Hi! \^_^/ I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm flattered, really. But no. I don't and never will own these characters. Also, I drop a lot of Easter Eggs in my longer fics (they're marked with a *), so I'll credit those at the end in case you want to guess them. Let me know if you got them or even if you spot one I missed! Happy Hunting!

As a constant preface: I don't have a beta, so I want to explicitly state that if you see ANY mistakes (i.e. to vs. too, there vs. their, an extra comma... Etc. *no matter how small!*) just tell me. I'll try to fix it ASAP. Just give me the whole phrase (for reference) and what needs to be changed in it. There's nothing worse when I see a mind-blowing sentence but my mind focuses on the ONE missspelling... ;)

Alone Again

Chapter 1: Why?

He stared out the window with vacant eyes and an expressionless face. While Jack was certain the Doctor knew he kept glancing between him and the dark and deserted road, he never showed it; and, for some reason, that seemed worse. You can't just keep hundreds of years of emotions bottled up inside you—Jack's tried; it doesn't work. But he really didn't want to be the first to break the silence. In truth, he was afraid that if he did, the Doctor would close up even more (if that was even possible).

His forehead was resting against the assuredly cold window, his warm breath fogging the glass, but besides that there was no movement, no sound, none of that normal child-like enthusiasm this regeneration held. There was nothing. The silence was unbearable.

"Doctor... I'm sorry." What could he say, really? And even that was pathetic and empty, but really, what could he say?

Another few silent minutes went by, and Jack was almost certain the Doctor wouldn't say anything in response. "Why?"

Why? It was the first thing he'd said since they got in the car, but Jack was hoping for a little less unanswerable and rhetorical question. Why what? Why was Jack the one who was sorry? Why do bad things like this happen to good men like him? Why does the universe have no mercy, no pity, on its savior?

Why what?

Jack had no answer. Not only because he didn't know which question he was supposed to respond to, but also because he didn't have a response to any of them. "I don't know." It was the truth, at least. "I wish I had an answer for you, Doctor, I do, but I—I just don't know. I am so sorry, though. I know it doesn't mean much, but I am."

The Doctor nodded imperceptibly and they retreated into their original states: the Doctor veiled by an emotionless mask and Jack throwing worried glances at his turned head. But when Jack turned to look at the Doctor again, the headlights from an oncoming car—the only one for miles around—reflected off of something on the Doctor's cheek, its shine contrasting the rest of the dark landscape.

As they had been driving alongside an open field, Jack easily pulled off of the road and put the car in park. The Doctor had just enough time to throw a confused look toward the empty driver's seat and open door, before Jack was already on the opposite side of the car and opening his own.

As the Doctor was still mostly propped up against the window, he gave a small, nearly inaudible yelp as it was pulled out from under him; then he briefly glared at Jack before quickly turning his head away.

"Doctor. Doc, please, look at me." It was spoken so softly, with such care and devotion, that the Doctor couldn't refuse his request. He could never refuse kindness. He turned his head slowly, so slowly, and looked at Jack with eyes that actually showed his age. The 900 years of pain and knowledge and missed chances and guilt—so much guilt. "I'm sorry." The Doctor ducked his head again, but Jack lifted it with one hand and forced the time lord to look at him. "It wasn't your fault; there was nothing you could do." The Doctor's face creased in grief, and despite the fact that you could practically see the mental struggle he was going through, eventually he gave in and more tears leaked unbidden from the corners of his closed eyes.

Jack reached around the Doctor and undid his seatbelt, his exhausted body falling into Jack's great coat. "It's going to be okay. We'll fix her and she'll be back to normal, alright? It's going to be okay Doctor, I promise." It was an empty promise, and they both knew it, but his words sent the Doctor over the edge and soon his silent tears turned into wracking sobs. Jack just held him, in this strange position that the Doctor was in: half sitting, half hanging over Jack's shoulder; and Jack trying to comfort a man over four times his age with nothing but open arms and soft words.

Eventually the tears stopped falling, and when Jack was sure that most of them had dried, he gently pushed the Doctor back into his seat and leaned against the car's frame. He wiped away the tear tracks on the Time Lord's face with his thumb and watched him with a look of sympathy and concern. "Feels better, right?"*

"Sorry," he mumbled back, dragging the backs of his hands across his cheeks.

Typical. As if leaning on somebody (literally and metaphorically), showing your true emotions, dropping the mask and letting someone in—someone like Jack who is probably the only living person who could understand—is worthy of an apology.

"Doctor, you have no reason to be sorry. It doesn't matter how much experience you have, losing something–someone–you love is always painful. I understand; I do. But we'll fix it. I don't know how, yet, but we will. We've done more with worse, right?"

He tried to give him a reassuring smile, but the Doctor wasn't really seeing him. Sure, he was looking at him, but he wasn't seeing him. There's a difference.

"It hurts," he said distractedly.

Jack tilted his head in confusion, "What does?"

"The silence. It hurts. There's nothing left, Jack. Nothing. No Time Lords, no TARDISes, nothing left to fill the void." He frowned. "You know we're telepathic, right? Time Lords, I mean."

"Yeah, Doc, I know."

He nodded. "Jack, there's a part of my brain—in most telepath's brains, really—but it's more pronounced in Time Lords—that is sectioned off specifically to be able to communicate with other Time Lords. And it's empty. Usually there'd be a buzz, like music that you can only hear the rhythm of, but it's only silence now. And it will never go away. I can't change that part of my brain—there was never a reason to—so I'm stuck with silence." He briefly paused, and when he spoke again his voice was choked: "Jack, it's deafening."

Jack felt sick; he couldn't even begin to imagine how the Doctor felt. He could only think to compare it to losing a human's senses—like your ability to see in color. "I'm so sorry," he offered, pulling the Doctor back into a hug. It was the only thing he could think to say and do.

TBC

1. So, what's the plural for TARDIS? If you have a better idea let me know lol.

2. I know losing the ability to see in color doesn't sound that bad (comparatively, at least) but I wanted to think of something "different", and I love art—so my life revolves around color.

* The Amazing Spiderman (2012); Flash