Chapter 8: I Love Camping
Fitz sat at the top of the cliffside, watching them. That morning, when Jack had told him he was following the Doctor no matter what River said, Fitz had made excuses, said he needed to get everything ready for when they all left. But the truth was he had quite a few ideas about what River and the Doctor would get up to on the beach, and he didn't want any of them confirmed at the moment. But then he couldn't help it. They were loud. So he'd followed the sound.
He chuckled to himself, without any humor.
Fitz wasn't even jealous. Not really. How could he be? This wasn't his Doctor. His beautiful Doctor died long ago. Lifetimes ago, from the Doctor's perspective. Fitz shivered, and moved away from the ledge, away from the sight of the Doctor entangled in the love of his life. Of this life.
"I know what it's like, Fitz."
He turned at the sound of Jack's voice, suddenly feeling like some creepy voyeur, which he supposed he was. Spying on the ex and his pretty new girl. What a loser.
Fitz was too ashamed to meet Jack's gaze. Stared off into the distance instead.
"I broke things off with him, you know," Fitz said as Jack sat down beside him. "More than once. Sometimes I just so tired. After more than a decade of messing about with time and space. Watching so many people die. Guess I wanted something normal. Something less ... intense ... I suppose. But then he lost a couple people he really cared about, and he needed me. So I couldn't let him go off again alone. And then the Time War came, and everything went to shit. And the hell of it all is I don't even care. I'd do it all again, give up anything left of the real Fitz Kreiner, if it meant bringing my Doctor back, even for just a day. That's what loving the bloody Doctor does to you."
Fitz sighed, and leaned against Jack. Really grateful he was there.
"Do you think she knows?" Fitz asked quietly. "You think she has any idea what loving him is gonna cost her?"
Jack sighed and pulled Fitz close. "Yeah, well, you two are the lucky ones. Trust me. I paid the cost without the reward, Fitz. Without the Doctor. I spent a hundred years waiting for him, only to find out he left me behind on purpose. Because he couldn't stand to look at me anymore."
Fitz gave a bitter laugh. "He once waited a hundred years to meet me again, Jack. Carrying around a letter I made someone else write cause I couldn't think of the right words to say. But that was a different Doctor. My Doctor. And he's gone now."
"'Tis better to have loved and lost,'" Jack said softly. "I have to believe that. I'm immortal, Fitz. Everyone I'll ever love ages and dies while I carry on, whether I want to or not."
Fitz pressed even closer to Jack. "I don't get it. Honestly. The two of you were made for each other. You're so much alike."
Jack shook his head. "When we first met River, I pulled a gun on her, Fitz. I would have shot her, and I probably wouldn't have even felt guilty about it afterwards. But you? A total stranger breaks in, and what do you do? You stand in front of the gun. You would have died to save the life of someone you've never even met. Sound familiar? So who do you really think is more like the Doctor?"
He cupped Fitz's face, rested his forehead against him. "So many people are dead because of me, Fitz. I can't even stand to look at myself anymore. How can you? I've taken so many lives."
"Yeah? Well the Doctor's taken more. Didn't make me love him any less." And then Fitz kissed Jack for a very long time.
When he finally pulled away, Jack stared at him with those big, bright blue eyes. "Maybe when this is over, the two of us..." Jack said quietly, with the beginnings of a hopeful smile.
Fitz sighed, pulled Jack close again. Nuzzled up against his neck. It felt right, and new, and familiar. All at the same time. Jack needed someone right now. Needed him. So yeah, you only live once, and Fitz had already lived more than he'd ever expected to, had experienced more than he'd ever imagined. And whether the Doctor fixed him or not, he didn't need Fitz. Not anymore.
"Thought you'd never ask," Fitz said, and kissed Jack some more.
River and the Doctor had wandered back just as he and Fitz finished breaking down the camp. River back in her black jumpsuit, wearing a teasing smirk, and the Doctor looking sheepish, adjusting his bow tie.
Jack made River give him his gun back. That had been his first priority. Because the Doctor had said River already knew everything about him. Who's to say she wouldn't know everything about Jack. He'd already made a bit of a reputation for himself, and had thousands, maybe millions, of years ahead of him to get noticed. If she knew Jack could live through anything, then why would a few hours of suffering matter to her, if she wasn't the one who had to live through them. Not exactly a comforting thought.
He stayed near the back, as River and the Doctor scouted ahead. Giggling like a pair of teenagers. It felt strange to hear so much laugher again. Just a few meters ahead of him, Fitz walked alone, his hands in his pockets. He'd been quiet for a while. They both had. Lost in their own thoughts.
Jack was absolutely sick of hearing the Doctor and River flirt. He dashed ahead to walk beside Fitz, took Fitz's arm in his and forced himself to smile. "Well, isn't this romantic, my dear Fitz? Camping. I love camping. Humans are the only species who camp!"
