FIC: Doctor Who: Relativity

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: Relativity
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Doctor Who, Captain Jack Harkness
Rating(s): R
Pairing(s): Captain Jack Harkness/Jackie Tyler, Jack/others
Warning(s): Primarily het fic. Slight spoilers for Doctor Who, "The Empty Child" and "The Doctor Dances"
Words: 4787
Summary: Jack Harkness pays a visit to Rose's Mum.
Notes: Thanks to rosiespark for beta-reading. Cross-posted to dwfiction and galactic_conman. Archived at my fic website Fajrdrako's Nest and A Teaspoon and an Open Mind.


Relativity

Jackie Tyler met Captain Jack Harkness on a rainy evening in November. Rose had rung the day before from goodness knows where, to invite her out for dinner. She said she and the Doctor had someone they wanted Jackie to meet. She gave no clues as to whether this was going to be a three-eyed alien or a nice gentleman from Putney. When pressed further, Rose laughed and said, "Just be there on time, Mum!"

The restaurant they chose wasn't just the pub down the road, either, but Chez Phillippe's, not so very much further away in miles but one of those places where you wanted to make sure you changed your clothes and combed your hair before going in. It was more than Jackie could afford, so she'd never been there, but she didn't bother about the cost this time. The Doctor must be rich as Midas with his space ships and his high tech gadgets. He could afford to buy her dinner.

She was ten minutes early and waiting for them when the Doctor came into the restaurant with Rose and a stranger. She hoped her jaw didn't drop at the sight of him. The man was drop-dead gorgeous, like an actor in a Hollywood movie, dressed in an open-necked shirt and the kind of trousers that cost rent money. He was twice as beautiful when he smiled, and he smiled at her as if he meant it. He came straight to her, holding out his hand to shake hers. "You must be Jackie Tyler." His hand was warm and firm. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness. I've heard so much about you from Rose."

Flustered, she blurted, "Likewise," and then blushed at her own awkwardness. Rose hadn't as much as told her his name.

But then she forgot her embarrassment because Rose was hugging her, looking fetching in a dress that might have been from another planet but looked like the ones they sold at Henrick's. Jackie hugged her daughter with pride and love and relief. She was afraid Rose would die on some distant planet and it always felt like a miracle when she came back. The Doctor said, "Hi, Jackie," and smiled his broadest smile, the kind she never trusted.

Her feelings about the Doctor were mixed. He'd taken Rose away from her, no doubt about that, but one look at the smile on Rose's face was enough to see he made her happy. The light in her eyes when she looked at him said the same. Jackie tried not to think what would happen when the Doctor went away in his TARDIS and never came back. She would be there for Rose, but would it be enough? She tried not to think at all about what she would do if he went away forever in the TARDIS with Rose in it. She knew he did whatever he could to make sure Rose kept in touch with her, ever since that awful year when she'd been missing without a word. Jackie could only be thankful to him for that; forgiving him for that terrible year was another matter.

She tried to forget that for a few stupid moments she'd fancied him herself. Sometimes still did, but that was her own secret.

Rose had made it clear she'd chosen him, and if Jackie thought still that Mickey was a better choice, she knew it was Rose's choice to make. In his strange, alien way, the Doctor treated Rose well. He could be charming when he wanted to be, and tonight he was charming. Jackie put aside her fears. They had a wonderful meal. She ordered lamb chops with herb sauce, and chips done to perfection. They drank wine (but not too much) and everyone flirted with everyone else and laughed a lot, because everyone's stories were clever and funny. Too bad she'd never be able to repeat these tall tales to Suze and Helen, but who'd ever believe it, about the little orphans living rough in the Blitz, tended by a brave girl named Nancy? Or those frozen waves of whatchamacallit?

She'd never seen anything like that on the telly.

Captain Jack told the best stories, mostly about himself, too good to be true but she believed them anyway. While he was telling it, she could believe he'd defeated a dragon-knight in combat, and flown away on the knight's best dragon. "Kept him for months," reflected the Captain, with nostalgic pleasure. "Cost a fortune to feed the thing, but I make a killing in the end, trading him for a fully-equipped Chula warship."

"Really?" said Rose. That seemed to mean something to her. "I thought you stole it from - "

"No," said Jack quickly. "That was a later model. I upgraded."

The way he talked it was easy to imagine him as a hero in a book. If she was staring at him, he didn't seem to think her rude, and his smile was contagious. He had the kind of eyes that made Jackie feel special when he looked at her. Which was silly. A man like him could have no interest in a woman like her. Could he?

