Chapter Two
Nestled in his crèche like a giant cog wheel, the Doctor looked at and down and through the workings of the alien ship that had become his world. Buff as his birth day and splayed in place above a massive telepathic relay console in a far less flattering version of Da Vinci's Vetruvian Man, he found himself thinking of fudge brownie recipes as the sodium lights flicked on in that same unnerving blue that reminded a body of an interrogation room from a bad B movie.
The smell of sulphur... ah. It was reminiscent of farm air and rocky ledges and fishing... never had done much fishing with Susan, though he must have promised her. But then, he'd promised her a lot of things. One blink, another, and a tear came rolling sideways across his face, down over his chin as the Wheel turned, the immense Drive Matrix rotating to allow one of the entry doors to open.
He closed his eyes; reached. Softly touching, again he entered the thicker than average protective bubble around Jack Harkness's mind. His whispered touch made the man start, but the Captain was a quick learner who'd had training in this sort of thing.
Up here, Jack. That's it, a little closer and you've got it! Brilliant!
They stared at each other's faces for a while; it was only natural, Jack having walked in behind Yahs, expecting his friend's handsome face only to see the man's gangly form in a shiny silver cocoon of quasi-corporeal orificial plugs and findings high above him, connected to something resembling a cyberpunkesque Catherine Wheel.
Having seen all this, it was thankfully something less of a shock when the Doctor descended from his metallic chrysalis on an undulating wave of psionic pipings, ten tiny cords of silver energy that hooked him to the machine. At least there was a bit of Xja bubbling covering his naughty bits, otherwise Jack would have had a coronary, to say nothing of himself. That would have been a given.
"So, Doctor," started Jack, once he had taken in everything he'd cared to for the moment, "How's it hanging?"
The Doctor's shriek echoed across the Thousand Corridors, the namesake moniker that defined the cylindrical behemoth of the Xja engine core. He was the engine, their only power source. The only thing in the universe keeping the ship from floating off, now.
As his nose and mouth were currently intubated by an artron-conversion feeding plug, he spoke telepathically once more, easing into Jack's mind so carefully. Then again, the experience was always a little like making love to someone special. He knew Jack loved him, horribly, terribly, unflinchingly; had known it and done nothing to soothe the man for far longer than was proper. And here he was, dangling like an erotic butterfly in a psychedelic web.
Suddenly, a word slid along his defenses.
Mmmm. Erotic butterfly, eh? Why Doctor, how very kinky of you.
Their eyes stayed locked for a moment longer; the Lord of Time could feel Jack's mind skirting along his own, searching as well as a human could for signs of strain that would never be visible outside it.
Jack, this is no time for your multi-faceted artistry of the carnal antic. I need you.
The Doctor could almost feel Jack flinch at the word. Need. The man had a soldier's honed instinct, after all, and, if there was anything his massive Time Lord brain wanted very much to forget yet never could quite manage, it was the inevitable, incessant, inconveniently endearing desire of every single Companion he'd ever had to mother him like a brooding hen. He watched with his mind as the iceberg tip of deep caring Jack never bothered to truly mask slid across the man's face at that single word.
Then a soft smile snuck up on him as he studied his friend. The man had understood him perfectly, of course, and was now busying himself with his wrist strap.
"Well, Doctor, you know I love a challenge. Shall I put on the red silk before or after we take dinner? I'm feeling limber... " Jack's eyes locked on the feeding tube, a frown shifting into place across his school-boyish baby blues. But it never reached his lips. He just... sat down on the grates below and lay back, looking up at his own personal blue yonder.
How much time, Doc? How much time did it take for the Time Lord before you to die?
In his mind, the Doctor smiled down at Jack Harkness, once more in awe of the human's ability to look straight through him when it counted. But there were no more moments to spare. He eased toward the floor grates slowly, watching Jack watch him, and soon his last act as the Puppeteer of the engine core was to let go of it all, to drift and hope and place his faith in the one man who could save the Xja from a swift death among the stars.