"No they're not," Fitz said with a laugh. "I've been to a planet where everyone's blue. They have cities made of crystal, and a monastery in the middle of a blue desert, and once every 12 years they make a pilgrimage there. They all camp out in front of the monastery, and have dances, and drink this clear booze that tastes like cotton candy and gets you drunk for hours. And they have pretty girls and gorgeous blokes in a million different shades of blue, pale, or dark, or almost purple. Bloody gorgeous time we had there."
"Well, then," Jack said, with a real smile this time as he held Fitz's hand and squeezed. "Tell me more."
And Fitz did. Stories about crazy times and places, of a planet named Albert where magic was real, and spending a year in a 17th century brothel, sampling the wares. Playing a concert on a city rooftop that helped delay a war. And a wild night in Venice he and the Doctor spent losing a very sexy bet to Giacomo Casanova.
Jack knew Fitz was skipping the dark parts, could sense it in the way he'd stop mid-sentence, a haunted look in his eyes, before moving on to a better memory. But that was alright. Because Jack knew what that felt like, and he preferred to see Fitz smile.
That night, Fitz cooked tinned beans and made bacon sandwiches, and they all laughed and talked and enjoyed themselves. Fitz played guitar, and the Doctor teased him about stuffing half the TARDIS into that worn leather bag of his. As the night wore on, the Doctor laid his head on River's lap, humming along with the beautiful sound of Fitz's music. And Jack watched Fitz play until he just couldn't take it anymore.
Jack pulled Fitz into their tent, and kissed him, the two of them all cuddled up in blankets. He was falling for Fitz, hard and fast, and it kind of scared him. Then Fitz touched him with his rough hands, and Jack lost himself in the sensation, feeling Fitz caress him. Feeling him nibble his way down Jack's body. They tore each other's clothes off in an instant. Jack took him, more than once, memorizing every moment. Savoring the feel of Fitz's body pressed against him, the taste of his mouth, and his skin. The whimpering, shuddering moans he made when Jack moved inside him at just the right speed. The way Fitz always bit his lip when he came.
When they were both exhausted, Fitz laid his head on Jack's chest, fast asleep in an instant. His beautiful face so peaceful in the dark.
And for the rest of the night, he didn't think about the Doctor, or Ianto, or anybody else. Fitz was all that mattered, and that felt like such a relief.
The Doctor awoke with a start, jolting up, startled, naked, for a moment forgetting where he was. Who he was with.
He looked beside him, at River sleeping peacefully. Looking extremely sexy wrapped up in all those blanket, her lovely hair an absolute mess.
The Doctor looked at his watch.
It had been a long, long time since he'd woken up next to someone. Since Elizabeth? All the way back then. A lifetime ago.
But this was River Song. His River Song. A promise, a responsibility, and a reward all at once. He'd never stood a chance.
The Doctor brushed a curl from her face, letting it tangle around his finger.
He knew why there were so many secrets between them. It was his fault, of course. Everything she was, in the end, was his fault, and he wouldn't change that.
Had he ever met anyone he'd been so intimately complicated with? Actually, he could think of a couple, but he'd rather not at the moment.
Instead, wouldn't it be more fun to kiss some more? Taste those scrumptious complications.
So he did, kissing her temple, just dipping into the edges of her mind. Touching her dreams. He wondered if she'd be cross when she woke up. She was rather sexy when she was cross.
But she wasn't. Instead, she turned toward him and suddenly his finger was in her mouth. Her soft, slippery mouth. And then she licked it. From inside her mouth. He instantly wanted to put other things in there. Thankfully River knew he'd never been a patient man. And her mouth felt so warm against his cool skin.
He laid back and put his hands behind his head, watching the shadows turn to light on the roof of the tent as the sun began to rise. As he felt her gorgeous mouth doing indescribably wonderful things to him, the Doctor felt perfectly satisfied in ever way.
"You're hot when you're smug," she mumbled, her mouth full of him.
"And don't you know it," he said as casually as possible, under the circumstances.
She released him, and smirked, then climbed on top of him. Sliding him inside in one smooth motion. And he pulled her down, bringing her mouth close enough to capture, because he wanted to taste her some more. His hand tangled in her hair, feeling her so warm, so alive, moving against him. Touching a mind that might just be almost as complicated as his own. She was his, always was, in every way, had been before they'd even met. Before she was even born. And this was worth it, she was worth it. Worth any price.
For many long, beautiful minutes, the universe consisted entirely of the Doctor and River Song, two incredibly impossible events scattered across the timelines, coming together simply for the sake of pleasure. And love.
River pressed her forehead against his, flooding his mind with pure, directed pleasure as she moaned obscenely loud, riding him even faster.
It was too much for him. He pulled her close, feeling every molecule of her body pressed against his on multiple levels of perception. Knowing she felt exactly the same thing. His skin suddenly felt deliciously hot, and so did hers, and the moment seemed to stretch infinitely long as he released inside her. Calling out her name. In Gallifreyan.
It was a great morning.