She wasn't sure what his role was with regard to the TARDIS. Friend? Hitchhiker? Crew? A companion, like Rose? Jackie never had understood what that meant. Now, it seemed to mean what she'd thought it meant all along. Nobody would want to travel space and time alone. It only made sense the Doctor want someone as young and pretty and smart as Rose. Jackie had once asked Rose what sex with an alien was like, and Rose had answered, "Mum! I can't believe you asked me that!"

Captain Jack might not even be human, though he looked human enough. With the jolly company, after a couple of glasses of wine, she found the opportunity to ask him bluntly. "Are you human, Captain? Or are you an alien like the Doctor?"

"Human," said Jack.

"Very!" said Rose. It seemed to be a private joke. They looked at each other and grinned. "He's from the fifty-first century, where all the men are beautiful and bold!"

He answered quick as you please, "Not all of them! I'm the best, that's all." Rose made a face at him.

Jackie was still curious about him. "What do you do, Captain?"

"Seek out new life forms," he replied, with amusement, just as the Doctor said, "He's a con man," and Rose said simultaneously, "He's a Time Agent," and then they were all laughing too much to make any kind of an explanation out of it.

So Jackie persisted. "What are you Captain of, then?"

"The TARDIS," said the Captain shamelessly. He nodded towards the Doctor. "He's the Admiral. Rose is the Admiral's boss."

That was funny, even Jackie could see it, and this time she joined in the laughter. She noticed, though, that he hadn't answered her question.

She had trifle for dessert - the Doctor insisted - and they walked her home before going back to the TARDIS. "Won't you come in for a bit?" Jackie asked. But no, they had things to do, planets to explore, worlds to save, and with good-bye hugs and a promise to be back again soon, they were off.

Once, 'soon' had meant a year. Jackie couldn't forget that. Her apartment felt quiet and bleak, empty of laughter, and the November rain outside seemed bleaker and colder.

Rose rang two days later, talking about a crisis on the moon - no, not our moon, someone else's moon . She said they'd be back in a few days.

"Is Captain Jack still travelling with you?" Jackie asked.

"Oh, yes. Of course. He's so -" Rose seemed to be struggling for a word, which wasn't like her. "He's so useful."

There was something Rose wasn't saying. Jackie wouldn't mind having a heart to heart with her. Some things just couldn't be discussed properly on the phone, especially if the Doctor was right there. She had been wondering for two days now whether something was going on between Rose and the Captain. She had been almost certain Rose was sleeping with the Doctor, but they hadn't actually said so, and now she thought she might have been wrong. Maybe the Captain had come along and caught Rose's eye right from under the nose of the Doctor.

Captain Jack was certainly eye-catching.

The Doctor hadn't seemed worried about losing Rose to Jack. Not in the least. He'd been very chummy with the Captain. Well, who could understand the way aliens were?

The evening after that, Jackie was trying to decide whether to go over to Suze's place, or just go to the pub for a quick one, when there was a knock at the door. Since she wasn't expecting anyone, she left the chain on the door to peek out first.

It was Captain Jack Harkness.

She opened the door as quickly as she could, fumbling with the chain. "Captain! What are you - I mean, how nice to see you."

It was a smile that could have launched a thousand spaceships. "I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I'd visit. If you aren't too busy?"

"No, no, no," said, not too eagerly, she hoped, holding the door open for him. He came in, and waved a bottle of wine at her. "It isn't from an exotic planet," he said apologetically. "Just France. Eighteenth century. A good year, or so the Doctor told me - he seems to know about these things."

"He seems to know about a lot of things," said Jackie, frankly. "I find it unnerving. Rose doesn't seem to mind." She took his black leather jacket and put it on a coat-hook. Underneath it he wore a pale green shirt. The colour suited him.

"He's a walking encyclopedia. Knows so much he sometimes forgets what he should be remembering."

The Captain wandered into the kitchen, making himself at home. He was talking about their travels, how they'd come back to the area and he'd had supper at the pub down the street before deciding to take a chance that she might be home. He talked about the bargirl, doing such a good impression of her northern accent that Jackie was in stitches. While talking, he found two wine glasses the same size, and the corkscrew, and used it with nimble fingers to open the wine. The old-fashioned label looked as if it had just been printed yesterday. Maybe it had been. Jackie found the strange confusions of time travel gave her a headache, though Rose said it was easy to understand once you were used to it.

"Rose says she'll come and see you tomorrow," Jack was saying. "The TARDIS is just up the street - we got in from the fortieth century and I thought they might like a bit of time alone together, if you know what I mean." He grinned at her, playing the naughty boy by implication. This nicely answered the question she hadn't asked, about who was sleeping with whom. Rose and the Doctor, as she'd originally thought. "So I went out, and decided to look around the neighbourhood, and then to visit you. You don't mind?"

