Solipsism

Jack: Where the Hell is Leia?

Right… a very bad feeling.

I guess if I had to choose to be a character out of science fiction, Han Solo wouldn't be the worst choice. But if I'm Han, who is he?

Maybe Luke? There is a definite similarity, a sweet sense of innocence and charm, and the bright shiny eyes and boyish smile. But if so, if he's Luke, where the hell is Leia?

Or maybe he's the Wookie.

I smile to myself… Actually I know who The Doctor is, he's Obi-Wan.

I'm not joking. If there's anyone in this or any other universe who is endowed with the Force, it's him. I've seen it in his eyes when he changes from being "just" The Doctor to being a Lord of Time. I've seen the strength, the righteousness, the determination, the wrath, and yes, even the fury.

"Jack?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Where were you just now?"

"Uh, same place you go sometimes when you're ignoring me?"

"Oh. Jack?" His voice is lyrical, almost sing-song.

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Have you looked at your HUD lately?"

Admittedly I haven't. So I start scanning the display. It doesn't take me long to figure out what is on his mind. "My God," I say, "grav-plating is coming back online and life support is nearly… It appears viable? How could that be?"

"It's the TARDIS. She's doing yeoman's work here." He secures his sonic back in the pocket from whence it came and starts fiddling with his helmet. To be more precise: he's fiddling with the mechanism that connects his helmet to his spacesuit.

And I can't help it; I get agitated Real Damn Fast. "Doctor!" I yell. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

He doesn't stop fiddling. "You said it yourself," he says matter-of-factly, "life support appears viable."

I walk to him and reach for one of his hands. He squirms just out of my reach. "Appears and is are two very different words," I growl. "Don't be stupid, let me test it."

But I'm too late; he's already removing his helmet.

What did I tell you? Remember? He doesn't look after for himself properly. See what I have to put up with? What is it about The Doctor that makes him want to take these stupid risks? It isn't like he has anything to prove. Especially to me.

"What the hell is the matter with you?" I say.

"Jack! Your language! Think about the children!" He's got this goofy look on his face, which now that his helmet is off, I can at long last see clearly in all its exquisite detail. He's smiling and his eyes are dazzling and his hair – well, you can't imagine what his hair looks like. On a good day his hair looks ridiculous. And after being jammed into a form-fitting spacesuit helmet, well… maybe you can imagine…

I close my eyes. No, I scrunch my eyes shut as tightly as possible and think about all the stuff, all the different things I want to say to him right now. They are all variations of Why do you do that? But instead what comes out is, "So, how's the air?"

I'm not going to change him. I'm never going to change him. But I'd sure as hell like to understand him, and although I'm an old dog, I'm capable of learning new tricks. Next time he won't get by me so quickly. If there is a next time… I open my eyes and look at him.

He sniffs. "The air's good, Jack."

I start fiddling with my helmet. "Here, let me help you with that," he says. And he does. My helmet comes off and I smell the air a few times. It's a sort of ridiculous reaction, to be sure. If there is a problem I'd be mostly dead before I could exhale my first breath.

I shake my head at him and he smiles again. This time there's a sort of apologetic quality to his grin. He knows he upsets me. Admit it: he knows way more than he lets on. Nothing he does serves only a single purpose. There are layers and layers of intentions behind his actions, I'm sure. God help me if I ever think I've got him figured out. The answers to Why do you do that? would fill a library and none of them – none of them – would be simple, straightforward or the least bit unsurprising.

He's standing there, holding both of our helmets – one in each hand – and blinking. I guess he's waiting for me to say something. I can't help but notice that the static-y voice in the background is still repeating "Captain… Captain… Captain…"

"Work to do?" I suggest.

"Up and at 'em," he responds.

I'm about to make a suggestion as to how to proceed when his eyes narrow.

"By the way, did you call me stupid back there?" he asks.

What did I tell you? Attention surplus disorder…

"You know," I say, "there's a reason they never let Picard go out on dangerous away missions. You take too many chances, Doctor."

"Wait, I thought you were Han Solo and now you're telling me you're Commander Riker?"

I do an actual, classic double-take and feel like I'm a cartoon character out of Looney Tunes. Sorry… am I inundating you with modern cultural references? Well, no matter, I didn't expect him to say that and I literally guffaw. I mean, I try to hold it in but the fact that I attempt to suppress it makes the laugh, when it finally does escape, even louder and goofier than it otherwise would've been.

"No… Wait… I guess… Whatever." I'm stumbling clumsily over my words.

And by the look in his eyes I can tell he's enjoying it.