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beccaelizabethThat thing I wrote today? I decided to post it.
No beta. Not finished. May very well not be finished. First draft. Just a daft idea I had a while back that I'm attempting to make fit in between canon.
Also Jack thinks the guy is another guy and that really messes up the consent issues rather. Or would if I actually wrote the sex, which I haven't, because now the idea is looking less fun.
If that isn't enough warnings to put off all my potential readers I don't know what would be.
Starts with the end of Torchwood 1-13 and mentions a lot of Doctor Who.
Summary: The TARDIS arrives for Jack, but who's driving?
***
“What visions would have convinced you to open the Rift?”
“The right kind of Doctor.”
He got up and walked away.
“Jack…”
“Where are they with those coffees?” He adjusted his coat, ready to head out after them if need be, but then he heard the beep.
That lone noise he’d almost given up on.
The hand glowed in it’s jar, pulsing, fading away. Jack rushed to it, almost not daring to hope. But then there was the noise. That unforgettable noise. The wind swept through the hub, scattering papers, and Jack grinned in utter joy as he grabbed the Doctor detector…
… and the console room faded in around him.
Sparks flying, smoke pouring out the console, obscuring the figure beyond.
“Doctor!” Jack stepped forward, jar in hand.
“No!” An unfamiliar voice almost yelped from beyond the smoke.
The TARDIS lurched, the central column pulsing once again, shaking the whole place like a snowglobe. Jack was thrown back against the doors. The other figure hung on to the console, just, as the TARDIS screeched with more than usual ferocity. Then they juddered to a halt once again, and the other man darted around to pull the lever the Doctor casually called the handbrake.
With an odd little moan, the TARDIS stopped.
The man slumped against the controls, and for a long moment all was still.
Then a final gout of sparks flew out, almost frying the man. He fell back with a yell.
Jack leapt up and headed for the fire extinguishers. One was lying on its side, emptied, but the other was still fully charged. He grabbed it and dashed over to the console, spraying clouds around liberally, just making sure both man and TARDIS were safe.
When the clouds cleared, he got his first good look at the other man.
“Harold Saxon?”
He coughed, waved fire suppressant out of his face, said, “No, you fool. At least… not yet.” He lurched to his feet, stumbled back to the console, and checked the spacetime coordinates. “21st century… Cardiff… Refuel, then…” he frowned, flicked a few more switches, then scowled darkly.
“Then who…” Jack blinked, then checked his wristcomp. Time and space travel might be burned out, but the scanning functions saved him daily. What they showed him now…
The other man looked up at him and grinned, an odd gleam in his eye. “Who? Who travels in a TARDIS shaped like a police box?”
“…has two hearts…” Jack looked up, “…And sets off my Doctor detector.” He turned and waved at the canister lying over by the door. He didn’t notice the other man kick that very same container further under the console. He just turned back with a grin of absolute joy. “Doctor! You’ve regenerated!”
“This very minute. You’ll have to tell me what I look like.”
“Gorgeous as ever!” Jack stepped forward and swept the man into a hug.
A moment’s stiff hesitation, just long enough for Jack to doubt, then he was hugged just as hard in return, and everything was right with the world.
The Doctor pulled away first. Jack kept hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes. They’d changed – a lot – but somewhere in them there was still that feeling of age and power and worlds burning. The sorrow was gone, which would have made Jack glad, but for a moment there was such darkness he worried about what had replaced it.
“Doctor… what happened?”
He started to laugh.
Not the open, joyous, laughter you could surprise out of him now and then. Another sort, somewhere between bitter and shocked, just a bit out of control.
“Is everything… are you alright?”
And now the laugh became just a touch hysterical.
Jack held on tighter, wondered what he’d gone through, to do this…
The laughter stopped, turned in an instant to a snarl, as the other man pressed hands to head and curled over, knees buckling.
“I’ve got you! It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Jack caught him, turned a fall into a slide, knelt down beside him on the floor.
“Will it never stop?” the man choked out. Hands turned to fists, still pressing inward, nails digging in… then he stopped. Blinked. Looked up into Jack’s eyes, for a moment just so completely lost…
“I’m here, Doctor.”
The man blinked again, and the shutters went up. He turned away.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” What was so wrong it could do this to the strongest man he knew?
Jack thought of casualty lists, of Daleks in the skies of London, and he had a terrible feeling he already had the answer.
The Time Lord was shaking, scratched and scorched. He stared past Jack at the wrecked console and seemed a million miles away.
