Chapter Text
When the Tardis materialized over London, the first thing she did was sail straight past the window of a council flat. Fortunately for the panicked group inside the ship (and the overall sanity of the occupants of said flat) no one saw, as the only person sitting in the living room that the window looked into was a young woman called Trisha Delaney, who was rather more preoccupied with bitching on the phone about how her ‘boyfriend’ hadn’t called her back for three days.
However close a call the Tardis was to that window, she wasn’t quite as lucky, as she continued to careen down the road the buildings corralled her along. A chunk of concrete fell down to the ground below as she clipped the corner of the Powell Estate; a full crash was only narrowly averted by the Captain inside working on autopilot in an attempt to save the one friend he knew he still had left.
A silver ball rolled across the metal grating, only stopped by a wedged-in shard of a plain black coffee mug, one of many shards that were now scattered across the platform.
The Captain ignored them; his boot soles were too thick for them to cut his feet and he wasn’t about to let any of them worm further into his heart. He focused instead on keeping his hands busy, on protecting the girl hunched over in the jumpseat. God knows the man across from him, wearing his friend’s leather jacket, too loose on the shoulders and dropping almost to his fingers, wasn’t in a state to help. He was whirling around the console, looking more like he was grabbing things for support than to aid in their flight path.
There was a jolt; they’d hit another building.
This one sent the ship whirling through the air, spinning wildly as she scraped along the asphalt. She jostled her way up onto the pavement before coming to a neat, but no less jarring stop, wedged between a skip and a recycling bin.
Exactly where she had landed over six months before, a year after a girl with blonde hair and a blinding smile had run away with a mad man in a box.
Across the estate, a young man looked up from work, dragged out of his concentration by a whisper on a breeze in a way that the incessant and shrill sound of his ringtone never did. The woosh of engines filtered in over the christmas music that was now too loud, too in the way . He couldn’t hear it properly; it would be just another false hope dashed when he ran round the corner and found the street to be empty.
Only this time it wasn’t.
He had to skid to a stop to avoid crashing into the woman fast approaching him. The engines were getting louder and louder, but there was no sign of the distinctive blue ship on this street or any other.
Until suddenly, there was.
It toppled from the building above, spinning wildly before crash landing in the same spot as the young man had seen it last.
It took barely a second for the door to bang open and a man, younger than the previous pilot, stepped out into the street, looking around as though he was appraising the grimy area they’d landed in. The t-shirt and jacket he was in hung off his wiry frame, far too big, like it was made to fit someone else. The young man recognised it immediately; this wasn’t it’s true owner.
“Here we are then, London. Earth. The Solar System. We did it.” When this stranger’s eyes dropped to the pair standing in front of him, his face broke out into a wide, almost manic, grin. “Jackie. Mickey. Blimey!” He moved forward to hug them both, but caught himself, a hand landing hard on the young man, Mickey’s, shoulder. “No, no, no, no, hold on. Wait there. I've got something to say. There was something I had to tell you, something important. What was it?”
Mickey opened his mouth to say something but the stranger waved his hand in the man’s face, effectively shutting him up. “No, hold on, hold on.”
Neither of them moved but the stranger got more irate anyway, flapping his hands about wildly. The sleeves of his shirt wormed their way down over his palms like a child. “Hold on, shush, shush, shush, shush.” He paused, staring deep into the woman’s eyes, then bounced up onto his toes and clapped. “Oh, I know! Merry Christmas!”
And with those festive words, all the manic energy drained from him as he finally crumpled under the weight of the heavy jacket.
“What happened?” Rose scurried out of the Tardis, kneeling next to the prone body lying on the cold concrete. She looked up at her mother and Mickey. “Is he alright?”
Mickey shrugged, eyes wide and bewildered. “Dunno, he just keeled over. But who is he? Where’s the Doctor? And Ianto?”
Rose’s face twisted suddenly with grief, and she took a shaky breath before opening her mouth to reply. The low creak of the Tardis door opening cut her off and the three turned their heads to look at the figure standing half in the shadows cast by the light behind him.
“That’s him. That’s the Doctor.”
Jack’s voice wasn’t cold, but it was empty. He shoved his hands deeper into the pockets of his leather trousers. They were too small to be particularly effective in any way, far from practical. Ianto would hate wearing them, no matter how good he would– the thought wrenched itself to an abrupt stop like a train screeching along it’s tracks. It didn’t matter what Ianto thought about the pants. He wasn’t around to care.
