Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who and this was written on a tablet so excuse the spelling errors.
He swore he wouldn't do this again, he sharply criticized himself as he shut the door to the TARDIS behind his quick paced form.
But there he was, top hat aggravatingly cutting the air like an elegant Frisbee until it guided off somewhere to be found and questioned later, shrugging the dark waist coat to the base of the stairs he found himself ascending.
"Just turn around, take out the bow tie and forget about her," he ordered himself, helplessly watching his disobedient fingers straightening the bow instead, "You don't have to get hurt again. No more Ponds, no more companions, just you and the universe and a lifetime to live with it."
First they said five minutes, then they cursed him again with the quite so cool trademark to his neck, and how they were throwing the switches to his blue box, making the whirs and purrs of time and space graciously expel into the air around him. His eyes traced up the engine, the press and pull and the rumbling it forced through the machine causing the brown eyes to light up and reflect their glow.
"Where to now, girl?" he gave up on resisting and encouraged the one thing that had stayed by his side after all these years with a gentle stroke of her control panel, a magnificent grin bearing down at her levers and pulleys and the buttons that he still didn't know half of the uses to.
How long had it been since he had stood here, single-handedly manning the six-person engine, if he felt like giggling of pure delight at each little flash and flip? For a Timelord, he was horrible at keeping track of his own time. It had felt like decades, twenty years at the least from the tightness of the loneliness that gripped his hearts tightly, but he'd be amazed if it had marked a day past five years, and even that was a stretch.
The Ponds had left him in ruins. All of his companions... where did he go wrong? When did his attempt at keeping sane and staying happy turn into a homicide mission? He lost Rose, but she was too busy growing old with a cloned version of himself to care. Donna would never remember him, never have to live out another day in waiting for his return. Martha had been the smart one, opting out of traveling with a madman and his alien box.
Everyone else though, they died. Those wonderful people who knew him less than a day and still sacrificed the only thing that felt necessary to help whatever cause he had been fighting for. Humans were so incredibly stupid... but so compassionate when they found the room in their hearts to kick back and hold faith.
The Ponds were different.
Rory didn't sacrifice anything in his final death, in the fall of the last Centurion by an unwilling touch from a not-so-Weeping Angel. He would never forget that cynical smirk that lined its stone lips if he were to forget anything at all. It was Amy, he decided, that contributed to his falling. She died for her husband. She died for Rory. Nowhere in that blink was even a thought of the Doctor.
He wasn't used to it, and he found himself realizing it hurt so much more when he couldn't blame himself. There was no one to hate, unless he desired to despise his own family, the closest few he had pieced himself to. He had opened up, just to be shot down, that last tear coming with giving up his wife.
He could still feel her return the kiss in surprise, her hands in his hair before he gave her the sonic screwdriver and forced that grin. How long had he cried after hearing her, "Goodbye, sweetie" as she left to meet the previous regeneration of himself at the library? Long enough, that was obvious.
He snapped from his thoughts, the desolation creeping back onto his face, as a quick knock to the door reminded him they had stopped.
"Coming!" he hollered, pausing at the coat rack to reach behind Rose's scarlet jacket dejectedly hung for nostalgia purposes to slide a tan waistcoat up over his shoulders.
Then he threw open the door, tensing as he found Mickey Smith staring him back from the other side with a confused look to his dark toned features.
"Present day London? Delightful. Hello, Mickey!" he lunged forward and crushed the man in a hug, laughing as the ebony tensed under the affection, "Oh, same old Mickey. I needed same. Same is good. I missed same. How've you been? Martha? What about old Jack?"
He pulled back, tilting his head as those oh-so-familiar eyes blankly searched his face, furrowing what was left of his eyebrows before it occurred to him.
"Oh yes, new face. I'm the Doctor. Allons-y?" he tried, remembering his fondness for the phrase when bow ties were far from the question. "Um... Rose Tyler, Donna Noble, Martha Jones, Jackie Tyler. Come on, you've seen me change face before! It's the chin, isn't it? It's not that bad..."
