Work Text:
Touching Creation
by Lilithangel
The comm was silent because there was nobody left on the ship when he tried to fix the problem sending it tumbling to the planet below. Space was silent so all he could hear was his own breathing and the rapid beat of his heart as the ship danced silently away from him.
Its orbit stabilised it would wait for salvage, the bodies of the dead would get a decent burial and their families would be allowed to grieve. So it was actually him that was tumbling the cable that should have secured him to the ship dangling loose behind him.
He wondered how long his oxygen would last and whether it will feel like it did when Grey buried him alive. Would his body fight for air that was no longer there? He had inhaled dirt but it had only filled his mouth leaving his lungs to strain for oxygen through the soil until the weight crushed his ribs and made it impossible for them to fill.
Here his body was weightless and his lungs felt huge and empty even with the oxygen flowing into them. The rushing in his ears settled to the rhythm of his blood still pulsing through his heart.
He would lose consciousness and his blood would boil and his brain would swell. He would be dead in minutes but would he stay dead? He had no memories of returning to life under the soil after the first half dozen times. He wouldn’t be truly dead, his mind would drift in the same darkness as his body, but perhaps it would be close enough.
He had been running for a long time but you can’t run away from yourself. He couldn’t lose himself in death and he couldn’t forget, had promised he would always remember. There was no atonement for his deeds, just more deeds, more love but no more teams, no more followers to die for his words.
He drifted and then he saw beauty. The ship moved out of his vision and the planet filled it. It wasn’t Earth (never would it be Earth again) but it was another blue and green gem in space. Clouds drifted over pale blue oceans with land masses painted with colours no artist had ever imagined putting together. On one side, in the shadows, lights danced in his vision (and he knew his oxygen was failing) telling him stories of the residents below.
The planet would continue to grow and change as he floated. If he drifted away he would find something else to orbit, another piece of life to watch when death failed to claim him. Death would cradle him in space the way in had in the earth and he would hear the song of time lulling him into its embrace.
For one brief moment he could feel creation, feel the spin of the universe creating time and its song. If he was going to live forever he could think of no better way to rest.
Another song joined creation, a song in gold and blue, a song of time and aching loneliness. The water on his tongue and the fluid around his eyes began to bubble and he knew it wasn’t tears on his face, but it was beautiful and he was content to die.
“Jack? Jack, time to come back.”
The voice was a long away and he felt bereft. He had lost something beautiful and he couldn’t remember what it was. There were individual notes in his ear but no song left.
“Jack. Come on now, you’ve been gone long enough.”
He knew the voice, loved the voice more than anything. The voice had been a part of the song, tendrils of which still caressed his memory even as he left the darkness.
He opened his eyes slowly (they had boiled, he remembered his vision boiling) and a familiar face looked down at him. The expression was bleak until he focused and it was smiling.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said his voice was raw, as if he’d been screaming. (New, everything was new).
“Indeed,” the Doctor said. “Just what were you thinking?”
Jack blinked. New eyelashes brushed new skin. “That the dead deserved more for their sacrifice than to be the reason the planet burned.”
The Doctor nodded his understanding and Jack realised the Doctor’s face was still upside down. He was lying with his head in the Doctor’s lap, helmet gone but still in his suit and the Doctor’s fingers were carding through his hair.
“So what brought you to this neck of the woods?” Jack said enjoying the rare moment of the Doctor’s touch.
“You did,” the Doctor said, “we heard you singing. It’s not often we hear another song in the time stream.”
“We?” The universe had sung to him, he had heard the voice of the planet below and another voice had joined him.
“The TARDIS and I,” the Doctor said. “It took some doing to materialise around you, let me tell you.”
“I think I heard her song, it was gold and blue. She sang your loneliness. I never really understood, I thought I did, but not until then.” The Doctor’s touch was as cool as the caress of the universe and he didn’t want to move.
“Never really lonely, not with her and not with you,” the Doctor said. “Thought for a minute that time was going to take you, it almost overwhelmed the fact and swept you away.”
“I wouldn’t have minded,” Jack said, “not in the moment of that song.” He bit his lip and tasted the sharp tang of blood. “It was beautiful.”
“It is,” the Doctor agreed and Jack could see the song in his eyes.
“I never knew,” Jack said.
“You weren’t supposed to,” the Doctor said. “Martha told me what happened,” he continued carefully.
“It was a long time ago for me,” Jack said, “I’ve done worse and better since.”
“Not long enough for you not to know what I’m talking about,” the Doctor said.
“It’s the only one Martha would know about,” Jack replied.
“Jack…” the Doctor began but Jack cut him off.
“Nothing to say Doctor,” he said, “nothing to fix. I wouldn’t do anything different. I’m a soldier, a captain, I make the hard choices.”
“Then why are you wandering the universe?” the Doctor sounded as if he couldn’t quite understand this new Jack.
“All I could see on Earth was death. I’ve had a thousand different lives Doc, but I’m still me and it hurt too much.”
“Fair enough,” the Doctor said, “spent a lot of time away from the place myself over the years. Always go back in the end though.” He tugged on his ear thoughtfully.
“I think I need a shower,” Jack said, loath as he was to leave to comfort of the Doctor’s touch, but the floor was uncomfortable and the suit was stifling.
“Need a hand?” the Doctor said, grateful for the change in tone even though it should have been him that changed it.
“Scrub my back for me?” Jack responded.
“I think you’re flexible enough to do it yourself,” the Doctor replied and Jack smiled as the universe settled into a comfortable song.
END