Jackie was asking him something. Mickey was peering round his shoulder into the emergency lit Tardis console room, searching for something– or someone. His vision blurred slightly. He blinked quickly to clear it and watched as they dropped back from him to take care of the Doctor.
Rose and Jackie were still in the guest bedroom with the man that was supposedly the Doctor. They’d been in the guest bedroom for nearly an hour. Nearly an hour that should’ve been spent doing something useful .
He’d been in the same spot for all of that almost hour, leant against the wall with his arms crossed and hands clenched into fists so tight that his short nails dug into his palms. Jackie came out of the room twice during that time, first returning with a set of men’s pyjamas, then a stethoscope; Jack didn’t know or care where she’d found it. Each time she passed him, she glanced at him. It was the only acknowledgement anyone was giving to the elephant in the room, the missing man that, as far as Jackie knew, he had replaced.
Jackie was exactly like both Rose and Ianto had described. A force of nature that Jack was sure, in any other situation, would ream into every part of his personality. As it were, she kept it to the surtive, suspicious glances that made him feel uncomfortably like she already knew everything she needed to know about him by the way he was standing.
Mickey had left. Almost as soon as they’d gotten the Doctor into bed, he’d claimed that he had to get back to work before he was fired, but that he’d try to beg the rest of the day off; he was going to claim a family emergency.
Jack was about to do the same if he had to stare at that closed bedroom door for much longer.
When the door opened, it wasn’t any better. Rose kept her eyes down as she passed her mother and headed to the kitchen. She didn’t even look at Jack’s feet. It was like if she could forget he was there, she could forget the man-sized hole next to him that used to be her best friend. That’s what Jack thought anyways.
Jackie followed after Rose and fixed him with a hard stare. “Are you going to stand there all bloody day?”
Jack started at the sudden attention, but trailed after the two Tyler women sheepishly. He split away when they reached the kitchen, instead venturing into the living room through the open door. He perched on the edge of the worn couch, hands twisting in circles around themselves. It was silent in this room, quiet enough that he could hear the voices filtering in through the closed window that separated the living room and kitchen.
“How can he go changing his face? Is that a different face or is he a different person?”
“How should I know?” Rose’s snappy reply was followed by the slamming of the fridge door, then by a well known sigh. “Sorry.” There was a pause. “The thing is, I thought I knew him, Mum. I thought me and him were... And then he goes and does this. I keep forgetting he's not human.” Then, as sudden as the snap of a heavy book being shut, she changed topics. “The big question is where'd you get a pair of men's pyjamas from?”
“Howard’s been staying…” Jack let the voices drift out of his mind once the topic changed. He couldn’t bring himself to care all too much about which market stall owner was sleeping with his friend’s mother.
The TV in the corner was scrolling through the local news broadcast, pictures flickering silently across the screen. The remote was just about poking out from where it was wedged between the couch cushions; one good yank and Jack was able to unmute the TV, just as it cut to a pre-recorded interview at Downing Street.
“Is that Harriet Jones?” Rose asked as she barged into the living room, leaving Jackie muttering under her breath in the kitchen. Rose ignored her. “Why’s she on the telly?”
Jackie leant against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “She's Prime Minister now. I'm eighteen quid a week better off. They're calling it Britain's Golden Age. I keep on saying my Rose has met her.”
Rose scoffed, looking at the woman on the TV fondly. “Did more than that. Stopped World War Three with her. Harriet Jones.”
Jack couldn’t help the way his head whipped around to stare at Rose. “You know Harriet Jones? The Harriet Jones?”
Rose nodded and excitement took over the worry etched over her face. For a second everything was back to normal between them. “The same day as Ianto and the–” She pulled up short and it was clear why as her face crumpled. The awkward fog of grief settled between them once again, the silence cut only by the babble of the TV set.
“–those calling the Guinevere One Space Probe a waste of money?”
Rose tore her eyes away from Jack’s. He refocused on the woman talking. “Now, that's where you're wrong. I completely disagree if you don't mind. The Guinevere One Space Probe represents this country's limitless ambition. British workmanship sailing up there among the stars.”
The picture cut to one of the stars spread out across a dark sky. The 3D rendering of the space probe drifted across the screen, slowly coming more into focus. “This is the spirit of Christmas, birth and rejoicing, and the dawn of a new age, and that is what we're achieving fifteen million miles away. Our very own miracle. The unmanned probe Guinevere One is about to make its final descent. Photographs of the Martian Landscape should be received by midnight tonight.”
