The Doctor stared at Jack blankly, a foreign expression plastered on his face that could either mean he didn't understand, possibly just ignored—let's be honest, it's not that unlikely—, or he was desperately trying to come up with an answer to Jack's question—something that he should have been able to do in 3 seconds flat. Both he and Owen waited patiently, not speaking in fear of breaking whatever concentration the Doctor was going through. "I... Jack, I don't know how I got here. Jack, I don't remember."

His voice cracked and Jack moved in to cup his face, "It's okay, Doctor. Just breath. What is the last thing you remember?"

"Ralcor. I just left Ralcor."

Like that meant anything to Jack. "Okay, and when was that? Do you know?"

"No, but the TAR—" his eyes became distant, his face suddenly paled, and he actually stopped breathing.

"Doctor? ...Doctor?" He didn't seem to be aware of anything anymore, so Jack stepped directly into his line of sight and gently shook him by his shoulders, "Doc, please, focus on me."

The Time Lord startled and blinked, his features taking on a look of anxious worry, "Jack—Jack, what happened?"

Jack swallowed, How do you explain something like that? "What do you mean?"

His frown deepened, "Jack, I can't feel her. Is she dead? Where is she, Jack? What happened to her? Why can't I feel her?"

Well, shit. And Jack thought his reaction was bad the first time, "I don't know, Doc, I wasn't there; that's why I need you to remember."

The Doctor dropped his chin to his chest and started to curl up on himself, continuing despite seeing Owen's automatic response of moving in to stop him out of the corner of his eye; but the Doctor pretended like he didn't notice, and only stopped when his knees were pressed tightly to his chest and his arms were wrapped securely around them.

Jack glanced over at Owen before he jumped up onto the counter and faced the Time Lord with his legs crossed. "Doctor?" he prompted softly, as he made no move to acknowledge Jack. When he finally looked up, he continued, "Can I see?" while holding his hands out like he'd seen the Doctor do whenever he wanted to read someone's mind.

The Doctor hesitated, looking at him wearily, before shaking his head, "You don't want to see."

"But it'll help."

"It'll hurt."

"You or me?" Jack dared him. The Doctor seemed to be trying to work out an answer (or maybe an excuse) but Jack's simple, "Please?" broke through the Doctor's barriers and he nodded as Jack began moving closer.

"I don't know where they are, you know that, right? I can't lead you to memories I can't remember."

"I know. Just try to relax for me, okay? I promise I won't snoop," he added with a reassuring smile.

For a wonder, the Doctor actually smiled back (as small and pained as it was) and nodded again, taking a deep breath while Jack slid his fingers into position along his temples…

As soon as Jack connected with the Doctor he had to stifle a gasp. While there wasn't much he could see yet, there was a thickness to the air that felt… different than anyone else he'd ever done this with; it felt like the whole area was charged with an indescribable power. Like the atmosphere before a storm hits. The Doctor was standing in front of him, scrutinizing his every move, waiting for Jack's reaction (probably the same reaction Jack was trying to hide). "Do you have any idea of where to start?"

"Yeah, maybe. Go... That way—no, wait, that way," he corrected, pointing to the right.

Jack (unsuccessfully) tried to hide a smile as they moved away; the Doctor scowled back at him.

Not long after they started walking—through what could easily be described as a maze—, Jack opened a door to a room consisting of clusters of boxes and cabinets all crammed together in sections. "I think this is it, Jack," he said surprised.

Think! How does he not know? "So... What do we have to do?"

"I need you to tap into the memory bank specific to the incident."

"Right… which is where, exactly?"

"I...don't know exactly."

"Oh, well, thanks for the insight," Jack quipped.

"I told you before we started that I didn't know," he snapped.

"I—I know, Doc, I was just kidding," he replied alarmed. "So how do I find the right one?"

"Memory banks are like… servers. Each one is different and does different things. Glance at the sets individually until you find something you remember about what happened, then open it—like a file folder!" he finished, pleased that he found what he thought was an appropriate analogy.

"Um, okay. Just… pick any one to start?" How the hell am I supposed to do this?

He shrugged and rubbed the back of his neck, "They should be divided by events; but I don't actually know what order they're in..."

Jack raised his eyebrows in amazement, "Let me get this straight, you don't know how your own mind works?"

"Hey, I know how my mind works better than you know yours!" he defended weakly.

Jack scoffed, "Okay, okay, you win. Now, how do I 'glance'?"

"My mind's open; all you have to do is open yours—well, kind of. See how they're made up of objects you would use? Go to each area then open the containers to look at what's inside." Even the Doctor sounded unsure of his answer.

"Oh, is that all I have to do... Hold on, so you're projecting those boxes because I would use them?"

"Thought it'd be easier," he replied with another shrug.

"Well, thank you? Wait, won't it hurt?" he suddenly asked, concerned.

"No."

"Are you lying?"

"Yes."

