Title: Doctor Jack

Author: Silwed/Mira Sol

Summary: Jack awakes from being dead, and the world has gone wrong. The Doctor is wrong. Can Jack and the TARDIS fix this?

Genre: 10th Doctor, Alternate Universe, angst, hurt/comfort, slash

Warnings: Memories of torture, slash (male/male pairing…hey, it is Jack), WIP (meaning possible long delays between chapters)

Spoilers: Possible spoilers for the first four seasons of Dr Who (and by first I mean ninth and tenth Doctor), particularly the end of season four. Maybe minor mentions of Torchwood.

Rating: PG13 at the moment

Disclaimer: I do not own Dr. Who, Torchwood, or any of the characters used within the story.

Chapter 1

The Awakening

Jack awoke from an eon's long sleep with a gasp, staring up desperately at the world. A pair of intense eyes were staring back at him, timeless and strangely innocent. Jack knew those eyes.

"Doctor?" he gasped, staring back for a full minute before his brain would process what he was seeing. It couldn't be the doctor, surely not, and not just because it was an unfamiliar body. Never in all his incarnations could Jack conceive of a reason for the Doctor to come back as a small child. And perhaps he wasn't, perhaps it was only circumstances that made him call for the doctor; he remembered coming to life before with the Doctor standing over him in just that way, with just that expression. And yet…the boy had his eyes. They were still staring.

"You were dead," the boy said at last, the high pitched statement of a child. Jack wasn't sure why he still expected differently. But the boy did look familiar, like a ghost left over from a time that never was. A year that never was. Jack had seen the Doctor as a child once, thanks to the Master's whim, just as he had seen him aged. The boy was still staring, waiting for him to speak.

"Yes," Jack answered the child at last, not knowing what else to say. That year was gone, and the Lazarus Machine was destroyed. The Master was dead. There was no way, not even with those eyes, or the way the brown hair spiked from his head in just that same way.

"I know you," the boy said after still more silence. It sounded more like a question than a statement. Jack sat up slowly and the boy stepped back, but not far. He didn't look afraid, merely confused. Jack could empathize. It was always disconcerting to wake up after being dead, no matter how many times it happened. And this time…the void stretched so cold and dark, so forever, that he suspected it had been longer than before. He couldn't remember what had happened; usually coming back to life felt a bit like a seizure; your brain shuts down for a bit then comes back up and time has passed, things have happened, or been un-happened as the case may be. This time felt different. The closest he could remember when it felt like this, he had woken up to see the Doctor staring at him, covered in blood. The Doctor mentioned, flippantly as though he could turn it into a joke, that he had had a bit of trouble finding all the pieces, and he hoped he hadn't missed something vital. The shadows behind his eyes, the blood still coating his hands belied his tone. The boy had no blood on him, but the cold chill of death still clung to Jack, shrouding the past. He wondered how long he had been dead.

"Mum says the dead don't come back to life," the boy said, the puzzled look still on his face, "Time doesn't like it. It's wrong." He didn't say that Jack was wrong. He didn't even look repulsed, but Jack still shuddered slightly.

"Well kid, your mom can't know everything," Jack answered. He considered standing, but decided against it. His limbs still felt heavy, and the cold clung over them. Besides, this way he was more on the kid's level. The boy was staring at him now with a look of astonishment, as though he had said something treasonous or a particularly bad swear word. Of course his mum knew everything.

"My name's Jack," Jack said, grinning slightly at his guppy expression as he offered his hand. The boy smiled in response, his earlier words forgiven as he took the hand and shook it aggressively.

"I'm Jack too!" he exclaimed happily, "Mum says I was named for a great hero who saved the world!" Jack blinked. The boy believed every word he said, yet they didn't feel true; something was very wrong here. He had no proof, nothing but a pair of intense eyes to go on, yet he would swear on everything he was that this was the Doctor. The cold was receding now, giving up more of his memories, and he knew that face. He had to keep reminding himself that the Master was dead, but even that wasn't reassuring. After all, Jack had been dead.

