They had landed at The Rift with barely the slightest hint of trouble. Martha had asked questions, and he had answered them without really thinking about what he was saying. Except for the one that made him think of the Slitheen, and his ninth self, and the people who had been with him then. The fact that he had been a different man didn't really seem to cover it when he took a millisecond to think about it.
But that didn't matter! The twenty seconds were up, and they could go! He barely was able to completely repress the little dance that popped out of him when he flicked a switch to start up the engines again.
Then he looked at the screen. And he saw the coat. That coat told him everything. It was him. And he was running to the TARDIS.
What little concentration he had been employing shattered. Thousands of things whirled in his head, and they shattered too.
A horrible feeling that he had never understood broke through. Revulsion. That was the best thing he could call it. He couldn't stand what he was feeling, and he was horrified at himself, and tried to fight that revulsion as his hand itched to the lever that would send the TARDIS back into the Vortex. It's JACKhe screamed inside his head.
And then he pulled the handle down. His instincts had won. He fought back the shock that threatened to show on his face as some sick thing in his subconscious seemed to sigh with relief. He felt himself give a wide, gaping smile.
His ship threw him to the ground. Scrambling to his feet, he stared at the screen as he and Martha gripped the consol for support. The ship was blurring numbers together, so the only thing that he could tell was the year that they were crashing towards. He was heading tens of billions of years into the future.
His Time Lord ears caught something then, but it was so muffled that he could barely hear. It was his name. And it was Jack screaming it at him. From outside the TARDIS.
That disgust smashed into him again. He was sick with fear and the instincts pounding into his head and stomach. And he was sick with himself for feeling them.
Jack, what have you done to me?