Note: So this was a story that began with the phrase "what if..." and suddenly transformed into a competition entry for Girl-on-the-moon's fanfiction contest, haha! The story revolves around Girl-on-the-moon's original character.
Quick heads up that the story is set before Waters of Mars and just after The Next Doctor.
I'm not sure how quick updates will be thanks to oncoming final exams, but I will try as best as humanly possible. *Last of the Time Lords gesture*
Quick legal garb before I proceed with my fic because I wish I own Doctor Who. That's right, I don't own Doctor Who. I don't own Captain Jack Harkness *sigh* or the Doctor *super duper sigh*. All rights belong to the BBC.
Chapter 1 - An Untimely Arrival
Jack rested his feet upon his desk holding a glass of whisky he rarely took out unless in times of stress, exhaustion or just trying to take his mind off things. For a brief moment, he let the silence of the hub envelop him into a state of calmness before starting his train of thought and taking a hearty sip of whisky. How he managed to send an alien mafia gang back into the Rift in a mere hour, he'll never know… He realised the dryness of his mouth despite having already drunken something – he was craving coffee right about now.
"Ianto, can I have-"
He stopped mid sentence realising the rest of his crew went out on a field mission – something about a sea monster in Scotland… Jack sighed again and cursed the Rift's unpredictable activities lately. He had no motivation to make himself a cup of coffee and fiddled with his vortex manipulator instead. Eventually, he peeled himself from his chair and stretched, eyes suddenly narrowing as the enormous door to the Hub rolled open as the metal gates opened. Did the others come back early? He peered through his office window to the floor below. There was a figure lying on the floor, apparently crawling, dressed in a dishevelled grey jacket and maroon trousers, smeared with dirt and…
Jack's heart skipped a beat.
"What?!"
He ran down the stairs and into the main Hub to find a ginger man crawling on the floor, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
"What the hell?!" Jack dropped down next to the man, at a loss for what to do. He grunted in pain and reached up to Jack, clutching desperately onto his shirt with weak arms.
"Jack… Jack I need…"
How did he know his name? Scrap that, how did he know about Torchwood and its location? Dammit, he shouldn't have let his guard down with the absence of his crew. Instead, the ex-Time Agent just stared at the man, comprehending what was happening. "How do you know my name?"
"Please," he pleaded, blood cursing down the side of his face. He was gasping for air now. Jack was terrified. "I need… the… the Doctor…"
"What?"
"Tell him… I'm… I'm so, so… sorry," he gasped as his grip around Jack gradually loosened.
"Where's the Doctor?" the ex-Time Agent demanded in a panic.
The man didn't answer. Instead, he fell unconscious, sagging into Jack's arms.
…
He didn't slump on the pilot's chair of the TARDIS like what any tired Time Lord would do when they enter their TARDIS, oh no. The Doctor let out a winding sigh and collapsed on the TARDIS floor and simply lay there, sprawled on his back, arms and legs out stretched. How he managed to survive the Zombie Apocalypse with a banana, a piece of string and an awful lot of fast-talking, he'll never know. Frankly, he felt like going to a quieter and less… hectic place. Almost at once, a thought struck him.
The Doctor picked himself up and frantically dashed around the console of the TARDIS, flicking switches and pressing various controls as he hurtled through the time vortex. His activities seemed to be coming to an end, as the glowing central column slid to a halt. The deafening hullaballoo of the engines suddenly faded away. Almost instantly, he spun on his heel and headed towards the dressing room when a phone began ringing. No, it wasn't his mobile phone Martha gave to him, but the TARDIS phone. He blinked at this miraculous apparition and frowned.
"You're not supposed to be ringing," he called out to his sentient ship, "You're not exactly a proper phone box…" The phone was still ringing and the Doctor hesitated on whether or not he should answer the call – not after the last time he did that… Curiosity got the better of him and he darted towards the phone, picking it up before mumbling, "hello?"
"Doctor, get your ass to Torchwood."
"Jack?" The Doctor boggled, recognising the all too familiar American accent. "What – How are you even calling me?!"
"Through a phone, idiot. I need you here ASAP."
