Title: Stay in Time
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Table: 2
Prompt: 47, Years
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.

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They were gone. All of them had left him. He was alone, with nothing to hold on to, no one to hold him. No one to talk with, no one to care what happened to him. No one to share his life with, no one to wake up beside from one day to the next.

No one to love him.

Jack would eventually leave too, the Doctor told himself, turning to the console and pretending to study it. It was inevitable, after all. He was human; he would want more in his life at some point than traveling through space and time with the Doctor could give him. He would be the next in a long line of companions to walk away.

The difference between Jack and the rest of them was that Jack had forever to give. But he couldn't expect the enigmatic immortal to give him that; he'd long since learned that there were no promises that couldn't be broken.

Maybe he could have years with Jack; maybe he could only have days. He didn't know when Jack would leave; he only knew that the immortal would leave him sooner or later. Probably sooner, if he was honest with himself. Was the uncertainty of wondering just when he would be abandoned yet again worth dealing with?

Of course it was, the Doctor told himself, sighing and closing his eyes. He leaned against the control console of the Tardis, knowing that he should press a few buttons, take them to whatever destination awaited, but for some strange reason, he couldn't bring himself to. It was as though he'd .... somehow lost the desire to see what lay ahead.

What was wrong with him? He had responsibilities; he was the last of his kind, the last Time Lord left. He couldn't just turn his back on everything that he was, simply because he couldn't seem to find a companion who actually wanted to stay with him.

Was he being selfish? he demanded of himself, not really wanting to hear the answer.

Yes. That little voice in the back of his mind gave him a definite response, but not one that he'd particularly wanted to hear.

Muttering a curse, he turned away from the console, leaning back against it and trying to clear his thoughts. He didn't want Jack to come strolling back into the Tardis and ask what he was thinking; no, that would only mean that he'd have to answer awkward questions and listen to Jack protest that he would stay here forever.

That wasn't possible. It never had been, no matter how many times the other man had assured him that it could be. He'd long since given up expecting the impossible, expecting forever. It would have to be enough that he had the here and now.

But that didn't make him want forever any less. He wondered every day if this would be his last day with Jack, if today would be when the immortal would turn to him and casually say that he'd decided it would be best for him to leave and get on with his life away from the Doctor.

It happened with everyone, in time. Jack wouldn't be an exception, despite his protests to the contrary. He wouldn't let himself believe in forever again.

Forever was a lie, and promises weren't meant to be kept. Yes, it sounded cynical -- but that cynicism was the only protection he had. Without it, he would go insane each time a piece of who he was felt as though it was being ripped away as person after person left him, some for reasons of their own, some because it was the best thing for them to do so.

Even the ones who he hadn't had romantic feelings for, but who had harbored aspirations of having him care for them in the same way they cared for him, had eventually left. Whether of their own volition or not, it all came down to the same thing. They'd left, and he'd been alone. Even if it had been for the best, it still wasn't a state he embraced.

Jack was supposed to be different -- Jack was the companion who could be different from all the others. Why, then, was he so sure that Jack would go the same way they all had? Why did he have this intuitive feeling that Jack was also going to turn his back and walk away?

"What are you standing there looking so melancholy about?"

His head jerked up when Jack's voice reverberated through the main room of the Tardis, his eyes widening in surprise. He hadn't expected Jack to be here at the moment; he'd thought that since they were on Earth, in a place where Jack had friends and acquaintances, he'd want to spend time away from the Doctor, away from what he must consider his mundane, everyday life.

"Nothing," the Doctor murmured, looking down at the tips of his shoes as though they were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. He had no idea how to respond to Jack's question; what was he going to say? That he'd been contemplating when Jack would leave him? Somehow, he didn't think that would go over well with the immortal.

No, it probably wouldn't make Jack angry -- but he would start in on the protests of how he planned to stay with the Doctor forever, of how he wouldn't leave. And the Doctor had long since resigned himself to any promises that anyone made being broken. He didn't want to hear assurances to the contrary.

Jack crossed the floor of the Tardis to lean on the console beside the Doctor, throwing a curious glance at the Gallifreyan. The Doctor could feel those dark eyes on him; he had to studiously avoid looking at Jack, knowing that the other man would easily divine his mood if their eyes met. Jack knew how to read him like an open book.

"Now that you've given me the stock answer, what are you really thinking about?" Jack asked softly, his voice soft. "Don't bother to tell me it's nothing important, either. I know you well enough to be able to tell when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset." The Doctor wanted to curse himself again for answering so quickly, and with words that Jack obviously wasn't going to believe. It was frustrating not to be able to hide his emotional state from the other man; he'd have to work harder at doing that.

Jack moved to stand in front of him, reaching out to place a hand under the Doctor's chin. He tilted the Time Lord's face to his own, studying the other man's features, finally frowning and shaking his head. "Don't give me that. Something's happened to put you in this mood. I don't know if it's something I've done -- or haven't done -- but I hope not."