"No, not at all." She took the glass he had so gracefully poured, and clinked it against his. "Cheers."

"To you," he said, his voice mellowing. "To the charming Jackie Tyler."

So he was coming on to her. It wasn't her imagination, or stupid wishful thinking, or just the way he was with everyone. He'd been flirting at the restaurant, but he'd flirted with Rose too, which was only natural, with Rose looking so lovely. It even sounded as if he was flirting with the Doctor, but that was his way. Charming, attentive to everyone.

And now they were alone in her living room and there was no doubt who he was flirting with.

She felt suddenly shy as a girl, and dropped her eyes as she sipped the wine. It was like silk on the tongue - she didn't know much about wines, French or otherwise, but twas good. It steadied her.

The Captain didn't seem to notice any awkwardness. He was looking around the room, not exactly prying like some people might, but curious and appreciative. He looked at the picture of Rose at ten, and the picture of Pete holding Rose when she was a baby.

"My Pete," Jackie explained, and blushed again. She couldn't have said why.

"He was a very attractive man," said the Captain gently. His tone made her want to cry. He was arousing feelings she shouldn't be having. It wasn't fair. She was lonely and he was Rose's friend and she wanted to touch him so badly.

He had found the stereo, the one Rose had bought with the money from her first job. He must have done something to it because the music it was playing was nothing she or Rose had ever bought. The song was "Embraceable You". Captain Jack held out his arms. "Jackie? Care to dance?"

He must have done something to the lights too, even if she hadn't noticed, because they were dimmer and mellower than they had been. She took his hand and he put his other arm around her waist. "You're just full of tricks, aren't you?" she said, getting into the rhythm of the music, with his hand clasping hers.

"Tricks?" He raised his eyebrows, pulling her closer.

"You're one surprise after another."

"I wouldn't want to be predictable," said the Captain. His voice was very near her ear. "Predictability leads to routine and routine leads to boredom, don't you think?"

"I don't think you could ever be boring, Captain."

He looked into her eyes and said, "Call me Jack."

She was done for then. "Jack," she said, and let his gaze overwhelm her, and the music, and the lighting. She was melting in his arms, held close against him now. Dancing with Jack was like being in another universe, somewhere without fears or worries.

Her feet followed his without thought. His hand roamed her back, comforting and exciting her at the same time. The other hand settled on her hip as if it belonged there. His cheek touched her hair. He smelled pleasantly exotic. It was as if he had transformed her mundane flat into a ballroom .. or something more intimate.

It felt like floating. His hand on her back roamed, sometimes caressing, sometimes pressing. He had a sensuous touch: it was difficult to pull her attention away from it, and she didn't try. When his hand strayed to her bum and stayed there, her hole body responded. She swallowed and almost groaned. The music had become slower - something she couldn't identify, something that hinted of dark rooms and sultry passions.

Her forehead was pressed against his shoulder. He whispered her name and she could feel his lips against her hair. The hand that had been on her hip found her breast and explored it. This was dancing, but it felt likeforeplay. His thumb rubbed her nipple. Through two layers of cloth, it drove her mad. This time she might actually have groaned aloud. The thumb pressed again, circling.

He was nibbling gently on her ear. She raised her head to find his lips almost touching hers, his mouth slightly open. He closed the gap for a kiss, which was what she'd wanted from the moment she'd set eyes on him, but not all she'd wanted. His mouth was demanding, making promises she knew he could fulfill.

This wasn't dancing any more, though the music held them. This was making love. This was more than she'd dared to hope for. She let herself touch him, everywhere she could reach, enjoying the firmness of his strong body, as she pressed against him, relishing his beautiful masculinity.

His cock was hard against her. He wanted her. He really, really wanted her. Of all the women in the twenty-first century, he'd chosen her to be with tonight. Her voice was husky as she asked, "Want to go into my bedroom?"

His smile was the sexiest thing she'd ever seen. "I thought you'd never ask," he said, and kissed her again on the lips, lightly this time, like a promise. Then he swept her up in his arms, and carried her into her own bedroom.

He was very strong. Strong enough to lay her gently down, kissing her throat from chin to collar. Then he was pulling her shirt up and kissing her revealed skin, warm fingers playing with her breast through her bra, his other arm reaching under her, lifting her a little, so they could pull the shirt over her head and drop it aside. He eased the strap of her bra off her shoulders, kissing a path down her arms. She could feel his beating heart against her body through his shirt.

