried not to think about prisoner 20599, nameless, no identification, no records, no family. Cartwright knew he was already taking more interest than he should. His staff were beginning to talk.
He sighed and turned over on the bed. He had only been a chief doctor at Foreline for six months, and he knew when he arrived it had not been without discrepancies. Most thought he was too young to be working at the prison hospital, they doubted his ability and experience. Never mind that he had trained at the exclusive Doulton Hospital and then spent the better part of a year as a field doctor in the African regions (who were constantly at war with each other).
He had, of course, been utterly charming and a fantastic doctor, gaining people's trust and confidence in no time at all, but he knew they were always watching him, just waiting for him to slip up.
And he wouldn't have, not before prisoner 20599.
Cartwright was a fool. The man was dangerous. He had killed over a hundred people and no one was quite sure how. He was most likely insane
But to Cartwright he was an enigma.
Strong, handsome, well built yet completely vulnerable. He had no idea who he was. And Cartwright longed to know what kind of a person prisoner 20599 had been. He longed to see those eyes flash with something other than fear. Most of all he longed to know if the man was capable of killing, if he was guilty. Because Cartwright wasn't so sure.
"You're a fool," he muttered softly to himself.
He may have been a fool, but Dominic Cartwright was also becoming infatuated. And with a man who didn't even know his own name.
When Rose woke, she still felt tired and sore, but a little brighter, as if the rest had done her some good.
She pulled on an overlarge sweater and tucked her hands into the sleeves, then made her way to the control room, where she found the Doctor, half hidden underneath the TARDIS console.
"So come on then," she said. "Where are you taking me?"
The Doctor poked his head up from under the console, and she couldn't quite suppress the flash of shock at seeing the still unfamiliar face.
He grinned at her.
"A little planet called Metropolis."
Rose raised a disbelieving eyebrow.
"Is that even a real place?"
His grin grew even wider.
"Oh yes. And believe me, you'll love it."
He stood up, wiping his hands on the back of his trousers, and swung a lazy arm round her shoulders.
"They have floors and floors of shops, Rose. Metropolis is just like one gigantic shopping mall."
She looked sideways at him.
"But you hate shopping."
"Ahh, but you love it. Don't think I've forgotten that time you took me shopping in Cardiff. I'll never forget the look on Jack's face when you introduced him to Topshop, he…"
His voice trailed off suddenly, as if he'd only just remembered who he was talking about.
Rose bit her lip.
"Do you think he's still there?" she asked quietly.
"On Satellite 5?"
She nodded.
The Doctor sighed, and his arm suddenly felt very heavy on her shoulders.
"No," he said sadly. "The bodies will have been moved, buried." He squeezed her shoulder. "He probably had a very nice funeral."
Rose turned her face into his neck for a long moment.
"So," she said, pulling away. "Just how many floors of shops has this place got?"
The Doctor grinned again, and they both pretended not to notice that it looked a bit more strained this time.
When Cartwright woke prisoner 20599 from his nightmare the next night, he could tell immediately that something was different.
"Where am I?" the prisoner demanded. "Who the hell are you?"
"My name is Dominic Cartwright. I'm your doctor."
The prisoner narrowed his blue eyes.
"That doesn't exactly answer my question, pal."
Cartwright frowned as he studied the man. His eyes were clearer, more alert.
"What's your name?"
"Captain Jack Harkness," the prisoner snapped. "And you still haven't told me where I am."
Jack Harkness. Cartwright's face was stoic, but his heart was racing. They were finally getting somewhere.
"What happened on the Gamestation, Jack?"
Jack Harkness glared at him.
"That's Captain to you. I have no idea what you're talking about. I've never been to any gamestation."
Cartwright sighed, disappointment washing over him.
"Mr Harkness," he began.
"Captain Harkness," Jack Harkness corrected sharply.
Cartwright inclined his head slightly.
"Captain Harkness," he repeated. "You are suffering from some temporary amnesia. I'm afraid until this point you haven't been able to remember anything about yourself, or your life before you came here."
Jack Harkness frowned, and Cartwright could almost see him trying to search his memory, trying to find a scrap of anything.
"So am I in some kind of hospital or something?"