The knock beat loud and irregular against the front door. Jack’s heart leapt instantly into his throat with stupid, stupid hope, dashed as soon as his brain caught up to it. The resounding thud of his heart dropping to his boots hurt more than he thought it could.
And then the front door opened, without anyone even calling ‘come in’ and it somehow sunk lower.
The mug in front of him (no blue and white stripes, but pink with small white hearts) was full of cold tea.
His hands were still wrapped around said mug. At first it had burnt, then cooled to a pleasant warmth. Now he was sure the porcelain was sucking the warmth out of his skin.
He looked up when Rose walked past, shoulders wrapped in a warm coat he hadn’t seen her wear before. This, rather than anything else was what prompted him into action. He stood and the mug dropped an inch down onto the coffee table with a quiet clatter. The fact that not a drop spilt seemed to solidify the feeling that this entire day was like a dream.
But finally– finally they were going to do something other than sit around and wait for a stranger to wake up. “Where are you going?”
Rose looked just over his shoulder, eyes focused entirely on the framed photo behind him. “Out. Mickey’s taking me Christmas shopping.”
Jack paused, running through those words in his head. “Christmas shopping,” he asked flatly.
Rose nodded.
Jack’s head was reeling. A few hours ago, they had been fighting for their lives on a satellite full of the deadliest psychopaths in the universe. A few hours ago, the Doctor had been someone they recognised. A few hours ago, Ianto had been standing next to them and they’d been working together.
And now Ianto is gone, the Doctor isn’t Northern and Rose wants to go Christmas shopping like their lives weren’t crumbling around them.
“Christmas shopping.” Anger bled into his voice. His hands felt empty without the mug between them. “You’re going Christmas shopping.”
“What else am I supposed to do, Jack?” Her voice was quiet and small, resigned as she expertly avoided catching his eye.
“No, no. Go ahead. Who are you buying for anyway?” Jack challenged. “Your mom, obviously. Something for Mickey. Going to splurge on whoever’s staying in your guest room, huh?” Rose flinched back, obviously hurt by the suggestion that that man wasn’t the Doctor; for all they knew, he wasn’t. Good. Rose should be hurt, instead of running around like everything was fine.
“Don’t forget something for Ianto too.” His voice cracked slightly on the name. It felt as strange in his mouth as it had the first time he’d said it, stumbling out rather than rolling smoothly.
His words struck Rose just as he’d intended them to. She took half a step back, expression flipping between anger and sadness until it finally settled somewhere in the middle. “Ianto’s gone, Jack.”
Jack shook his head. “No… No he isn’t. We just need to go back and then we can–”
“He’s dead! Ianto’s dead!” She paused, taking a deep, shaky breath. “He’s dead and he’s not coming back.” She finally met his gaze, glaring at him through eyes overflowing with tears. “Why can’t you understand that?”
“I saw him move .” Jack’s voice came out pleading, even though he wasn’t sure what he was begging for. “I–”
“No, Jack.” Rose interrupted, but before she could even start her point, Jack was speaking again.
“You weren’t there, Rose.” He cut her off once again when she opened her mouth. “No. Whatever it was– the Bad Wolf– that wasn’t you. You don’t know what happened.”
“I was there! I remember it all and I knew everything! ” She dropped back down, retreating from where she had been pushing into Jack’s space. Her voice retreated with her, and when she next spoke it was nothing more than a whisper. “I knew he was dead. Before I even stepped on that Satellite.”
“But he moved .”
“He didn’t! He didn’t move then and he’s never going to move again!” Rose’s words tumbled from her mouth in shaky gasps. “Ianto’s dead and the Doctor’s gone and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.”
“He’s not…” Jack whispered. “He can’t be…”
Rose stepped back further, all the fight draining out of her. She shook her head. It was only then that Jack noticed Mickey standing in the doorway, Jackie hovering behind him. They both swiftly moved away as Rose fled from the room, snagging her coat with one hand and Mickey’s arm with the other.
Jackie’s exit was less dramatic. She slunk over to retrieve the cold mug before retreating to the kitchen with a level of silent unobtrusiveness that was expected from the stories he’d been told.
Jack was left, alone and bewildered, standing in a living room that he didn’t belong in, missing a man who was far too young to have become a ghost.