Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine. It's very sad.
Warnings: PG-13 for innuendo. And a building.
A one-shot in the Crossroads series, taking place immediately after the conclusion of Part Two. Well, not quite immediately. Figure maybe two or three hours.
Summary: The Doctor has managed to convince Rose to stay with him. Jack is able to project really bad American folk music into other people's heads. Both men require a little bit of training.
A/N: Set immediately after the conclusion of One Day. If you haven't read it, you may be somewhat lost, unless you're willing to go with the idea that Jack has suddenly become telepathic. Yeah, I know. Also, I'm having the WORST time trying to link to a picture of the building Jack imagines - and it's an actual building in London. Tell you what - open a new browser, go to azriona net/london2007/london200711.jpg...that's the one Jack has in mind. (Replace the space with a dot, you'll get there fine.)
Jack's Training
The Doctor and Rose slipped away from Jack, as if a gauze curtain had been lowered. Dimly, he could hear their laughter, the soft chuckles and kisses. He could hear the low moan in the base of Rose's throat as the Doctor kissed her there, the rustle and drop of fabric as she pushed the coat off his shoulders, fumbled with buttons and zips and ties. The Doctor was pushing her back – back – and her knees hit the bed, she tumbled backwards into it, pulling him down by his tie, and he joined her there...
And the hours slipped by...
Rose fell asleep almost immediately, her head on the Doctor's chest, her arms snug around him. His fingers lazily ran over the arm draped over his stomach, her skin just a bit warmer than his own. His hand moved mostly in time with the soft breath tickling the hair sprinkled on his chest. She was so soundly asleep, his Rose – his Rose, his-twice-now Rose – that he suspected even if he were to reopen the telepathic link they shared, she wouldn't notice a thing.
It had been, the Doctor reflected, a very long, very tiring, very good day.
He closed his eyes, and joined her in sleep.
Oh give me land lots of land lots of stinkin' bloomin' land...don't fence me in...
The Doctor's eyes snapped open. The familiar voice was still in the back of his head, reverberating against the filmy remains of sleep, bouncing back and forth, circling and twisting. The Doctor couldn't keep up with it; if he paid any more attention to it, he'd be dizzy.
He glanced at Rose, still deep in sleep, still against his chest, in the same position as before; according to his internal clock, he'd only closed his eyes twenty minutes ago. Twenty minutes – that was enough sleep to last him for the next day and a half, unless Rose continued to wear him out. Which she might well do – his mouth quirked. He wouldn't mind. He wondered if she would go shy on him.
Stupid land, crazy land, I can't get this song out of my head...don't fence me in!
The voice didn't stop. The Doctor sighed, and gave Rose a longing look – there was never enough time just to be, that was the essential problem with being him. Always another crisis to avert, even if the crisis was a man in the medical bay who couldn't sing in tune. He should go see to Jack – but the thought of leaving Rose to wake on her own, without knowing where he'd gone, was repulsive. There was only one thing to do.
"Rose," he whispered, and she frowned in her sleep.
"S'eepin'," she murmured, and he brushed his fingers against her cheek.
"I know, love. I have to see to Jack, you stay here. I'll come back."
"Mmm."
She smiled. He managed to slip out of the bed, careful to pull the covers over her so she wouldn't grow cold. She sighed and reached for his pillow. It didn't take long for her to fall into a deep sleep again.
The Doctor dressed quickly, and was still shrugging on his suit coat as he moved down the TARDIS corridors to the medical bay. Rose teased him for putting on the coat even when they didn't plan to go anywhere, but truth was, the Doctor felt naked without it. Heaven forbid Jack see him without the coat and get ideas.
The lights in the medical bay were set to a low level; he left them low as he pulled one of the wheeled lab chairs over to the cot where Jack lay, his eyes closed and perfectly still. His hair was tousled and only faintly damp from the shower they'd had to give him some hours before.
Oh give me a home where the buffalo roam and the deer and the antelope play...
Not asleep, though. The Doctor's mouth quirked again. Of all the songs for Jack to sing to himself, he never thought old American folk tunes would number among them. The Doctor straddled the chair.
"Jack," he said gently. "Wake up."
Jack's eyes sprang open. I'm awake.
"We need to talk."
