Disclaimer: Doctor Who and Torchwood belong to the BBC and Russell T. Davies. They are not mine, nor will they ever be.
History Repeating
Part Four
Jack and the Doctor stood in the Titanic's cargo hold, surveying the rows of cages that held all the cargo, both commercial and personal, that the ship was transporting. Jack held a torch, and was occasionally sweeping the beam of light across the cages, looking for clues. Actually, the torch wasn't really necessary, since the Doctor's sonic screwdriver would be able to tell them exactly where to go, but Jack had always felt that torchlight in a dark place added an extra sense of drama.
The Doctor was busy fiddling with said screwdriver, tuning it to the right frequency so that it would be able to find technology capable of detecting and transporting an iceberg.
"Aha, got it!" he exclaimed eventually. He strode quickly down the cage-lined corridor in front of them, taking a left, then a right, and finally halting in front of a cage that looked exactly like all the others. A quick flick of the sonic screwdriver disabled the lock on the door, and the two men stepped into the cage, Jack shining his torch in front of them.
But he didn't really need to. It was obvious straight away that they were in the right place. In the centre of the floor, surrounded by crates and bundles, was a machine that definitely didn't belong in the early part of the twentieth century. It was small and square, and was made of a silvery metal that glinted in the torchlight. It was also covered in blinking lights, and had something that looked like an upside-down Newton's Cradle mounted on the top.
Jack checked his watch. It was 11:35pm – they didn't have much time left. "Er, Doctor, hadn't you better do something?" he asked hesitantly.
But the Doctor didn't appear to be listening. He was crouched down in front of the device, examining it from every angle and muttering to himself.
"Looks to be from the thirty-seventh century. Yep, definitely thirty-seventh. And from…let me see…Archon Seven, I do believe. Oh, this is fantastic! You don't see technology like this any more."
"Doctor!" repeated Jack urgently.
"Oh, okay," said the Doctor, looking a little disappointed. "But it seems almost a shame to destroy it. I could have hours of fun taking this to pieces. But I suppose I'd better do what I came here to do."
Pointing the sonic screwdriver at the device, he flicked it on and it started producing its normal shrill whine. But almost immediately that whine began to get higher and shriller as the Doctor ramped up the frequency. Jack raised his hands to his ears – the noise was ear-splitting, and he could feel the beginnings of a headache starting to pound inside his skull.
Apparently the sound was also unpopular with the alien device as, just when Jack thought he couldn't stand the noise any longer, it abruptly exploded in a shower of sparks, pelting him with bits of twisted metal.
The Doctor lowered the sonic screwdriver. "Well, that takes care of that!" he announced cheerfully. "This ship will now sink, right on cue." Turning, he left the cage, heading back in the direction of the door leading up to the deck. Jack hurried after him.
"Doctor, aren't you going to wait for whoever did this? I mean, they could still be lurking around, waiting to cause more trouble."
"Don't need to," replied the Doctor. "That device wasn't just intended to transport the iceberg, it was also intended to transport whoever was behind the plot. Which means I've either just stranded them here on the Titanic, with no way of getting home or carrying out their plan, or they've already transported away, in which case, I've got no idea where to start looking."
Bouncing up the spiral stairs towards the open air, the Doctor appeared to think that this was all the explanation that was necessary.
Jack smiled. Same old Doctor.
He followed as the Doctor made his way back to the boat deck and sat down on a bench on the port side.
"Might as well see the show, now that we've made sure it will happen," the Doctor announced.
The bench was on a raised part of the deck, next to one of the enormous funnels, and Jack stood behind the Doctor, leaning against said funnel and watching the Time Lord.
Now that disaster had been averted, or more accurately, not averted, he had time to think a little more about his predicament. He couldn't deny that he had been overjoyed to see the Doctor again, even if the circumstances weren't ideal. But even though he was happy, he was also sad. He couldn't say to this Doctor everything he wanted to, and he knew that, now he had no reason to stay, he should leave the Doctor and try to find a way home.
Suddenly the Doctor rose from the bench and walked around to stand in front of Jack. The two men were no more than a foot apart, and Jack had to exert every ounce of willpower he possessed not to reach out and touch the Doctor.
"Look at me," said the Doctor.
Reluctantly, Jack raised his eyes to meet the Doctor's, trying desperately not to give too much of himself away.
