Work Text:
The Horses of Disaster plunge in the heavy clay:
Beloved, let your eyes half close, and your heart beat
Over my heart, and your hair fall over my breast,
Drowning love's lonely hour in deep twilight of rest,
And hiding their tossing manes and their tumultuous feet.
~~ William Butler Yeats, "He Bids His Beloved Be At Peace"
Darkness. Pain. So hot.
Jack slowly blinks his eyes open and weakly rubs at his throbbing temples. “Damn, what the hell did I do yesterday?” he mumbles.
“You threw yourself into a swarm of Valurian wasps and started waving about like a Frexonic tentacle-beast,” the Doctor’s voice says from his right.
He turns his head and tries to focus on the Time Lord’s face. “What’d I do that for?”
The Doctor injects him with a hypospray and the pain recedes a little. “To prevent them from going after Rose.” His voice is softer now, warm.
Jack takes that in. “Did it work?”
“Yeah.” A cool hand rests briefly on his forehead. “It did.”
He nods. “Well, that’s all right then,” he sighs, and the world goes dark again.
The next time he wakes up, it’s dark in the room. He’s thirsty – so thirsty. Carefully, he tries to sit up, but just lifting his head makes him groan with pain, and a wave of dizziness hits him.
The Doctor appears by his side. “Easy there, lad. Just stay put.”
“Thirsty…” he mumbles, and the Doctor nods. He takes a glass with iced water and a straw from somewhere Jack can’t see, and carefully props his head up to help him drink. Jack has to squeeze his eyes shut against the dizziness.
Sooner than he’d like, his energy is spent and he has to lie down again. But his mouth and throat feel better.
The Doctor puts the glass away and smiles at him. “Now, you just let me know if you want more, yeah? And don’t worry, I’ve got you on a drip with saline an’ some meds.” He indicates an IV line Jack hadn’t noticed before. “So you’re not as dehydrated as you feel.”
Jack nods weakly.
“Insidious little buggers, Valurian wasps. Bio-engineered to defend the planet against strangers.” He looks chagrined. “Thought we were in the 62nd century. These pests weren’t created until the 64th. But we’d landed a little further forward than I’d thought. ‘M sorry, lad.”
Jack remembers what was supposed to be a relaxed day of hiking through beautiful nature turning into a nightmare when Rose stepped too close to a wasps’ nest. He had managed to push her to the ground and attract the animals’ attention by waving around frantically. He thinks he also remembers the Doctor telling Rose to run and then – nothing.
“What happened… blacked out?”
“Once Rose was out of the clearing, I picked you up and ran for it. My body temperature's close to the Valurians', so the wasps didn’t attack me.”
Jack nods. “Thanks.”
“Course.” His hand is squeezed gently. “They got you pretty bad.”
“Antidote?”
The Doctor shakes his head. “What you’re feelin’ now’s not the poison.”
Talking still hurts, so he just raises an eyebrow questioningly.
“Valurians are a clever bunch. Figured that if their wasps just poisoned people, their enemies would have an antidote soon enough. So they made ‘em carry a virus, too – the poison just knocks your immune system for a loop, but it’s the virus that really makes you sick. And since it’s a fast-mutating little bugger, there’s no known cure.”
Jack frowns. “You mean…” He swallows. “This gonna kill me?” He’s proud that his voice, though scratchy, is not shaking.
“No!” The Doctor puts a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. “Sorry. Should have explained better. I’ve got it under control. Can’t cure it, but it’ll run its course. Got you on an antiviral that’ll at least slow it down, some stuff to boost your immune system, some-“
Jack yawns deeply and has to blink to keep his eyes open.
The Doctor squeezes his shoulder. “I’ll explain when you’re better, yeah? Just rest now. Won’t be pleasant for a few days, but you’ll be all right in the end.”
“You sure?”
“Promise.”
Jack’s only been on board a few weeks, but he knows the Doctor doesn’t use this word lightly. He nods. “Okay.”
The Doctor’s worried face is the last thing he sees before he falls asleep.
