"All these early nights," said Gwen coyly, shortly after she arrived at work that day. "What are you getting up to?"
Jack sighed. "Looking after a sick friend, if you must know."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Gwen said sweetly.
Jack enquired whether she had some work she ought to be getting on with, and retreated to his office. Did she really think he was running off to the TARDIS every night to shag the Doctor? he thought in exasperation. He would find it amusing, only he was worried that Ianto might be thinking the same thing, and he wanted things to be better between them.
"Leaving early again tonight?" asked Ianto late that afternoon, placing coffee on Jack's desk.
Jack looked up at him, and nodded. "It won't be for much longer." He sipped the coffee. "I missed your coffee, you know." He smiled. "I missed you."
Ianto smiled back. "I'm looking forward to our date."
"Me too." Does he need more reassurance? Jack wondered. "I'll see you in the morning," he repeated for what seemed like the thousandth time. To his surprise and relief Ianto's response was more than he expected.
"I know." Ianto laid a hand on his arm. "It's alright, Jack."
When Jack left the Hub it was with the awareness of surreptitious glances, and whispered conversations that always seemed to stop if he came too close. He crossed the Plass, aware of the CCTV that he was sure they were glued to yet again, and entered the TARDIS. He was still surprised and a little amused that absolutely nothing had been said about the TARDIS. He would expect no less from Ianto, but it was interesting the others had been so restrained. He had been expecting Gwen's head to explode from the pressure for some days, but all she'd come out with was that little dig that morning. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack, he told himself. If they don't ask then you don't have to tell them you're not going to tell them anything, thus avoiding the whole resentment thing, something you really don't have the energy to deal with right now.
It had been a quiet period, for which he was grateful. He had spent as much time as possible puzzling over the letter that had fallen from the Doctor's coat, and wondering exactly how to handle it. Options had ranged from putting it back and saying nothing, to giving the Doctor a good shake. He had finally come to a decision, however, that they needed to … have a conversation about it, now the Doctor was on the mend.
The Doctor finally left the medical unit that day, and that evening Jack ordered pizza, putting the other two into stitches with his description of the pizza boy's expression when Jack had taken delivery at the door of the TARDIS. He had surreptitiously told Martha that he needed to speak to the Doctor privately, so eventually, after reminding the Doctor not to overdo things, she left them alone in the library.
While Jack was wondering how to begin, the Doctor said, "What have you done with the recordings?"
"She told you about that, did she?" said Jack. "I've destroyed them."
The Doctor seemed exasperated. "What possessed you to let her see one? You must have known how upset she'd be!"
"I don't know," Jack admitted. "I shouldn't have mentioned them at all, but I did, and then she insisted, and …" He shrugged. "Not my best decision."
"No," the Doctor agreed. "I knew he was recording you, but I didn't think … should have realised, I suppose." He tried to change the subject. "So, all settled back in, then? Team still talking to you and all that?"
Jack grimaced. "Sort of. We're making progress. You could come for a tour if you like." The Doctor shrugged, but Jack could have sworn he looked nervous. "I told you, Doctor, Torchwood has changed. I've made sure of it. It's not always nice, not always ideal, but one thing I do not and will not ever see happen again is the kind of sloppy experimentation that resulted in the Canary Wharf fiasco, or the kind of attitude that made Yvonne think that aliens such as yourself could be treated like property. You've got my word on that."
"I know." The Doctor fell silent, and Jack thought, this is it. Now or never. Tread carefully, Jack, he told himself. He's still pretty fragile. He took the letter out of his pocket. "I found this on the floor in the console room. You must have dropped it."
He handed the letter to the Doctor, who looked at it casually, then suddenly froze. His gaze travelled up to Jack's face, wary.
Jack smiled in what he hoped was a non threatening manner. "Fell out of your coat, I think."
"Umm … thank you," said the Doctor, folding it up.
"Got me a bit confused, though," said Jack conversationally. "Because, if you never came back for me, how did the letter I left on the Game Station end up in your pocket?" The Doctor didn't reply, didn't look at him. Jack persisted. "I don't understand. Why would you rather I believe you never bothered than tell me you tried?"
"Because I got it wrong!" the Doctor whispered, suddenly anguished.
Ah, he's feeling guilty, Jack thought, looking at his face. But is it deserved? Why would he get it wrong? "Relax," he said as soothingly as he could. "I'm not angry, I'm just asking for the truth." He paused. "Taking the Vortex out of Rose, is that what made you regenerate?" The Doctor nodded.
"So you left without me because …. you were dying, you were … confused?" Another nod.
"I read a Unit file on you," said Jack. "A medical report just after regeneration. A Doctor Sullivan reported some memory loss."
The Doctor nodded again, his gaze still on the floor. "I … couldn't remember … when you were, not exactly, not enough to be sure."
"What about the TARDIS memory banks?"
"With all that Vortex power going backwards and forwards, about a month's worth of data had been wiped, including the Game Station temporal coordinates."
