Title: Head First
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Table: 12
Prompt: 27, Revolution
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

***

"Jack, you must be out of your mind!" The Doctor turned to him, dark eyes wide with consternation. "I can't go out there! I'll be torn into pieces -- or at the very least lose my head! I knew it was a mistake to come here."

The immortal pulled back the curtains, peering out of the window at the crowd. They did indeed look as though they'd gone from mere anger to outright blood lust just within the last few minutes. And the Doctor was right, he couldn't expose himself to them.

It had been his idea to come here; the Doctor had grumbled about it, saying that he'd seen this era of Revolutionary France before and had no desire to go back to it. But Jack had cajoled him until he'd given in -- with disastrous results.

And he really have convinced the Doctor to wear those clothes, he berated himself. He looked far too much like an aristocrat in them.

He himself was wearing similar clothes, but he had the aura of someone lifted above their station. He could get away with bluffing, saying that he'd broken into this house and stolen what h was wearing. The Doctor wouldn't be so lucky.

No one would ever think that he was a thief -- or that he hadn't been born into the gentry. He was too obviously above the crowd of peasants; his demeanor would never pass for that of someone who hadn't been used to comfort through their lives.

Those people outside wouldn't give him a second glance, even dressed as he was, when he went into his "I stole these clothes" act. But the Doctor was a different matter. They were out for blood, and they would want his.

Jack wasn't going to let his lover fall into the hands of the crowd. But they had a slight problem with being able to get away safely.

Well, a few problems, actually. For one, they were far away from the Tardis -- she was at least three city streets away from the house they were in. And for another, there were no clothes that the Doctor could change into that wouldn't proclaim him an aristocrat.

Besides, who could know if the clothes in this house would fit him? He was tall, thin and lanky -- there weren't too many upper-class Frenchmen in this time period with a body like his. Though ill-fitting clothes could prove their salvation .....

If he looked as though he was wearing someone else's clothes, the crowd might think that they'd both broken into this house and stolen from the nobility. Though there would still be the Doctor's innate air of breeding to contend with.

There had to be some way to get them both safely out of here and back to the Tardis. But the house was slowly being surrounded; they had to get out quickly.

There was a back way out of the house, but Jack could no longer be sure that the crowd pressing around the front door and windows wasn't already there. And he didn't want to risk pulling the Doctor through the crowd and possibly losing the other man.

If those people got their hands on the Time Lord .... Jack shuddered at the thought of his beloved being under the guillotine. There was no coming back from something like that; it would be the final death, with no regeneration.

No. He wasn't going to let it happen. He'd find a way out of this, get them back safely to the Tardis, no matter what he had to do. After all, he could sacrifice himself. He'd come back -- though not from a deadly contraption like the guillotine.

Their only chance was the back door of the house. If there were already people there, he'd have to fight his way through them somehow.

The thought occurred to them that if they had guns, it would be doubly dangerous. He could come back from a shotgun blast -- he'd certainly done it enough times before. But the Doctor had no such kind of protection.

If the Time Lord was shot, he would have to regenerate. And he didn't want that. Jack knew that he loved the body he was in, and wanted to keep it for as long as possible. And he himself didn't want his lover to change. He loved the Doctor as he was.

Jack was lost for action for a few seconds, wondering just what to do. He didn't want to put the Doctor at risk, but it seemed that he had no choice. And he'd gotten them into this, rushing in head first without listening to the other man's warnings.

This situation was his fault. He'd have to be the one to find a way out, since he was the one who'd led them into this kind of danger.

The only thing they could do was try to get out the back way. They would just have to brave the crowd, and try to make their way through as best they could. And he would have to make sure that nothing happened to the Doctor.

Or .... a thought struck him, and he couldn't help wondering if it would be a viable way of escape. At least neither one of them were afraid of heights, so he was sure that the Doctor would be game for it -- if it was something that could be manageable.

He'd heard of people escaping from desperate situations across rooftops before. And if the houses were close enough together, then they should be able to do it without having to risk jumping a distance they couldn't manage and breaking their necks.

They could do it. They'd have to. It would be better than risking the Doctor's life in the crowd, and any option was better than none.

Grabbing the Time Lord's hand, he raced for the stairs, dragging the Doctor along behind him. After a startled hesitation, the other man seemed to follow him eagerly enough, scrambling up the steps in Jack's wake without asking questions.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Jack pushed open the small door that led into the attic, rushing across the small room to peer out. They should be able to make it out -- and there was only a jump of about two feet to reach the next roof.

The Doctor glanced at him, then nodded as he looked out of the window. "I'm sure we're both thinking the same thing," he said with a sigh. "That's not a long jump. We can make it. I just hope that mob doesn't realise what we're doing."

"Nobody will." Jack was sure of that. They were all focused on the first floor of the house, around the doors. He didn't think the crowd would even look up at the roof.

"All right, then. Let's do this." The Doctor exited the attic onto the roof, walking to the edge and gazing across at the roof of the next house, only a couple of feet away. "If we can get a few streets over, then we'll have another problem."

"What would that be?" Jack asked, still wrestling with the problem of how to get to the next roof. He was capable of jumping, he had no doubt. But he was still worried about the Doctor, even though he probably shouldn't be.

The Doctor's voice was wry when he answered. "How the hell are we going to get down from the roof?" He looked over at Jack with a shrug. "Do you still think a revolution is an interesting place to be, or has this changed your attitude about rushing into things head first?'

"We'll tackle that problem when we get there." Jack couldn't help laughing as he took a deep breath and backed up, gauging the distance to the next roof. "I'll definitely look before I leap next time," he muttered, tensing his muscles and preparing to run.

***