"My Lord?"
How many times, Hallor, do I need to ask you to call me Jack? Jack shifted uncomfortably. I'll grow out of it in a couple of centuries.
Hallor fidgeted nervously. "I left room enough."
Great. Jack closed his eyes with a sigh. Three billion years, and no end in sight.
"My Lord… Jack?" Hallor asked in trepidation.
It's fine, thank you Hallor. Your people have surpassed themselves. Now, I think what I'd really like is four grams of caruxin and some time alone.
"Certainly, my lord." The bioengineer bowed respectfully, then half-straightened, his eyes wide, "Um… I mean, Jack."
There, you're getting the hang of it, and Jack grinned cynically. Send Marval in, will you please? Thanks.
Hallor backed out of the room as fast as his short little legs would allow, and Jack allowed himself another sigh, shifting once more in the new hovercradle.
It had been two billion years since the constant mutations had permitted him to use a synthskin body. Now he rode an ongoing carousel of different styles of hovercradles or bio-platforms, discarded as he outgrew them.
It had been two days since the last of his children had died.
Jack didn't acknowledge the bow of the pharmacist as she sidled sinuously into his lushly - appointed chamber and began setting up the caruxin brazier. Marval looked up at her lord under her eyelashes as she busied herself at fanning the flames.
"You seem distracted, Jack," she said, familiarity making her bold.
Privilege of the old, Marval, m'dear, he said dryly.
"Anything in particular?"
Well, I can hear a group of farmers in Maxinadra… there's a dispute over a cow. A cow. Christ, these people can be dull.
Marval measured out the caruxin carefully. "You're the one who keeps them safe enough to be dull. What's a cow?"
Looks a bit like the old Earth herd animal. Not really related though — the purple hide gives it away. Jack stretched his vestigial limbs. That ready yet?
"Almost. Be patient."
Jack snorted. Come back to me on your three billionth birthday and tell me about patience.
"Touché." Marval carefully set the caruxin bowl above the brazier. "There we go. You shouldn't take so much, you know."
Sweetheart, I know better than almost anyone. Jack inhaled deeply. Oh, that's better.
"Tell me about that song again," Marval pulled her skirts about her as she sat down opposite him. "The one about the roses."
It's just a children's rhyme.
"It's pretty, and the words are so strange."
Can you remember it from last time? Jack could feel the waves of well-being washing over him as the caruxin took effect. The universe was abruptly no longer quite so cold, and he relaxed slightly, his fronds uncurling.
Marval frowned. "Ring-o-ring-o rosies… a pocket full of posies… Jack, I can't remember the next words."
Atishoo, atishoo, we all fall down. Jack laughed gently. Such a cute song for such a morbid theme.
"I don't understand."
There was once a plague. A terrible disease. And it killed hundreds of thousands of people…
"On Earth?" Marval's face was awed. "Were you there?"
Nah, I turned up a few centuries later. Well, the second time. Well… no, I lie, I once got rid of a Betelgeusian navigational system in the Great Fire of London. Jack's darkened eyes crinkled. My buyer was furious.
"I don't get it." Marval cocked her head. "Were you there or not?"
I turned up there once, he replied softly. When I was a different man. When I actually was a man.
She knew this mood. "Jack, no matter how you change, you're still you. Still Jack Harkness."
That's a laugh. He drew himself up higher on his hovercradle. I was human, Marv'. I once looked a lot like you. Actually, I was too damn handsome for my own good, got me in some trouble a time or two. But I was human… I could walk and talk and eat and hug and make love. I haven't been able to for centuries. Millennia.
Marval frowned. "But, your children…"
Martha died two days ago, he snapped. Martha's dead. All four died, all four didn't have this… this curse of immortality, of changing always and never dying. All four were infertile due to me. Doomed to this same goddamn half-life. And their fathers or mothers… they're dead too. Everyone's dead. Just me left.
"She had a good run," Marval placed a hand on Jack's leathery brow. "She had six thousand years, started a university, invented a propulsion unit…"
For me, Jack said bitterly. Because she couldn't stand seeing me unhappy.
"Jack. You're the ruler of this solar system. You can hear the thoughts of everyone in it. You've ensured peace and learning and happiness for tens of thousands of years. That's an achievement to be happy about!" Marval shook him slightly. "Everyone here loves you."
