neverwouldiever | Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and other Sounds

The Doctor glanced at John Hart, apparently the time agent's name. They hadn't had much time to talk after he'd decided he needed a break and to confer with Jack, so he hadn't gotten much information out of him, whether false or true. But he trusted Jack.

Up to a point, at least. He had scrambled with John's vortex manipulator, he had handcuffed him, since Jack said he should be restrained and he had tried to think of better options than dropping the man off with Jack, but came up short. Whatever, he couldn't protect Jack from his own demons. Actually, judging by their history together, there was precious little he ever managed to protect Jack from. Why the man remained loyal to a fault he'd never comprehend. He had failed him, just as he kept failing many during this regeneration.

But there they were. The Doctor picked John up and dragged him to the TARDIS door, glancing at the monitor to check whether Jack was was waiting already before stepping outside.

Of course Jack was there. Any mention of the Doctor's name and he'll come running every time with hopes of getting even a glimpse of that wonderful man. However, tonight, he was more somber. A bit more "Captain"-like as he stood at attention with his hands folded behind him. Sure enough, soon came the wheezing and groaning he'd come to associate with the blue box that materialised not far from where he stood near the lift into Torchwood.

He waited for the doors of the TARDIS to open before he made his way to the machine, surprised to see the Doctor actually hefting the unconscious John. A sight he hoped he'd never have to see.

"How is he?" Jack said, hurrying in to relieve the Doctor of the dead weight.

"Really, really randy." But the Doctor did realize that Jack wasn't actually asking about that, likely because he was more than aware, and so he gave a serious answer once he'd stepped back to leave Jack to carry him. "He'll be right as rain in no time. That gunshot wound should heal quickly and he's just gonna sleep for a while longer. An hour or two, maybe. Well. He's lost quite a bit of blood, so it might be more."

The Doctor rubbed the back of his head considering whether he wanted to actually step outside. Torchwood. No, not so much, not really. On the other hand, Jack, and, well. That'd always be complicated.

"I didn't take all his weapons. Or any." He gestured behind himself vaguely. "Gun's over there."

"Not surprised. If you think my 'off' switch is broken, you obviously haven't met John Hart." He sets John down against the TARDIS and steps inside the familiar bridge to fetch John's gun.

"I hope he didn't give you any trouble." Jack set the gun into the waist of his trousers, his own holster already occupied, and turned back around to leave. Once he'd had John over his shoulder, he turned to face the Doctor, a guilty and somewhat saddened look in his eye.

"Thanks. I'll take care of him from here. In the meantime, if you run across any authorities who might be missing him... I wouldn't object to them finding out a vague area he might be."

"I can do that." Not that he's sure how to feel about that, either. He should probably stop drawing parallels, fast. "All his vortex manipulator can do is contact me, if I'm in the mood, and play a Katy Perry song. I reckon he might not be too happy about that, but you can blame it on me."

He saw the look in Jack's eyes and it did make him regret ever taking John there. He could have dealt with him in other ways, but it had felt right to ask him and here they were.

"Your wrist." The Doctor pulled out the sonic screwdriver and held his hand out. "I can configure your manipulator some too."

Jack looked surprised when the Doctor said he'd help with his vortex manipulator. "I thought you said, 'no more travelling'." He held out his wrist, however, curious as to what the Doctor would do to it. Hopefully he'd leave the pop songs out of it.

"Does this mean I get to contact you more often? I hate needing you and not being able to get in touch with you." He frowned and shifted John on his shoulder.

"Well, I'm not planning on enabling any of the travel settings." The Doctor took Jack's hand, holding it as he started to work on the manipulator, eyes on the screwdriver. It was a lot of easier than looking at Jack, especially with those words and the wave of guilt that came with it.

But finally he looked up, met his eyes and gave a nod. "Yeah. You can contact me with this." He turned on his heels, letting go of Jack's hand as he retreated further into the console room. "Most of the time at least."

"That's very reassuring." There was more than a subtle hint of sarcasm in his tone as he watched the Doctor sidle back. He paused. "Things have gotten bad. They may get worse. Just... promise me I'm not on my own with this, Doctor. I can't handle everything." He took a step back himself. The Doctor hadn't exactly made how he felt a secret to him, and he wanted to give him some space.

What he really wanted to do was leave without another word. Not make any more promises that might end up getting broken, not any more of these things he said that he could barely believe in anymore, even as he said them. He travelled alone these days and the thought of someone, of Jack relying on him... But too many always did, all the more people that he could let down. Again and again.

In the end he gave a nod, turning his head do took at Jack over his shoulder. "I promise." He'd somehow have to handle everything and probably watch it go wrong. "And, Jack. Take care of your heart, yeah? You only have the one."

"I've had it broken and removed before." He laughs a little and shrugs. "It's just too valuable for the universe to let me go on without one." With that, he gives the Doctor a salute and turns to take John down inside Torchwood where he could at least keep a close eye on him.

