Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who or Torchwood.
Setting: In TW, takes place after Children of Earth. In DW, takes place after The End of Time arc, right before the Doctor's regeneration. Based on that lovely little scene where the Doctor hooks Jack up with the Titanic's first-mate before wandering off to his TARDIS...
Rating: M, pretty much PWP, which means happy Christmas lemons to you (you're welcome:)!
Solace
It was just another nondescript bar inside another nondescript floating way station inside another nondescript galaxy. Jack sat on a threadbare stool, hunched over a half-finished tumbler of scotch. He thought it was fascinating, that they managed to get real genuine scotch this far out from the Milky Way. The taste reminded him of Earth. Which was ironic, because all Jack wanted to do was get as far away from that troublesome little planet as possible. The end of the universe might suffice. Really, after all that had happened there...
No, don't think about it! his mind instantly pleaded with him.
Jack grimaced and slid the the glass away. There was some sort of commotion going on a couple of stools over. A member of the Judoon was barking something at a clearly unimpressed Sontaran. Tension clouded the air around them like cigarette smoke. Hands slid to the butts of laser rifles in silent threat. Just when everything seemed on the verge of exploding in violent confrontation, the Sontaran slammed his hands down angrily on top of the bar, stood up and left. The Judoon tailed him out the door. Better out than in, thought Jack. The whole bloody scene might have interrupted his own pathetic, all-consuming pity party.
A small glass filled with blue liquid was clacked down in front of him, along with a note. Jack's head jerked up as the bartender said, "From the gentleman in the striped suit and tie." A rush of familiar warmth filled Jack's icy veins as he turned and scanned the room. There. Across the way. Like a dying man's last mirage. Water in the desert. Striped suit and tie, indeed. Salvation had never looked so good.
Jack tore his eyes from the Doctor long enough to read the note. It said: His name is Alonzo. Jack looked across the bar to where a shy young man wearing a uniform was seated. His brief, admiring glances had not gone unnoticed. Jack looked back up at the Doctor. The Doctor nodded his head and with his hands in his pockets, began to casually stroll away.
No! Jack crumpled the note and dropped it on the bar. Like a castaway adrift on dark waters with only one visible lifeline, Jack pushed through the crowded sea of aliens over to where the Doctor had stood. A flash of a camel overcoat and the red of a single sneaker caught his eye as they slipped silently around a corner. No! Don't Leave! Jack lunged after the receding image. The floor tilted and blurred beneath him. He careened drunkenly through a hollow metal door with a loud bang! and immediately came face-to-face with his missing savior.
"Hello, Jack."
"Doctor!"
In his drunken periphery, Jack noticed the conspicuous blue box nestled between two vending machines. It waited, as always, in silence for its master. Jack struggled for words, struggled to find the magic phrase that would keep the Doctor from flitting off again. Always leaving, always. The Doctor's lips twitched upward in a small, sad smile. He began backing away. In desperation, Jack groped forward, wrapped both arms around him, and sank down to his knees. He refused to let go. His tears went mercifully unseen.
"Doctor...I've lost...I've lost everything...I've lost..."
"Don't forget me..." That voice. It was so close, yet...
Gone. Dead. Forever.
Ianto...
Jack felt a hand lightly squeeze his shoulder. Don't leave. Please, don't go! Above him, he heard the Doctor whisper in a husky voice, "Jack, I can't stay." Jack's hand moved to cover the Doctor's own, clutching it. It was cold, as cold as the deepest, darkest reaches of space. Jack looked up. Understanding hit him then like a full-on Dalek assault.
"You're...you're dying?"
The answer was there in his eyes.
Pale, icy hands slid down Jack's arms. They gripped his wrists and pulled. "I can't stay, Jack." Jack clung on, staring imploringly into chocolate brown eyes. What color would they be next? Green? Blue? The Doctor was a tantalizing paradox: Constant yet ever-changing. Always present, yet just out of reach. Eternal, immortal, but forever shifting, changing his colors, like a distantly spinning kaleidoscope or star. Brilliant and colorful. Jack could see the colors now, could see they were draining out of him. Could feel the vitality leaving him. Cold, his hands are so cold. Icy but beautiful. Jack had never desired anything more.
"No. Stay. With me." Jack rose slowly, leaning in closer. The kiss he placed on the Doctor lips wasn't forceful; it was tentative, more like an open question. Will you stay with me? Just this once. Give me this one solace. The feathery lightness of the kiss left room enough for an answer. The Doctor didn't move, didn't pull away, and Jack thought of the last time he had kissed him, right before that first Dalek invasion. It had been a different body, a different face. Changing, yet unchanging. Always the same. And always, this unshakable desire...
