Chapter 2: Temporal Recursion
"No, wait, let me guess," Rose says, laughing. "You end up naked an' you're running away from some monster or something an' don't stop until you hit the space-lanes?"
Jack shakes his head in a futile attempt to remove the unease that's flowing through him. He was doing something else, something before this. Something with a communications grid? But he also knows that he was right here, talking to Rose and the Doctor. What the hell is going on? "The punch line is a little obvious, isn't it?" he asks, deliberately changing what he knows he said or will say. Damn semantics.
"That's 'cause it never changes, Captain," the Doctor says from his position half-underneath the TARDIS console.
"I-" he begins and cuts himself off, rubbing at his temple with one hand. Something's not right.
"Jack? Are you all right?" Rose asks as her brow furrows in concern.
"Yeah, fine," he replies. "I'm fine." His voice cracks a little on the last word and he silently curses himself. He used to be a good conman, a first-rate liar. Now he's barely able to manage the simplest of lies in front of these two.
Damnit.
The Doctor pushes himself out from underneath the console and looks at him in that way that makes him feel like his soul is being weighed and measured. He still doesn't know why the Doctor seems to find him worthy. "What's wrong?" the Doctor asks. No assumptions, no accusations, just a simple question.
He shrugs helplessly. "It just seems like this is familiar."
"The TARDIS? Or this situation?" the Doctor asks and he's about to snap a reply before he sees that the Doctor is completely serious.
"Yes. No. Both. I don't know." He releases an exasperated sigh as he nudges Rose over to take a seat beside her on the chair.
"You'll have to be a bit clearer than that, Captain," the Doctor says as he leans against the console.
"There's just-" He sighs as he pinches his nose, willing himself to get his thoughts together. "- something wrong…"
He doesn't get the chance to finish his comment. Instead, his words are drowned out by the wail of an alarm. The Doctor turns immediately to the console and begins to flip switches and turn knobs.
"Mauve," Rose says and a chill runs up his spine at her words. Yes, mauve. A mauve alert.
What happens or will happen next? His thoughts are hazy, indistinct. He knows this has happened before, despite appearances. This entire situation is the same, yet different.
God, it's enough to give him a migraine. Not to mention enough to terrify him.
"Mauve and dangerous, certainly. Oh, no. That's impossible. That shouldn't exist. Can't exist!" The Doctor's words penetrate his musings, calling him back to the present.
His finger's on the red button before the Doctor calls for it, the action as predetermined – or is that predestined? – as this entire day has been. The fingers of his free hand clench around the console, clinging desperately to the surface as the TARDIS trembles around them.
However, as he knew he would, he finds himself on the floor after a particularly violent tremor. Blinking up at the ceiling, he decides to wait until the TARDIS stops before even attempting to rise.
The humour of the situation strikes him the instant they stop. Though he knows he's said it before, this time he says it willingly. "Well, that was fun. Doesn't your ship know that there're easier ways of getting me on my back? All she has to do is ask." He pushes himself to his feet, brushing off imaginary dust as he turns to face the Doctor.
The Doctor rolls his eyes. "Stop flirting with the TARDIS."
"So what's out there?" Rose asks, giving him a strange glance.
"Mars," he says.
The Doctor frowns as he moves to the console, tapping at the controls. "The TARDIS-"
"Isn't responding," he completes. "You don't know where we are, so we might as well look." Jack knows that he should've held his tongue. He's probably imagining all of this. This is just a bad dream. If he pinches himself, he'll wake up, and he'll find he's safe in his bed – preferably with company. A smile tugs at his lips as his imagination runs away with him. Slowly, he reaches for his arm and pinches the skin hard between his fingers.
Damn. That hurt. Looks like this isn't a dream. It's a nightmare called reality.
The Doctor stares at him. "Jack, there's no way you can know where we are."
"Try it," he challenges, gesturing towards the door. This might be a dream, but he knows he's right.
