Chapter Text
Jack turned to look back at the Hub. “back to work,” he murmured, his shoulders drooping as he let out a deep breath.
“You…”
The sound of the Doctor’s voice surprised him and he turned to face him. “What?”
He swallowed. Jack could see the exhaustion on his face, in the way he leant against the railing. He needs to rest, he thought. They all did. “Martha’s not coming with me,” the Doctor explained. “Good for her, really,” he said, his voice rising as a weak smile tugged at his lips. “I love her, just…”
“Not the way she wants you to,” he offered. The Doctor nodded.
“Yeah.” He stared out at the ocean and Jack almost looked to see if there was something interesting over there before he saw the glint of tears in the Doctor’s eyes. “I didn’t treat her right,” he breathed. “Not at all. It’s for the best that we go our separate ways.”
There was something he wasn’t saying. Jack said so, and the Doctor’s slight smile faded and the look in his eyes turned from remorse to hope. "You… you could come with me? If you wanted. I understand if you don’t.”
He stared. If there was anything he’d expected him to say, it sure as hell wasn’t that. He was wrong, the Doctor had said so himself. But Jack couldn’t lie to himself. Travelling again with the Doctor, the person he’d never really stopped loving, was everything he’d wanted for a hundred and fifty years. But this was a new Doctor.
There were some events that made it easy to judge a person’s character, and while being held prisoner for a year with them was one, it wasn’t the right one. He didn’t know anything about the new Doctor, how he acted, how he took his tea, or if he even wanted Jack to come with him. He could just be asking to be polite.
“Let’s get lunch,” he suggested. “Give me some time to think?”
The Doctor nodded. “Lunch. Of course, sounds good. Got anywhere in mind?” he asked.
“Yeah.” There was a cafe ten minutes away that served good food. He’d eaten there quite a few times over the years. “Follow me.”
It was a lovely day in Cardiff, he couldn’t deny it. But there were too many people. Too many shadows. Too many voices that sounded a hair too much like his. He didn’t notice that he’d stopped until a gentle hand touched his shoulder. Jack went stiff and fought not to flinch. He’d never liked it if Jack flinched.
The voice was familiar, though. Familiar and jarring at the same time. But it was telling him to breathe, and he instinctively obeyed. Wait. He’d stopped breathing?
Slowly but surely Jack got his breath back. He opened his eyes and the Doctor smiled at him, his hands hovering just above his arms. “Are you back?” he asked gently.
He nodded, not quite trusting his voice. After a moment he said, “c’mon. It’s just up here.” He started off towards the cafe and heard the Doctor following. Jack was watching everything as they walked down the road, but nothing happened. Of course nothing happened. There’s nothing wrong. It’s just Cardiff on a sunny day.
The Doctor was eyeing him with concern and he looked away, feeling more than a little sick. He didn’t want the Doctor’s concern – no, he did – the Year was the Doctor’s fault – no, it wasn’t – he, he– he didn’t know what to do.
He didn’t know the Doctor anymore.
—
“Erm, two bacon sandwiches, one black coffee, a black tea.” Hopefully the Doctor would eat the sandwich. During the Year, well, Jack hadn’t been well fed and he assumed the Doctor hadn’t either. The fact he looked like a bag of bones didn’t help matters.
The woman behind the counter jotted his order down. “Sure thing, it’ll be ready in a few,” she said, looking more than a little bored. The sight unsettled him.
“Thanks,” Jack murmured and quickly went back to his and the Doctor’s table. The Doctor was staring out the window, his expression blank. He watched for a moment and couldn’t help but see the stiff way he held himself. It went beyond being uncomfortable with his presence, but at the same time, this wasn’t his Doctor. He couldn’t just demand to be told what was wrong.
Only when a waiter came by and gave them their drinks and food did Jack lay a gentle hand on his shoulder and say, “Doc? Food’s here.”
The Doctor froze under his touch, but quickly shook himself and turned away from the window. “Food? Oh, right. Thank you,” he said with a small, fragile smile. Jack hated it.
He didn’t even bother to let his coffee cool before he took a sip. It was burning hot and he shivered, suddenly colder. Mind, this coffee was nowhere near as good as Ianto’s, but he hadn’t had coffee in a year.
He was allowed to have lower standards for once.
Jack looked at the Doctor, who was still staring at his tea and sandwich. “Not hungry?” he asked, and looked at his own. The thought of food turned his stomach.
“No.” He wrapped his hands around his cup of tea, though, and seemed to like the heat. Some of the tension wound out of his shoulders. However, his stiff posture didn’t ease. Jack ran over possibilities in his head when the Doctor shifted and winced.
He’s in pain.
Of course, really. Whatever he had done to him it can’t have been pretty, and the Doctor didn’t heal as quickly as he did. Jack was fortunate he didn’t have any lingering injuries. Eventually he stopped examining the Doctor and tried to nibble on his sandwich, but every bite made him feel sick.
Jack stood, almost slamming his chair when he pushed it in. A waiter came over and asked if he was alright.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his coat – his coat, he had his coat back, intact and clean – and put more money than their meal probably cost on the table. He couldn’t bring himself to care. Without another look he walked out of the restaurant. Once he was outside he leant against a wall and looked around. It was an unfairly nice day for how horrible he felt. All sunny. There were people walking around, taking photos and laughing. Taking advantage of the nice day before Cardiff was inevitably cast into rain.
“You know,” a familiar English voice said from somewhere behind him, “if you wanted to leave you could’ve said. There wasn’t any need to be rude about it.”
Something akin to a chuckle bubbled up from his throat. “Didn’t mean to be rude,” he said, turning to face the Doctor. “I needed to get out.” He finished the sentence with a small, remorseful smile.
“Makes sense,” he replied, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I was going to head back to the TARDIS, erm… are you coming?”
Did he want to come? His first answer was yes, of course, but that was from the side of him who would – and did – follow the Doctor anywhere, even to certain death. Another side of him wanted to guard his heart because he knew the Doctor would break it.
Most of all, however, he wanted to be back with the person he loved.
“I could never say no to you, huh?” he said, flashing a grin. The Doctor chuckled – he loved the sound of it already – and reached out, his fingers inches away from Jack’s. He couldn’t bring himself to close that distance, not now, not yet, but he met the Doctor’s eyes and nodded. Together they walked towards the TARDIS.
Maybe this was their second chance.