Jack struggled to sit up. Even to the Doctor, it was obvious that Jack was more than a little sore, the cautious way he moved on the cot. There were dark circles forming under his eyes, and the Doctor wondered if the man had actually slept at all, or just kept his eyes closed out of boredom. It was unnerving as well that Jack was so quickly speaking telepathically – but despite having not been asleep, Jack wasn't entirely lucid, and the Doctor kept his face blank.
You and Rose—
"We're not discussing Rose or me."
Everything's about you and Rose, replied Jack. You tell her?
The Doctor assessed Jack, but for once, he didn't seem to imply anything. "You don't even know what the subject is, and you're already trying to change it."
Jack frowned. This is important.
"So's what I have to say."
More important than telling Rose how you feel about her?
"She knows," said the Doctor.
Not the same thing, Doc. She might need reminding.
"She knows," repeated the Doctor, gruffly, the heat rising to his cheeks.
Jack noticed, and couldn't help the satisfied grin spreading on his face. She asleep?
"Yes."
Well, atta-boy, Doc. At least you got that part right.
The Doctor decided to ignore the cheek. "The custard didn't touch me."
Jack raised an eyebrow. What's that got to do—
"For starters, Jack – you're not actually saying anything right now. In fact, you haven't said a word since I came in the room."
Jack's mouth fell open. The Doctor watched as Jack winced with the sudden movement, and Jack's hands moved to his face. He gingerly felt his jaw, moving his mouth open and closed, as if experimenting, practicing. When he did speak finally, his focus was entirely on forming the words. "What do you—"
The Doctor watched as Jack stopped abruptly, the scratchy sound of his voice startling him. It took Jack another moment before he could continue.
"I was thinking everything."
"Yep."
"You heard it."
"Yep."
"How?"
"I don't know. If the custard had touched me, I'd say that was it. It would make sense, that the custard would pull my telepathy into you. But that's not what happened."
Jack thought of the nanogenes – he almost remembered them soaking into his skin so briefly, when he'd first entered the medical bay. They hadn't touched the Doctor.
"Yes, exactly. The nanogenes went for you. I didn't alter. Only you."
Jack considered this, chewing on his lip. Handy, I'd think.
"Not so much," said the Doctor shortly. "You're projecting thoughts without any control, Jack. And it's not a good thing to do. I'm fairly certain that Rose can't pick up on them yet, but even sitting here, your thoughts have been getting stronger. You're going to start being heard by people like Rose, who have only a small telepathic ability. Eventually, you'll be heard by anyone at all, telepathic abilities or not."
And that's bad?
"Yes, it's bad."
Jack's grin was lopsided, as if half of him had returned to his jovial self, but the other half was still weighing the implications of his newfound ability. What, afraid of what Rose might think if she knew what I thought of her rather shapely—
"Jack," warned the Doctor. "I have never been more serious than I am now. You cannot go projecting—"
"I understand you," said Jack, careful to speak the words. "So, you plan to teach me how to use my new super powers?"
The Doctor frowned at him. Jack continued to grin.
"Jack."
"Yes, Doc?"
"Stop that."
"Stop what?"
"You're currently constructing a long musical montage in the back of your head, set to a 1980s power ballad, in which you and I are in increasingly intimate situations while I'm instructing you in the finer arts of telepathic control. If the waterfalls are any indication, I suspect that you're planning on a seduction occurring towards the end."
Jack's grin got wider. "I haven't decided who should do the seducing."
"This is precisely what I'm talking about, Jack."
"Seduction?"
"No – the fact that I can read every—" The Doctor was about to say "cockamamie", but decided against it. "Every inappropriate scheme to cross your mind."
"Oh, not every one."
The Doctor's eyes grew dark. "Jack."
"Doc."
"You didn't kill your brother, you know."
Jack went pale. Everything froze: his thoughts, his body, his stare at the Doctor, who remained calm.
"Well, what I meant to say is that you didn't lose him. You didn't cause any of what happened to Gray – that was his name, wasn't it? Not your fault."
Jack's mouth worked for a moment, but he was unable to say a word. If the Doctor had managed to see something like that, something he'd buried so deep down that even he barely thought of it except in the very quietest, darkest of moments...
"I can help you, Jack."