Apparently, however, he was failing, because something flashed across the Doctor's face that Jack couldn't quite read. Was it pity? Compassion? Or something more?
"I know there are things about you and I that you can't tell me," the Doctor said quietly. "Things that I shouldn't know about until they actually happen. Things that you desperately want to talk to me about, but you can't because I'm not really the person you want to talk to.
You're telling me, thought Jack miserably. He was suddenly sure that the time had come. The Doctor was going to do what he couldn't, and walk away. He was going to abandon Jack all over again.
Part of Jack knew that wasn't fair. This Doctor had to leave – they couldn't stay together, not if they wanted to preserve the timeline. And even in the future – or the past…whichever it was, the Doctor hadn't abandoned Jack – not on purpose, at any rate. At least, that was what Jack told himself.
Still, it didn't change the fact that the Doctor was obviously going to do the right thing and leave. Jack steeled himself, preparing for the inevitable.
Which left him utterly unprepared for what happened next.
The Doctor leaned in and kissed him. It was over so quickly that Jack thought he must have imagined it, and he wasn't sure what to do next.
"I see you," whispered the Doctor. "I see how lonely you are, and I know what that feels like. I know that I'm not exactly the person you want, that you're waiting for…well, for someone else, I suppose, but there's no need to spend your whole life just waiting. You don't have to be lonely all the time."
Suddenly, Jack couldn't hold it back any more. The Doctor was right – for once he could choose not to be lonely, to put aside his waiting, if only for a little while.
Reaching out, he pulled the Doctor to him, crushing their lips together in a desperate kiss. He slid his hands beneath the Doctor's leather jacket, pushing them under his sweater, wanting to touch the Doctor's body, to feel that connection as much as he could.
The Doctor, for his part, was not inactive. His own hands were roaming Jack's body, trying to find their way through the clothing to bare skin. However, this was not an easy task, what with overcoats, braces and shirt buttons all to be negotiated. Eventually, and with a growl of frustration, the Doctor gave up on that approach and turned his attention to Jack's trousers, fumbling with the button and zipper until they came open.
When Jack felt the Doctor's hand on his cock, he stilled momentarily, and then instinctively arched into the Doctor's touch, moaning incoherently. Using his last shred of rational thought, he pushed his own hand into the Doctor's jeans until he felt hard flesh in his palm, his touch making the Doctor hiss with pleasure, his eyes half closed and his head thrown back.
The two men stroked each other, thrusting together in time to the rhythm of their hands. Jack lost himself in the sensations, experiencing what he had almost given up on ever experiencing again. But still, in some tiny corner of his mind, he knew it wasn't enough. This could never be enough. But for the moment it was all he had, and he would accept anything he could get.
Seconds later, Jack came with a stifled cry, his shudders pushing the Doctor over the edge, so that the two men clung together as their orgasms rippled through them.
Afterwards, when clothes had been rearranged and hearts had stopped beating quite so fast, Jack and the Doctor sat together on the same bench the Doctor had occupied earlier, staring out over the ocean.
"The next time you see me I won't know you," stated Jack quietly.
"But I'll know you," replied the Doctor.
"Don't think too badly of me, Doctor," said Jack. "I was a different person back then – I hadn't been taught what it was to be a good man. I hadn't met you."
"Don't worry, I won't judge you too harshly," promised the Doctor. "I know that you're a good man, even if you won't know it yourself."
Suddenly the ship lurched, and then seemed to vibrate beneath them. Jack jumped to his feet.
"What the hell was that?"
"That," said the Doctor, "was history playing out as it should. The Titanic has just become rather closely acquainted with a very large lump of ice."
Jack looked sheepish. "Oh, of course. You know, I'd almost forgotten where we were."
The Doctor grinned, and then nodded his head at something behind Jack. Jack turned to see the iceberg that was the cause of the Titanic's downfall sweeping serenely past the port side of the ship, with no idea of the havoc it had just caused.
The Doctor stood up. "Well, now that that's all sorted out, I think it's about time we got you home. Unless you fancy a freezing cold dip in the Atlantic?"
Jack shivered theatrically. "I think not. Although, it has it be said, I'm not that bothered by the cold."
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at this rather cryptic comment, but then appeared to decide that he wouldn't – or rather, shouldn't – ask.
"Okay, then!" he said cheerfully. "We'd better get back to the TARDIS before she fills up with water. Time dilation circuits are murder to dry out."