He rubbed the mentioned feature with a disappointed frown, murmuring about how he liked it so it shouldn't really matter what others thought. Mickey shook his head and offered a smile to soothe the brunette, beckoning behind him for someone to come forward seeing that he had his confirmation now.
"I believe you, Doctor," he laughed, opening half his smile into a grin. "You're basically the same too. Any new companions after you ditched us?"
He had been kidding, but the Doctor seemed to miss that detail, seemingly offended by the sentence.
"Hardly ditched you; you ran out on me. But yes. Amy, Rory and River Pond. They're all dead though. Married that last one, you would've liked her."
His face lit up in a grin at the sight of Martha walking down the path, loving the curl to her hair but noticing her age with a heavy heart. He still ran forward and embraced her with a laugh, lifting her from her feet and twirling her.
"Martha Jones! As I live and breathe..." he set her down to the ground again, searching her face for recognition, sighing when he didn't see even a drop.
"I had more faith in you than this," he shook releasing releasing her and undoing the bow tie, holding it out in front of her. "See?"
Her face sparked to life with a grin and she tackled him in a hug upon recognizing the scenario in which they had first met, laughing against his jacket before pulling back like he had and admiring the change as he was doing.
"Doctor... what happened? Get in an accident with the new companions?" she teased, reaching upon and feeling his chin, as if expecting a seam.
He pushed her hand away, averting his eyes sourly, "You don't see them here, do you?"
The woman gasped, full of apology, but the Timelord's mind was catching up with the TARDIS and he began to think he knew why she had landed them there. A girl who dies but doesn't dies. That basically had his name as a tramp stamp to its back. If anyone could explain Clara, it would be Mr. Harness.
"Now where's Jack? We have business to discuss."
The brunette stepped fast into the bar, door swinging loud enough to gain him a handful of curious glances, but his undead friend's wasn't included. The attractive captain was waist deep in a crowd of risque women, not a protest in anything he did unless telling a departing woman she was free to follow him home that night, the ladies already over heels with how they leaned over the table to show what they had under their shirts. The Doctor walked over, covering his eyes at the pieces that hung out, pitying the children that relied on them for nourishment.
"Ladies, you seem to be missing some proper posture... oh please put those away," he blushed and kept his gaze at the man in the center with the welcoming smirk.
"Come one, come all. Everyone's welcome on Jack's ship," the handsome brunette chuckled warmly, earning a range of giggles from his posse.
The Doctor blushed harder, basically face-palming as he realized the man was genuinely flirting with him and not just teasing because of how close they were.
"Jack... Allons-y, just a second?" he almost laughed at how quick the color drained from the well chiseled features, but he refrained to come off professional to the women, most of which were sucking each others faces. "This can't be Earth... you ladies seem to have secondary breathing sources..."
Jack jumped the table, straightening and dusting off his leather jacket before putting an arm around the man, winking at the women and promising he'd be back in five minutes before guiding the Timelord to the parking lot where they sat on the hood of his red Chevy Camaro, missing the pained look that passed as the time was mentioned.
It's your fault, he accusingly shot towards the hand, glaring ever so slightly.
"This regeneration hit you pretty hard, eh Doc?" the younger of them teased, earning an offended, "Oi!" that made him warmly chuckle, "What are you doing out here? Memory run?"
The Doctor retied his bow tie, his hand redeeming itself in remembering the cool style to hold his collar, before raising his head, staring distantly up into the sky wondering where in the starry night sky Astrid was now.
"I wish, but no. Met a girl, Clara Oswin Oswald," he started his story, smiling softly at a particular sparkle.
Did Madame de Pompadour want to visit that star? The one behind it? The one so dim you had to squint to see it? That one had potential. A dying race, an adventure to be had indeed.
"That's a nice name," the captain renewed him to the concept of reality, urging him along.
The soft smile didn't go unnoticed, but even the best of loudmouths know when their silence is absolutely necessary.