He tossed aside her bra and kissed her mouth again, his hands on her breasts, the way he'd learned she liked. Then his mouth followed his hands, warm and soft, licking and sucking her. She didn't even notice she was moaning until he lifted his head to flash a smile at her. So she pushed him back onto the bed and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He had a good body, the nicest she'd seen since Pete's. He teased her by kissing her hands, getting in the way of the unbuttoning, but when she unzipped his trousers and reached in to touch his cock he threw back his head and moaned. Then he grabbed her wrist, stopping her motion as she stroked him.

"We can do better than this." His smile was mischievous, his eyes hungry, as he stood, pulling off his shoes and socks. This was a strip tease just for her. Slowly and deliberately, he undressed item by item, putting his clothes in a neat pile that, in the arranging, cleverly showed off his body: the muscles in his thighs, the symmetry of his bum, the erotic shape of his back, the curve of his knee. He talked as he undressed, talked about her, talked about sex. He told her what he wanted to do with her, described it in clear terms but not rude ones. He talked about what he was doing, what he was thinking of doing, and what he was going to do. He talked about how much he wanted her and all the time he revealed a little more, and then a little more, of himself. "Exhibitionist," she murmured.

"Tell me you don't like it," he teased.

"I like it," she said. "So come back here."

Totally naked, he came back. He kissed her again, and spent the same care in undressing her as he had in undressing himself, though he didn't stop to fold her clothes in a neat pile. He touched his legs to her legs, his chest to her back, his lips to her shoulder, his hands to her feet - moving in a gentle and steady way. He had stopped his flow of talk: his lips were busy with her skin now, and as he murmured endearments she could feel the warm tickle of his breath on her skin. In the end he was sitting between her knees on the floor, fondling a nipple as he stared into her eyes. "Jackie Tyler, you are beautiful," he said.

For the first time in years, she felt beautiful.

She held out her arms to him and he came up on the bed with her, touching her again his body and mouth and hands, as if he couldn't get enough.

He rolled her over, kissing down her spine and her legs, caressing her with light, warm fingers. He whispered compliments and endearments and suggestive possibilities against her skin as he touched the soft places. He rubbed his face against the soles of her feet, and it felt delicious. She thought she was going to explode.

"Jack," she said.

"Impatient?" He chuckled, and took the lube from her table beside the bed, smearing it over the fingers of his right hand. He took her in his arms for a kiss again. But this time he was fingering her clit at the same time and she was losing control, going mad with it. He slipped his fingers inside her, his thumb stroking her, and she thought for a moment that nothing had ever felt quite so overwhelmingly good in the whole of her life. He licked and kissed and murmured against her throat while his fingers worked magic inside her, and then she was coming hard, biting on his shoulder to muffle her screaming.

How long it lasted, she didn't know. Her bones slowly came back. He was lying over her, not with his full weight, but with his cock rubbing against her thigh, his eyes half-closed. She said, "Let me get a condom."

He made an inarticulate sound, a mix of arousal and assent, and rolled onto his back. She reached for the packet in the drawer where the lube had been, and rolled it over his cock, caressing and pressing and enjoying the sounds he made while she did it. She sucked at him and played with his balls, and he whispered, "Fuck, Jackie, you'll be the death of me!"

Feeling triumphant, moved astride him, taking his cock into her. She cried out as the delicious stretch filled her - he was large, oh yes! - and her consciousness seemed to focus on the one overwhelming sensation. Nerves went mad as he started to move and clutched his shoulders to steady herself, saying, "Oh, Jack!"

The pleasure escalated. He didn't stop. It was incredible. Doing this forever would be all right with her.

Then he rolled her over, readjusted himself on top, and started again. She climaxed again, sweeter and longer than the last time, and this time, he followed her.

He had the strength of will to remove and dispose of the condom. She heard him using the loo. She heard him come back. Then she was asleep in his arms.

She awoke later to find him looking at her. It was still dark outside, not morning yet. They'd left the bedside lamp on all night. He said, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry. You were sleeping so soundly."

"Thanks to you," she said, and snuggled against him. He smelled warm and comfy. He was hard again and this time she let him reach for the condom and put it on, and he pressed inside her as she wrapped her legs around him. He touched her face and she sucked on his fingers. This time, neither of them lasted long at all.

They dozed.

When she awoke again it was almost morning. He turned his head to smile at her. He looked as good as he had when he'd been fresh at her door - or better, maybe, with his hair disordered and his body relaxed. She had a sudden fear that she looked all bleary and messy, the way she sometimes did in the mornings, and that was followed by the realization that Jack just didn't care.