Stay with me. Be with me, just this once. The question lingered in the air, unspoken.
The Doctor pulled his hand from beneath Jack's. In that moment, something inside him slipped and fell. A sensation of falling. Jack expected the Doctor to turn and leave him then, just like always. He prepared himself for the feeling of emptiness, the hollowness that always followed. Falling, I am falling. But then, unexpectedly, the Doctor circled his wrists with his hands and pulled him to his feet. Still clinging to him, he began backing towards the TARDIS, pulling Jack along, his dark, unfathomable eyes never once leaving Jack's face. The falling sensation intensified. But this time it was different. Instead of a nightmare, it was like falling into a dream.
The Doctor reached back and pushed open the blue box's door. He guided Jack inside. Sadness clouded the Doctor's eyes, and he whispered, in an uncharacteristically confessional tone, "I'm not ready to go yet. I'm not ready to leave this body. I'm not-"
Jack grabbed his face and kissed him deeply, cutting off the words. He was done with words. Jack paused long enough to slam the TARDIS door behind them. The two of them stumbled in a tangle toward the console platform, with Jack swooping in to claim kiss after kiss. He backed the Doctor up the steps, and that was as far as the two of them got. They collapsed together in a heap on the main platform, legs dangling clumsily over the top of the stairs.
Jack wrenched the brown trench coat down the Doctors arms, tugging at it blindly. His lips burnt a trail down the Doctor's neck as the coat was removed and tossed carelessly aside. Jack paused for a moment to look into the Doctor's eyes, and he said, with a crack in his voice, "Doctor, I have always-"
This time it was the Doctor who cut him off with a kiss.
Jack's fingers raked possessively through dark spiky hair as he settled himself purposefully between the Doctor's legs. Yes, mine! Mine at last! The Doctor pulled at Jack's great coat, and Jack shoved it down his arms, kicking the fabric away. Jack wrestled with the Doctor's jacket buttons, attempting to strip away another layer. His hands slid covetously down the pale blue shirtfront underneath, his long-suppressed desire making his usually deft hands clumsy. Jack didn't try to speak again. He knew that it was pointless. The Doctor knew what he was was going to say anyway, and it didn't matter. Only this one moment mattered.
Give me this one solace...
Jack forgot about everything. Forgot about Earth and all of its horrors and the things (the person) he had lost there. There was only now. There was only the Doctor. His flesh, made warm again through friction and rough touches and heady, insistent kisses. He would warm him with the heat of his own skin, would kindle him with lust. Stay...stay with me. Jack's hands traveled lower, became bolder. He heard the Doctor's breath hitch, felt him tense beneath him. Every sound, every movement, was a physical spur that urged him onward, urged him closer to what he wanted.
Jack ripped impatiently at stubborn buttons and uncooperative clasps. The Doctor's pale hands stroked soothing circles across his scalp, sending shivers down his neck. As Jack fumbled and cursed, he heard the Doctor say in a scratchy voice, "Jack, there's not much time," and Jack wasn't sure if he was talking about his regeneration or his erection or the end of time itself (it could have been any or all of them). In the end the buttons capitulated and some of them fell victim to Jack's overly zealous fumblings, popping loose and falling, pinging, through random holes in the grate. There was an intrusive shriek of a zipper and an echoing clang! as the Doctor's sneakers fell and bounced on the metal stairs. Jack bent over the Doctor's now mostly exposed body, sucking at first a nipple, then the irresistible indention of a jutting hip. His head traveled lower, his hands following, worshiping, memorizing. The Doctor's lean, lithe body was beautiful-a veritable buffet that he was ready to dive into and savor. Jack paused, took his own fingers into his mouth and sucked them, then slid his hand purposefully down between their two bodies.
The Doctor tensed at the invasion, and Jack instantly froze, barely one knuckle in and only two fingers to boot. When Jack didn't continue, the Doctor said, with his eyes closed and his head tilted back, "Keep going." That was all Jack needed. He leaned forward, seeking the Doctor's lips: kissing, licking, sucking, even as his fingers twisted, burrowed, and stroked their way inside him.
"Jack..."