"That's what I told her... not important," he got upon with a restless accent to his step, "Clara died, but she didn't die. Well, I watched her flat-line and I saw them bury her, but I met her before in the future- well, it was in the past but a future year- in a Dalek prison... Is she one of yours, Jack?"
The brunette continued to rest against his sports car, hands stuffed into his pockets as he watched the Doctor's new body feverishly attempt to build ruts into the pavement with his feet. Not Converse. That was new.
"How old did she look?" he diverted the topic with one of his own.
When the Doctor looked over, he expected a flirty glance, or something similar with sexual interest being his drive. The keen curiosity and the solemn expression caught him off-guard. They all needed to take lessons from Mickey. Only the Doctor was allowed to change.
"Uh, early twenties maybe?" he wasn't going to lie, Earth age guessing wasn't his thing, "What does that have to do with anything?"
Jack just stared at him, in a single glance reminding the alien of every secret he'd ever withheld.
"I got married to my latest companion's daughter who became a Timelord, half, because she was made in the TARDIS and I'm responsible for her death, and she for mine," he made up for every secret without having to take a breath, "Your turn."
Jack's eyes widened and his lips delicately split, obviously taken back with the words, raising an eyebrow.
"I thought you had a strict thing against having a relationship with companions after Rose, and then you go off and have a kid with one? If she was hot, the incest thing won't bother me as much," the captain was obviously set on keeping his secrets in the grave with him.
"Ince... No! No! River wasn't my- Amy and Rory made the kid! I would never.. not Amy... she's family!" he folded his arms before catching on and pointing to the chuckling brunette accusingly, "Hey! I was asking you something! Not fair."
Jack rolled his eyes, "You said Rose was family, too."
Next to point was the sonic screwdriver with its magnificent green glow, the whirring a bit deeper than the last time it had been pulled out, raising his arms in surrender. The narrow eyes translated his threat clearly without a word needing to be uttered.
"Rose was different, I know. As for your Oswin girl, I can't help you. You know I had myself neutered a long time ago to keep from having another one of mine," his breath seemed to catch, pain underlining every last word, eyes looking down the pavement only to see the alien stopped.
"Another..? Jack, I don't like ... well, not knowing."
"You used to love it," the brunette quietly murmured, a new emotion for him as he found himself facing back those memories he had long ago pocketed.
The Doctor turned on heel, teeth baring in the slightest of growls with the thinnest of slits for eyes, staring through and breaking the captain's charade before he opened his lips.
"A lot of good that did me!"
He tensed as Jack crossed the fifteen feet in a second, tensing even harder as the calloused hands encircled his wrists, pulling the Timelord's hands to his temples. The trust in those usually intoxicating eyes ran deeper than any galaxy he'd ever seen, not a speck of anything else marring it but the occasional star of fear.
"Look for yourself, Doc."
The brunette hesitated, nearly begging to see hesitation in the man's face, but with no sign of it, he was forced to cup the tan face and leaf through the memories the captain had to offer.
All those familiar faces,those bright smiles and the horror, those times he would often sit through in his mind when he grew lonely, they were before his eyes without a warning, tightening his jaw as he focused. All those doors, all so tempting as they called out his name. What was the harm in opening a few?
"Jack!" a woman screamed in pain from behind one, earning his curious gaze, almost afraid of what waited from the man's notorious record, but pushing it despite.
A hospital bed, a beautiful woman straining, a squeeze of a hand, the blood, then a miracle. A baby,purple and blue with the brightest of blue eyes without a single tear or scream, just a laugh of wonder as it took in the world for the first time. Precious.
Next door.
A small brunette, maybe one year old, straddling her daddy's thigh, giggling at the faces he made with a wide grin.
"Da... da'y..." she said, making Jack's face light up in excitement, a grin of his own soon spilling out steady laughter.
"Emily," he repeated back her name, lifting her and kissing her forehead tenderly.
Next door.