He took her hand and kissed it, holding it between both of his. "Good morning."

"A good morning after a fucking good night," she said. On cue, he spoke as she did, "And a good night fucking!" They both laughed, and he kissed her mouth.

She didn't want the kiss to ever stop, but it did. She took a deep breath. He was going to leave soon now. She wondered if he would ever come back. If he would want to come back. She didn't want to beg and seem like a desperate case, but she didn't want to miss a chance through pride.

So she tried to sound casual as she said, "Must be lonely for you, there on the TARDIS."

He was playing with a lock of her hair, leaning on one arm, a smile on his face. She could tell he was waking up to face the day with the kind of boundless energy he always showed. "No, not at all. Not with Rose and the Doctor."

"I mean, you don't have anyone for sex."

He had her hand in his, entwining fingers, and was kissing her knuckles, one by one. "We have sex a lot. Fantastic sex."

He wasn't making sense. "Who?"

"Me. The Doctor. Rose."

"But you said you weren't." She pulled her hand away, sitting up. Had he lied to her?

"I did?" He frowned, obviously trying to remember what he'd said.

"You said you left Rose and the Doctor so they could be alone together."

"Oh, that. I thought it would be nice for them. They didn't ask me to leave. But sometimes, you know, it's good with only two." He smiled warmly again. "Like last night, with us. It was nice."

She pulled up her knees, the sheet draped over them, and wrapped her arms around them. She asked flatly, "You're fucking Rose, then?"

"Not last night," he said flippantly, finding the conversation amusing still. When she didn't smile back, he looked serious himself. "Jackie? Does that bother you?" He touched her cheek again. "You raised a lovely daughter. She's amazing. So is the Doctor."

"Yes," Jackie said. She felt very strange. She reached for her dressing gown and wrapped it around her so she wouldn't be naked with him any more. She sat on the side of the bed.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

"I feel like Oedipus. I feel like Mrs. Robinson."

"Whatever you might be, you aren't my son! Who's Mrs. Robinson?"

"A foolish woman in a story." She looked at him. He was still naked and beautiful and charming, but she couldn't react to it. She looked away. "How old are you, Jack?"

"A couple of years younger than you are," he said. "And a hell of a lot younger than the Doctor."

Rose was nineteen. She didn't ask how old the Doctor was. She didn't want to know. "How long are you going to stay with them?"

"I don't ever want to leave them."

Which answered her question, right enough, and she had maybe felt better before she asked it. She said, "Would you like some breakfast? I've got cereal, and eggs. I could make toast."

He got out of bed, unselfconscious, and would have kissed her, but she dodged him. "No, don't."

"Are you angry?"

"Not with you. I'm just... Listen, Jack, I grew up in the twentieth century, not the fiftieth. I don't understand what Rose's life has changed into. Sometimes I have to draw the line."

He nodded, not understanding, but accepting. "Should I apologize?"

That did make her smile. "Don't you dare! I loved every minute." She headed to the kitchen. "Now, enough of that. How do you like your eggs?"

"Any way is fine. I'm flexible."

"I'd say you are."

She made the toast, trying not to think. Rose and Jack. Rose and the Doctor. Sweet, handsome Jack, whom she couldn't touch now, because he was Rose's. And the Doctor's. Jack and the Doctor. It slipped through her mind like rain, not sorting itself into proper meaning.

He came into the kitchen, fully dressed and washed, looking fresh and dressed with military precision. She felt a gulf widen between them as they ate. He made some light conversation. She replied in kind, but the conversation was flat and they lapsed into silence. He was a fifty-first century adventurer and she was a twenty-first century ex-retail employee. Why had he made her feel so much?

She said, "Will you make me a promise? Don't tell Rose about you and me last night. Don't tell her we were together. Don't tell her anything."

He sipped his tea, nodded at the taste - or the question - and said, "Okay. I won't say a word. Our secret."

"Thanks." She smiled at him ruefully, and let him take her hand one last time. "It was lovely, though, wasn't it?"

He kissed her lightly on the lips, the kind of kiss that one might share with a brother - or a lover who was saying good-bye.

"Take care of yourself," said Jackie. "Take care of Rose, on them faraway planets."

"I will. You take care of yourself, Jackie Tyler, here on Earth."

He put down the empty mug and rose to go. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him to her, kissed him as hard as ever she had kissed anyone, and then pushed him towards the door. "Good-bye, Jack."

He flashed her his magnificent smile. "Bye," he said, and was gone.

- end -