“Are you injured? Do you need anything? Medical help? I could get my team, we have a doctor…”
“Your team aren’t here. Won’t be here, for a year at least.” He grinned oddly. “When a TARDIS crashes, the effects can be… odd.”
Jack checked his computer again, but as usual the spacetime coordinates simply wouldn’t register in here. He stood and tried to read them off the console.
“Christmas… That Christmas. Right now two billion people are standing on the roof.” Jack grinned bitterly. “I’m one of them. Not my most useful day. You’re about to fight the Sycorax over London. There’s two of that hand.” Jack nodded over at it, then went to pick it up.
“And oh the possibilities… the practical jokes alone! Who needs a hand buzzer?”
“When the kick from this could destroy England… or maybe Earth.” Jack grinned. “Better hop us forward again. Remove the temptation.”
The scowl returned. He turned to check the readings, moved around a bit and kicked the console, hard. Then he said a word Jack had never heard from him. One of the ones the TARDIS refused to translate.
“What?”
“How are you at living with temptation?”
“Terrible. It’s so much more fun to give in.” Jack quipped automatically, but his Time Agency trained mind was already racing. “…We’re not hopping, are we?”
“No, we are not. No hops, skips, or jumps. No handy little detours. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space…” He flicked some switches, got a sad little moan and a dimming in the central column. “Locked out.” His hands were fists again, pushing down.
“Hell. Of all the years…”
The Time Lord’s eyes closed, and he sagged. Then his face crumpled again, fists flying upwards.
Jack was at his side again before he dropped, this time, getting one arm securely around his waist. The other he held out to keep the hand in a jar far, far away. Sure, the Blinovitch limitation effect might not apply with just a section of a man, but…
“We need to get this somewhere safe. And we need to get you patched up. What happened? A couple of scrapes never did this.”
“Regeneration. Total physical replenishment… at a price. The process can be… difficult.” He straightened again, started heading further in to the TARDIS.
“I read the files. You’re not unconscious, so that’s good. The other you, the one up there, he might still be.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“We’d sense each other… I can hear him, just, underneath the… I can hear everything. Damn it, Doctor, where’s your zero room? Don’t tell me you didn’t grow a new one…”
“Zero room? You never showed me that one.”
“You wouldn’t need it. Telepaths, new brains… the sound of the universe, overwhelming… We must find it. Further in. It’s always further in.”
“Okay… I’ll just…” Jack chose a door at random, found an empty store room. He put the jar of hand in a corner, then patted his pockets for something to mark the place. He found a tie. Not his. A deep red… Ianto. For a moment thoughts of his team overwhelmed him. What they’d be doing right now, what they still had to go through…
Down the corridor there was a thud and moan, a little choked back noise of pain. The Doctor needed him. Jack looped the tie around the handle and ran to catch up.
The zero room was so far in to the depths of the TARDIS there were odd dimensional effects. They’d found it fairly quickly, though barely quick enough judging by the state of him. He’d been speaking in snatches, disconnected, babbling about sea devils and, scaring them both, daleks. Corridors had gone from gold to grey, and then were patched with gold again. The room itself was swirled, grey gold and just a tint of red. The other man called it rose, without a hint or hitch in his voice, then looked blank when Jack looked at him strangely. Jack remembered old reports, and wondered about amnesia. Something was definitely wrong. Moods swept over him like clouds, and just as he stood in the door he dropped once again with hands over his ears.
“What? What is it?”
“The drums!” He gasped, then dropped his hands and pulled himself inside. “Zero room… zero closet! Must be new grown…”
“It’s empty…”
“Yes! Empty and quiet. Stay there, Captain. Stay. Don’t open these doors for anything. Not before I left. You hear me? Not for anything.”
And with that he closed the doors in his face, and left him in the corridor alone.
Jack had a lot of time to think, then. He knew the TARDIS was gone by the time he got to the Powell estate, remembered that day clearly. The bitter, empty, hopeless feeling as he missed his first chance since the Cardiff earthquake. The Doctor in the thick of things once again, and Jack standing there useless, or stuck in traffic. Not a good day.
And now he got to live it over again. Stay, he’d said. Don’t take your second chance, don’t see if you caught up after all… so this was later, and he knew he hadn’t.
There was a lot Jack knew had never happened that year. He hadn’t told himself about the glove, for starters. Hadn’t saved a dozen people just by putting that hand somewhere an alien couldn’t hold it hostage. Hadn’t told Ianto not to go in to work that day… Although, come to think, he never had heard how Ianto came to be among the survivors. Maybe there was some room there.
