Title: Domestic Holiday
Series: The James Harborne Tales
Fandoms: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Fic!Verse: Resurrection!Verse
Pairings: 10/Jack
Author: Z-sama (dA user the-lady-harkness)
Beta: TWTL

DISCLAIMER: We don't own Torchwood. We don't own Doctor Who. We wish we could own them both, but we can't. Hell, we'd settle for the K9 spin-off pilot that failed many years ago... but sadly, we can't have that either. All of that is owned by the BBC.


The Doctor looked at himself in the reflective glass of the one-way mirror. His suit was scorched; his hair once perfectly combed was now wild and singed. He noticed he'd forgotten to shave before leaving the TARDIS a few days ago.

"What are we going to do?" shouted the female journalist helping him to barricade the door with their bodies.

The Doctor groaned. "Tell you what. I survive this, I'm taking a bloody holiday."

The raggedy bum to his left was beaming. "Froody!" he said. "Don't forget-"

He was interrupted by a man in a bathrobe who was currently being crushed by the Doctor's right thigh and the woman's shoulders. "If you say towel I'll strangle you with yours!"

"No need to be so down, Arthur my man! Remember the first golden rule of hitchhiking. Don't Panic!"

From the other side of the door came the shouts of the Vogons as they tried to open the door. "Resistance is useless!"

The Doctor looked at the one-way mirror again. The four of them scrunched up against the door, all equally singed and scorched, reminded him of that time with Jack and Martha. But these weren't cannibal descendants of the human race they were trying to keep out...

These were class A Bureaucrats, one of the few things in the universe that could make the ancient Time Lord run in the opposite direction.

Mainly because of all his parking tickets.

"I think," he said, but was beaten to it by Ford Prefect.

"I have a cunning plan to get us out of this!"

"Oh this should be good..." Remarked Trillian Astra sarcastically.

Arthur Dent groaned. "Again. Strangle. With towel!" he reminded Ford.

"Leave the cunning plans to me, mate. Speaking of..." The Doctor pulled what appeared to Trillian and Arthur as a rather improbable tea kettle from his pants pocket. "Anyone got a string? I saw myself do this once."

209 Altarian hours later...

Which is only 42 minutes in Earth time...

A large wooden box appeared in a sleepy small town. This town was usually of little importance. None more so than this occasion.

The doors swung open and a sickly pink smoke billowed out before a man tumbled into the snow. He looked as if he'd been through a fire. Face smudged, eyes red from the smoke.

The doors of his wonderful box slammed closed on their own accord, and the man remained face down and unmoving. And the snow quietly drifted down in the night.

o0o

They were wrapped up tight in their parks. Hands shoved deep into their pockets as they walked down the sidewalk. The body in the red parka was shorter and more animated behind its green knit scarf. The other, wearing a black parka with a navy blue knit scarf over the face merely grunted in reply as they walked.

It was still 2 days before Christmas and the pair had yet to buy the perfect gift.

They wanted this holiday to be perfect. This one to be special. Because this time next year it could be different. One or both of them could be spending it on a dismal battlefield up north. This time next year they may be...

They didn't want to dwell on it.

Instead they focused on the positive. On the present. Focused on making this Christmas the best yet.

These two residents of the small and unimportant town were on their way to a lesser frequented and more sordid part of the area in their search when the shorter parka pulled a gloved hand from a pocket and pointed with a gasp. There in the corner of the old, unused library parking lot was a large blue box, half buried in snow.

"It can't be!" the shorter parka gasped.

Bare hands were pulled from the pockets of the black parka. One reached up to pull the scarf away to reveal a young man's face. The other took gloved hand in his. They ran as fast as the snow would let them.

The cold air stung their lungs, and bit every inch of flesh exposed to it. But they didn't care. Their blood pumping, their hearts beating faster. That box was a promise. Adventure, excitement, and the universe.

As they came nearer the red parka ran ahead, racing her companion now. But she was not careful, and once she was but a few feet from the box, she tumbled forward into a roll.