"If you tell me to imagine a door," began Jack, somehow finding his voice, "I'll...well, what's a worse threat, killing or kissing you?"
The Doctor's mouth quirked. "A door? I wasn't going to tell you a door. Imagine that – a door." The Doctor scoffed. "Never heard anything so ridiculous – a door."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Right. No door. What then?"
"An office building."
Jack raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, it'll do perfectly. Any building in the world, Jack, put a picture of that in your head, as long as it has plenty of levels—"
Jack thought of a specific building in downtown London, and the Doctor sputtered.
"You would pick that one, wouldn't you?"
"I like it."
"Nothing at all to do with the name?"
"And I like it!"
"The sooner you're reined in, the better," muttered the Doctor. "Right. Let's get you started..."
The lobby to Jack's building – as the Doctor was certainly not going to call it by any of the nicknames Londoners had given the suggestively-designed office complex – was beautiful. It was lined in glass, both clear and smoked, with iron-colored struts lifting into the air, supporting the upper levels in a criss-cross pattern. Their steps echoed as they walked across the marbled floor, mixing with the trickling pitter-patter of the small waterfall in the center of the lobby's pond.
"Nice digs," said Jack admiringly.
"You picked them."
"Never been inside, though."
"You picked this too," replied the Doctor. "I doubt the real building looks like this, if you don't have anything on which to base it."
"How's this work?" asked Jack.
"Well, each level is going to have a certain security protocols. The levels on which you put your most secret thoughts, private memories, things you'd rather not anyone see – those will have the highest security. Memories you don't mind certain people sharing – those go on another level. Your everyday thoughts and such – those go on a level. That way, you can allow others to see certain things, but not everything, by simply giving them access to whatever level necessary."
"So, the higher we go, the tighter the security?"
"Your choice. I suspect the view from the top is quite good, though."
Jack grinned. "Want to see it?"
The Doctor grinned back. "Yep."
The elevator waited for them, and Jack punched the highest number. In barely any time at all, they found themselves walking out onto the top floor, sharply domed and surrounded by glass.
"Wow," said Jack, looking around him as he stepped out of the elevator.
"Oh, yeah," said the Doctor happily, turning in circles to get a better view. "This is the stuff!"
The space was immense, large enough for a football match if need be. The glass and iron pattern from the lobby was repeated, growing tighter and tighter as it reached the point at the tip-top of the ceiling. Their voices echoed in the room, and Jack wondered what such a space could possibly be used for – a party would have been the obvious choice, but the echoes would have turned any such venture into a vocal disaster.
The view, however, made up for it.
Jack walked up to the glass, resting his hands on the safety railing that surrounded the space. He could see everything in London – the Tower, Parliament, St. Paul's. He imagined he could make out Regent's Park in the distance. London had never been Jack's favorite town, even if he had met Rose and the Doctor there initially. He tolerated city life, and Cardiff was enough city for him. But London – London was Rose, to Jack. Busy and vibrant and full of mystery and action and quiet corners. Jack could have been happy in London, if Rose was with him.
But Rose wouldn't be with him. She was with the Doctor. Jack wondered how clear the Doctor had been with her – Rose was a bright girl, to be sure, but Jack didn't think it wise to assume someone would just know something so important as...
"Jack." The Doctor's voice echoed in the glass-lined chamber. Jack didn't bother turning to see him; he kept his focus on the green patch on the horizon.
"You heard that?" asked Jack. He could barely make out the Doctor's reflection in the glass. "I should start shuffling memories, shouldn't I?"
"Whenever you're ready. It's not a difficult process, it'll just take a bit of time and concentration." The Doctor walked over to Jack and leaned against the railing.
"Time I have plenty," said Jack dryly, and then frowned. "Doc?"
"Hmm?"
"What about Rose?"
The Doctor frowned back. "What about Rose?"
"What's she got, for time? Those nanogenes made her more like you – will she live as long as you do, too?"
The Doctor broke his gaze, looking down on the streets below. "I don't know."
"It's been a year, Doc! How can you not know?"
"Because I don't know," replied the Doctor gruffly. "She doesn't want me running tests on her, Jack. She's not a lab rat, she's Rose. I've got her for as long as I have her, and that'll have to be good enough, won't it?"