Rose is lying in bed, unable to sleep. Jack’s sick, and it’s her fault. If she’d paid better attention to where she was going this morning… Or if he’d just let her suffer the consequences of her own mistake… The Doctor's been with him all day – he sent her away because he said Jack might be contagious. It must be pretty serious if the Doctor, with all the advanced medical equipment of the TARDIS, still hasn't got Jack back on his feet.
She sighs and swings her legs out of bed, fishing for her slippers. No point in trying to go to sleep in this mood. She heads to the kitchen.
The Doctor’s standing at the counter, cutting up some herbs. “Hello.” He smiles. “Couldn’t sleep?”
She shakes her head. “How’s Jack? Can I see him now?”
“Asleep, and no, you still can’t. That virus is contagious. Don’t want you catching it. Stay away from him till he’s better, you hear?” He puts the herbs in an infuser and puts that in a mug.
“What about you?”
“Different body chemistry. Not a suitable host for the virus.” He pours boiling water into the mug and sniffs the vapors. “This should help his stomach a little. Poor bloke’s brought up about everything he’s eaten all week. Course, he probably doesn’t remember much of that. Can only stay awake for a few minutes at a time.”
She winces. “I’m so sorry.”
The Doctor looks at her, surprised. Then his eyes shine with understanding and he puts down the mug and comes to stand by her. “Rose – this isn’t your fault.”
“Course it is! If I hadn’t stepped there, or if he hadn’t-“
The Doctor grabs her by the shoulders. “Rose. You didn’t see the nest. None of us did. An’ Jack did what he did ‘cause he’s a good lad, an’ he cares about you. Wouldn’t want you to beat yourself up over it. You can thank him when he’s better.”
She nods, and takes a deep breath to hold back a sniffle. The Doctor needs to focus on Jack now, not her. Looking at the Doctor’s jumper, she asks “You sure he’ll be all right?”
He gently tips her chin up with one hand and squeezes her shoulder with the other. “He’ll be fine – miserable for a few days, as you apes get when you’re sick, then he’ll recover. He’s not in danger, all right?”
She nods. The Doctor wouldn’t say that if he wasn’t certain. “Right.”
He’s still looking at her searchingly. “You want some company?”
“No!” she says quickly. “I’ll be fine. Just want some milk and then I’ll go back to bed. Go. You take care of him.”
He cocks his head, but nods. “If you need me, just come to his room an’ knock on the door, yeah? But don’t come in. I’ll come to you.”
She looks up. “You moved him to his room?”
“Yeah. Nothing I can do for him in the medbay that I can’t do there, an’ I thought he’d be more comfortable.”
She nods. “Good.” A shaky smile. “Tell me if I can do anything, okay? Make tea, sandwiches, do laundry… just anything.”
The Doctor pulls her into a hug. “Yeah. I’ll tell you if you can help. Just try to sleep for now, all right? Don’t want two sick humans on my hands.”
Rose leans into the hug, but then pulls away, smiles, and straightens her shoulders. “Yeah.” She’ll take care of herself so the Doctor can take care of Jack.
Someone is gently squeezing his shoulder. Jack tries to roll away and go back to sleep. He’s so exhausted even that is too much effort.
“Jack? I need you to drink this, lad.”
He whimpers – it’s humiliating, but he can’t stop himself. “Go… tired…”
“I know lad, I know. But this’ll help your stomach settle. You’ll feel better once you can eat somethin’ without throwing up.”
Throwing up? Vague memories of retching into a bowl drift to the surface. A pair of cool hands holding his head. He groans. He’s sure he’d blush if his circulation were stronger.
“C’mon, Jack. I’ll help you.”
Slowly, painfully, he opens his eyes. The Doctor props him up and he starts taking tiny sips. It’s a peculiar mixture of herbs, not all of them familiar, but he trusts the Doctor. Still, after only a few sips, he feels too weak to continue. “Lemme…”
The Doctor’s tone is insistent. “Just a bit more, lad. If you can finish about half the cup, we’ll leave the rest for later, yeah?”
The hand on his back starts rubbing softly, like he’s an animal needing to be gentled. Reluctantly, he drinks some more.
“That’s it. Good lad.”