The Doctor shook his head, not wanting Jack to know what had sunk him into this morass that he couldn't seem to pull himself out of. "It's nothing you've done. Just .... inevitability, I suppose. Things that I can't change, no matter how much I want to. Things that I shouldn't dwell on, because I know how impossible they are."

The immortal sighed, releasing the Doctor's chin. "So you're thinking about me leaving again. I should have guessed as much -- you always get that look on your face when you think that's going to happen. I wish I could convince you that it won't, but I can't force you to believe anything if you don't want to."

"I'd like to believe that it won't happen, Jack." It was the Doctor's turn to sigh, shrugging his shoulders. "But I've had too much experience with this to believe that things will be any different this time around. Don't ask me to get my hopes up, just to have them crushed again."

"Do you really think I'd do that?" Jack asked softly, his eyes meeting the Doctor's again. "I've already told you that I won't. The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. I'm not going to let that happen. I've promised you that."

"Don't make promises that you may not be able to keep, Jack." The Doctor's voice was just as soft, but that softness came out of his attempt to keep back the shakiness in his voice, keep his words from sounding tremulous and frightened. "I know you may want to keep them -- but that doesn't necessarily mean that you'll be able to."

"I'll keep that promise," Jack told him, his voice taking on a slightly sharper edge. "Don't think I'm just going to walk out on you because everybody else has, Doctor. You're forgetting one thing -- I'm not everybody else. I've got a lot longer to give you than any of them did. And I have no reservations about giving you that time."

"Don't you, Jack?" The Doctor raised his eyes to Jack's, holding the immortal's gaze with his own. "Are you so sure that you won't change your mind? Think carefully before you answer me. I won't hold you to any promise you might happen to make now, when I know that there's every possibility of our circumstances changing."

"Do you really think I'd leave?" Jack stepped closer to the Doctor, his arms sliding around the Time Lord's waist and pulling the slender man against his body, one hand moving down his back to cup the curve of the Doctor's ass in his palm. The Gallifreyan's eyes went wide; he hadn't expected this kind of a reaction to his words.

"You can't honestly think I'd give you up," Jack whispered in his ear, his lips brushing against the Doctor's cheek, warm breath tickling the Time Lord's skin. "You can't really believe I'd give up making love to you, hearing you moan my name, being inside you ...." His voice had gone low, husky with the seductive tone that usually only came out in the bedroom.

"I don't know why you wouldn't," the Doctor said weakly, wishing that he wasn't so susceptible to Jack's touch. It was all too easy for this man to overwhelm his senses, convince him that things would be the way he so desperately wanted them to be.

"You don't?" Jack's voice held the hint of a smile, his lips trailing a trail of fire down the sensitive skin of the Doctor's throat. "If you don't realize by now that I love you, then maybe I need to take you to bed to show you exactly how I feel."

"Jack .... don't try to scramble my senses with sex," the Doctor murmured, wanting to push Jack away but unable to make himself do it.

"Then understand this, even if you don't think you can believe it," Jack whispered, tilting the Doctor's face to his own again. "I love you. I'm not going to leave you. I have years to give you, Doctor, a lot more years than anybody else has ever had. And I'm going to give you all of those years. That's my own selfishness talking, more than anything else."

"Your own selfishness?" The Doctor frowned, unsure of just what Jack was getting at. Somehow, the immortal was managing to turn this around, to make it sound as though he was the one who was being selfish by giving up so much of his life to appease a lonely Time Lord.

"Of course I'm selfish. You're a gift, Doctor, a gift that I refuse to deny myself. Every time I make love to you, every time I touch you, I'm giving myself something -- someone -- who I've wanted ever since the first time I laid eyes on him. I won't give that up," Jack murmured as his lips moved to the Doctor's mouth, kissing him hungrily.

The Doctor felt dizzy with desire; Jack's kiss, his touch, could always do this to him. He didn't want to think about the inevitability of losing his lover; not now, not when Jack was so close, those hands moving over his body, loosening his clothes, those lips pressing against his own so insistently. Now wasn't the time for those thoughts.

"Then consider me a willing gift," he managed to say before Jack's mouth covered his again, his body slumping against the immortal's, a shiver going through his slender frame as Jack's hands slid down his back to cup his ass again.

"I could spend years making love to you," Jack whispered into his ear. "And believe me, I have every intention of doing that. Starting right now."

So saying, he bent and slipped an arm behind the Doctor's knees, sweeping the slender man into his arms and heading for their bedroom. The Doctor wrapped his arms around Jack's neck, pushing the disturbing thoughts that had been haunting him firmly into the back of his mind, not wanting to acknowledge them.

For the moment, the future didn't matter. He had Jack now, and that was the important thing. He could let the future take care of itself, let the cards fall where they would. And who could say? If was lucky -- very, very lucky -- he might yet manage to come up with the winning hand.

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