Title: Accident & Emergency
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: R
Table: 3
Prompt:71, Emergency Room
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the Tenth Doctor or Jack Harkness. Please do not sue.

***

Why wouldn't this damned thing go faster? Jack wanted to scream at the mechanism that allowed the Torchwood team members to enter the Hub without being perceived, willing it to move faster, to get him into the heart of Torchwood more quickly.

He wasn't going to break down. Not yet. He'd gotten the Doctor here in time. The Time Lord hadn't begun to regenerate; that was probably a good sign, wasn't it? He wasn't going to regenerate, and he wasn't going to die. Not matter what happened, he wasn't going to die. Jack Harkness wouldn't allow it. Not under any circumstances.

Jack looked down at the man cradled in his arms, pressing his hand against the Doctor's thin chest. Yes, his hearts were still beating -- both of them. He could feel them under his palm, weak and thready, but still beating. He had to get the Doctor to the Hub, had to do something to make sure those hearts would keep beating for a long time to come.

He studied the Doctor's face for signs of a regeneration, but there were none. The Time Lord's skin was cold and clammy, his face ashen; his breathing was labored, but not enough to make Jack worry that he was gasping his last. He'd gotten his love here in time; Owen would be able to do something, he was sure of it.

The lift was finally on the main floor of the Hub; Jack stepped off it, hurrying towards the lab, turning sideways to get both himself and the Doctor through a door and calling for Owen. The young doctor looked out of his office, the look of annoyance on his face changing to alarm when he saw the burden in Jack's arms.

Owen hurried behind him to the lab, helping Jack to lay the Doctor down on one of the tables. "What happened?" he asked, pressing a hand against the Doctor's chest and then nodding. "Both hearts beating. Not strong, but there's still a heartbeat there for each of them. If one of them had stopped beating, then I would worry."

"We were just walking -- not looking for anything, I swear -- and a guy came running out of a coffee shop. Apparently he'd just robbed the place -- and the Doctor was the first person he happened to run into. He shot him. Just .... shot him," Jack whispered, the horror of what he'd witnessed still evident in his voice.

"Jack." Owen's hand was on his shoulder, the other man's voice calm and steady. "We'll save him. You got him here in time. He's not going to die, I'm sure of it. If one of his hearts had stopped, or if there was more bleeding -- then I might say there was cause for worry. But there don't appear to be internal injuries. We just have to remove the bullet."

"I thought he was dead when it happened," Jack murmured, unable to take his eyes from the Doctor's face. "I thought I'd just seen the man I love taken away from me, right in front of my eyes. I wanted to die, Owen. Living without him isn't an option. Not now, not ever. He's my whole life. Without him, I don't have a reason for living."

"You have Torchwood," Owen replied, looking across the table at Jack and then shaking his head. "But that's not good enough, I know. Believe me, I know what it's like to lose the one you love and know that your life doesn't mean anything to you. I've been there. Torchwood is what kept me going -- but then, you and I are completely different people."

"You're right, we are," Jack told him, lifting his head to look Owen in the eye. "Losing him isn't an option, Owen. Get that bullet out of him. Please." Owen looked startled at the pleading tone in Jack's voice; to the best of his knowledge, no one had ever heard Jack Harkness humble himself before. But there was a first time for everything.

"I will, Jack." Owen couldn't keep himself from reaching out to the other man. He'd rarely ever seen Jack when he needed comfort, but Owen knew how much the Doctor meant to the leader of Torchwood. No matter what he had to do, he'd manage to save the Time Lord. It shouldn't be too hard; removing a bullet was child's play.

That is .... removing a bullet from a human body was easy. He wasn't too sure of Gallifreyan physiology, if the Doctor's internal organs were in different places. And if he made even one mistake, he could do irreparable damage to the Time Lord's body. If he was responsible for anything happening to the Doctor, Jack would be baying for his blood.

No. He wasn't going to think like that. The Doctor had let Owen examine him and take x-rays several times before, to let the young doctor know something about his race. From what Owen had been able to discern, Gallifreyans were surprisingly like humans in several ways -- including the placement of most of their internal workings. That made things easier for him, then.

