Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood belong to the BBC and Russell T. Davies. They are not mine, nor will they ever be.

History Repeating

Part One

"Hey, Mister. Are you alright?"

Blearily, Jack opened his eyes to see a young boy bending over him, his face about a foot from Jack's own.

"Are you alright?" the boy asked again.

"I…I think so," replied Jack, still not having a clue what had happened.

"Robert, give the gentleman some room." This was a woman's voice, and a second later her face appeared behind the boy's, also looking worried. "Excuse me, sir, do you require assistance? I can fetch a steward."

Steward? Where was he?

"No, I'm fine. Just felt a bit dizzy, that's all," said Jack, closing his eyes again as he tried desperately to get a handle on his surroundings. The surface he was lying on was wood, but he could feel a breeze on his face, so he was outdoors. The floor beneath him was vibrating with a deep rumbling hum, and underlying that was a continuous swooshing noise. The two sounds seemed somehow to go together in a familiar way, but Jack couldn't quite put his finger on it. And then there were the smells – smoke and salt and the faintest scent of chocolate on the boy's breath.

Jack opened his eyes again. The faces of the boy and woman were still there, and still looking worried.

"I really am fine," Jack assured them. "Would you mind helping me up?"

The woman looked doubtful, but took Jack's outstretched hand, pulling as he propelled himself to his feet. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him again, and he breathed deeply, willing himself to stay upright. Gradually the dizziness passed, but even then Jack was left feeling a little unsteady on his feet. However, when he finally raised his head and looked about him, he soon discovered the reason for that.

He was on a ship. One so big he couldn't see the far end, but a ship nonetheless.

Jack had never been a good sailor. He could pilot any kind of spaceship through space and time, but as soon as he set foot on a boat he started feeling nervous and queasy. He had told himself many times how ridiculous this was, but he couldn't seem to cure himself of it.

It's only a boat, and it's massive, he told himself firmly. It's perfectly safe, and it's not going to sink.

Then his eye was caught by the lifebelt hangingon the wall nearby. At first he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Blinking, he took a couple of steps closer. But the words hadn't changed.

S.S. Titanic.

It was the bloody Titanic! Suddenly Jack's queasiness returned in full force, and he stumbled blindly towards the deck rail, reaching it just in time to empty the contents of his stomach over the side.

After hanging there for a few seconds, he spat to rid his mouth of the sour taste, and then gingerly straightened up.

"Sir?" The woman was now looking as if she wished she hadn't offered to help in the first place, while the boy was staring at him wide-eyed.

Jack smiled to reassure them. "Just a touch of seasickness," he said quickly. "Never have been able to quite shake the mal-de-mer. Thank you for your help." He smiled at them again, the expression this time clearly designed to make them go away.

The woman took the hint and began ushering the boy away. "The stewards normally come by every ten minutes or so," she offered as a parting shot. "If you still feel ill you could ask one of them to fetch a doctor."

"Thank you," said Jack again. "I'll bear that in mind." He tried to prevent his face twisting at the mention of a doctor, but it was hard. There's only one type of doctor I need, he thought, not for the first time.

As soon as the woman was far enough away, Jack slumped against the deck railing again, holding his head in his hands.

What the hell had happened here? One second he had been sitting in his office, reading a report on the latest Torchwood happenings, the next he had found himself lying on the deck of the most famously doomed ship in history.

Why was he here? Jack didn't think for a moment that he was meant to stop the disaster that would soon befall the vessel. For one thing, his ego wasn't that big. And for another, preventing the sinking of the Titanic would mean altering a major historical event, something which Jack knew was liable to have disastrous consequences for the entire universe. He had had it very soundly drummed into him, by several different people, that you never altered the established timeline.

Eventually, after examining all the angles, Jack concluded that there was no reason for him to be here, other than monumental bad luck. The only explanation was that the rift was acting up again, and he had slipped through without warning or agenda.

Jack grimaced. So, here he was, stuck on a ship destined to sink, with no way off. And he definitely didn't fall into the category of 'women and children', so there was no way he was getting a place in a lifeboat when all hell broke loose. Jack wasn't afraid of dying – because, of course, he couldn't – but he didn't particularly want to spend a night clinging shivering to a piece of driftwood in the freezing north Atlantic until he was picked up by a rescue party.

And besides, even if he did do the clinging and the shivering and the being rescued, the fact still remained that he would be stuck in 1912 with no foreseeable way of leaving, unless the rift decided to exert its contrary nature again and transport him home.

Without really noticing, Jack pushed away from the railing and started pacing along the deck, trying to figure out what to do. He took no notice of anything going on around him until, suddenly, he was halted in his tracks by the sound of a very familiar voice.

"…so I persuaded them not to bother coming on this voyage. Told them they'd be missing out on a whole load of exciting stuff back at home if they did. 'America's not all it's cracked up to be,' I said. And luckily for them they believed me."

Jack looked wildly around, searching for the source of the voice. At first he couldn't find it, but then he noticed a small group of men standing in the shadow of one of the funnels. The man closest to him was tall, thin, and lanky. He was dressed in smart trousers and a velvet frock coat instead of the usual jeans and leather jacket, but Jack would have known him anywhere, any time. As the man started talking again, his northern accent washed over Jack like the waves lapping at the side of the ship. He almost couldn't believe it, but it was true.