And maybe there wasn’t. And maybe he’d rip the world apart just to save a little pain.
Of all the years to have to live over again, why did it have to be this one? To know what was coming and just sit here… Bad enough when it was just the broad strokes. Now he knew names. And faces. And how it all felt.
And he’d thought it was hell just to know about Jack. How many heroes would be dying this year?
With an effort of will Jack pulled together old training, hard habits time travel demanded, and built a box for all that future-past. When he was done he felt like he’d put half his heart in it. More than half. But it was the only way.
Then he looked up at the door across from him, and found himself smiling after all. Because there was the other half of his heart, packed up for more than a century, and finally, finally, that part could be free.
The long wait was over. He’d found the Doctor again.
His wrist computer was the only one now… the only one after the Tower fell… that held the files Torchwood accumulated on the Doctor. While he waited, Jack added a note, all the details on this latest encounter. He paid particular attention to anything that could be a symptom. Not that they’d ever had much to go on by way of treatments for the Doctor, but just in case he had to try… He remembered the two most recent cases. The one going on outside right then, that the Prime Minister had told Torchwood about when she got back. Pyjamas and tea… and neural implosion. He glanced up at the door and wished there was a window in it. Or better yet, that he was inside with him. Sure, it would be a tight squeeze, but he could work with that.
Jack grinned to himself and let his mind wander just a little… then grimaced and went back to worrying.
What if there was amnesia? He’d debriefed that surgeon in the US himself. A wistful little smirk, there and gone again – she was gorgeous, but still all in a whirl about the Doctor, and Jack just wasn’t quite that much of a masochist that he’d invite comparison. Not that she’d known him long, or much – mostly she’d been waiting for him to get his memory back.
What if he forgot?
Jack flipped his comp closed with a snort. “Because that would really screw your life up, right? Your answers gone… That would be the important part.”
So he was a selfish jerk. What else was new?
He’d been looking for the Doctor for a hundred and fifty years, chasing every trace of the TARDIS that ever got recorded…
… Which reminded him. Cardiff? 21st century? Sure, he was distracted today, but… he really needed to know where they’d parked.
He got up, and went to take care of the details.
Two days later – half a day longer than strictly necessary, he thought, but better be sure – he stood outside the zero room once again, with a thermos of tea and a box full of sandwiches. He bit his lip for just a moment, then he raised his hand and knocked.
After a minute, he tried the handle.
The door swung open easily.
Inside, the almost familiar man hung suspended in mid air, floating on nothing. He was at a crazy angle, not upright but with no room to lie right back. And for just a moment he looked utterly serene.
Then he came back to earth with a bump. He jerked his head up when he started falling, so his shoulders hit the wall and slithered, but he ended in an ungainly heap at Jack’s feet.
Jack winced. “Sorry. I just…” He held out the food vaguely. The Time Lord glared up at him. Jack put it down and ducked out again. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and started to pull the door closed.
“Wait!” He held up a hand imperiously.
Jack paused.
“It’s over now? The… other Doctor, he’s gone?”
“Long gone. It should be quiet now for a while.”
He nodded once, closed his eyes and rearranged himself to a more meditative seat, then breathed deep. Slow, even breaths. His left hand started to tap out a rhythm, and his breaths synchronized with it.
“I’ll… go wait some more then,” Jack said, trying not to sound bitter. Or worried. The Doctor could take care of himself. Always had.
Jack hesitated still, the door still open.
The Time Lord opened his eyes and looked up at him, breaking into a grin so wide it was almost familiar. “Stay. Sit. We have much to discuss. Plans to make. And apparently a packed lunch to enjoy. Wonderful.” Enthusiasm, with just a trace of sarcasm. He was sounding more his old self by the minute.
Jack grinned and sat down with him.
No beta. Not finished. May very well not be finished. First draft. Just a daft idea I had a while back that I'm attempting to make fit in between canon.
Also Jack thinks the guy is another guy and that really messes up the consent issues rather. Or would if I actually wrote the sex, which I haven't, because now the idea is looking less fun.
If that isn't enough warnings to put off all my potential readers I don't know what would be.
Starts with the end of Torchwood 1-13 and mentions a lot of Doctor Who.
Summary: The TARDIS arrives for Jack, but who's driving?
***
“What visions would have convinced you to open the Rift?”
“The right kind of Doctor.”