With a much put-upon glare, the Doctor moves to the doors and opens them, revealing the tell-tale red landscape of Mars. Oh, sure, there're trees here and there, but the dust is impossible to change.
"Mars," the Doctor says softly, disbelieving.
He grins. "Better than a tracking system, aren't I? Welcome to Mars, 1969." His grin is the best shield he has against the terror that threatens to overwhelm him.
The Doctor frowns as he turns towards him, hand already pulling out the sonic screwdriver. "There can't be any temporal anomalies inside the TARDIS," he says, switching on the device and aiming it towards him. "The readings are normal. I don't detect any temporal recursions. Have you been time sensitive before?"
Jack shakes his head. "Nope. I'm your typical fifty-first century guy. Got a bit of a sense when something's wrong when I'm somewhere in the past, but that's it. I can't predict the future. Hell, if I was able to do that, my cons never would've failed." He winces at the look the Doctor gives him at his last comment, wishing he could withdraw it.
If he'd been able to predict the future, he never would've endangered all those people in 1941. If he'd been able to predict the future, he wouldn't be here right now. He knows which future he prefers.
"Could be a localised temporal recursion, something focused just around you," the Doctor muses, tapping his screwdriver against his thigh in an absent gesture. "Though that shouldn't be possible inside the TARDIS. You could've been exposed to something on the last planet we visited."
"We were on Earth," Rose points out, biting her lip as she looks between himself and the Doctor.
"Doesn't matter. There could've been something," the Doctor replies. "I just don't understand why the screwdriver isn't detecting anything abnormal."
"There's a possibility you didn't mention," Jack says. "I could be mad. A complete basket-case. Could've snapped last night and I'm imagining things."
Rose shakes her head. "Impossible."
"Why's that?" he challenges.
"'Cause that means we're both nuts."
Jack's speechless and the Doctor looks at her, slack-jawed.
Rose shrugs, shuffling her feet as she glances between them. "Some of this has happened before. Right before Jack said he felt fine. I remember that bit. This isn't the same, though. This is something new."
"It is," he agrees.
"Both of you, to the medlab," the Doctor orders.
"What about the mauve alert?" Rose asks. "I remember it was something trivial, but we should still look. Someone might be hurt."
Somehow he doubts it.
"Stay here," the Doctor commands. "I'll find the mauve and sort it. I don't want either of you to leave the TARDIS. If you're being affected by a temporal recursion, the TARDIS will be able to protect you. When I return, I'll need to run some tests on both of you."
Before either of them can protest, the Doctor's long strides have carried him some distance away from the TARDIS.
He wants to follow his friend, but he also knows that the Doctor's probably right. Maybe if he and Rose stay here there's a possibility that this temporal recursion or whatever it is can be stopped.
But he isn't holding his breath.
She wonders if this is what insanity is like. Impossible things frequently become possible around the Doctor, but this seems to be in a category all by itself. Though this particular situation is new, the scenario is not. She remembers the mauve alert, the conversation that followed, and even trekking across the red landscape of Mars towards the city.
How is this possible, though? How can she remember things that haven't happened? Well, given that they've changed things, does that mean that her memories are wrong? Does that mean that this won't happen again?
She sighs heavily as she brushes back her hair behind her ear. The future isn't written. Shouldn't be written. Oh, admittedly, she's seen the future. Seen things that aren't supposed to happen and been with the Doctor when he's sorted the problem. She's been to the past and helped the Doctor sort things there, too. But that doesn't answer the question that's resounding in her mind.
How can she possibly know the future when a Time Lord, the last of his kind, does not? How can she, a former shop girl, know anything about what will happen in the next second, minute, or hour? It's impossible.
Yet she's doing it. Has done it.
God, she's tying herself into mental knots thinking about this.
Things have changed, though. The Doctor's off on his own, finding the source of the mauve alert, while she and Jack are stuck here. The Doctor has his reasons. If she's suffering from a temporal re-whatsit, then this is the safest place for her. She's just never been much of a fan of 'safe'.