Jack took a deep breath, "Okay, then will you at least promise me that you'll tell me if it hurts too much?" He changed his tone from a request to a demand when the Time Lord only stared at him, "Doctor, promise me."

He sighed exasperated, "Fine, yes, I promise." Like I haven't hidden my pain before.

Jack stayed a moment longer, shifting his weight from foot to foot, not really wanting to look through the Doctor's memories. With how much he's seen, how much he's done... how—and more importantly why—would anybody try to dredge those things back up?

Jack could only guess that despite how optimistic and energetic this regeneration was, the Doctor has seen more bad in his life than good; but said man was watching him expectantly, waiting for him to do as he asked. Jack sighed, closed his eyes, swallowed, opened them again, then turned around to head towards the nearest grouping.

He walked until he stood directly in front of a cabinet then looked at the Doctor with a pained expression on his face. The Time Lord only raised his eyebrows, acting like he had no idea why Jack was stopping, yet giving him a silent reassurance and understanding for what he knew was about to happen. Jack clenched his teeth, squinted one eye closed, and reluctantly opened the cabinet.

Jack cringed in anticipation, but when nothing happened he let himself relax slightly and pulled the drawer out more to look inside. Ironically, the compartment ended up holding file folders—actual, ordinary, manilla-colored file folders. Jack breathed out a laugh before realizing that, like the Doctor said, his memories would be stored in such a fashion. Jack just didn't think he was being so literal. Unfortunately there weren't any labels—anywhere, Jack noted disapprovingly—; no perfectly printed words of wisdom in Ianto's neat handwriting. But that was the Doctor summed up, wasn't it?: too many thoughts moving too fast all at once, so fast that nobody alive could stand a chance at keeping up. Knowing this would be the time to expect something, though, Jack unconsciously leaned back slightly, turned his head away, and opened the sleeve.

Immediately he was transported to a place unknown, with people he'd never seen, and absolutely no idea of how to get back. Eventually Jack closed the file and immediately appeared in the (relatively-) familiar environment of the Doctor's mind. "So not it?"

Jack shook his head, "I didn't even recognize the people; Hell, I didn't even recognize you when someone called you 'Doctor'."

The Doctor just returned a noncommittal hum and nodded towards the next row. Jack sighed and repeated the process with five other sets, all turning up nothing. He got to the seventh one, still with slight apprehension, but had begun slowly letting his guard down, finding the past collections calm; so he opened the next file with the same "go get 'em, what could possibly go wrong?"* attitude he'd had for the last six memories. But he forgot the original reason why he didn't want to do this. He forgot how bad the Doctor's life had been.

It was a second too late for the Doctor to warn Jack with a desperate, "No, don't open that one!" It was a second too late for Jack to see the Doctor's paling face; the haunted look he took on as soon as Jack picked up the harmless-looking folder. It was all a second too late before Jack was sucked into a world of gunfire and shouting and smoke. Daleks raided the sky, children ran and hid, soldiers fought while the beautiful glass dome behind them crumbled. Gallifrey.

While he hadn't previously, the Doctor appeared in front of him almost immediately, dragging his numb body out of the flaming city—flaming planet—and back into the quiet landscape of cluttered boxes.

"Wha—"

"I told you to wait," the Time Lord scolded, though he couldn't really blame Jack—he was simply following orders—; and the Doctor didn't know what memory it was until it was in Jack's hands.

"That was—"

"Yes."

Short, evasive answers. Jack let it drop; they both knew what he saw, anyway. The Doctor figured Jack would want to stop. It was his idea to begin with, and the Doctor had warned him he shouldn't be here… but without a word Jack moved on to the closest container a next cluster over and opened it quickly before he could change his mind.

Cautiously opening the first folder—he didn't know what was in this group (and he was a little weary from his last encounter)—he saw the Doctor, his Doctor, eyes rimmed red, matching the blood coating his face, stumbling out of his box into a barren field. Smoke followed him out and after the Time Lord inhaled a few breaths of clean air, he turned around to go back in. And he would have made it, had the doors not slammed shut in front of him. He tried to open them, tried to bang on them, tried to get back in to help his ship, but the TARDIS refused. Jack watched as the Doctor checked himself out, then the police box, then turned towards the road in resignation. He closed the folder.

The Doctor was bent over, staring at the ground, but stood up straight (or tried to) when Jack returned. "Are you okay?"

"I take it that was the one?" Question for a question. Because that's always helpful.

"Yeah. Do you remember it?"

"No, you have to open the rest of them; even if you just peek I need the whole story."

Jack pursed his lips but couldn't really argue—how was he supposed to know how it worked? He opened another drawer, opened another file, and looked around to find the Doctor in the TARDIS; doing nothing specific, just muddling about the controls and mumbling to himself about where to go next.

"You were traveling alone," he said flatly, noticing his thin frame and sluggish movements. But of course the Doctor didn't hear him; it's not like he would have listened anyway.

