I am participating in Round 2 of Trope Bingo; I've decided to go for the simultaneous double-line bingo, and this fic fulfills my 'hurt comfort' square and 'free' square; I chose the trope, 'AU: Historical'. You can also find it over at AO3.
Arthur paused to check the time. It had been nearly a month since William's death, and still he found himself struggling through the days. His heart ached constantly, both for the loss and for all the things left unsaid. Things he'd never have the chance to say. He closed the small brass fob watch as he clutched it and carefully returned it to his pocket. His other hand adjusted the grip on the folder he was carrying, full of notes and calculations on Einstein's theories.
Just then a man bumped into him, scattering the folder and its contents on the cobblestone street. For a moment he braced himself to be accosted by another of Cambridge's citizens who took umbrage at his lack of participation in the war effort. When he looked, he saw a very apologetic smile on the face of the man stooping to gather his papers, "I'm very sorry," the man said. At the same time, Arthur stooped to gather the papers as well.
"It's quite alright, no harm done," he said quietly.
Jack righted the papers and caught a glimpse of what was on the first page. "You're Arthur Eddington, aren't you?" he asked, handing the slightly-wrinkled pages over.
"Why yes I am. And who might you be?"
"Jack Harkness," he said, flashing his most charming smile, "It's nice to meet you."
0~0~0~0
It had been two weeks since Jack met Arthur, and the astronomer was kind enough to take him in when he'd discovered that Jack had no accommodations in Cambridge. Jack found himself one of many people coming and going from Eddington's home as the days passed. Jack had gotten to know the Müller family; the first of several German-born families to experience trouble after the War had broken out and to find refuge with Arthur and Winifred. Many of the people who prayed with the Eddingtons had had their homes and businesses vandalized, chased and spat upon in the streets for no other reason than their German heritage.
Jack had been attending Arthur's prayer services fairly regularly since his arrival. He wasn't the sort of man—at least not anymore—to pay lip service to a religion just to bed an attractive man. No, what brought Jack to the services was Arthur. His bravery in the face of being spat upon in the streets and called a coward reminded Jack of another man he'd fallen in love with. A man he would always compare his romantic interests to, whether he meant to or not: the Doctor. Jack fell in love with the Doctor years ago and far, far in the future. It was after the London Blitz in 1941, but definitely before he and his friends had encountered Blon the Slitheen in 21st Century Cardiff. So Jack sat in silence and listened to Arthur's words. Jack didn't consider himself a religious man, but there was something to be said for a faith that encouraged you to take silent moments to think, to contemplate, to listen.
Arthur had integrity. He was brilliant and handsome, and while he carried several of the desirable qualities that Jack saw in the Doctor, Arthur was also his own man. Reserved, measured, thoughtful, and exceedingly kind. He was far more open with his thoughts than the leather-clad time-traveler was, yet he still harbored a hidden pain, and—Jack suspected—a secret.
0~0~0~0
Jack never slept, so he would often walk the large corridors of Eddington's home. It was technically owned by the university, so many of the furnishings were big and ornate and certainly not to Arthur's tastes; portraits of former residents hung on the walls. One night, while walking the halls of the stately home, he overheard Arthur talking to his sister Winifred in his study.
"…but what if he died thinking that I was angry with him?"
"William knew you better than that, Arthur."
"I try to tell myself that, Winnie; I really do. I…I…loved him so. I still do. But the thought of it keeps me up at night all the same."
"I'm sorry you didn't get the chance to tell him."
"I had lots of chances. I was just too frightened," Arthur sniffed, his voice cracking. "What's so much worse is being unable to tell anyone. Apart from you, of course."
"Is this about what Sir Oliver said?"
"Yes, I suppose it is; in part. I forgive him without question; he's lost his son. But to assume I know nothing of loss? And I couldn't say a word."
"You're saying it now, aren't you?"
"I don't know what I'd do without you Winnie. I'm glad that God has seen fit to give me a sister such as you."
Jack slunk away to the far reaches of the house. Arthur had lost someone too; this should've made Jack feel less alone, but instead it made his heart ache even more. He couldn't have imagined growing up in this time period, and suffering under the strain and fear of social stigma for seeking relationships with men…his life in the 51st Century may have been far behind him, but he was happy to have grown up in a freer time.
The gay men of this era were so far in the closet and so self-loathing that it made Jack wish he could change things. He knew the Doctor would never approve, of course, so it was just a niggling little urge at the back of his head. At that moment, 1914 might as well have been 1314.