He got up and walked away.
“Jack…”
“Where are they with those coffees?” He adjusted his coat, ready to head out after them if need be, but then he heard the beep.
That lone noise he’d almost given up on.
The hand glowed in it’s jar, pulsing, fading away. Jack rushed to it, almost not daring to hope. But then there was the noise. That unforgettable noise. The wind swept through the hub, scattering papers, and Jack grinned in utter joy as he grabbed the Doctor detector…
… and the console room faded in around him.
Sparks flying, smoke pouring out the console, obscuring the figure beyond.
“Doctor!” Jack stepped forward, jar in hand.
“No!” An unfamiliar voice almost yelped from beyond the smoke.
The TARDIS lurched, the central column pulsing once again, shaking the whole place like a snowglobe. Jack was thrown back against the doors. The other figure hung on to the console, just, as the TARDIS screeched with more than usual ferocity. Then they juddered to a halt once again, and the other man darted around to pull the lever the Doctor casually called the handbrake.
With an odd little moan, the TARDIS stopped.
The man slumped against the controls, and for a long moment all was still.
Then a final gout of sparks flew out, almost frying the man. He fell back with a yell.
Jack leapt up and headed for the fire extinguishers. One was lying on its side, emptied, but the other was still fully charged. He grabbed it and dashed over to the console, spraying clouds around liberally, just making sure both man and TARDIS were safe.
When the clouds cleared, he got his first good look at the other man.
“Harold Saxon?”
He coughed, waved fire suppressant out of his face, said, “No, you fool. At least… not yet.” He lurched to his feet, stumbled back to the console, and checked the spacetime coordinates. “21st century… Cardiff… Refuel, then…” he frowned, flicked a few more switches, then scowled darkly.
“Then who…” Jack blinked, then checked his wristcomp. Time and space travel might be burned out, but the scanning functions saved him daily. What they showed him now…
The other man looked up at him and grinned, an odd gleam in his eye. “Who? Who travels in a TARDIS shaped like a police box?”
“…has two hearts…” Jack looked up, “…And sets off my Doctor detector.” He turned and waved at the canister lying over by the door. He didn’t notice the other man kick that very same container further under the console. He just turned back with a grin of absolute joy. “Doctor! You’ve regenerated!”
“This very minute. You’ll have to tell me what I look like.”
“Gorgeous as ever!” Jack stepped forward and swept the man into a hug.
A moment’s stiff hesitation, just long enough for Jack to doubt, then he was hugged just as hard in return, and everything was right with the world.
The Doctor pulled away first. Jack kept hands on his shoulders, looked into his eyes. They’d changed – a lot – but somewhere in them there was still that feeling of age and power and worlds burning. The sorrow was gone, which would have made Jack glad, but for a moment there was such darkness he worried about what had replaced it.
“Doctor… what happened?”
He started to laugh.
Not the open, joyous, laughter you could surprise out of him now and then. Another sort, somewhere between bitter and shocked, just a bit out of control.
“Is everything… are you alright?”
And now the laugh became just a touch hysterical.
Jack held on tighter, wondered what he’d gone through, to do this…
The laughter stopped, turned in an instant to a snarl, as the other man pressed hands to head and curled over, knees buckling.
“I’ve got you! It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Jack caught him, turned a fall into a slide, knelt down beside him on the floor.
“Will it never stop?” the man choked out. Hands turned to fists, still pressing inward, nails digging in… then he stopped. Blinked. Looked up into Jack’s eyes, for a moment just so completely lost…
“I’m here, Doctor.”
The man blinked again, and the shutters went up. He turned away.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” What was so wrong it could do this to the strongest man he knew?
Jack thought of casualty lists, of Daleks in the skies of London, and he had a terrible feeling he already had the answer.
The Time Lord was shaking, scratched and scorched. He stared past Jack at the wrecked console and seemed a million miles away.
“Are you injured? Do you need anything? Medical help? I could get my team, we have a doctor…”
“Your team aren’t here. Won’t be here, for a year at least.” He grinned oddly. “When a TARDIS crashes, the effects can be… odd.”
Jack checked his computer again, but as usual the spacetime coordinates simply wouldn’t register in here. He stood and tried to read them off the console.
“Christmas… That Christmas. Right now two billion people are standing on the roof.” Jack grinned bitterly. “I’m one of them. Not my most useful day. You’re about to fight the Sycorax over London. There’s two of that hand.” Jack nodded over at it, then went to pick it up.