Emily looked four, her hair done up in thin pigtails with a light blue dress on, swinging back in her own personal play-set to her father's hands that pushed her back up into the heavens above.
"Da'y! I can touch the sky! Push higher!" she begged, offering him her biggest smile, eyes looking as if they were meant for the ground instead with the brown and green swirls they held.
"We can't, you'll fly away!" her mother protested with a giggle as Jack leaned over and kissed her.
The girl made a disgusted noise, arguing she'd rather fly away if they were going to keep doing that.
Next door.
Screams of terror cut the smoke filled air, distant explosions and the cries of the Daleks tied in with it all, their "Exterminate!"s mere distant slurs as an eight year old Emily clutched tightly to her father who was suspiciously fearless as he cradled her small form to the leather jacket that strained his arms. Beauty truly was pain, but knowing he couldn't die was all the encouragement he needed to keep from griping like his wife was.
"Jack! What are they? Why are they after us? We need to hide! This is your fault, isn't it? Been acting bloody weird since that doctor came around. Is there something you're not telling me? Marriage is about equality! I deserve to know!" she rattled on.
The man would've done a lot more than hush her if his child hadn't been fearfully sobbing near his ear, grabbing at his jacket back for comfort. The little girl, brown hair a tangled and knotted mess, repeated her mother's first question in a voice so familiar the Doctor nearly pulled out. Curiosity kept him anchored though.
"They're called Daleks, Emily. They're mean and nasty creatures, but so am I, eh honey?" he tossed a wink to his wife who proceeded to simply roll her eyes and yell at him for joking around at a time like this.
Emily choked back a sob, wiping the tears from underneath her eyes. "Are we going to die, Daddy?"
Jack looked her in the eye and she sensed the secret in his gaze, that glance single-handedly managing to take away all of her pain, her sobs subsiding into small hiccups. She was still scared, but she was calm now. She was more than calm. She was Emily Harness, daughter of the great Captain Jack.
"But the doctor...he told you there was something wrong with me. Even if the... do... licks... don't get us!" she started to protest.
Her dad just smiled at her. "There's only one Doctor we trust... and he's going to save us. Don't worry. And all that dummy guy in the lab coat said was that you were just like daddy. That... it means no matter what, you survive tonight."
Next door.
The shot was quick, a short blast from the small gun extension, but it's effect was powerful in toppling the captain to his knees with a desperate cry as his wife's ashes blew out over his extended arms, springing tears to the brims of his brilliant eyes. He cried out her name in a broken breath, hands falling and elbows locked to keep from collapsing. Emily was ten now, tears still in her eyes and streaming harder now that her mother was a part of the air. She had strength though, and the pain only seemed to fuel her rage.
The brunette tore through the ashes, flinging herself at the Dalek with a scream, wrapping her legs around the base of the creature and tearing at the eye stalk with all the strength she had, screaming at every blast to strike at her spine but only blacking out for a few seconds before straightening and attacking again.
Jack jumped to his feet, but the homing beam of the mother ship millions of miles above him in space was a lot faster. Before he could blink, Emily was gone with the Dalek, and he was alone.
The Doctor pulled back, complete and utterly speechless, blinking in shock as he did. He never would've added 'father' to the long list of tags he held for the captain. It was almost impossible, to picture that man valuing commitment . He opened his mouth to apologize, hands shaking at his sides.
"Her name was Emily Oswin Harness. She found out she had my... 'talent'... after an accident on the playground and woke up swearing her name was Clara. I used to call her that when she made me mad... and Oswald was her mother's maiden name. Could be a coincidence, but in the case that it is her... I'd like to come along and help you."
The Timelord nodded delicately, swallowing past any hesitance he might have had before now, weakly taking the captain's hand and guiding the man after him with a bit of relief in finding himself doing the hand-pulling again.
"Just follow the madman to his box... we have all of time to find this girl and my box hasn't let me down yet!"
The beginning was just venting my emotions, and then I had to add a little something else. Long live the Doctor. May he come forth in our darkest hours.
-F.J. III