"So you guessed."
"Christmas night. Rose was with her mother. I knew I had one shot only. Can't start backtracking over your own timeline. I got it wrong. You didn't say where or when you'd end up, and I had no way to track you." He looked up finally. "I am sorry, Jack."
It was a heartfelt plea for forgiveness, one that Jack couldn't resist even if he'd wanted to. "It's alright." He grinned. "Though why you didn't tell me this right away I will never understand!"
The Doctor shrugged. "I don't know … ashamed, I guess."
"You're going to be alright Doc."
The Doctor nodded vigorously. "Oh, yes, I'm always alright."
Who're you trying to convince? Jack thought. "Martha said you told her that just before she left," he commented drily. "She was pretty mad."
The Doctor winced. "Yes … I've heard all about that, thanks."
"She got around to kicking your butt then?"
"Pretty much."
"You should have said."
"I know."
"You could still, you know." The Doctor looked puzzled. "You could talk about it," suggested Jack.
The Doctor's confusion remained. "You saw the recordings. What do you want to know?"
Jack shook his head. "That's not what I meant. It's not about anything I want. How do you feel?"
"Ohh," said the Doctor with an exaggerated display of understanding. "Feelings!!"
"Doc," said Jack patiently. "I'm just suggesting it might help. You were there for us. We're here for you, that's all. It's up to you."
"You humans do so much talking," said the Doctor. "I never really understood how it's supposed to help." Jack said nothing, and the Doctor suddenly gave a wry smile. "You know, every so often, I found myself wanting to, I don't know, shake things up a little."
He shuffled into the room, the Master walking behind. A voice in his ear. One word. "Strip." He pulled off his jacket, started to fumble with the buttons of his shirt, his fingers painful and stiff. The Master never touched him or got impatient, not at this stage, however long it took. He knew why, of course. The Master was savouring the anticipation.
He stood naked finally, and at another word of command he stumbled forward to the frame, and raised his hands to the required position. Only then did the Master touch him, snapping the restraints into place on his wrists and ankles. At this point he appeared, walking around the frame to his toy cupboard (his own name), and stood there for a moment, just watching the Doctor, before raising the laser screwdriver. Seconds later the Doctor, transformed to normal age, hung limply in the frame, his head hanging forward, gasping in pain.
He had pointed out once, early on, that the Master's habit of making sure he was restrained before de-aging him was the act of a coward. He may as well have saved his breath. The Master just laughed at him, called it the act of a pragmatist, and sneered at his antiquated notions. Mind you, young or old, by now he had little physical strength left to resist. Regular abuse and semi-starvation had seen to that.
"So," said the Master, "are you going to tell me?"
The Doctor lifted his head with an effort. "I'm sorry," he said faintly, "what was the question again?"
Jack didn't know whether to weep at the painfulness of the scene or laugh at the Doctor's nerve. He settled for a smile. "You took a risk."
"That was the point," said the Doctor, smiling back. "Ridiculous to goad him, I suppose, but sometimes it was important to know I had some fight left. Sometimes it was too hard to resist."
"What did he do?"
The Doctor shrugged. "The usual."
Jack watched him silently for a moment, then said, "I …. I used to do the same thing. Just say something to really piss him off, just to … reassure myself I still had the nerve. I mean, I'd end up getting shot, or worse, but I figured he was going to do that anyway, so what the hell." The Doctor seemed to be listening, so he continued. "There was this one time when I was wanting to annoy him and I couldn't think of anything particularly clever. He'd been calling me freak and so on, so I said it was better than being a genetic experiment gone wrong and asked him if someone had mixed up the test tubes at his conception. Lame, I thought, even as I said it. Losing my touch. Only … he went berserk. It was the worst … or maybe the best reaction I'd ever got out of him. It was weird … what?"
The Doctor was grinning broadly by this time and then started to laugh. "Quite by accident," he said as soon as he could, "you hit on the best insult you could possibly have managed."
Jack looked mystified. "Really?"
The Doctor nodded. "Oh yes. Question a Timelord's genetic integrity? Especially a Prydonian. Especially …" He paused, then started to laugh again, this time sounding almost mischievous. "I wonder if he thought I'd told you," he said thoughtfully."
"Told me what?" asked Jack, laughing as well. "Come on, spill it."
"There were rumours," said the Doctor, "about genetic impurity, throwback genes, even alien DNA."
"Was it true?"
"Not at all!" said the Doctor. "It only started after his behaviour started to become erratic. But he always hated it, so …"
"So I really insulted him!"
"You really insulted him."
Jack smiled blissfully. "You have no idea how happy you've made me, Doc."
"Yes I do," said the Doctor, still laughing.
Of course, thought Jack, seeing the Doctor refer to a memory of the Master or Gallifrey without acting like it was tearing his heart out was part of this happiness, but he wasn't going to mention that. It was nice to see, though.