Her companion was soon at her side, pulling her scarf away from her striped face. "Are you alright?" he asked as she rubbed her ankle.

She nodded and looked at the place where she'd stumbled. There in the snow she could just about make out... "A hand!" the girl exclaimed, pointing to the spot.

The young man left her side to dig through the snow. More and more of the body became clear. More and more he saw the brown suit. His heart beat harder as the cold bit into his hands. His fingers were numb by the time he was able to pull the man out and roll him onto his back.

"He's not breathing!" the young man exclaimed, then without thinking checked for a pulse. Nothing... Nothing...

Wait, there. An awkward, faint beat. Unlike what he'd learned in school. Unlike anything he'd known. But it was there, that strange quadruple beat.

The girl had crawled over to him and was fumbling for her phone. The other was searching his pockets. Rifling through them he found a yo-yo, a bag of sweets, a cell phone, another bag of sweets, a very broken and very improbable tea kettle, a book on philosophy according to The Lion King, and a ticket stub to a movie from 1941.

"Now's not the time to pickpocket him!"

"I'm not! I'm looking for his key. We've got to get him inside out of the cold." At last he managed to get his arm into the pocket, up to his elbow. "Gods these things are deep... Almost got it."

He pulled his arm back out, fingers wrapped up in a string with the inconspicuous key hanging at the end. He got up and went to the doors. He could hardly feel the metal key in his fingers as he put it in the lock and turned. Snow fell inward as he opened the right side door.

Acrid pink smoke billowed out into his face. Squinting he could just see the emergency lights were on but little else. Even the normal hum of the machinery was absent. "Okay..." he said, unable to take the smoke any longer. "Plan B. Call my dad."

The young man struggled to shut the door again. Kicking the pile of snow further inside before managing to pull it closed tightly. Behind him the girl in the red parka was chattering urgently to her companion's father.

James sight and unzipped his warm, fluffy black parka. He pulled it off and turned around. The girl's eyes widened. She hurriedly finished on the phone as the stone-cold traveler was pulled up and wrapped in the parka.

"You'll freeze to death out here like that!"

He grinned and wrapped his navy blue scar tighter around his neck to keep warm. With one swift move of his hand he snatched up a bag of sweets, offering her one. "Have a jelly baby while you wait." He pulled one from the bag and ate it with a rather annoying grin.

She hissed, showing her annoyance at his grin. "If you didn't smell like pumpkin spice and hot tea, I'd kill you for that one," she grumbled. But she reached a gloved hand into the paper bag and had one anyway.

The two settled down against the TARDIS, the ship's owner propped up between them in an attempt to warm him back up as they waited for the boy's father to show up in his beat up truck.

o0o

The Doctor woke to the sound of raised voices. His head ached, and his limbs felt stiff. Looking around from the bed he realized he was in someone's home.

The door creaked as it opened. The shouting was louder now as a striped girl entered with a tray.

The Doctor sat up, letting the heavy blankets fall to his waist. Quickly he realized he was wearing a t-shirt just a bit too big. It was pale green. "Blech," he said as the tray was set across his lap.

"Well it's good to see you again, too," she hissed sarcastically.

He grinned up at her. "No. No. Meant the shirt." Then a more important question struck him ."How did I-"

"Well," she said, sitting on the side of the queen sized bed. "James and I were on our way to Cheapside-"

"London?"

"No. The bad part of town. We all call it Cheapside because the rent's cheap. So it attracts-"

"Ah... I see. What did you want down there? It's filled with ruffians."

She pinched between her eyes with a sigh. "Eat your soup and let me finish," she said.

The Doctor, having had the uncomfortable knowledge that the teenager tended to get a bit bitey when annoyed, picked up his spoon and slurped his soup.

He was pleased to discover it was banana flavored.

"Anyway," she said, well aware of the shouting elsewhere in the house. "We were on our way to Cheapside to this groovy shop that sells odd stuff. We wanted to get Jack the perfect gift. Something to remind him of the past... or... well, the future. Depends on how you look at it."