On the floor, under the console, there lay a box. Just a simple, little, metallic box, with no seams or scratches. The Doctor seemed to dutifully ignore it, and whether he actually knew it was there or not was questionable. "Doctor." Damn it, answer me. Jack groaned, but fortunately didn't have to wait long before the Doctor bent down and knitted his eyebrows together, noticing the cube with interest and stepping forward to snatch it up. Jack didn't have to wait long for the world around him to explode.

It was a harmless looking box—no, really, it was—but then, the most harmless of things can sometimes be the worst, can't they? It seemed to be touch sensitive, Jack thought belatedly. Not going off quite as soon as it was held, but instead when it was played with like a child's toy. Like he views everything else that's dangerous. Tossing it up and catching it, turning it over again and again in circles… Jack had fondly shook his head at the view, before he couldn't see anything from the smoke and flames and debris. With a scream he was thrown back against the coral columns, watching as the Doctor was thrown against the railing, sparks flying and metal shards breaking off and lodging themselves in his skin. At least he now knew how the Time Lord was hurt; why remained unanswered. After calling his name, asking if he was alright, trying to help him stand, Jack gave up—he was like a ghost, he couldn't do anything. Jack instead scrambled to get to the folder before the fire engulfed it—if anything, hoping to go back farther, find out where the damn cube came from.

But he returned to the Doctor on his knees, curled up on himself, his hands pressing his head together like he would crush it. "Doctor! Doc, stop it!" Jack pried his arms away from his head, holding them firmly by his sides. "Look at me, Doctor, talk to me," he pleaded.

"Get out," the Doctor hissed.

Jack blinked, stunned, and made to help the Time Lord stand, "What? Why? What's wrong?"

"Ja—Gah! Jack, do it now. Get out!"

"How?" he asked anxiously.

The Doctor looked at him then, his neck at an odd angle from being so low to the ground. "I'm sorry," he breathed, before he straightened slightly and gave Jack a shove so strong that it sent him sprawling into an abyss, only to revive with a gasp and a residual force that pushed him back so hard he would have fallen off the table if it wasn't for Owen behind him. Owen, who was (and presumably had been) desperately repeating his name and trying to shake him awake. "Jack. Jack, you with me? Answer me, damn it. Jack!"

"Shhh," was the only reply he gave, silencing the ringing in his ears, "I'm here, I'm—" his eyes shot open, panic showing through, "Is the Doctor awake?" He looked over to the Time Lord curled in on himself, minutely rocking back and forth, mumbling, lost in his dreams. "Doc? Doctor, wake up." Jack shook him harder when he got no response, fear flooding his veins. But Owen was saying something else—and it sounded important—like he was supposed to focus on that. "...what happened...didn't know what you were doing...tried to wake you up…"

Jack just stared at him dazed, "Huh?"

"Did you hear anything I just said?"

"Yes. No. Sorry, what?"

"What the hell happened?!"

"I don't know, he forced me out; what was he doing before I woke up?" Jack continued to check the Doctor over, seeing if he could snap him out of whatever was happening in his head.

"I—I don't…" Owen stammered from the unexpected interrogation, "he was shaking pretty bad; talking about something, but I couldn't really understand it. I don't know, Jack, what do you want from me?"

"Nothing. Sorry, nothing… Doctor? God, Doc, c'mon."

Jack started moving towards the Doctor again, brushing off Owen's hand on his shoulder and protests with a vague, "Something's wrong; I have to help him."

But Jack couldn't get back in. He concentrated harder, blocked out everything else, but soon realized that the Doctor had locked him out. He wasn't getting in until the Time Lord let him in. "Don't do this," he barely whispered, "Please, let me help." Jack sighed, easing back out from the darkness, dropping his head into his hands.

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"I don't know. He—I—we found part of the memory that led to now, but he pushed me out before I could find the rest. I don't know why; he said I had to open all of them before he could remember."

Jack looked distraught but Owen couldn't help the blunt, "Open them?" that slipped through unconsciously.

Jack just shook his head and waved him off, "Complicated."

Owen rolled his eyes but let it drop. "So what now?"

Jack heaved a deep breath, "Now we wait?"

"You don't know?"

"No, Owen, I don't," he snapped.

"Geez, sor—"

"No, I'm sorry. It's not your fault. I just, God, I wish I had an answer..." He paused a moment more before jumping off the table, "I'm going to go see if Tosh found anything. Let—"

"I'll let you know if something changes. I got it, Jack. Go." He nodded appreciatively and climbed the stairs.

TBC

So this is longer… I post things shorter so that I can possibly stand a chance of keeping up with how fast you read them, but that obviously hasn't been working. So hopefully this'll hold you over? (try reading a paragraph a day; that should do it) ;)

*The Doctor to Ida in The Impossible Planet (S2 E9): "Oh, did you have to? 'No turning back?' That's almost as bad as 'Nothing can possibly go wrong' or 'This is gonna be the best Christmas Walford's ever had.'"