The Doctor sat on a stone bench overlooking the bay, aware of the CCTV camera now focused on him. He had hoped the walk would lighten his mood, but the cold wind, the gray sky and the annoying sound of the camera servos as they tracked him only added to his miserable state. He had first considered going to Techniquest, watching children discover science would normally have cheered him up, but the recent reminder that his species would never have children again had soured him on the idea.
Instead he had searched for a place he could be alone, away from pesky humans and curious shape shifters, walking along the waterfront until he found the bench he currently occupied. He hunched against the bitter wind, uncomfortable as the thin fabric of his clothes proved inadequate to prevent the cold from penetrating his body. Going back for his coat was not an option, not after the way he'd left.
But more than the elements, it was the recent encounter with the Atterian that disturbed him. His entire race, a beautiful and terrible civilization gone and the only scholarly interest in it, was that. Not its history, its tremendous responsibility in ensuring the laws of time remained immutable, or even the wondrous planet it had sprung from. No, it was reproductive habits that they were interested in.
He sat on that bench, staring down at the ground, wondering what was going to become of him. He made so many mistakes. His victories were often in spite of his planning, not because of it. It was luck that, more often than not, was the real reason for his success. But luck had a way of running out and right now things definitely didn't look good for him.
It wasn't even a spectacular failure of luck. No planets blowing up, or constellations being reconfigured, it was almost humiliatingly mundane. Thrown out of the TARDIS, dumped on Torchwood's doorstep, finding himself in the middle of a love triangle he never participated in. He was actually working for Torchwood. He shook his head as he thought of that and wondered if Jack was going to give a pay check and if that meant he was going to have to get a bank account to deposit it in.
He took a deep breath and looked out across the bay. "It isn't as bad as all that, is it?" he thought. It had only been a day since he had landed on his backside in Roald Dahl Plass. Too early to think he was going to spend the rest of his life stuck on Earth. Then he realized he wasn't stuck here on Earth even if the TARDIS didn't let him back in.
Reaching into his pocket he pulled out Jack's Vortex Manipulator. He examined the worn leather strap and puzzled at the human affinity for such an archaic material. Lifting the flap, he studied the controls. There was evidence of Jack's attempts to fix the teleport and time travel functions, but he had been far from successful, which was good. It was one thing to have time agents running around when the Time Lords controlled things, but now with only himself remaining, it was a responsibility he couldn't and to be honest, didn't want to take on.
Well, if the TARDIS wasn't going to let him back in, he could just fix the manipulator and leave. Easy enough to do, it wasn't traveling in style, but it was traveling and not bound to just one world or time. Knowing he had it as a backup lightened his mood. Yes, he would just hang on to it for a bit, just in case he needed it. Jack hadn't asked for it back yet, maybe he would forget.
As that thought cheered him, his headache came back in full force with a severity that caused him to gasp and drop Jack's device on the pavement as his hand went to his head. He closed his eyes tightly against the fading light of the setting sun that, feeble though it was, stabbed at his brain. The cold was forgotten as he rocked himself against the pain, his hand was on his forehead, futilely rubbing at it as he tried to gain some relief. His mouth was open, his breath came in sharp ragged gasps, a harsh sound that matched the gritty sand paper feel in his throat as the hard won air moved through it.
He leaned forward, shifting position, desperately trying a new tactic to fight off the excruciating pain. With a hand on each side of his head, he started rubbing his temples hard, forcefully, trying to induce pain there, drawing his attention away from the throbbing in his head. Slowly it started to work and he managed to regain control. The pain was still there, but he could isolate it, ignore it. Well, almost ignore it. It was sapping his strength to deal with it this way, but he had no other choice.
His breathing became slow and regular as his body, that had tensed against the onslaught, gradually relaxed. For a moment he was grateful that no one from Torchwood had seen his spell. There was already too much interfering concern from that quarter. But then he remembered the CCTV camera trained on him and felt that familiar, disturbing fixed point in time and space approaching. He straightened up and put on his best grin as he twisted around to face the captain.
"Hello, what's wrong? Don't tell me, let me guess. My break's exceeded the union rules and you've come here to fetch me back," quipped the Doctor.
"Hardly," replied Jack as he approached the bench. "You're welcome to take as long as you want. There's a storm front coming through and I thought you might want your coat."