"Are we doing the right thing?" she asks, breaking the silence that's lengthened between them since the Doctor's departure.
"I don't know."
Her hopes sink lower as she turns towards him, trying to read his expression. There's a foreign air of futility around him that doesn't fit with what she knows of Captain Jack Harkness. "What do you know about temporal re-whatsits?"
"Recursions?"
She nods. "Yeah."
"I just know what I was told at the Agency," Jack says as he starts to pace. "It's basically when someone, or something, is stuck in a period of repeating time."
"Like Groundhog Day?" she asks, vaguely recalling the film.
Jack's blank look reminds her once more that sometimes Jack can be as alien as the Doctor. "'S a film," she explains. "There's a man who's stuck repeating the same day over an' over again until he gets something right."
"Ah, then yes. That's a good example of a recursion. Typically it's an object that goes from being brand new to decayed in a few seconds of relative time. An outside observer can tell when a recursion is happening whereas someone who's stuck inside a recursion might not."
"Then if we're stuck in a recursion, why do we know it an' the Doctor doesn't? I mean, he's the Time Lord. Shouldn't he jus', I dunno, have a sense of these things?" she asks.
Jack shrugs. "What I know about Time Lords is mostly out of legend. Most of that's been disproved just by being around the Doctor. I don't know, though. Maybe something's wrong with the Doctor or the TARDIS."
Rose frowns. The ship's hum hasn't changed. The lighting is the same as always and the console blinks and flashes as it normally does. It's fine. Normal. Just like always. She shakes her head. "Doesn't seem like there's anything wrong."
"Maybe what caused the recursion hasn't happened yet," he suggests.
That doesn't help. "How can we stop it, then? Is there a way to get out of it?"
"According to what I learned, we have to stop the cause of the recursion. Maybe there's an alien device that we encountered and touching it set off the recursion. If we don't touch it or if we destroy it, the recursion will be stopped. If it's something that's localised on the two of us, perhaps being inside a dimensionally transcendental ship will spare us."
"If it isn't? If it's something else?" Rose asks, even though she already knows the answer.
"Time will reset again."
Yup, that's what she thought. "So, if we are stuck in a recursion, and we know it, do we age? No, that's a daft question. We're reliving the same hours again and again. 'S just our minds realise it, yeah?"
He nods, looking impressed. "Exactly. We need to find out what caused the recursion." Jack's voice is anxious.
"We're workin' against a time limit?"
"Yes." Jack's eyes are strangely solemn as he stops his pacing to face her. "Human minds aren't meant to relive the same day over and over again. Eventually, even the strongest mind will break. We're not insane yet, but it will happen."
The certainty in his tone sends shivers down her spine. "How long?" she asks softly.
"As long as it takes," he replies. "There's no time schedule. Nothing that says on your fiftieth loop you will go mad. It depends on the individual. I saw someone who lost their mind because of a recursion once. I don't want to see something like that again."
"So what can we do?"
"Try something new every time," he says. "Don't follow the mauve alert. Try to go somewhere else in time and space. At some point we'll find the cause of the recursion and we will stop it."
Biting her lip, she moves closer to him, needing to feel his solid, all-too-human warmth. "An' only we'll know, yeah? Each time we'll have to explain to the Doctor what's going on?"
Jack nods. "Probably."
She sighs. The Doctor'll probably think they're mad each time. Then again, judging by Jack's words, at some point that'll be absolutely correct. "Jack?"
"Hmm?"
"I'm glad I'm not alone in this," she confesses, resting her head against his shoulder.
His arm slides around her, holding her in a loose hug. "Me too," he says softly. "Me too."
Jack stares at his mug, following the ripples the coffee makes as it sloshes against the side. It's been hours since they last saw the Doctor. Worry is making him jumpy and it's all he can do to stop himself from following after his friend. Surely it didn't take this long to get to the city and back. Surely something would've happened by now.