It was the Doctor.

For a full thirty seconds Jack just stood and stared at the Doctor. His mind was a whirlwind of questions. Had the Doctor seen him? Would he recognise Jack? Had this Doctor even met Jack? Was Rose here? What was the Doctor doing here? And so on.

But none of those questions had answers yet, and abruptly Jack realised that he probably looked a little suspicious, gaping a group of men he didn't know. Quickly he averted his gaze slightly, feigning glances out to sea, up and down the deck, but all the while trying not to let the Doctor out of his sight.

The Doctor was turned away from him slightly, so Jack could only see a small part of his face. But he could still tell that the Doctor was the same as he ever had been – his expression animated, words pouring out of his mouth a mile a minute. Even his stance was familiar to Jack – that barely controlled energy visible in every line of the Doctor's body.

Suddenly, Jack became aware that the Doctor was making his farewells, moving away from the group of men towards the aft part of the ship. Jack immediately set off after him, keeping a suitable distance behind, but making sure that the Doctor was never out of his eye-line.

This worked until they reached the stern of the ship. As the Doctor disappeared behind the building at the end of the deck, Jack cursed and quickened his pace. He couldn't lose the Doctor now, he just couldn't.

However, as he rounded the corner, Jack found himself brought up short as an arm shot out into his path, blocking his way.

"What do you want?" said a low, menacing voice in his ear.

Glancing to his left, Jack saw that the Doctor was watching him intently, looking none too pleased.

"I don't know what you're talking about," lied Jack, but to his own ears he sounded unconvincing at best. In the back of his mind he noted that the Doctor didn't appear to have recognised him, but he left that revelation aside in the face of trying not to make his situation any worse.

Too late.

"Don't play games with me," said the Doctor dangerously. "Because I'm telling you – you wouldn't win. I am not a person to be trifled with."

Desperately, Jack fell back on the only excuse he could come up with at short notice. "You reminded me of someone I met once," he said, hoping that a little bit of truth would make the explanation more convincing. "But I didn't want to make a fool of myself by introducing myself until I was sure you were the right person."

"And…? Am I the right person?" The Doctor's tone of voice now clearly said that if Jack didn't give the correct answer, something very unpleasant would happen to him.

"No," replied Jack quickly. It was still the truth…sort of. This Doctor wasn't exactly the person he was looking for. This Doctor didn't have a clue who Jack Harkness even was, let alone an inkling about the history they shared.

And suddenly, just like that, the Doctor's mood changed. Even Jack, who had experienced the Doctor's mercurial nature before, was slightly taken aback.

"Oh well, never mind. Mistakes happen. I'm the Doctor, by the way. And you are…?"

In the split second before he opened his mouth to reply, Jack realised that he couldn't tell the Doctor his real name. In fact, he shouldn't even be here, talking to the Doctor. He was polluting the timeline. The history of both their lives dictated that the first time they met was during the London Blitz, in Jack's past and the Doctor's future – not here, on board this doomed ship, in 1912.

"Er…excuse me?" The Doctor was looking at him suspiciously again, and Jack realised that he hadn't said anything for nearly a minute.

Oh well, there was nothing he could do now with regards to meeting the Doctor – that had already happened. But he could at least do some damage control.

Jack smiled at the Doctor, falling back on the old excuse. "Sorry. Seasickness – it makes me feel a little out of it sometimes. The name's Harper. James Harper."

"Rank?" asked the Doctor, eyeing the badges stitched to Jack's coat.

"Oh…Captain."

"Well, Captain James Harper, nice to meet you," said the Doctor, his earlier suspicions apparently gone. "And what brings you on board…"

But he was interrupted by high-pitched noise, somewhere between a whistle and beep. Jack recognised it instantly as the sound of the sonic screwdriver, but kept his face blank. The Doctor, however, patted one of his pockets quickly and then looked back at Jack.

"Sorry, I've got to go. That alarm was telling me I'm late for something. Maybe I'll see you around, Captain."

And before Jack could form a reply the Doctor was gone, running back in the direction they had come. By the time Jack had gathered his wits and darted around the corner after him, the Doctor had disappeared through one of the many doorways lining the deck, and was nowhere to be seen.

"Crap!" spat Jack eloquently. Who knew if he would see the Doctor here again? For all he knew, the Time Lord was even now flying away in the TARDIS, leaving Jack and the Titanic behind to their respective fates.

Unable to do anything more constructive, Jack walked over to the nearest door and yanked it open, hoping to see the Doctor on the other side, talking to another group of unsuspecting passengers.

But the Doctor wasn't there. Instead, Jack was confronted by the sight of an opulent foyer and staircase, complete with crystal chandelier and potted palms. Several people were looking at him oddly as he stood framed in the doorway, so he quickly stepped through it, closing the door behind him to cut off the draught that was rustling the palm fronds.

Lacking anything else to do, Jack wandered over to the balustrade surrounding the top of the staircase and looked down. He could only see clearly down to the deck immediately below him, but could tell that the staircase carried on downwards for several more decks after that.

Suddenly, Jack decided that he would explore the ship. After all, how often did one get a chance to experience such a potent historical symbol firsthand? And besides, it would take his mind off the Doctor, and off the fact that, for the foreseeable future, he was stuck on this potent historical symbol with no chance of getting off until it sank.