I've written many things. I take that back. I've come up with many things really painful it was enough to make me cawl into a fetal position and not cry. Like it was so emotionally painful, and my energy meter cracked, and it like a nuclear bomb inside my head. I know, I make no sense, I've realized this. But this story. It's not painful, it's not a story that would usually cause feels. It's one of those stories you finish reading and think, "Screw it. I don't need you, I don't need air to breathe, I don't need food. Just screw it, screw it all." And then you crawl in a cave and become a monk.
This is not a CapTen story, be warned. It's just a, "Oh the Doctor made a mistake and now ge can't change or even make up for it. One-shot so don't expect me to make a great big story out of it. Enjoy your bowl of Screw It.
Jack
Jack looked above his glasses, at the large pile of reports that slowly piled up. He was going to be busy for a few weeks. At least it was something to keep his mind of things and people and, more things. He pinched the bridge of his nose, as if it would release stress from his life, if you could call it a life. How does one live, if they can't die? Jack reached over, picking up his mug and lazily sliding it across.
His stack neat folders went over the edge of desk, papers fluttering to the floor. He cursed. He just had those organized! His eyes traced across loose papers, trying to slide them in their folders. The Doctor. His breath caught. He stopped short, leaning back on his heels, He shuddered, suddenly reminded of his last meeting with the Time Lord. It was a beautiful day, a great day of hunting a mad alien when he decided to saunter in, needing a small favor. Support. After losing a beloved companion, and rambling about dreams that were "impossible" the Doctor was in one of his moods and Jack reached out. Well, more or less pushed.
He wanted to be so angry at the Doctor, but how could he. Jack pushed him, the Doctor snapped, and Jack watched the Doctor zip up his trousers and leave, with scarlet fury in his dark eyes. Fear was something, Jack kept to push to the side, and pushing fear to the side was something he did well. That day, although, the Doctor put a new meaning to the word fear behind Jack's eyes. Jack was left, well in the nude, with a painful lump in his throat and ice frozen to the core of Jack's chest.
His body shook as he crawled upwards, carefully pulling on his clothes, wincing at every move his sore muscles made. And hours later he had a tantrum, and a pitty party afterwards. He slammed his fists into walls, raked his arm across his desk, spilling every item from it's surface. He smashed a vase, broke a telly. It wasn't his fault! If the Doctor hadn't come, none of this would have happened. Oh but silly Jack! It was he who told the Doctor to, he needed to talk about whatever problems he was facing. It was Jack who put suger on the top with, "We can share whatever burden you're facing,together." Which ended up pissing off the Time Lord who was the only one to survive the Time War, save the Master. Rubbing said Time Lord's shoulders, was the snapping point.
Jack glanced up a holgraphic, a floating blue percentage that flickered every so often. To anyone else, it was nothing. But the ninty-two percent said, "Pregnant." to Jack. The papers in his hands were crushed, his glasses blurry from the tears behind the lenses. He hated the Doctor, for leaving like a coward and never coming back. What you mean never coming back? Jack scoffed. He didn't need to time travel to know the Doctor wasn't returning to Torchwood in any future.
Jack hands shook, as he typed a few words. Jack may never see the Time Lord again, but he'd damned if he didn't tell the father of his kid that he was pregnant.
The Doctor-Six years later
The Doctor watched as the child horseplayed with his friend, chasing him around with a Sharpie marker. At first he came to apoligize, he still was. But it was the child with the unruly black hair, and the young wonderfilled brown eyes that stopped him short. He desperatly wanted to reach out to the boy, wrap him in a hug and say, "Hey, I'm a friend. I'm someone that's here to stay." What a lie that would be, a momentous lie that would haunt him if he dared voice it. The amazing thing though, that almost made the Time Lord shed a single tear was, he could hear him. He could hear the child and his wild, mad imagination. It was faint, but he could hear the child. He was once used to many voices in his head, the voces of Gallifrey. Now, as time had passed, being near the child, filled his big empty head with beautiful colors and sounds, and innocence, and the belief of magic and fairytales. His son, a little miniuture Time Lord. Well, half Time Lord.
He tore his gaze, as he sensed the impossible, the wrong, the stain of time and space. The man who couldn't die. The same man who knew he was here, the same man that looked at him as if he was a drunk fool. The Doctor's lips parted, and Jack shook his head. The Doctor never moved from his spot across the road, to stop the father of his son as he guided both boys inside. Watch after your daddy for me, Pipsqueak. The child glanced back, curious eyes searching. For a shining moment, the Doctor believed his son knew who he was, somehow. He doubted.
He snapped his teeth together, his body drawing up as pain slid around his spine like a snake around it's meal. He had no time to feel guilt, he had one more face to see before the process of regeneration started.
"Allons-y." He said solomnly, shoving the big lever into it's position as the machine departed for it's new coordinates.
There you have it folks, one bowl of Screw It. Hope you enjoyed. Leave your likes and dislikes in the reviews, constructive critisism is appreciated.