The Doctor's eyes were haunted.
Admittedly, Jack knew that he had never known the Doctor's eyes not to be at least a little haunted. Maybe once upon a time, before Jack had met him and before the universe had deemed fit to rip everything away from him, they hadn't been that way. But now? He was haunted by the events of the Time War, the loss of Rose . . . and the loss of the Master, though Jack still couldn't quite comprehend why.
Jack didn't know all of the details. He had managed to glean a little bit of the story over the past year - the year that never was - but it was like trying to piece together War and Peace in its entirety based on a few half-torn pages. There was only one person alive who knew the whole story, and Jack knew that the Doctor would never tell him it.
Of course, that didn't mean he wasn't going to call up a few of his old acquaintances from UNIT, starting with Lethbridge-Stewart and working his way down the list. He'd heard enough to know that he might be able to get a little bit of information from them, even if it wasn't everything. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but - the last time he checked, at least - Jack wasn't exactly a cat. Not to mention that, last he checked, being killed wasn't high on his list of worries.
Still, all of that was going to have to wait until a more pressing matter was dealt with, whether he wanted to deal with it or not.
The Doctor was staring at the flickering flames, not paying any attention whatsoever to the man standing beside him. Jack reached out and gently tapped his shoulder, not surprised to see that didn't even get a reaction out of the Doctor.
Jack sighed. Rose had always been the one to pull the Doctor back into the present when he got into one of his moods. Of course, he doubted Martha would appreciate it if he came back to the TARDIS using that as an excuse.
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Martha pushed Jack forward. "Do something," she said pointedly.
"What do you expect me to do?" he asked, digging his feet into the ground. "If you haven't figured it out yet, it's not exactly what you'd call easy to make the Doctor do anything."
"You can still try," she insisted, pushing him even harder.
Jack stumbled forward, almost tripping. "What exactly do you expect me to do?" he asked, spinning around to meet her gaze. "You probably know him just as well as I do."
Martha met his gaze without blinking. "I'm sure you'll think of something," she replied, the look on her face assuring him that there really was not point in arguing.
He nodded in acquiescence, but he couldn't help but make a quick mental note that - if and when she ever decided to stop traveling with the Doctor - she was going to be first on his list of new recruits for Torchwood. Anyone who could win an argument with him definitely had potential.
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And that led him to where he was now, standing behind the Doctor as the Time Lord stared at the burning funeral pyre. Jack cleared his throat softly, unsure of what to say. He doubted that his actual feelings of thank god Lucy Saxon killed the bastard before I had a chance to do it would go over very well.
The Doctor didn't even move.
Jack cleared his throat again, this time a little louder. "Doctor?" he asked, surprised at how tentative his voice sounded. "Can we talk?"
The Doctor's eyes were almost blank as he finally turned away from the fire, looking through Jack as if he wasn't there. It was obvious that nothing he could say would change that, so Jack did the only thing he could come up with. He grabbed the Doctor, unconsciously smirking a bit when he heard the Time Lord make a surprised sound, and kissed him right on the lips.
It wasn't anything like he had imagined.
The last time Jack had kissed the Doctor, he had been saying "goodbye." He'd put everything into it: his love, his thanks, his regrets, his passion. Over the years, he'd wondered what it would be like to kiss the Doctor again . . . if, after a kiss like their last one, any others would even be remotely memorable.
Jack had never expected it to be a reassurance, a kiss from a friend rather than a lover. Well, maybe next time. . . .
As he pulled away, the first thing Jack noticed was the Doctor's eyes. True, they were still haunted, but it had faded somewhat. They looked more like they had when he had first met the Doctor, all those years ago. The pain was still there, but it was hidden behind a mask, forced to the background and held there.
"Not what I expected from you," the Doctor said lightly.
Jack just raised an eyebrow.
The Doctor laughed. It sounded a bit weak, but it was real. That's all that mattered. "You know what I mean."
"Yeah," Jack said, smiling just a bit, "I know."
They stared at each other for a moment before the Doctor started to smile as well. "Thank you," he said quietly.
Jack gestured over his shoulder at the distant TARDIS, where Martha was barely visible in the evening shadows. "She's the one you need to thank," he said pointedly.
The Doctor slowly nodded. "I know."
A second or two of silence passed before Jack cleared his throat. "Well, I really should be getting back to Cardiff," he said. "My team should be getting back from the Himalayas any time now, and - knowing them - they've probably decided that our resident pterodactyl needs a Yeti to keep him occupied."
Jack started walking toward the TARDIS, leaving the Doctor staring at him. "Pterodactyl?" he repeated slowly.
"He came through the Rift a couple of years ago," Jack said, shrugging as he turned back around. "He's better than a guard dog, and he tries to eat Owen every now and then, so we decided to keep him."
The Doctor kept staring at him. "I see what you mean about Torchwood not being that much of a threat nowadays."
Jack laughed, while the Doctor just shook his head.
"Oh, and just to let you know," Jack said with a wink, "you owe me a dance."
He knew for certain that he wasn't imagining the amused twinkle in the Doctor's eyes.