The heavy wooden door to the library creaked open behind him. "What is it, Jack?" the Doctor asked without even looking. He tilted his head downward a bit more, trying to appear as though he was intensely interested in fossil reclamation in the sacred interior wetlands of a planet he'd never been to. It was better than talking about this.
Jack chuckled, closing the door. "What, Time Lords have eyes in the back of their heads, now?"
The Doctor's eyes snapped up from the page. "Who ever said I was a Time Lord?"
Arms folded across his chest, Jack walked around the overstuffed chair and leaned
against the stack of shelves, facing the Doctor. "Oh please. Trans-dimensional space and time ships don't just grow on trees, you know."
Thumb holding his page, the Doctor closed the leather book. "Do you expect me to apologise for being angry that you've deflowered my ship and stolen her innocence?"
That damned grin spread across the former Time Agent's near-perfect action hero-esque features, and the Doctor wanted to remove that smile—with a bit of C4, or one of the canisters of Nitro Nine still in the weapons stores. Ace would have slugged Captain Jack Harkness in the gut just for looking at her wrong—he liked that about her. Ok, so he'd been trying to teach the kid other ways of dealing with problems that didn't involve violence only to have her resolve every problem with violence, but he'd since come to the conclusion that sometimes, violence WAS the answer. You could say he'd grown as a person since then.
Like, take now, for instance. If he clamped down on Jack's ear and tore diagonally hard enough, he could rip the man's entire face off. Just because. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. In front of Rose."
Jack held up a finger, wagging it at the Doctor. "Ahh. See, that's almost an apology. And I'm sorry I made a pass at your ship in order to get her to drop out of the Vortex." He held out a hand. "Friends?"
Still looking at the hand, the Doctor didn't reach out to shake it. He'd never really had many friends. Acquaintances a plenty. But even some of his travelling companions did not fall into that friend category. Rose was his best mate, if he had to give that title to anyone. A chavvy peroxide queen with a deranged mother from a twenty-first century council flat was his best friend in the known and unknown universe.
It was a little different, but he could accept it. It was only natural, right? Natural that she should be his best mate. She'd been the first person he'd travelled with after the war. The first person he'd let into his home. It was normal to be so attached. Wasn't it?
It was. It had to be. Otherwise he was going even crazier than he thought he was.
So what was Jack to him?
Pulling the book to his chest, the Doctor continued to stare at Jack's hand. " I'm not touchin' that. I've got no idea where it's been."
Jack sighed. "You know, you're a hard man to get a fix on, Doc."
Frowning, the Doctor glared at Jack.
Holding up a hand defensively, the younger man shook his head. "No, no. Don't be like that. I just mean—ok, you didn't like me when we met. That's cool (gosh, I like that word—it's a great word. It was on the cover of one of Rose's magazines). Anyway, you wouldn't let me dance with Rose, that's fine. I can take a hint. But I didn't think we had any problems. You let me work on the ship with you. We work pretty well together out in the field, as it were. And both of us have a similar vested interest in looking out for Rose. Heck, I thought we were doing pretty good—you'd even unlaxed enough to let me flirt with you, and you almost flirted back. Which is all great. I thought we were, like, the best crew ever. I thought--"
Something else almost worked its way out of Jack's mouth, and the Doctor had a feeling that he knew what it was. He'd been there a time or two himself. "You do have a home here, Jack. I'm not going to toss you out on your ear." Though I might kill you, the Doctor added silently. For some reason though, right now, he could tolerate Jack. Just as long as Rose didn't factor in any way, into the conversation. "I'm just—I have a few things going on. Things you wouldn't understand about."
Folding his arms over his chest, Jack shifted his head a bit, almost looking down his nose at the Doctor. "Try me."
Oh, the Doctor was quite sure Jack wouldn't understand. What Jack wanted, Jack went after.
Wanting was the first part of the problem. Time Lords didn't want things. Well, at least these things. Jack wouldn't be able to comprehend the shock this was placing on his system. "It's some… personal things. Things very specific to my kind." Oh there. See, that was brilliant. That was the politest 'you wouldn't understand' brush-off he'd managed in possibly three hundred years, and there was no one else around to witness it.
Crossing one ankle over the other, Jack contemplated the Doctor for a moment, examining carefully the book that was held up almost as a barrier between them. "I think I have a pretty good sense of what it is. I can help you with it if you want, Doc." He grinned. "I won't even make ya do anything in return."
The Doctor snapped to his feet, still clutching the book. He made his way to the rear of the sofa, trying to put distance between himself and his latest companion. "Thanks, but no-thanks, Jack." Without regard for page number, he tossed the stuffy leather-bound book on the oversized desk in the corner, then began digging through the stacks, a thought suddenly entering his head.