The Doctor frowned briefly as he noticed the coat over Jack's arm. The explanation did make sense, he couldn't fault the reasoning. Though he knew it was a lie. But what was really irritating was an unmistakable odor coming from Jack that made it apparent the captain had relieved any tensions the Atterian may have aroused. "At least he could have washed up afterwards," thought the Doctor.
However, once Jack was next to him it was apparent he had showered with his hair was still damp and he smelled of soap. His clothes were fresh. No, it wasn't Jack's fault the he had picked up on the captain's most recent activities. Apparently his senses had been heightened in that area as a result of his encounter with the Atterian. An enhancement he didn't appreciate.
Not trusting himself to stand at the moment he remained seated as Jack handed him the coat and laid it down on the bench. "Thank-you, it is getting a bit chilly, I'll probably need this soon. A storm front coming in, you say? Thought I detected something in the air."
"I thought you were going to look after this for me," accused Jack as he bent over to pick up the forgotten Vortex Manipulator off the ground.
"Oh sorry, must have fallen out of my pocket. Seems to be happening more and more these days. I should get them checked out," explained the Doctor keeping a lightness in his voice he didn't feel. "Here, I'll make sure no damage was done," he offered as he held out his hand.
"No, I think I'll just keep it on me from now on," replied Jack, looking down as he buckled the strap of the device around his wrist. The Doctor watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he saw his escape route taken from him. No matter what Jack said, he felt like a prisoner here. He just wasn't sure whose prisoner.
"Hey, come on. I didn't mean it like that," said Jack upon seeing the Doctor's expression. He sat down next to him and clapped him on his shoulder. The Doctor suppressed a flinch as the contact interfered with the suppression of the headache. "I need it to help me keep track of things around here. Thank you for keeping those functions intact by the way. If you want, you can give it a tune up back at the hub. Maybe give me some limited travel abilities?" he added hopefully.
The Doctor gave a short bark of laughter and shook his head. "No, I think not. With you, limited travel would soon become unlimited. After all twenty trips of five years each is the same a single hundred year trip. But I will give the rest of the functions a buff up if you want. I do seem to be in your employ after all."
"Hardly in my employ," said Jack. "Thank you by the way for not undermining my authority."
"Pardon," said the Doctor, feigning confusion.
"Never mind. Sorry about this afternoon. I know that wasn't..."
"What," interrupted the Doctor, "the Atterian? She was just an over eager grad student, that's all. No real problem. Now she can tell her research center just how dangerous it is to collect data from a Time Lord and I can be left in peace. I always thought the Time Lord High Council was a bit daft maintaining that whole loom myth. But now I think they had the right idea."
"Loom myth?" asked Jack. "But they were real, there were all those stories. Reliable sources saw them, brought back images."
"A hoax, a very elaborate and effective hoax. All of the houses were required to have a least a mock up of one. Periodically chroniclers from other races were invited to Gallifrey and shown the looms. Children were hidden away as the chroniclers were told the tragic tale of the infertility curse laid upon us back during the time of Rassilon. That the looms were now the only way Time Lords could reproduce, our DNA woven to create a new adult Time Lords. Once they were well and truly convinced, they were sent on their way to tell the tale of the tragic noble society that ruled over time itself."
"But, why go through all of that?"
"So what they considered lesser races wouldn't speculate and produce a bunch of nonsense about how we reproduced. They felt that was undignified to have stories of that nature be told about them."
"So it was all just a public relations stunt?"
"That's a crude way of putting it, but yes," the Doctor agreed.
"What you said about a mental connection, was that just public relations?"
The Doctor frowned as he thought about how to answer, not pleased with the turn the conversation had taken. He was forming his answer when Jack spoke again.
"It's just Mickey was sure you and Madame de Pompadour had, uh..." Jack gave up with chagrined smile and shrugged.
Taking a deep breath, the Doctor decided he might as well tell Jack the truth and get it over with, once and for all. "She was a telepath, a very powerful, untrained telepath."
"Really," replied Jack, sounding dubious. "I researched her after what Mickey said. There's no hint of that in any of the histories."
The Doctor rubbed his chin. "Not even she realized it until I read her mind. When I did that she realized what she could do and used the connection to just walk into my mind, past all my defenses."