He closes his eyes and keeps sipping, stoically, mechanically. Keeps sipping until he simply has to lie back down. The Doctor puts the cup away and helps him back onto the pillow.
“Good job. You almost finished it.”
Oh, he feels so awful. Every fiber of his body aches, he’s dizzy and hot and confused and so, so miserable.
And scared. Deep down, cold panic has taken hold of his guts. He’s helpless. Completely helpless. Too weak to run or fight, too muddled for sweet talking, hell, he doesn’t even have the brain power to think clearly. Rationally, he knows that it doesn’t matter – he’s on the TARDIS, with good people, he’ll be all right – but his animal instincts are telling him that there’s nothing – nothing – he can do for himself right now, and reacting with sheer, unadulterated fear. He swallows hard.
The Doctor is looking at him intently, searchingly. Like the Time Lord has seen something in his face that he didn’t expect. Then, with a shrug and a small smile, the Doctor lies down next to Jack, and wriggles under the blanket.
Jack stares, confused. What is the Doctor doing? This is not normal, is it? Not that he’s never dreamed of the Time Lord in his bed, but surely not like this. And Jack’s all sweaty and sick and gross… He blinks, too muddled to put any of this into words.
“Hope you don’t mind,” the Doctor says simply. “Just – been up with you for a long time now. Getting a bit tired myself. Also, trying to keep you warm.”
Somewhere deep in Jack’s jumbled brain a little voice insists that neither of these explanations makes any sense, but he can’t for the life of him remember why. As the Doctor drapes an arm over him with the greatest naturalness in the world, he decides that right now, he doesn’t care, and snuggles into the soft woolly jumper. He’s asleep before he can decide if it smells more of seawind or sandalwood.
The Doctor watches the human fall asleep, burrowing into his jumper, and wraps his arm more tightly around Jack’s shoulders. He’s not tired himself, of course. He barely needs sleep. And he certainly isn’t much use for keeping Jack from feeling chilled – though the TARDIS is taking care of that – since his own body temperature is considerably lower than the human’s. No, he can’t give him any useful amount of body heat – but it was plain in the lad’s eyes earlier that he needed a different kind of warmth.
Makes sense, too. Jack’s spent most of his adult life living on his wits, his physical prowess – in more than one area – and his ability to sweet-talk his way out of all kinds of jams. Stands to reason that not being able to do any of this must be terrifying. And as a Time Agent, Jack would have been inoculated against most known illnesses. He probably hasn’t been sick in a long, long time. The Doctor believes that Jack knows he can trust them, that he’s safe here, but he understands that, on a deeper, instinctual level, this helplessness must be horrible for the lad. And such deep-rooted instincts usually react better to physical reassurance than mere words.
There’s also what he knows of Jack. Ever since he came on board, he’s shown himself to be a tactile creature. Always reacted well to a hand on the shoulder, a pat on the back, even playful smacks. Physical contact is important to Jack, and now that he’s weak and confused he craves it even more than usual.
So the Doctor decided to give him comfort the most direct way he knows. With humans, physical contact goes straight to the reptilian part of their little ape brains, bypassing all filters. He doesn’t mind. He once said he’ll hug anyone, and that’s more or less true. All right, holding someone while they’re sleeping may be more than just a hug, but then Jack’s not just anyone. Not anymore.
Ever since his initial dislike of the bloke turned to respect when the lad stood up to him to defend Rose, the Doctor has been watching him very closely. And he’s liked what he’s seen. Jack is clever, cool in a crisis, able to understand and follow orders – but more than that, he’s good at asking challenging questions, a great storyteller, and simply fun to have around. Jack’s a friend, plain and simple, and the Doctor doesn’t feel any more awkward about giving him physical comfort in his sickness than he felt about holding Rose and letting her cry after he father’s second death. Actually, this is much easier by comparison – and it is sort of flattering that the bloke trusts him this much.
He wonders if Rose is all right. A brief mental command, and the TARDIS confirms that she’s asleep in her room. Good. The Doctor stretches his legs, making Jack shift and mumble in his sleep. He pulls him closer, and Jack fists a hand into his jacket and buries his face between it and the jumper.