Cartwright exhaled, wondering what the best approach was. Previously the prisoner had become forceful, even violent when told the truth of his situation. But now his memory was coming back. Very soon he might even remember what happened. And if he hadn't killed those people…
"Jack," he began carefully. "You're not in a hospital."
Jack Harkness sighed impatiently.
"Well where am I then?"
"You're in a prison.
Jack Harkness stared at him.
"I'm…where?"
"You're in the Foraline Institution for Dangerous Criminals," Cartwright explained for what felt like the thousandth time. "I'm afraid you were found in a rather compromising position at the scene of a rather brutal crime."
"And you think that I did it?" Jack Harkness was shaking his head, disbelieving. "This is ridiculous. You can't be serious. I haven't killed anybody!"
Cartwright reached carefully for him.
"Jack please, you have to calm down."
Jack Harkness glared at him, his blue eyes cold and clear.
"I did not kill anybody. Did the Doctor put you up to this?"
Cartwright's ears pricked up immediately, and he leant forward eagerly.
"The Doctor?" he repeated. "Jack, who is the Doctor?"
Jack stared at him, and Cartwright could see his mind working, struggling to connect the words with some kind of recognition.
"I…I don't know," he sighed in defeat. "I can't remember."
Cartwright let out the breath he'd been holding.
Be patient, he reminded himself sternly. Memory loss could take weeks, months, sometimes years to recover.
"Alright."
He straightened from his half crouch on the floor.
"I'll leave you alone for now."
He went to the glass door and placed his hand on the access panel, then stepped through. Looking back into the cell, he could still see Jack Harkness, face twisted in concentration, trying desperately to remember something.
Cartwright sighed, feeling older than his twenty eight years, and made his way quickly towards his office.
He wasn't sure what it was about this man that touched him, that seemed to reach down inside him and brush away all the mental barriers he'd built to distance himself from his patients, from his prisoners. He just knew that when he looked at this man, Captain Jack Harkness, he felt somehow different, somehow changed.
Reaching his office, Cartwright accessed the security devices, then sat at his desk, calling up the hologram for his secretary.
"Lexa, could you please get me Detective Haygan on the holopad?"
Lexa, who was even younger than he was, nodded her blonde head and smiled.
"Right away, Dr Cartwright."
Cartwright leant back in his chair and waited a few moments, before Detective Haygan's holographic form appeared, blue and grainy.
"Ah, Dominic. Finally some progress with the Gamestation case, have we?"
Cartwright forced a smile.
"The suspect has remembered his name, but nothing else."
Haygan clicked his tongue impatiently.
"Well let's have it then."
"Captain Jack Harkness."
Haygan narrowed his eyes.
"Captain, eh? Captain of what exactly?"
"I don't know," Cartwright replied. "He couldn't remember. All he knew was his name. I suspect, though that his memory is beginning to return. I shan't know until I've done more tests."
Haygan nodded approvingly.
"Good, good. The quicker his memory returns, the quicker we can get a full confession to those horrific murders."
Cartwright narrowed his eyes.
"With all due respect, Detective, my duty is to my patient. I'm interested in helping him make a full recovery, not the state of his guilt."
It was Haygan who narrowed his eyes this time, leaning forward in his hologram to glare at Cartwright.
"Don't forget who you're dealing with, Dominic. Thieves, murderers, criminals. The kind who would sooner slaughter you in your bed than look at you. Now the pressure's been put on us to find whoever was responsible for the massacre on Gamestation and make them pay. Memory or not, your boy fits the bill. Now we just need you to fix him up so everything looks kosher. He's going down for this crime, Dominic. You just concern yourself with getting a confession out of him, you understand?"
Cartwright nodded curtly, trying to suppress the desire to damage Haygan's face, holographic or not.
Haygan smiled.
"Good. I'll expect a call sooner, rather than later then."
Cartwright didn't get a chance to reply before the connection was cut.
Oh, he'd help recover Jack Harkness's memory alright. But not to prove his guilt.
He was going to show the world Jack Harkness was innocent and get to the truth of what happened on the Gamestation if it was the last thing he did.
He just hoped Jack Harkness wasn't going to end up disappointing him.
tbc.