Chapter 6: A Good Heart

The pain felt like having broken glass scraped across every nerve ending, and for most of the night he'd gripped Fitz tightly, gritting his teeth, trying not to scream.

But finally the worst part was over. Fitz leaned against him, half asleep, and Jack shivered under the blanket, grateful for his comforting presence. Just happy to be held. It still hurt a little to be touched, but that was nothing compared to the agony of having to feel his legs grow back. Again.

The Doctor sat across them, on the other side of the campfire. He hadn't said a word in hours, simply sat cross-legged, resting his chin in his hands, while Fitz set up camp, pulling tents and blankets and a tea kettle from an improbably small brown leather satchel he had brought with him from the TARDIS.

And Fitz also brought with him the Doctor's leather jacket. He'd worn it as he'd carried Jack in a makeshift stretcher, away from the village to a cliff overlooking the ocean. As Fitz held him afterward, Jack could still catch a whiff of the Ninth Doctor's unique smell, which reminded Jack of brusque, stolen kisses in the TARDIS corridors, and of a time so very long ago when he'd convinced himself he might still be a good man after all, despite all the evidence suggesting otherwise. And underneath that was Fitz. Old Spice and cigarettes, so very human. Such a simple scent.

It was only a few hours until dawn.

"You can't trust her," Jack said finally, breaking the silence between them.

"How did she react?" the Doctor said, standing up and walking around the fire, attention wandering. "When they offered her the ceremony? Because she did leave you a message, which meant she obviously thought you would be around to deliver it. Otherwise what would be the point of leaving a message in the first place? It wouldn't make any sense, and River is rarely anything but logical. I find that rather sexy, actually."

"All right," Jack said sharply. "I get it. You like her. But what do you know about her?"

"No, see, that's not the right question," the Doctor said, sitting down beside him.

Jack released Fitz, who curled up under his own blanket, and gave a little snore.

"He'll sleep through anything, that one," the Doctor said fondly.

"Doctor–" Jack began.

"No, Captain, it's not the right question at all, don't you see?" he interrupted. "What's important is what she knows about me. And she knows a lot. I ... I tell her a lot. I simply find myself doing it. Things I never talk about. Never share. She knows my secrets, Jack. Which means even if I haven't told her yet, one day I will."

"There's a lot of different ways she could have learned about you, Doctor. And not all of them are pleasant."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No, I won't believe that. Strip away the mystery, and underneath River has a good heart. I know she does."

Jack wrapped the blanket tighter around him, wincing as the feeling returned to his newly grown toes. "I followed her, after we separated."

"I know," the Doctor said with a weary sort of smile. "Are you always so transparent? Or just to me?"

Jack shot him a glare. "So, anyway, I followed her into the forest, and I could have sworn I heard her talking to someone. But when I looked, there was no one, and I was just firing into the trees."

"Leaving behind 21st century bullets for a civilization still using stone tools?" the Doctor asked with a frown, sounding scandalized.

Jack chuckled. "Actually, River collected them and took them with her. Along with my gun. She's quite the professional, I'll give her that."

"That she is," he said softly.

"All I know is that something happened. And she wouldn't talk about it afterward. Like I said, I don't trust her, Doctor."

"Then isn't it lucky that you don't have to?" the Doctor replied, standing up. "Just trust me, Captain. Let me worry about the rest."

Jack scoffed, gave him a little mock salute. "Yes, sir."

The Doctor smiled a little sadly, then turned and went into his tent.

"He's right, you know," Fitz said, stirring in his blankets.

"You're supposed to be asleep!" Jack said accusingly.

Fitz chuckled and sat up, rubbing his eyes. "I was. At first."

He looked over at Jack, wrapped up in a rough, woven blanket, his hair all mussed up. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he never would have believed they'd found Jack on a funeral pyre just a few hours ago.

"Can I ... see?" Fitz asked shyly.

Jack smiled at him and stood up on wobbly legs, letting the blanket drop. He was naked underneath. He looked flawless, like some sort of American movie star. Perfect teeth, cut abs, smooth skin, and enough muscles to make Fitz feel grossly inadequate. Much more masculine than the blokes he usually fancied, but yeah, fucking gorgeous.

Kneeling in front of him, Fitz touched Jack's strong legs, running his hands up his thighs. It didn't make sense. As if Jack was some sort of walking miracle.

"How?" Fitz asked softly, entranced by the feel of firm strength and soft skin under his rough fingers.

Jack stroked Fitz's hair with a sigh. "A curse, a gift, courtesy of a friend. Long ago. When I traveled with the Doctor."

He couldn't help it. Jack was so close, close enough to taste, and he wanted him. Was just so grateful for the miracle of having him back. Fitz took Jack in his mouth, all at once.

Jack gasped, and tightened his grip in Fitz's hair, but didn't push him away. Not at first. Fitz licked him, suckled him, did all the things the Doctor used to like, and felt Jack stiffen in his mouth.

"Fitz," Jack said softly. "Don't."

He pulled out of Fitz and sat down with a sigh.

"Why not?" Fitz pouted, sitting beside him and wrapping himself up in blankets again. It was windy, and cold, and he suddenly felt pretty miserable.

"I haven't been with anyone since... Since Ianto died," Jack said, finally, shivering as he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders once again. "And if you knew me, that's saying a lot."

Fitz took his hand. "He must have been pretty special."

"Yeah, he was," Jack said sadly, then brought Fitz's hand to his mouth and gave it a tender kiss. "But you know what? So are you."

"Thanks, Jack," Fitz said with a wry grin.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Jack asked, leaning against Fitz.

"Sure thing," Fitz said. "But you'll need some shoes."

"Did you find my coat?" Jack asked as Fitz rummaged through his satchel, pulling out pants, socks, shoes, shirts, even braces. "Ianto gave me that coat."

Fitz shook his head. "No, I think everything burned up. But there was a whole section of Jack clothes in the TARDIS, and the Doctor and I thought you might like this back."

Jack recognized the greatcoat right away. It was the one he'd worn so many centuries ago when he'd first met the Doctor. "Thank you," he said with sincerity, taking the coat from Fitz and getting dressed.

Fitz shrugged, changed his own shirt and jeans, and began tugging on his boots. "Just thought it'd come in handy. The Doctor never thinks about stuff like that. It's all, 'Fitz, why bother if it'll only be a few days?' Well, I'm sorry mate, but a few days trekking up a volcano is still too long without a teakettle or a change of clothes. But that's the Doctor for you. It was even worse in the Time War. Never considered the practical stuff. The Doctor was never some general leading soldiers, mind you. Refused to get involved. He's more the James Bond type, couldn't resist running off on secret missions for his brother and Romana–"

"Wait, the Doctor has a brother?" Jack interrupted.

Fitz stood up and shook his head sadly. "Not anymore. He was really shaken up after Brax died. Bit of an insufferable sod, really, but, still, a good guy. Didn't deserve what happened."

Fitz shrugged on his leather jacket again, then grabbed a stick and began writing a note for the Doctor in the ground in front of his tent. "Went for a walk," Fitz read aloud once he was done, sounding kinda pleased with himself. "There, now he won't worry."