He stripped away the Doctor's shirt, frowning at the amount of blood seeping into the cloth. It hadn't seemed like much when Jack had carried the Time Lord in and laid him down, but now that the Doctor was flat on his back, the bleeding seemed to be aggravated. The bullet was in the vicinity of his stomach, and Owen could only hope that it hadn't hit anything vital.

"I'm going to get the bullet out, Jack," he told the immortal, noting the look of tension on Jack's features. "I think I know where it is, and with any luck, I'll be able to take it out quickly. Just hold him down, and be prepared to apply pressure to the area once I get the bullet removed, all right?"

Jack nodded, his face pale, but seemingly ready to do what Owen directed him to. The young doctor took a deep breath, focusing the light above the table on the area where he was sure the bullet was lodged, using one of Torchwood's more sophisticated instruments to locate it so he could be sure where it was.

Yes, there. Fortunately, it didn't look as though its trajectory had touched or even nicked any of the Time Lord's vital organs -- but it was lodged there in his body, and it had to be removed quickly. This would be an easy removal, if his hands would stop shaking and Jack would stop staring at him with that look of concentration.

"Jack, you're making me nervous. If you're going to stare at anyone, stare at him," he told the other man, focusing on what he was doing. In the same way that the bullet had gone .... grasp it .... there. Pull it out, drop the bit of blood-covered metal onto the table, apply sterile cloths to the area, wipe away the fresh blood welling up.

"There," he said softly, turning to Jack as he held out a cloth to the immortal. "Press that against his stomach, and keep it there for a few minutes. He'll be all right, Jack. As far as I can tell, the bullet didn't nick anything important, and there's no internal bleeding. He'll just be very sore and fragile for a while."

"He's always fragile," Jack murmured, leaning over the Doctor as he pressed the white cloth against the Time Lord's pale flesh. Owen wanted to look away when Jack brushed his lips across his lover's mouth, but he couldn't. It was impossible to look away from such love -- and even more impossible not to envy Jack for having it.

Owen reached for a bandage, fitting it over the area of the Time Lord's stomach where the wound was and adhering it to his skin. That shouldn't need changing until the morning, and with any luck, given the advanced healing powers that the Gallifreyan's body seemed to possess, the Doctor wouldn't be confined to bed for too long.

"You know what else that means, don't you?" Owen knew that he more than likely didn't have to say it, but knowing Jack, maybe he should drive the point home. "No sex, Jack. Nothing. Don't try to make him do anything that could hurt him before he's fully healed. No matter how much you think it wouldn't, you can never be too sure."

Jack sighed, nodding and turning back to look down at the Doctor. "I promise. No sex." He sighed again, turning his gaze towards Owen. "You do know how hard that's going to be for me, right? I mean, come on, Owen. Look at him. The most beautiful man I've ever seen in my life -- all the years of it. It'll be so damn hard to keep my hands off him."

"Or your cock out of him," Owen grumbled, scowling at Jack. "I mean it. Don't try to coerce him into anything. He won't be ready for it for a while, and I know how he can be when it comes to pleasing you. He'd do it, even if he knew that he'd be running a risk to himself. Don't try to talk him into anything, Jack."

"I know, Owen, I know." Jack was starting to sound irritated now, a sure sign that he should just button his lip and be quiet. "You don't think I'd do anything to put him in danger, do you? You know how much he means to me. I'd do anything for him -- you should all know that by now. So don't think I'd be stupid enough to try something before he's ready."

"And don't let him convince you that he is when he's not," Owen cautioned, sighing and shaking his head. "You two are like a couple of horny teenagers as far as keeping away from each other, even when you know you should. I should get both of you chastity devices and force you to wear them."

Jack slid his arms under the Doctor's still body, gathering the Time Lord into his arms and heading towards his bedroom, on the upper floor of the Hub. "Help me get him to bed, Owen. I'm not going to let him move from there, I promise you. And yes, I'll be in bed with him -- but I won't be trying to sex him up. I know better."