Jack kissed his way back down the Doctor's torso, savoring the low, raspy sound of his name on his lips. Gorgeous. Jack continued to stroke along the sensitive nerves inside of him-persistently, rhythmically-until the Doctor groaned and arched his back, drawing him in deeper. Jack knew then he was ready. In one hasty movement, he kicked off his shoes and socks, ruched down his pants, then lifted the Doctor's knees and lined up. The unspoken words came back again, sat resting on the tip of his tongue. I love you...I have always loved you. Jack wanted to say them aloud, but chose to let his body speak for him instead. He leaned across the Doctor's knees, craning in for another kiss. His cock bumped insistently against the Doctor's exposed entrance, begging for release. Jack continued to kiss him-would have kept on kissing him forever-except the Doctor finally broke away from him and said:
"Jack. Come."
Jack braced himself on his elbows and leaned in: pushing, squeezing, shifting. So tight. The Doctor hissed in air, but this time Jack didn't stop. Inch by delicate inch, he continued to push. Patiently, deliberately, Jack concentrated on building a slow and tantalizing rhythm. Back and forth, back and forth. Over and over again, until he was far enough in. Slowly, steadily, he paced himself. It was agony. It was heaven. It was everything he had ever wanted, and far better than anything he had ever dreamed or imagined.
I have always wanted you. Always loved you. Always...
Faster and faster he moved. Jack continued building the rhythm, and was pleased when the Doctor began to move with him. Back and forth, back and forth. The friction between them was the most sublime form of torture. A perfect amalgamation of physical pleasure and mental pain. It was good, far too good to last, and when the Doctor hissed out his name in the most strangled, agonized voice, Jack left himself go. He felt himself falling again. Falling, but in the best kind of way.
"Doctor!" Jack was surprised at the choking sound in his own voice as he came, was surprised to find the tears unexpectedly returning. Jack collapsed on the body beneath him, turning his head to the side, his face flushed with feelings of triumph and shame. Don't forget me. Oh, he could hear that voice again, distant but accusing. It was little more than an echo now. Jack felt the touch of a comforting hand on his hair, gently caressing him. He watched the TARDIS console blur in and out of his vision. He lay perfectly still as the Doctor spoke.
"It's going to be alright, Jack. I promise."
A pause. Then:
"Don't give up."
Jack continued to cry silently as the Doctor softly stroked his hair like a parent soothing his wounded child. He had seen so much. He had lost so much. Jack knew that this was just a stolen moment between him and the Doctor, and that it was over and he wouldn't be able to hold onto him. He is always leaving, always traveling. But would this moment be enough? Would anything ever be enough? Jack didn't know; he felt lost and didn't know how to find himself again.
"It will be okay, Jack. You will go on."
"But how? How do you know?"
"Because it is what we do."
The words hung hollowly in the air. Because it is what we do. The tears abruptly stopped and Jack sat up, wiping his eyes. The Doctor was pulling his clothes back on. His belt, his tie, his collar: everything was askew. Jack thought he had never looked more beautiful or desirable. On impulsive, Jack reached across the landing and kissed him-fondly, almost chastely. "Thank you for this," he whispered. The Doctor's mouth crooked up in a half smile. "You don't have to thank me, Jack. I wanted to do this, before the change came through. Before I had to go..."
"Do you have to go?" Jack blurted. But he knew the answer to that already. The enigmatic little half smile never left the Doctor's face.
Jack stood up, pulling on his shirt and struggling with the buttons. The Doctor scooped up his great coat from the floor, handing it to him. "Don't want to forget this," he said. Jack smiled a crooked grin of his own. That coat had seen so much in its time, almost as much as he had. My big, grey security blanket. He took the coat from the Doctor's hands and slid into it, and it was like melting into the embrace of an old friend. Jack reluctantly started backing down the steps towards the TARDIS door. The Doctor stood leaning against the console with his hands in his pockets, his jacket and coat still crumpled, forgotten, on the floor. He looked perfect. He looked magnificent. And Jack wanted to always remember him like this.
The Doctor spoke again. "Remember what I said, Jack. Don't give up."
"Don't worry, Doctor. I won't."
"And if you hurry, you still might catch Alonzo at the bar."
"Very cheeky. But...that offer seems a lot less attractive after what I just had."
The lop-sided grin came back. "I'm just saying, is all."
"I know." Jack stopped in the doorway. "Doctor...you know I love you, right?"
No answer. None was expected. Jack turned and strolled back into the hallway with all the vending machines, smiling to himself. He felt rejuvenated, felt newly determined to carry on, all else be damned. He was strong. He was immortal. He would cope. He would continue on his journey, wherever that journey chose to lead him. And if he questioned himself about it, or despaired, then he would just remember this one glorious moment. He would remember what the Doctor told him.
"But how? How do you know?"
"Because it is what we do..."
And with that, Jack pushed open the metal door and stepped into the light...
End/Fin.