Title: Post Blue
By: _usakeh_
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Characters: Jack Harkness, the Doctor
Rating: PG
Author's Note: This semi-sequel to The Floating World was written for taffimai, who asked me to write about what Jack saw in his fantasy. Thanks for the prompt, taffimai! I also have to thank cerebel for reading through this for me.

It began with a bang.

Jack jumped, startled; he’d been sure, at first, that somebody had fired a gun in the air. But it wasn’t that simple. They were thousands of feet underground and they were – he knew this without having to look, without having to ask – entirely alone. The sound had been summoned up out of the emptiness. It had emerged from depths into even they dared not go, and it was telling them, in no uncertain terms, to turn back. Now.

So Jack didn’t wait for the Doctor’s command before beginning to run. Not this time. The force surrounding them – practically sucking the air out of his lungs as he turned from one twisting corridor into the next – was merciless. It could sweep down shining skyscrapers with one breath; it could set the entire city on fire with two. Jack couldn't have defined or explained it; he only knew that they had to move and keep moving if they wanted to live. And he wanted to live. He wanted to live.

The Doctor followed him. The Doctor followed him, this time, and the terror was nothing compared to the high that their closeness inspired in him. The cold winds swirling all around could not touch Jack when the Doctor’s body brushed up against his; so long as they had each other, they were safe. They did not speak to each other even when they could have done so. They did not need words. Not anymore.


Only when they turned the final corner – only when they reached the opening that led out, at last, into the daylight – did everything change. The connection between the two of them cracked; the split was as wide as if they’d been stranded on opposite ends of the earth with an ocean in between them. Jack felt himself grow cold, angry. Before he knew it he’d crossed over to the rusty ladder and grabbed onto the bottom rung. He tugged at it; it trembled. It would only take the weight of one of them. He hadn’t even had to test it, really; somehow he’d known, once again, from the start.

Jack looked up and stared straight at the other man. No, he corrected himself: the Doctor was not a man. He was a Time Lord. He was a being whose view of history made him an insignificant speck, at most; he was a being who wouldn’t hesitate to leave him behind when it came down to it. Wouldn’t hesitate for an instant. He was a being who had waltzed into his life and ripped him right open – shaken him to his very foundations – and who would waltz out again just as cavalierly, leaving him buried here, alone.

“I’m going, this time.” Jack placed a hand upon the bottom rung. “You’re staying here, Doctor. You’re going to stay here and wait until the end of the universe.” He could barely recognize his own voice; never before had he heard it so full of sheer hatred. “It’s just what you deserve.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “You try to save people,” Jack pressed on, “but you’re no Doctor. You leave more death behind you than you do healing. You save planets from their foes only to have them destroy themselves. You save people only to leave them stranded. You deserve this fate. Do you realize that? You deserve it. YOU DESERVE–”


“Jack!” A cool hand was resting against his forehead. The tone that accompanied the touch was startled, scared. “Jack, are you all right?”

“Yes, Toshiko.” Jack opened his eyes and stared back at her calmly. He didn’t just want to know that he was all right; she had to believe that he was completely in control. She had to trust him enough to be her leader. To follow him always. To follow him. The image flashed back at him; thankfully, he managed to quash it in time. Tosh didn’t notice. Tosh couldn’t notice. He couldn’t afford to have her notice a thing. “I’m fine,” Jack added at last.

“You were screaming.” Tosh’s voice was hushed, now. She understood perfectly that she hadn’t been meant to hear it; she understood better still that she was breaking an unspoken rule by bringing it up anyway.

“Must have drifted off to sleep,” Jack replied nonchalantly, neither condemning her for making the comment nor sharing anything further.

“Right.” Tosh was obviously uncomfortable now. “Right,” she repeated. Just as she was about to walk away, Jack cleared his throat a bit.

“I don’t remember the dream,” he lied. “But I think it was a good one.” He was half-tempted to add a wink; that, however, could be overdoing it a bit. So he settled for a wry grin. Tosh nodded. She was awaiting her release from his presence the way an anxious child looks to escape from his school principal’s office. “Now get back to work,” he said at last, giving her the go-ahead she so desperately sought, “or go get some sleep yourself. I think you need it.”

“Yes, I…I will, Jack.” Tosh nodded; then, tension still written in her every movement, she hurried away. Only when she reached her workstation did her shoulders slump back down. Jack realized that he really must have scared her. She’d looked at him with real fear in her eyes for a moment, real fear.

Perhaps she’d been right to do so. I don’t remember the dream, he’d said, but I think it was a good one. Think? No. He didn’t think that it was a good one. He knew that it was a good one. Jack took a deep breath. The alien device hadn’t been wrong. He wanted the Doctor, and he wanted to destroy him. And until he saw him again, he always would.