It would be nice to have a scientific explanation. He could deal with those. Love, obsession—these were all qualitative things. He needed something more tangible and concrete—something he could chart and graph and wrap his tortured mind around.
Behind him, he could hear Jack shifting, but not leaving. He almost said something when the captain interrupted his mental mewling. "You know, Doc, I'm just trying to be a pal and help you out. Now, I think I have a pretty good idea as to what you're up against, and that's ok. You're practically a wolf marking its territory lately."
The Doctor spun around, glaring at the other man. Jack just couldn't keep his mouth shut, could he? They got along just fine, as long as he didn't go dragging Rose into the conversation. Then it was all with wanting to kill Jack and chop him into little pieces, and…
Oh shit.
Jack was right. If Jack was able to see it… If Jack was able to see it, then there was no point in denying it to himself any more. As much fun as a good old-fashioned bit of denial was, the Doctor knew he was deeply and tragically doomed if Jack knew what his problem was.
Pulling a book off the shelf nearest his shoulder, he flipped through the pages quickly, finding the chapter he was looking for. Jack, damn him, had given the Doctor an idea about his current…biological issue.
And there was Jack, still grinning back at him like an idiot. "Aw come on, Doc, like it ain't written all over you. You look like you're going to explode. You're a guy in need, and I'm here to help. No strings attached."
Shoulders falling as he turned back toward the bookshelf, the Doctor tried not to seethe too visibly. He skimmed the chapter in question, solidifying his perception of his current predicament. Of all the things to befall him… "Jack, thanks, but no thanks. My current predicament cannot be solved by what you're thinking of."
Jack gave him that cheeky grin, the one that flashed those perfect teeth and made the dimple on his chin stand out just a bit more. "Oh come on, everything'll be solved. I'm just that good."
Clenching his eyes shut, the Doctor let his forehead fall upon the edge of the shelf, resting it against the cool metal. "Jack—not for me. I need something a little more… female for my current predicament."
And now Jack was laughing at him. Great. A huge, jovial belly laugh. "Yeah, I know. You're completely in love with Rose. I was gonna help you get the girl, Doc. NO idea what YOU thought I wanted to do."
Turning slightly, he glanced over at Jack, trying to swallow down the bile that was quickly rising in his throat. "This has nothing to do with love."
Yes, Jack Harkness was mocking him, and his…pain. "Sometimes a little lust can lead to a lotta love, and sometimes a little love can lead to a lotta lust. Which category are you falling into, Doctor?"
Still practically clinging to the book case for protection, the Doctor slammed the side of his head against the shelf repeatedly. "This has nothing to do with LUST, EITHER, Harkness." That wasn't exactly true. "This is strictly…biology."
Why did Jack have to be so bloody amused? Why did he have to have that twinkle in his light blue eyes, that look he gave Rose when he was flirting with her? "Yes, yes, there's that too. Chemistry, biology. Psychology, physiology… all kinds of science stuff. But eventually it all comes down to animal instinct takin' over, and gettin' down and dirty."
Sighing, the Doctor turned a bit more, until his back was pressed against the books. "Jack—call it whatever you want. Chemistry, biology. I'm the last of my kind." He let that sink in. "I'm the last of my kind—a male. Cooped up on a ship with a, well, fully compatible female. Lets put it that way. Travelling with her, day in and day out. It isn't chemistry, so much as…biological imperative." He clenched his eyes shut and swallowed, trying to bite back the pain of admission.
And Jack was silent. Finally, FINALLY, something Jack didn't have a clever double-edged answer for.
After a few deep breaths, the Doctor finally gathered himself together enough to slide the book back on the shelf. Eventually he had to bite the bullet and look at his companion. "So there you have it. A million years of evolution and learning, and this is what my people are reduced to."
Hands on his hips, Jack rolled his eyes and turned away from the Doctor. Shaking his head, he casually walked toward the door of the library.
The Doctor wiped a hand over his face. "Jack—don't tell her--"
Captain Harkness turned back slowly toward him. "Man—you think I'm stupid, don't you?"
Don't ask me to answer that, the Doctor thought to himself.
Jack wagged a finger at him. "I said I'd help you get the girl. Now, how unsexy is telling her you want to propagate the species with her? NO wait, that is kinda hot. But since you're you, she'll think you mean it."
"I DO mean it," the Doctor pointed out, annoyed.
Why was Jack shaking his head again? "Whatever. But if she thinks you mean it, it's completely unsexy. The antithesis of hotness. Do you get what I'm sayin?"
The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. He might not like it, but it seemed like he and Jack were on the same page regarding his… biological matter.
Walking around the sofa, Jack slapped the Doctor on the back. "I'll just tell her you're a sad and pathetic Time Lord that's hiding behind the whole 'last of my kind, must reproduce for the sake of the universe' thing because you're too chicken shit to tell her how you really feel."
THE END.