No-one here knows me, Marval San Cassaro. I'm the great big Face of Boe watching everything they do, like some mutant intergalactic Santa Claus. Not a person. Certainly not a man. Jack's eyes narrowed slightly, and Marval's mind was filled with the sight of a tall man with dark hair, wrapped in a long grey coat. That's me. That's how I still think of myself.
"You look like Martha," said Marval in surprise.
A bit. She took after her mother. The two I bore looked exactly like me back then. And Marval's mind's eye shifted to four people, tall and straight in synthskin bodies, slightly overlarge heads framed with smaller versions of the fronds that ringed Jack. Ianto, Rosie, Susan and Martha.
"So young," Marval said softly. "So Ianto and Susan were the pair you bore?"
Yup. Jack's mindtone was suffused in sorrow. I didn't think the mutation had got that far… I knew my head was trying to mimic the functions of my lost body, but still, Ianto came as a massive shock.
"Oh, Jack," said Marval sadly, "I'm so, so sorry." She impulsively kissed his brow — it was hard but warm.
They thought that carrying a bunch of flowers would save them, Jack said suddenly, harshly. It didn't. And so they all fell down.
"What?"
In the song. Jack closed his huge, dark eyes again. Top up the caruxin before you leave.
"Wake up, sleepyhead."
That's not funny.
The Doctor rocked back on his heels. "I liked it."
You would. Jack blinked a couple of times, focusing on the slim, brown form before him. You're early.
"Am I? Wouldn't know about that." The Doctor knelt down. "I'm out of my time-line. Yours, too."
And then Jack realised that this was not his Doctor, his ancient, powerful and mischievous Doctor with the scruffy clothes, sharp black eyes and commanding presence. You're too young. You shouldn't be here. How did you find me?
"Questions, questions," the Doctor grinned. "Firstly, I'm as young as I ought to be — and that's not something I get to say every day — secondly, I'm here because a certain time-locked memory I had repressed managed to unlock itself, and thirdly, you're not hard to find, oh ruler of the Spindle Galaxy."
A memory?
"Of a certain fellow I rescued from the Daleks, back when I was me number eight."
Oh.
"Yeah, oh. Honestly, Jack, did you think I'd never figure it out?" The Doctor folded his legs and leaned back on his hands. "I'm insulted."
You said you'd forget, Jack said weakly. The sight of his second Doctor was torment — memories of a year shared in torture, a pair of long coats flapping in the wind, of guns and whiskey and people long dead. You promised.
"I locked the memory, yes," the Doctor said patiently. "It was time-set, like an alarm clock. By the way, you ought to get one of those. Apparently you've been sleeping for 114 years."
Not much to do between Ice-Ages, Jack replied caustically.
"Except caruxin, it seems," and the Doctor's tone was disapproving. "Never thought you'd stoop to drugs, Jack."
Never thought I'd become an immortal sideshow curiosity, either, I'll bet, Jack shot back. Don't you dare judge, Time Lord.
"Soon you won't be able to live without it, Jack," the Doctor said more gently.
So what, I die? Encore, Jack spat. I'm three billion years old, Doctor. I've outlived everyone I know, everyone I love, except you. And you hop about time-lines without a care — for all I know you hop straight from one meeting with me to the next. I do what I have to do to survive the centuries in between.
There was a hard, cold silence, and then the Doctor said flatly, "That's not Jack Harkness speaking."
You're right. It's not. Now go away.
"No."
Go. Away.
"I won't leave you like this." The Doctor leaned back even further on his elbows. "No can do, Jacky-boy."
Why are you here? Come to poke the Freak with a stick? Come to marvel at his wrongness? You should have left me to die with the Daleks, you should have left me dead in the Blitz! Why did you let me live, you bastard! To justify all your other mistakes? Am I the salve to your high-and-mighty conscience, you hypocrite! Get out, Doctor! At least the goddamn caruxin doesn't mock me with what I used to be! Jack closed his eyes and pushed with his mind at the form in front of him, which didn't budge.
"Blimey, you're strong," the Doctor muttered. "All I can do to stop my hair flying out here."
I — said - Get the hell out of here! Jack hollered in his mind. The Doctor jumped to his feet.
"Now there's Jack Harkness, oh yes!" he yelled, a grin splitting his thin face. "C'mon Captain, give us some more. Show me how wrong I am! Come on!"