It was down into the cells with him; a place he'd been before, so at least it was somewhat familiar. Even inside the cell, Jack locked John's hands together, because one really couldn't be too sure. He sat in a chair on the other side of the glass, arms folded, and watching patiently.

Waking up in handcuffs? Not always the worst sign possible but not the best either. Usually he could tell when it was going to end well, he usually had a pleasant memory of sleeping in a bed. Not in a space ship with an annoying chattery lunatic. Being restrained for anything other than bondage was just not worth it. He liked his freedom, to move and do what he needed to do. Like put that bastard Doctor bloke down for clearly drugging him. With an annoyed sigh, he hauled himself upright the best he could, looking forward and--

Oh fuck. What a day. First he got shot at, then he met another one of Jack's ex's and now it was this. Locked up by Captain Morality. "You know, time was handcuffs meant only good things between us. Have to say though, this is a little overkill."

"Think of it as necessary precaution. Safety first for the both of us." Clearly, Jack wasn't amused or impressed by him. "Got a call a little while ago. Old friend of mine rang me up, said you might have run into a bit of trouble. Something about jamming signals and being shot."

He nodded toward him, arms still folded and still rather stiff. "Vortex Manipulator's broken, so no getting out." Best to let him know the situation. "You should thank the Doctor. He's pretty good at patching people up. Certainly earns the name."

"I think I should be pleased that you think so much of me," But, to be fair to Jack, these handcuffs would take him at the most five minutes to get out of. He'd become quite the escape artist but then he had to be quick in his line of work. The slower he was, the sooner his death would be. "I was on a job and he sent me a picture. You've seen his face, what was I going to do? Ignore it?"

He was a sucker for a pretty face. And, unfortunately, it had once again got him shot in the foot. Looking at his manipulator the best he could, he frowned in concern, wanting to try and do some kind of tech support on it. No way could it be broken! He needed that. "Thank him? The bastard's buggered up my ride. I didn't even need his help in the first place."

You devious little prick.

You're not half as funny as you think you are.

That's what people always say when I don't wake them up before I go go.

What is it with you and pop songs? I can't believe you stuck one in my manipulator. What good is that? I need to do my job, not listen to music.

You're not worth half the effort I've put in. Couldn't even get decent pictures.

Jack was well aware of John's escape artist tricks, though he wasn't sure how much better he'd gotten since their time together. Mostly, they were just there to buy him time to react. "He's got a cute face, I'll give you that." Jack certainly couldn't resist it.

"Shot, remember? If you've pissed someone off and got shot for it, then you need a place to lay low for a while so you don't get septic in prison. I volunteered. Like I said, you should thank him."

In some centuries those might be classics, you never know. Well. Maybe you do know. I do.

You kill too much for my taste. Sorry.

Eh, Jack's been trying for years and not gotten very far, don't be too hard on yourself.

"Good body too. Seemed to be going pretty well until he decided to knock me out," Which was always a hazard in his line of work. Some days it was going perfect and he'd end up unconscious or shot out of nowhere. Other days, it'd end better, where someone would needlessly and selflessly help him. What a stupid thing to do, help him. Never ended well for anyone.

"It's not that bad, it's a flesh wound," John complained as he finished wriggling his left hand free of the cuffs, openly using it to reach his leg. Like Jack would be that shocked. Pulling up his trouser leg, he inspected the wound with a small frown. All this fuss for a little bullet in the leg. "I was doing fine till he interfered. Now I'm here, in your cell, without a ride out of here and I'm probably not going to make my deadline now so I pretty much got shot for nothing. Sorry but not really feeling much thanks."

With a loud exhale, he tweaked his vortex manipulator, trying to see if it could be overrided. But his pass code only led to a loud beeping then an very obnoxious Katy Perry song.

Wham never goes away but fortunately Katy Perry only has the one resurge. Bloody retro weirdos.

That's my job. Plus it's really fun so I'm not going to stop any time soon. Not sorry either.

Got a crush, has he?

It's true. An old friend got it stuck in my head somehow. Well. More or less.

You're stopping now, so there's a start.

Nah. Pretty sure he has better taste than that by now.

I'm not stopping, I'm temporarily detained. Once I get out, I'm going on a spree just to spite you.

If you say so. Not often Jack is the one with a crush though, doubt he'd get over it that fast. I see why he likes you though. You're his bloody wet dream of a person. All noble and moral. Boring.

How original.

Oh no. Jack is a good person. Truly good. Me, I'm worse than you could ever hope to be. That's not a challenge, it's fact.

Sorry but sometimes cliche works better.

He's a good person? What kind of drug are you on? He's no saint. He's more ruthless than I am, he just likes to pretend he's a better bloke than he is.

It does bring on some nostalgia.

And these days he does a good job of it. When you've been around that long, that's quite the accomplishment.

Kiss Kiss Bang Bang and other Sounds

Arriving at Torchwood

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Message to the Doctor.

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