The Doctor chuckles. If he’s honest, it’s quite nice to have a warm human cuddling up to him like this. Much as he normally tries to hold himself apart, it doesn’t mean he’s averse to physical closeness. He beds his head on the pillow, his chin resting atop Jack’s head. It’s not like the lad will ever know. He can move if he starts to wake up. And this is really nice. With a smile, the Doctor relaxes and listens to Jack’s deep, regular breaths.
When Jack wakes up the next time, the first thing he notice is wool. Soft wool in his face. And that sound… ba-da-da-dum, ba-da-da-dum… what is… oh!
His eyes open and he draws back. A double heartbeat. The Doctor. He’s snuggled up to the Doctor’s chest like a little child. How embarrassing. The Time Lord must be-
Sleeping. Jack blinks. The Doctor, who he knows barely ever rests, has fallen asleep in his bed, holding him in his arms. And he seems – relaxed. Happy, even. There’s definitely a smile on his lips.
Jack shrugs and grins. Well, who’s he to argue with one of the oldest and most intelligent beings in the universe? He snuggles back into the Doctor’s embrace. The arms tighten around him. He’s just about to go back to sleep when there’s a hitch in the Doctor’s breathing. A quiet voice asks “You awake?”
“Kind of…” he says with a yawn.
The Doctor sounds faintly embarrassed. “Didn’t mean to fall asleep on you.”
“Pity.” Jack looks up at the Time Lord and grins. “This is nice.”
The Doctor’s features harden for a moment, but relax again almost immediately. “Yeah. ‘S nice. But it doesn’t mean-“
“Yeah, I know. You’re just doing it ‘cause I’m miserable. I can take it as the gesture of friendship that it is.” He smiles, but carefully doesn’t add a wink or leer. Yes, he’d gladly go further with the Doctor, but he knows the Time Lord isn’t interested, and this kind of intimacy has its own value. One that’s much harder to come by than simple sex, actually. He won't risk it for an innuendo, no matter how tempted he may be.
The Doctor returns his smile warmly. “Just keeping an eye on my patient, that’s all.” He cups Jack’s neck. “An’ helping my friend sleep better.”
Jack smiles gratefully. “I’m feeling a lot better, actually.”
“Good. But probably won’t last. These things come and go in waves. Just get as much rest as you can for now. Will be a few days yet till you’re really better.”
Jack nods and lays his head back down, unashamedly burrowing back into the Doctor’s jumper. “G’night,” he mumbles as the Doctor’s arms close around him.
“Sleep well,” the Doctor replies, and the last thing Jack feels is the blanket being wrapped more tightly around them both.
Rose is on her way to the library when she runs into the Doctor, who’s heading in the direction of the kitchen. “Doctor! How’s Jack?”
“Still sleepin’ a lot. An’ I need to get some food into him.”
“Need any help?”
The Doctor looks undecided for a moment. “If you would? I’d really like to get back to him as quickly as possible.”
She frowns, worried. “That bad?”
“No, ‘s just…” His voice trails off and he looks away.
“Doctor!” What is it he doesn’t want to tell her?
"'S nothing, really. Just wanna make sure he gets plenty of rest. Think he sleeps better if someone's with him." He shuffles his feet, seeming almost embarrassed.
"Course. Who doesn't?" Rose shakes her head. Blokes and their weird standards for “manliness.” “You get back to him. What’d you need?”
“Well, if you could make us some tea – not too strong, but with plenty of honey – an’ maybe some light sandwiches. Or check if there are any rusks in the cabinets, those’d be good. Oh, and if you could go to the medbay an’ get me some saline packs and a heating pad or two – TARDIS will show you where they are…”
Rose nods. “Tea, light food, saline and heating pads. Anything else?”
“Nah – just bring the lot to his door when you’re done, all right?”
She nods, and is surprised when the Doctor hugs her and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Thanks. I’ll try to get back before he wakes up.” He pats her shoulder and leaves.