Jack screamed and lashed out at the Doctor's mind. The man staggered, and dropped to one knee, shaking. The sight was enough to halt Jack's storm of grief and fury.
Doctor? Oh my god, Doctor, I'm so sorry…
"Got… a mean left hook… there, Jack," the Doctor said weakly, wiping at the thin line of spittle from his mouth. "Ow."
Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry, are you okay? Doctor, please forgive me…
"Jack."
Yes, Doctor?
"Shut up."
Shutting up, sir.
The Doctor groaned, and leaned heavily on Jack. "Ow. I guess I deserved that."
No, you didn't… I just took it out on…
"Ja-ack."
Shutting up again, sir.
The Doctor sighed, and patted the top of Jack's head where his long thin arm was stretched along his brow. "I did. I deserved that. I've manipulated you, at times. I've used you and your inability to die, oh, so many more. And it always seemed okay, because you wanted to do it. For me." He slid down to lean his back against Jack's cheek, clasping his hands loosely between his knees. "I shouldn't have said that you were wrong, Jack. I shouldn't have come here — at least, not just to satisfy my own curiosity. I shouldn't have mocked you."
I'd be worried if you stopped, admitted Jack, a bit bewildered.
The Doctor snorted softly.
Jack could feel the warmth of the body pressed against him, and a keening wail began to build deep in the heart growing slowly in his throat. My children are all dead, he whispered into the careful space between them.
Oh, Jack. I'm so sorry. What were their names? the Doctor sent back, just as careful.
You'll laugh.
Promise I won't, and the Doctor gently reached out and let one of Jack's fronds curl about his wrist loosely. I like these.
Jack almost smiled. So you do. Said I'd fit in without a second glance on Phennik Three now. Except for the colour, and the… you know, no legs thing.
The Doctor cleared his throat. "Your children… they were happy? Good lives?"
I think so. They were busy, mostly. Ianto and Rosie were adventurers, and Jack gave the Time-Lord a mental dig in the ribs. They loved you.
"Ianto? Rosie?"
Yeah.
The Doctor's expression was rapt. "What were the others called?"
Martha was the youngest. Questioned everything.
"Aw, brilliant!" the Doctor smiled hugely. "So, you had three then?"
Jack did smile this time. All I can tell you, Doctor. You'll find out later.
"Spoilsport."
Never been accused of that before.
"Now you sound like you," the Doctor said fondly. He blew out a breath. "Had a daughter once."
Thought you had a son.
The Doctor nodded slowly. "Yeah, officially… but I got an accidental daughter. On Messaline."
You dirty old dog, you, said Jack, amused. Messaline… Messaline sounded familiar, for some reason.
"This is when I was barreling around with Donna," the Doctor said sadly. "They stick my arm in some stupid cloning thing and shazam, instant daughter. Two hearts and everything. Looked a lot like me number five. Donna named her Jenny. She died saving me."
Doctor, I've met her! It clicked, and suddenly Jack couldn't send his thoughts fast enough. On Phennik Three! The Sontaran invasion! Jenny —a blonde girl, she thought of Messaline and of being dead and coming back… and ofDad. Doctor, she was alive!
The Doctor's body was vibrating with tension. "You're sure?"
Doctor — she babbled.
"She's alive," the Doctor said slowly, testing it in his mind. Then, "she's alive! My daughter is alive! Alive! Oh Jack, she's alive…" and his expression of jubilation fell at Jack's sad smile. "Oh Jack. It's not fair, is it."
No. Nothing ever is. Jack sighed. I loved life, back then. So many planets, so much adventure. I hadn't any idea what loss was then. He raised one gnarled eyebrow and looked down at the Time-Lord against him. She kissed me, you know.
"Jack Harkness!"
Well, how was I to know she was yours?
"Jack. She was babbling?"
Point.
The silence descended again, but this time it was warm and full of shared memory.
Doctor?
"Hmm?"
Do me a favour?
"Sure."
Go back to Cardiff, 14th April, 2049. About 8pm. Please.
The Doctor twisted his body to look quizzically at Jack.
Upstairs at a pub called the Stag and Hind. I need you.
"Of course… but why?"
Because… and Jack's mind clung to that of his only constant, sprawled against him comfortably, that's the first time I have no-one else.