“And oh the possibilities… the practical jokes alone! Who needs a hand buzzer?”
“When the kick from this could destroy England… or maybe Earth.” Jack grinned. “Better hop us forward again. Remove the temptation.”
The scowl returned. He turned to check the readings, moved around a bit and kicked the console, hard. Then he said a word Jack had never heard from him. One of the ones the TARDIS refused to translate.
“What?”
“How are you at living with temptation?”
“Terrible. It’s so much more fun to give in.” Jack quipped automatically, but his Time Agency trained mind was already racing. “…We’re not hopping, are we?”
“No, we are not. No hops, skips, or jumps. No handy little detours. Time and Relative Dimensions in Space…” He flicked some switches, got a sad little moan and a dimming in the central column. “Locked out.” His hands were fists again, pushing down.
“Hell. Of all the years…”
The Time Lord’s eyes closed, and he sagged. Then his face crumpled again, fists flying upwards.
Jack was at his side again before he dropped, this time, getting one arm securely around his waist. The other he held out to keep the hand in a jar far, far away. Sure, the Blinovitch limitation effect might not apply with just a section of a man, but…
“We need to get this somewhere safe. And we need to get you patched up. What happened? A couple of scrapes never did this.”
“Regeneration. Total physical replenishment… at a price. The process can be… difficult.” He straightened again, started heading further in to the TARDIS.
“I read the files. You’re not unconscious, so that’s good. The other you, the one up there, he might still be.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“We’d sense each other… I can hear him, just, underneath the… I can hear everything. Damn it, Doctor, where’s your zero room? Don’t tell me you didn’t grow a new one…”
“Zero room? You never showed me that one.”
“You wouldn’t need it. Telepaths, new brains… the sound of the universe, overwhelming… We must find it. Further in. It’s always further in.”
“Okay… I’ll just…” Jack chose a door at random, found an empty store room. He put the jar of hand in a corner, then patted his pockets for something to mark the place. He found a tie. Not his. A deep red… Ianto. For a moment thoughts of his team overwhelmed him. What they’d be doing right now, what they still had to go through…
Down the corridor there was a thud and moan, a little choked back noise of pain. The Doctor needed him. Jack looped the tie around the handle and ran to catch up.
The zero room was so far in to the depths of the TARDIS there were odd dimensional effects. They’d found it fairly quickly, though barely quick enough judging by the state of him. He’d been speaking in snatches, disconnected, babbling about sea devils and, scaring them both, daleks. Corridors had gone from gold to grey, and then were patched with gold again. The room itself was swirled, grey gold and just a tint of red. The other man called it rose, without a hint or hitch in his voice, then looked blank when Jack looked at him strangely. Jack remembered old reports, and wondered about amnesia. Something was definitely wrong. Moods swept over him like clouds, and just as he stood in the door he dropped once again with hands over his ears.
“What? What is it?”
“The drums!” He gasped, then dropped his hands and pulled himself inside. “Zero room… zero closet! Must be new grown…”
“It’s empty…”
“Yes! Empty and quiet. Stay there, Captain. Stay. Don’t open these doors for anything. Not before I left. You hear me? Not for anything.”
And with that he closed the doors in his face, and left him in the corridor alone.
Jack had a lot of time to think, then. He knew the TARDIS was gone by the time he got to the Powell estate, remembered that day clearly. The bitter, empty, hopeless feeling as he missed his first chance since the Cardiff earthquake. The Doctor in the thick of things once again, and Jack standing there useless, or stuck in traffic. Not a good day.
And now he got to live it over again. Stay, he’d said. Don’t take your second chance, don’t see if you caught up after all… so this was later, and he knew he hadn’t.
There was a lot Jack knew had never happened that year. He hadn’t told himself about the glove, for starters. Hadn’t saved a dozen people just by putting that hand somewhere an alien couldn’t hold it hostage. Hadn’t told Ianto not to go in to work that day… Although, come to think, he never had heard how Ianto came to be among the survivors. Maybe there was some room there.
And maybe there wasn’t. And maybe he’d rip the world apart just to save a little pain.
Of all the years to have to live over again, why did it have to be this one? To know what was coming and just sit here… Bad enough when it was just the broad strokes. Now he knew names. And faces. And how it all felt.
And he’d thought it was hell just to know about Jack. How many heroes would be dying this year?
With an effort of will Jack pulled together old training, hard habits time travel demanded, and built a box for all that future-past. When he was done he felt like he’d put half his heart in it. More than half. But it was the only way.