He remembered that moment, the realization of what had happened. The shock and wonder that had filled him. How she could reestablish that connection by merely holding his hand. It was a oneness, a completeness with her that was incredible. She welcomed his presence in her mind, drawing him in, letting him see everything that was there without guile or embarrassment.
And she saw all of him, the good, the bad, the shame, the guilt, the deepest darkest secrets that he kept hidden, even from himself and she accepted it all, cherished it all, forgiving him nothing for she saw nothing to forgive.
It was a complete merging of their psyches, totally aware of each other and in those moments, those precious moments, what one knew, the other knew, an experience far more powerful than any mere physical sensation could produce. One he had deeply missed and had never thought to feel again. Once it had occurred, it left him helpless to resist, unable to deny her the physical joining she had craved.
He realized that Jack was staring at him and pulled himself out of his ruminations with a shake.
"Sorry," he said, slightly embarrassed at where his mind had taken him. "She never should have been able to do that. I don't know why she could. Maybe all the scans the clockwork droids did while she was growing up changed something in her brain as it developed.
"She had no idea there was anything different about her, before I joined minds with her, she just thought she was perceptive. After that, she kept her talent hidden. A perceptive and insightful courtesan is to be honored, respected. A telepath in any court…"
"Yeah, would be a target for assassination," Jack finished for him. "Good thing she kept it secret, otherwise she could have had a very short life."
"Yes, but I am afraid being with me…" The Doctor took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Part of what I told the Atterian was true, we really can't hold back at that time and I fear I damaged her. She seemed fine at first, but she was sickly after that. By the time she was twenty eight she was a courtesan in name only, for health reasons, at forty two she succumbed to tuberculosis. A healthy adult of her age and class should have been able to throw it off in the primary stage, but instead it killed her. If not for me she may have lived much longer. It's one of those consequences I told you about. I should've had better control."
"Hey, you have far more control than I would have," said Jack. The Doctor stared at him nonplussed. "Sorry that was lame," Jack apologized.
"Very," the Doctor said dryly.
"So, that's it? Since the time war? Nothing else, not even Rose?" asked Jack.
The Doctor stared at him. Shocked at the question. How could Jack ever think he would risk Rose like that, for that? What did he think he was, some kind of animal? Just driven by urges with no thought to the welfare of others? He fought to control himself as he bit back the scathing responses that came to his mind. It was Jack after all and he was just being true to his nature, a nature that only this afternoon he had tried to explain to Ianto.
He grabbed his coat and stood up quickly. Despite the current emotional strain, he was feeling better, the headache almost gone and he could tell the storm was almost upon them.
"You know, I didn't have much for lunch. Any chance we can go for an early supper?" he asked. "I'm absolutely famished." He wasn't hungry, but Jack's tendency to want to feed him provided an excellent opportunity to change the subject.
"Sure, no problem, do you want to go back to the hotel restaurant?" asked Jack as he got up off the bench.
The Doctor considered briefly. That wouldn't do, too great a chance he would run into the Atterian there. He thought for a second and realized exactly the right place to experience the approaching storm. "No, I still have some things I want to check out in that storeroom of yours afterwards. It's far too early to call it a day. How about that restaurant on the pier, the one with glass walls all around. Last time I was there, I really didn't get to enjoy it. Too busy stopping Blon from trying to kill me." The Doctor was speaking rapidly, animated, full of energy, determined to show Jack he was in control, back to his old self.
"Blon?" asked Jack, confused by the sudden change in topic and the Doctor's mood.
"Yes Blon, you remember, Slitheen, mayor of Cardiff. Come on Jack, I expected you to be a bit quicker on the uptake. How could you forget Blon? That rift you have to deal with was cracked open wide because of her. Why it's like… it's like… a physicist not knowing who Newton is."
"Right, Blon. Of course I know who she is," replied Jack nodding his head slowly. "You didn't tell me she tried to kill you."
"Well, not much to tell really. She was quite ineffective in her attempts, but it did distract from the food and the ambiance of the restaurant, if I do say so myself and I have. So, shall we go?" The Doctor didn't wait for a response but instead strode off in the direction of the restaurant, leaving Jack flat footed and hurrying to catch up with him.