Well… that was unusually physically demonstrative, even for him. Rose smiles. The Doctor must be more concerned about Jack than he wants to admit. But he still seems sure that Jack will be okay in the end, and she’s more than willing to do her part. She turns and heads towards the medbay.
Okay. He can… do this. Yeah. Slowly, very slowly. It’s not that far. He-
Jack sways, and just manages to catch himself on the edge of the desk. Fuck. Maybe he should have waited till the Doctor got back. But he woke up really needing the bathroom, and damn it, it’s only a few meters to the en-suite. He’s not that helpless. Just a few more steps and-
He suddenly finds himself sitting on the floor, leaning weakly against the bookshelf. Hell. And just then, the doorknob starts to turn. He sighs and lets his head sag back against the shelf. The Doctor’s going to kill him.
He opens the door and almost stumbles over Jack’s long legs. The lad’s sitting on the floor, white like a sheet. “What the hell…” He cowers down next to him and checks his pulse, feels his forehead. Then he draws down his eyebrows and glowers at Jack. “Just what do you think you’re doing? Are you tryin’ to get sicker?”
Jack’s eyes are puddles of sheer misery, and he doesn’t lift his head away from where it’s leaning against the edge off the shelf at what must be an extremely uncomfortable angle. “Needed… bathroom. Thought I could... Sorry.”
The Doctor sighs, sits down next to Jack, and pulls the lad against him. “Should have waited.”
“Not… child…”
“Yeah – real adult you are, riskin’ yourself like this when you should know better.”
Jack turns his head away in a barely coordinated movement, making the Doctor regret his sharpness immediately. He gently puts a hand under Jack’s chin, turning him back to face him. “Sorry. Shouldn’t have snapped. Just worried about you, yeah?”
Jack nods miserably.
Following a sudden impulse, the Doctor presses a kiss to his forehead. “C’mon now. Let’s get you to the loo.” He stands up, bringing Jack with him, and supports the man into the bathroom. “Right. Give you your privacy, but I’ll be right outside the door. Call if you need help, y’hear?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The Doctor leaves, closing the door behind him.
A few minutes later, he’s supporting Jack back to the bed when the lad quietly says “I’m sorry.”
“’S all right. Just don’t get out of bed by yourself again until you’re better, right?”
“No… I mean…” He sighs, and sits heavily on the edge of the bed. “For everything. You having to waste all this time looking after me…”
The Doctor kneels to be at Jack’s eye level. He grabs his face between his hands – gently, but very firmly. “Now listen, lad, ‘cause I’m only gonna say this once – time spent lookin’ after my companions is never wasted. You’re sick, you need help, an’ I do not mind providin’ it. Could drop you off at New Earth Central Hospital easily enough if I did, pick you up when you’re better.”
“Why don’t you?”
“Because I know I can take care of you better than they can for this. And ‘cause I think you’re happier in your own bed, an’ with people you know.”
Jack drops his gaze. “But it’d be easier for you.”
“Hush.” The Doctor gently pushes Jack down on the mattress and covers him with the blanket. “You’re right where you belong.”
Jack turns on his side, reaching for the Doctor’s hand. “I just… I’d rather you dropped me off and picked me up when I’m better than…”
The Doctor sits on the edge of the bed, looking at Jack earnestly. There’s more to this than just the bloke’s stubbornness and independent streak. “What? You’d rather be dropped off an’ picked up again like a ship in need of an overhaul than what?”
Jack doesn’t meet his gaze. “Than have you decide I’m too much of a bother and have you drop me off somewhere permanently.”
He slaps Jack's arse sharply over the blanket. “Don’t be such a bloody idiot!” He keeps his voice stern. Gentle assurances won’t work here. He’s not sure what happened to the lad, but clearly something in his past has made him believe he’s expendable and not worth keeping if he becomes too much of a bother. That’s utter nonsense of course, and has to be treated as such. “This is your home, long as you want it. You’re not getting’ dropped off or left behind unless you tell me to. Certainly not because you got sick an’ needed carin’ for." Jack must still be pretty rattled to even admit to this. In his state, he'll respond best to directness. "Am I understood?”