Then he looked up at the door across from him, and found himself smiling after all. Because there was the other half of his heart, packed up for more than a century, and finally, finally, that part could be free.
The long wait was over. He’d found the Doctor again.
His wrist computer was the only one now… the only one after the Tower fell… that held the files Torchwood accumulated on the Doctor. While he waited, Jack added a note, all the details on this latest encounter. He paid particular attention to anything that could be a symptom. Not that they’d ever had much to go on by way of treatments for the Doctor, but just in case he had to try… He remembered the two most recent cases. The one going on outside right then, that the Prime Minister had told Torchwood about when she got back. Pyjamas and tea… and neural implosion. He glanced up at the door and wished there was a window in it. Or better yet, that he was inside with him. Sure, it would be a tight squeeze, but he could work with that.
Jack grinned to himself and let his mind wander just a little… then grimaced and went back to worrying.
What if there was amnesia? He’d debriefed that surgeon in the US himself. A wistful little smirk, there and gone again – she was gorgeous, but still all in a whirl about the Doctor, and Jack just wasn’t quite that much of a masochist that he’d invite comparison. Not that she’d known him long, or much – mostly she’d been waiting for him to get his memory back.
What if he forgot?
Jack flipped his comp closed with a snort. “Because that would really screw your life up, right? Your answers gone… That would be the important part.”
So he was a selfish jerk. What else was new?
He’d been looking for the Doctor for a hundred and fifty years, chasing every trace of the TARDIS that ever got recorded…
… Which reminded him. Cardiff? 21st century? Sure, he was distracted today, but… he really needed to know where they’d parked.
He got up, and went to take care of the details.
Two days later – half a day longer than strictly necessary, he thought, but better be sure – he stood outside the zero room once again, with a thermos of tea and a box full of sandwiches. He bit his lip for just a moment, then he raised his hand and knocked.
After a minute, he tried the handle.
The door swung open easily.
Inside, the almost familiar man hung suspended in mid air, floating on nothing. He was at a crazy angle, not upright but with no room to lie right back. And for just a moment he looked utterly serene.
Then he came back to earth with a bump. He jerked his head up when he started falling, so his shoulders hit the wall and slithered, but he ended in an ungainly heap at Jack’s feet.
Jack winced. “Sorry. I just…” He held out the food vaguely. The Time Lord glared up at him. Jack put it down and ducked out again. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and started to pull the door closed.
“Wait!” He held up a hand imperiously.
Jack paused.
“It’s over now? The… other Doctor, he’s gone?”
“Long gone. It should be quiet now for a while.”
He nodded once, closed his eyes and rearranged himself to a more meditative seat, then breathed deep. Slow, even breaths. His left hand started to tap out a rhythm, and his breaths synchronized with it.
“I’ll… go wait some more then,” Jack said, trying not to sound bitter. Or worried. The Doctor could take care of himself. Always had.
Jack hesitated still, the door still open.
The Time Lord opened his eyes and looked up at him, breaking into a grin so wide it was almost familiar. “Stay. Sit. We have much to discuss. Plans to make. And apparently a packed lunch to enjoy. Wonderful.” Enthusiasm, with just a trace of sarcasm. He was sounding more his old self by the minute.
Jack grinned and sat down with him.
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no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 01:40 am (UTC)I'll cheerfully read more of it.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 11:35 am (UTC)Plus the Doctor ended up introducing himself as "Time Lord, last of" so Jack has reason to believe he's unique (though I don't know precisely what he told Jack before Utopia), therefore identifying by species would be adequate.
End of season 1 we see Jack use his wrist thingy to find the Doctor, "Two hearts, that's him" or similar. Utopia when the Doctor asks how he knew it was him Jack said the TARDIS was a giveaway. And the Doctor detector would presumably detect hand-of-Doctor as well. So that's all his checks false positived. And then there's the thing where the Master overheard the conversation with the Doctor with all that background data in. Plus if there's anyone who knows the Doctor well enough to fake it, that would be the Master. Plus he's well known for liking fake identities.
So the setup is fun.
And then can be used to point out how very similar the two Time Lords are in many respects, especially now. And how there's sides of Jack that would actually get on *better* with the Master. Military tech toys and Torchwood solutions - they fit uncomfortably well.
no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 05:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 06:05 pm (UTC)so... sure, if you're going to say nice things ;-)
no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 09:18 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 06:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-07-10 06:29 pm (UTC)