"You'd better not. And at least we have him here, where I can keep an eye on him. Where's the Tardis?" Owen questioned, hoping that the ship was here. He'd seen how the Doctor needed that strange bond with his ship, and he had a feeling that having the Tardis near would help the Time Lord to heal more quickly.

"She's here, on the lower floor," Jack told him, waiting for Owen to open the door to his room. When the doctor complied, he carried his fragile burden to the bed, laying the Time Lord down gently, then sitting down beside him. He bent forward to place a gentle kiss on the Doctor's lips, then reached for the buttons of his shirt.

"No, you don't have to stay," he said, glancing up at Owen. The young doctor was standing there watching them, an uncomfortable look on his face. "I know you don't think much of my promise not to talk him into anything sexual, but I mean it. I'm not going to risk hurting him, Owen. You should know that by now."

"I know you won't," Owen said quietly, nodding. "I know how much you love him. I see it in your eyes every time you look at him. I suppose ...." He heaved a sigh, his eyes moving to the Doctor's face, and then back to Jack's. "I suppose I envy you for having him. For being able to love somebody that much, and have that love returned."

"I know, I'm a lucky bastard who doesn't deserve what I have," Jack said softly, his gaze going to the Doctor's face. "But this time, I do appreciate what I've got, more than I ever have anything in my life. I know exactly what I have, and I'm going to work for the rest of my life to be worthy of it. Worthy of him."

Owen nodded, not quite sure of what to say. With one glance back at the two of them, he left Jack's room, closing the door behind him and heading back to his office. He probably wouldn't stay here much longer, but Jack knew his home number if anything happened and he needed to call, and he only lived less than ten minutes away.

Jack undressed the Doctor slowly, pulling off his shoes and socks, then unzipping his trousers and stripping them off. He didn't touch the bandage that Owen had put over the Doctor's stomach wound; he'd go out of his way to avoid that, not wanting to cause the Doctor any undue pain. With luck, it would start healing quickly.

That was one wonderful thing about Gallifreyans, he thought to himself, standing up and starting to remove his own clothing. They could heal so quickly, even at the Doctor's advanced age. But was over 900 years old for a Gallifreyan? Apparently not, considering that the Doctor looked so young -- at least in this incarnation.

Young and beautiful, he said to himself, laying down beside the Time Lord once he'd removed his clothes and sliding an arm around the fragile man in his bed. He pulled the covers up around both of them, reaching for the light on the night stand. It was dark outside now, and after the day he'd had, he wanted to sleep with the Doctor cradled in his arms.

He half-expected the Doctor to awaken, but it didn't happen. The Time Lord made a small sound, something like a sigh, and turned towards him slightly; Jack wrapped his arms more tightly around his fragile lover, holding the Doctor close against the warmth of his body. He was here, he was alive. He was going to be all right.

Thank whatever deities existed that Owen had been here, Jack thought, pressing his lips against the Doctor's forehead. If he hadn't been .... there was a good chance that the Doctor would be in a much more dire situation now. He owed his team so much -- and he didn't give them nearly enough credit for all they'd done for him.

Especially tonight. Owen had saved the love of his life, and he would find some way to repay the young doctor. He wasn't sure how he could do that, but he would try. He owed Owen that much -- no, he owed Owen everything. The Doctor was his life, as he'd told the other man. Owen had made sure that his life had a purpose by keeping the Doctor by his side.

Leaning back against the pillows, Jack finally allowed himself to close his eyes and relax. Today had been one of those days that he would remember for the rest of his life, no matter how long that life lasted. The day that he'd thought he might have lost his love -- and the day that love had been miraculously given back to him.

He didn't think he could deal with it if anything like that happened to them again. He looked down at the Doctor, sleeping peacefully, head resting on his chest, his breathing soft and steady. If it did, he wasn't so sure that they'd be nearly this lucky. He could only hope that the trouble the Doctor seemed to attract wouldn't always be following at his heels.

***