The Doctor nodded his understanding as he slurped his soup.

Then... "So why am I not wearing pants?" he asked.

She scratched her cheek and grinned. "Well... see... your suit was scorched, and wet. And the only pants we have that'll fit are James' and... He hasn't done his laundry for a while. But hey! My ex-boyfriend's shirt fits! And it's clean!"

There was an awkward pause as the Doctor thought about his situation. A door was slammed somewhere in the house after the shouting abruptly ended.

"The TARDIS?" he asked. "I don't think I parked it nearby."

"No. You were buried in the snow next to it. James took your key to get in but-"

"Smoke. Pink, yes?"

She nodded. "What happened, Doctor?"

He was about to answer when the door creaked open again. She turned to see Jack passing through it. "Let him eat and rest, Jess. The man's still thawing out."

"You're not still-"

"Absolutely furious because my son's an utter nuisance? Yes. But it can't be helped." He came to the bed and sat opposite the girl at the Doctor's side. "Go on now. I could use a hand in the kitchen."

The Doctor gave her a kind smile. "Go on. He's not going to bite."

"Not hard at any rate," Jack said with a laugh.

Reassured by their usual joking manners, Jesse left them. She closed the door carefully behind her.

The Doctor finished his soup in the awkward silence that hung between them. When he set the spoon down in the empty bowl, Jack took the tray and set it on one of the nightstands. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Groggy."

"That'll be the oxygen starvation. Even your lungs can't go that long on respiratory bypass." He grabbed one of the Doctor's hands before the other man could pull it away. He checked the reflexes of his fingers. "Slow," he said. "But you'll bounce back. Not bad for a man who spent all night as a popsicle."

He let go and before the Doctor could stop him Jack pressed a warm hand to his forehead. "Hmmm... Might be best if you stayed in bed a while longer."

"Jack, I'm fine. Just a little frozen. Not the first time and it won't be the last. Time Lord physiology is resilient. And, you don't know a thing-" The Doctor's tone was harsh.

"I've had a long time to learn about it, thanks," Jack interrupted.

He wasn't used to being treated like this. As if he were a sick patient. He was the Doctor, damn it! He didn't get sick, and he didn't need to be nursed!

But Jack only smiled. A warm hearted one the Doctor had leaned was only for him. Whenever he saw it on his former companion's face he wondered what he was thinking behind those sad blue eyes. "You had the kids scared half to death. Well, Jess anyway. She thought you were dead. What were you thinking just diving into weather like this, Doc? And without your coat?"

"Emergency landing," was the reply. "Didn't exactly get to choose my landing pad."

"Can you feel your toes?" It was an odd, random question.

"What kind of-"

"Just a simple yes or no will suffice, Doc."

"For your information my toes are all quite fine. I think. A bit numb, actually." He tried to wiggle them. The patch of blanket covering his feet wiggled, but the Doctor frowned. They were, indeed, rather numb.

Jack gave a small laugh and reached for a control connected to one of the blankets. He turned the dial up a few clicks. "That should help.

The older man rose to his feet and picked up the tray. "If you get too hot, the control's hanging down the side."

As Jack was leaving, the Doctor asked, "Jack, why?"

There. On his face the Doctor saw that warm, sad smile again. "If you get sick," Jack said, "Who's going to save the world if you take a few days off?" He left the Doctor alone then, closing the door quietly behind him.

The Time Lord sat in the bed beneath the blankets, willing his numb toes as he worked through the events leading up to how he had gotten here. He didn't know what year it was, and he wasn't sure where along Jack's timeline this particular visit fell. He'd have to ask one of them when they'd last seen him.

Silently he cursed Arthur Dent and his hitchhiking sidekick for suckering him into that bubble universe with the Vogons. If he hadn't had to use the unstable Tea Kettle of Rassilon with ordinary twine rather than nylon rope he wouldn't be in this predicament.

The Doctor lay back down and pulled the warm blankets over his head, muttering, "I should have let him strangle the bloody pormwrangler with his bloody towel."