He sighs and takes a sip of the brew, grimacing when he finds that the liquid is cool. He sets it down in disgust, pushing the offending mug as far away from him as possible. There's got to be something he can do. Maybe there's something he hasn't considered? Something he hasn't thought of that can solve this particular problem?
Ha. Problem. He doesn't even know if he's figured out what the problem is. Sure, temporal recursion fits the symptoms. There's even a relatively simple way of stopping it. What if he's wrong? What if it's something else entirely and he's wasting time thinking of ways to break the time loop?
"Damn," he mutters.
"Thought I'd find you in here."
He half-turns in his chair to see Rose leaning against the doorway. "I'd avoid the coffee if I were you," he says. "It's cold."
She makes a face and crosses the kitchen to grab the kettle. "I'd prefer a cuppa, actually. Any luck?" she asks as she starts making tea.
He shakes his head, belatedly realising that she can't see the gesture. "Not really."
"The Doctor's been gone a long time." Rose sets the kettle onto the cooker with a little more force than necessary and he winces at the sound.
"He should be back soon." He doesn't know why that feels like a lie.
"I want to go after him," she replies softly, keeping her face turned away from him. "He could be in trouble. Oh, I know he probably isn't. After all, the mauve was just something simple. But what if that's changed? What if what I remember isn't true any more? What if-"
"Rose, stop," he says, pushing the chair away from the table. "You're only going to…"
"Going to what?" she asks, spinning towards him, cutting off the flow of his words. "Get worked up? Drive myself mad with worry? Go mad? Think we've already covered that, ta."
"He's going to come back." His reassurances don't seem to be working judging by her expression.
"Is he? Or is time gonna reset an' we'll never know what happened out there?" Rose hugs herself, and he can see the faint tremors that run through her body.
"Don't borrow trouble, Rose. He's probably on his way back now."
"Yeah?" she asks.
"Yeah," he replies, trying to put as much conviction as possible into that word.
She frowns and turns away, hiding her expression in the only way she possibly can. "I still want to go after him."
"Me too," he acknowledges. It'd be the easy solution to leave the safety of the TARDIS behind to search for the Doctor. Perhaps even the right one. Yet he can't dismiss his instinct to remain, to see what might happen if they don't leave the confines of this ship.
Maybe the solution to defeating a temporal recursion is as simple as this – remain inside the TARDIS at the point of reset. If he's wrong, it won't be too bad. They'd just have to repeat this day again. Convincing the Doctor to believe them shouldn't be too difficult. Well, he says that now, but he knows the stubborn nature of the Time Lord. He could very well be wrong.
Rose sighs, bracing her hands on either side of the cooker. "If I go after him, will you come?"
He wishes she hadn't asked that question as much as he wishes they'd never found themselves in this particular situation. However, wishes rarely come true. In this case, doubly so.
Words catch in his throat as he hears the sound of footsteps coming from somewhere behind him. Shit. This entire conversation could've been avoided if they were in the console room. But no, he wanted coffee. Well, he really wanted to brood. The console room isn't the best spot for that sort of thing. So he's here, Rose is here and they both missed the Doctor's arrival.
From the rapid tapping of the Doctor's footsteps, it's obvious that he's in a hurry. Searching for them? Standing, he and Rose barely take a step towards the door before he's there.
The Doctor looks like he's been through a war. His jacket is dusty and battered-looking. His face is marred by both dust and blood. But it's not his appearance that commands Jack's immediate attention – it's the Doctor's eyes. He's never seen them look so alien.
"I know what's causing the recursion," the Doctor says without preamble, "and I need your help."
"You've got it," he replies.
"It's S-"
The Doctor's words are interrupted by three things: the kettle's whistle as the steam escapes from its spout, a tremor that rumbles through the floor of the TARDIS as though the ship is caught in the midst of a storm, and a brilliant flash of white.
To be continued...