"Ah…and where is your mom?" he asked at last, knowing instinctively he wasn't going to get much more out of the kid. Even when the Doctor had known he was the Doctor, he had had trouble remembering things after the Master de-aged him that young. Jack shuddered again and tried to push that memory back into the abyss where it belonged. The darkness echoed with a child's screams.

Jack the boy didn't seem to notice the minute shudders hidden behind the elder's cocky grin. He took his hand, tugging at him to get up with youthful excitement, chattering happily about the wonder who was his mother, with the occasional word on his father thrown in. Jack let himself be pulled up and led, taking the moment to look around. They were on the shore of a beach. The boy let go of Jack's hand to rush into a small house, shouting for the occupants within, and Jack turned to stare over sparkling waves. A sudden memory crashed over him of blue fading into black, of icy cold filling his lungs, the darkness dragging him down. He gasped, falling to his knees until it passed, and he was on the shore again, beneath the bright sun. Had he drowned? How long had he lain beneath the waves before he was washed up on the shore? Then the boy was skipping back, looking down from the porch with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked, "You aren't going to be dead again are you?" And now, at last, he looked a bit scared. Jack pulled himself up and gave the boy a reassuring smile.

"I can't die," he said, and the boy brightened a bit.

"I don't like it when people die," he said happily, "I was afraid…" and then he suddenly looked troubled again, confused, his eyes far too old on his young face, "I was afraid you wouldn't come back this time." Jack blinked. But the boy smiled again, his ancient eyes so innocent it was obvious he didn't really remember anything. The feeling of wrongness returned to Jack, infecting the perfect serenity like a cancer. "Mum isn't here," the boy continued after a moment, "She went shopping and she needed Dad to fly. Grandma is here though. Do you want to come meet her?"

"Of course," Jack answered, bracing himself for any surprise he could think of as he walked up the steps. The boy grabbed his hand again, pulling him into the house.

"Grandma!" he shouted, making Jack wince at the pitch he achieved; quite aside from the pain to his eardrums it was far too close to the screams in the abyss for comfort. "There is a dead man here, who says he can't die, and guess what?! He's Jack too!" And he pulled Jack into a small kitchen where a woman was busy making a sandwich. Jack didn't know what he was expecting, someone associated with the Master perhaps. But he didn't recognize the woman, not really, though there was something familiar about her. If he had met her, it was many years ago and only briefly. She didn't seem to know him either, but there was an odd expression on her face as she stared at him.

"It figures," she muttered at last, "He promises, absolutely promises, empty beaches and yet here you are, second person to turn up! And what are you then, you are human aren't you? Not one of those space men?"

"No, ma'am," he answered, giving her one of his most winning smiles, "Jack Harkness is my name. I came for the empty beaches myself. Of course, had I known such a beautiful lady lived up here, I'd have come down sooner."

"Eh, you do lay it on thick," she scolded, but she looked pleased. After that she offered him tea while little Jack took the offered sandwich, occasionally trying to explain about how he found Jack to which his grandmother only told him not to talk with his mouth full. Jack continued to smile and charm while inwardly trying to figure out why he felt he should know her. It felt surreal, waking from the dead on a beach only to be having tea with a child Doctor and his grandmother. She was just telling him how her son-in-law set up this holiday for her, when Jack heard a very familiar whooshing sound.

"They're here, they're here!" boy Jack exclaimed excitedly, running out the meet them. Jack followed more slowly, the grandmother trying to hold him back at every step with nervous words. She didn't seem to think Jack should see what was happening, but Jack managed to evade her hands and step out on the porch just as the TARDIS solidified beside the steps. The boy was already at the door, tugging it open with no trouble or fumbling for keys. A second later he emerged again, holding a grocery bag. His parents followed, laden down with more bags and chatting happily, until their eyes alighted upon Jack. They both froze for a moment, caught in an expression of utter shock. The father got over it first, dropping his packages onto the porch as he leaped up to grab Jack's hand, pulling him into a hug, calling Jack's name.

"Doctor," Jack said, giving him a quick hug back before looking over his shoulder to where his wife still stood, her face white with shock, "Hello Rose."

Author's Note: This will not be a happy Dr/Rose family fic, no matter what it may look like at first.