"I'm sort of leaving to Mars…"
"Now."
He hung up the phone leaving the Doctor gaping at the phone.
…
What was the next best thing to a hospital bed? Of course - the Torchwood autopsy table. Well, frankly it was the only closest alternative that the Torchwood Hub can offer… No one really treated people here unless it was a fatal gunshot but that really required sitting on the sofa whilst you were being treated. Well... this day just happened to be one of these rare days. Not that it meant a good thing for the ex-Time Agent.
Jack stood by the autopsy table, examining the mysterious man who appeared at Torchwood's doorstep a few hours ago. He attached a final needle onto the unconscious man's arm before monitoring his stats. With the help of the remaining medical knowledge he had, he successfully cleaned and treated all the man's wounds. He studied the man and frowned. He was young; he'd give him that. Whatever happened to him to cause so much physical damage to his body was certainly unnatural - well, not human. The ex-Time Agent placed a hand on the man's chest, feeling the gentle rise and fall. He gazed at his dirtied face. His ginger hair was plastered on his sweat-streaked forehead. Jack tentatively picked the man's bio scan results and studied them hard for the umpteenth time. It was the fourth time he sent the body on a full body scan. He still couldn't get over the results and simply slammed them on the table next to him.
"You are not possible," he muttered before climbing the stairs, taking another last look from the upper level and turning around to walk towards the main hub.
He noticed the silhouette of a man by the sofas and immediately whipped out his gun and flashlight before pointing a powerful beam of light at the source of it. However, he noticed a tall skinny man with a shock of brown hair and two brown eyes on his angular face, wearing a blue pinstripe suit and a pair of maroon Converses, hopping in the middle of the main Hub, frowning at the weapon being pointed at him. "Holy crap, Doctor. Don't scare me like that," he exclaimed, holstering his pistol. "When did you get here?"
"33 minutes ago." Jack noticed the Doctor's pursed lips. "Oh, okay," he admitted, "I came just now."
"How come I didn't hear your TARDIS?"
"I released the brakes so you won't hear me come in," he mischievously grinned, gesturing at the blue box parked slap bang in the middle of the hub. Jack rolled his eyes. It wasn't because he came in unexpectedly, but he could have parked somewhere else… "It's a rare thing for me to do that," the Doctor quickly added.
"Never mind that," he waved off. "Come with me to the autopsy room. There's something I need to show you." The Doctor frowned. He's not flirting is he?
"Stop it."
"I'm serious," he slowly said before sauntering the other direction. The Doctor followed him and noticed a young man lying unconscious on the autopsy table.
"Who is he?" the Time Lord boggled, pointing his head at the body before descending down the stairs to take a closer look.
"I don't know, Doc, who is he?" The question had that tone of sarcasm, as if Jack was expecting an answer from him. But the Doctor persisted.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he mumbled, playing around with a scalpel on a surgical tray. Jack grumbled and cleared his throat.
"He suddenly turns up to the Torchwood Hub all battered up and almost as if he's dying. He said he was looking for you." The Doctor turned his head and stared at the limp body wired up to a life support machine by the looks of it.
"I've never seen him in my life," he confessed. Beginning to feel impatient, Jack picked up the bio scan results.
"He has two hearts."
The surgical equipment the Time Lord had been fiddling with dropped with a loud clang on the metal tray. Before he could take in a breath to shout, Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the autopsy room, taking him all the way into his office.
"You're kidding me right?!" the Doctor exclaimed.
"No."
"No. That wasn't a question. You're kidding me."
"Nope."
The Doctor scowled and ran his hands through his hair, making it stand on end. "You're kidding," he persisted, taking out a stethoscope from his pocket and running out of the office and back into the autopsy room.
"No I'm not," Jack called out, slumping on his chair and resting his feet on the desk once again to take another sip of whisky. He heard the pattering of footsteps as the Doctor reappeared from the door and stood behind his desk with a look of sheer horror on his face. "I told you."
"Where is he?"
"What?"
"His body, Jack. It's not there," the Time Lord panicked.
"You're kidding me."
"No!" the Doctor shrieked, bolting out of the office.