Jack rested his elbows on the railing. "You do love her, don't you?"
"Age hasn't granted you much wisdom, has it?" snapped the Doctor, and Jack threw up his hands.
"Hey, no need to get defensive. I thought I was stating the obvious."
The Doctor glared at Jack. "Half an hour ago, I was very happily relaxing after showing Rose exactly how I felt about her, when someone's stupid chorus of American folk music decided to invade my head."
"Showing? Hell, Doc, you were supposed to tell her."
The Doctor gaped at him. "Tell – you're the one who bloody told me to show her!"
"Doc, don't you know anything about women? You can't just get naked with them and not explain why. They always assume the worst."
"Worst!"
"You do have a reputation for loving and leaving, you know."
The Doctor stormed away from the railing, heading straight for the elevator. "You can bloody well figure out how to sort your memories yourself, you know!" he shouted back at Jack, as the doors closed and the elevator began to descend back to the lobby.
Jack waited until he was certain the elevator wasn't coming back up before he burst into laughter. It was another few minutes before he was able to sense that the Doctor had left the building entirely – in fact, was no longer even in the medical bay, where Jack's body still lay on the cot, even if his mind was in London.
Jack jogged to the staircase nearby. Two flights down, he found a large office space, complete with cubicles and desks, and many, many drawers. He could feel the ripple as he walked through the doorway – a sort of security barrier in place, keeping out all but those he allowed in. Jack grinned, and headed for the nearest drawer. He opened it and peered inside, wondering how to transfer the memories.
I don't know how to make you sure...only one sort of forever, and it was with clothes off...telling Rose how you feel about her...she knows...you do love her, don't you?
Jack sighed...and watched as his breath turned into a thick cloud of condensation in the air, before floating gently down into the drawer. The memory settled in, from the very beginning of Jack's realization that the Doctor was still an idiot, to the conclusion of the very simple trick played to point him in the right direction.
"Lack of wisdom," Jack scoffed, inordinately pleased with himself for figuring it out. "The Doctor's not the only brilliant one on this ship."
Jack closed the drawer, and turned to face the others. Plenty of drawers left on this level to fill, he thought, and grinned. He hoped he wouldn't have to trick the Doctor into doing the proper thing too many more times.
"Rose?"
"Mmm."
"Rose, love, I need you to wake up."
"How long have I been asleep?"
There was a pause. "One hour, fourteen minutes, and 34 seconds."
Rose's hand reached up and tapped the Doctor lightly on the nose. "Snooze!"
"Rose, I am not a snooze button."
"Shh, snoozing. Wake me in nine hours."
"I'll let you go back to sleep, but I have to tell you something first, Rose."
Rose's eyes opened warily. "Is Jack—"
The Doctor's lips thinned out. "Jack is fine."
She breathed out a sigh of relief. "Well, what's so important you have to wake me up?"
"I love you."
Rose nodded. "And?"
"No, that's it. I love you."
Rose blinked. "You woke me up to tell me you loved me?"
"Yes."
Rose stared up at the Doctor. She was still half asleep, but there was something endearingly sweet about the worried way he hovered over her, his brown eyes wide and his mouth almost trembling with nervousness. She reached up and grazed her fingers across his cheek. "I know you love me, you git."
The Doctor grinned, relief washing over him. "You do, don't you?"
"Yes. Why are you dressed?"
"Had to see to Jack."
"Are you done seeing to Jack?"
"Oh, yes."
"Then get back into bed."
The Doctor happily stripped off his clothes, and slid back into the bed with Rose, spooning against her.
"I knew you knew," he said smugly as she drifted back into sleep.
"Nice to hear it, though," murmured Rose. "A girl might wonder, if it's not said sometimes."
The Doctor frowned. "What?"
"Mmph."
"Rose!" The Doctor shook Rose a little. "Rose, explain that – what might you wonder? Why would you wonder?"
"Doctor," groaned Rose. "I really need to sleep now."
"But—"
It wasn't any use. Rose's eyes closed, and even if she wasn't asleep, she seemed very determined to ignore him. The Doctor let her rest, the frown sliding over his face.
Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my DARLING Clementine...
Jack.
Despite himself, the Doctor laughed.