The TARDIS jumped like a sedan going over a raccoon. Jack felt that ‘bump’ would have been a far less gloomy comparison, but given the circumstances, death was more likely than turbulence.
Maybe that was just a year of torture talking. Or, you know, witnessing the actual death of the universe.
The TARDIS’s brief founder had everyone’s attention. Martha joined the Doctor at the console, who bent over a tiny monitor. Jack thought about doing the same, then thought better. He’d done some important prioritizing during his stay on the Valiant; no sense in making himself part of the rhythm now. He’d be leaving soon, this time probably for good. Jack didn’t WANT it to be forever… but he felt a twinge of permanence when he thought about his practiced speech.
Maybe he’d just go pack. Whatever hadn’t been raided from his room, anyway. Sheesh. Opportunist wolves, these companions since him. He turned to head down the corridor.
“…Jack?”
Jack turned at the Doctor’s summons. “Yes, sir?”
The Doctor pushed up his glasses and looked down his nose at Jack over the top of the console. “You mind getting the door? For a friend. Well. Colleague. We-ell…” He searched for a more appropriate descriptor while Jack followed the request. He pulled the door open to the whirling time vortex. His joints remembered the screaming cold pain of clinging to the TARDIS.
A stranger’s hand swept through the doorway, catching Jack’s wrist in a ferocious grip. The force nearly yanked Jack out with it, but then Martha was there anchoring him, and the two of them towed their strange cargo aboard.
Like a wine cork coming free, the stranger tumbled through the door and rolled both Jack and Martha to the bridge floor. He landed mostly on Jack… who landed completely on Martha.
“Oye!” She yelped.
“Everyone all right?” The Doctor asked, without looking up. Jack shifted himself and the stranger sideways with a grumpy apology. Until he looked down… and found himself looking up into a pair of the most brilliant blue eyes he’d seen on a human face.
Brilliant… and pissed.
“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack smiled, and who are *you?*“
"Jack,” the Doctor’s voice held a note of warning.
“Castiel,” the stranger replied, rose as indiffently as if he *hadn’t* been sprawled between Jack’s legs, and proceeded to the console. There, while Martha and Jack looked on in bewildered amusement, he proceeded to engage the Doctor in an absolutely splendid argument. Terms like ‘megalomaniacal amateur’ and ‘delusions of heroism’ were bandied about.
Martha raised her eyebrows at Jack and made a shooing motion towards the combatants. He grinned, poked his pinkies in his mouth, and let out a piercing whistle that (momentarily) brought things to a halt.
“Doctor?” Jack asked, “Everything ship-shape?”
“Oh, yes. Just a friendly theological discussion between time travelers. Castiel’s a concerned citizen. He does this periodically.”
Castiel’s already stormy disapproval whipped into a squall. “Does *what* ‘periodically’?”
And Lord if he didn’t have just the sexiest angry voice. Before Jack could insert himself into the discussion, it closed him out again. Martha nudged his shoulder.
“Hey,” she smiled, angling her head towards the corridor, “I smuggled in some chocolate biscuits, last stop. Fancy a coffee?”
Jack’s frustration soothed. He remembered again why he’d made his decisions, where he was going, and why. Saving his most dazzling grin for the beauty at his side, Jack offered her a gratious arm.
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