Jack looks up at him now, a small smile quirking his lips. “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Good.” He gives Jack a second swat just for good measure. “An’ don’t you forget it.”
There’s a knock on the door.
“That’ll be Rose with the food. Stay put while I go and get it from her.” He glowers, but briefly squeezes Jack’s hip as he gets up. The lad needs a delicate mixture of rough- and gentleness. Lucky for him that the Doctor’s not entirely unfamiliar with this personality type. He grins to himself as he walks to the door.
Rose knocks on the door and waits. She has a little trolley from the medbay with her. The saline packs and heating pads are on the lower surface, and she’s put the food tray on top. The door opens and the Doctor comes out. He looks over the things she brought and smiles at her gratefully. “Fantastic.”
“I found some rusks, but I made some sandwiches as well. An’ there’s some of his favorite digestives, in case he can have those.”
“Good. Should be able to keep some of this down.”
“I… made some chicken soup, too. Is soup still comfort food in the 51st century?”
The Doctor grins. “Well, where Jack comes from, it’s more likely to be choree stew. But I’m sure he’ll enjoy it anyway. Thanks.”
She smiles. “Tell him I said I hope he feels better soon, yeah? An’ let me know if I can get you anything else.”
He nods and pulls the trolley towards the door. “An’ you tell me if there’s anything you need, you hear? Just because you’re not sick doesn’t mean I’m not there for you.”
She smiles at the mixture of strictness and warmth in his voice. “Yeah. But I’m fine, really. TARDIS’s taking care of me.”
The Doctor grins and closes the door behind him. Rose turns and heads towards the library. She has no idea what choree stew is, but she can find out. And with the TARDIS’s help, she can probably find the ingredients to make some. If it might make Jack feel better, it’s worth the effort.
It’s two more days before she finally gets to see Jack again. The Doctor has declared him no longer contagious, though still not fully recovered, and allowed him an outing to the sofa in the den to watch a film with them. She meets them there, and smiles at Jack shyly. “Hi.”
“Hey, gorgeous,” he says with a wide grin. “Thank you so much for the choree stew! It was great.” Dropping his voice conspiratorially, he adds “Honestly, I’m pretty sure that was what cured me, not all the poking and pills from the Doctor.”
The Time Lord growls at that, but can’t hide a grin. “Superstitious apes and their belief in miracle cures over good, solid science.” He ruffles Jack’s hair affectionately.
Rose looks at Jack earnestly. “Jack – I’m really sorry about the wasps.”
His forehead creases. “Why? Wasn’t your fault.”
“’Course it was!” At an admonishing glance from the Doctor, she adds. “Well, anyway, I wanted to say… Thank you. For saving me. No matter whose fault it was.”
He pulls her into his arms and hugs her tightly. “Anytime, Rose. For you, anytime.”
The Doctor has already seated himself smack in the middle of the humongous sofa. He pats the cushion next to him. “Jack, sit down before you fall down. Literally.”
“I’m not that weak anymore!” Jack protests, but obediently sits. Then, apparently without thought, he leans against the Doctor and puts his head on his shoulder. Rose throws the Time Lord a startled glance; he just raises an eyebrow. But Jack catches her glance, too, and suddenly bolts upright again. “God, I’m sorry. Wasn’t even thinking. Just got so used… sorry.” He’s looking at the Doctor, eyes wide.
The Doctor shrugs. “Nothing wrong with a bit of a cuddle.” He puts an arm around Jack and pulls him back against his shoulder. “Is there, Rose?” With a grin, he extends his other arm towards her.
Rose grins back. If the blokes aren’t going to be all macho and pretend touching is for sissies, she sure as hell isn’t. Besides, the two of them look just too sweet like this. “Nothin’ that I can see,” she says, and sits on the Doctor’s other side, snuggling against him unhesitatingly. His arm wraps around her waist and he squeezes her close. She puts an arm around his shoulders and rests her hand on Jack's, rubbing gently.
“Can’t see anything wrong with this, either,” Jack says with a chuckle. As the first images of the film flicker across the screen, Rose looks over to him and notices an unfamiliar soft expression on his face. “Nope. Nothing at all…”