Title: Lie To Me
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Table: 6, 12_stories
Prompt: 11, Lies
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.

***

The Doctor sighed, turning over in bed and pressing his face into his pillow. It was so hard to get used to sleeping alone again, after he'd been used to having Jack beside him. The bed seemed far too big now for one person.

But he'd have to get used to it, he told himself, holding back another sigh. What he and Jack had shared was over, done with, in the past. He'd been sleeping alone for a while now; he'd had more than enough time to accustom himself to an empty bed.

The problem was that it wasn't only his bed that felt empty -- it was also his hearts. When Jack had left, there had been a space left in his hearts that no one else would be able to fill, a space that the Doctor was sure still bled freely.

Nothing had taken away the ache of Jack walking away from him. Nothing. And he was sure that nothing ever would.

If only he'd been honest about his intentions from the beginning, and let the Doctor know that he wouldn't stay, then the leaving would have been much easier to deal with. But he hadn't done that; his actions had said something very different.

Jack had never said in so many words that he wouldn't leave, that was true. And his flirting had driven the Doctor nearly insane; it was hard to deal with watching his boyfriend try to seduce anything with a pulse, male or female.

He'd kept telling himself over and over that it was just Jack's way; he'd been raised far in the future, after all, when fidelity didn't mean much. Even emotions didn't have a strong hold on him; Jack was only out to get what he wanted, nothing more.

The Doctor had pushed that aside and loved the immortal for who he was, in spite of his faults. He'd opened his heart, his soul, his life.

And this was what he'd gotten for it, he thought bitterly, one small fist clenching. An empty bed, an empty existence. He'd put his faith in Jack Harkness, and found out that the man he loved was made of nothing more than lies and feet of clay.

Those lies that Jack had told him seemed so believable at the time. The words coming from him in the darkness of this very bedroom; his assurances that he loved the Doctor and that his heart was more involved than it had ever been.

That couldn't have been true. If he'd really been in love, then he wouldn't have left, would he? The Time Lord sighed again, closing his eyes and wishing that it was easier to push these thoughts out of his mind, banish them to the far reaches of his consciousness.

Or better yet, if only he could push them away entirely, forget about Jack and everything that they'd shared, relegate it all to the realm of dreams.

That was impossible. Thoughts of Jack seemed to come into his head at the most inopportune times; fortunately, they hadn't assailed him when he was around other people, but they certainly robbed him of his sleep lately.

What he really should do, he told himself as he pulled the covers further up around his bare shoulders, was to find another companion -- whether they were also a lover or not -- and forget about Jack. That was the past. He needed to look to his own future.

But that, again, wouldn't be easy to do. After Jack, was anyone going to fill that empty void that seemed to stretch ahead of him into infinity? He would always be comparing the next companion to the immortal, and no one would ever live up to that relationship.

That wasn't fair to the next person who shared the Tardis with him, he realized. But it was inevitable that there would be comparisons made.

Of course, whoever his next companion was, he was sure that person wouldn't share his life in the way that Jack had. He was also sure that they wouldn't share his bed; that sort of companion didn't come along often, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

His hearts were still far too bruised by a relationship that hadn't worked, that had turned into dust and sifted away through his fingers. He was still trying to solder the pieces back together; he certainly wasn't anywhere near ready to risk them being shattered again.

They wouldn't be, a little voice whispered in the back of his mind. He couldn't possibly be hurt like that again, because he would take more precautions to protect himself the next time he traveled with a companion. He wouldn't let them into his life in that capacity.

He couldn't bear to hear more lies about how he was loved -- and then have that person inform him that they were leaving, that they couldn't stay with him.

How many people had lied to him in that respect? It hadn't just been Jack; almost every companion he'd ever taken into the Tardis had told him that same lie. They'd all said they wanted to stay forever, but they'd changed their minds later.

Of course, he couldn't blame them, not really. They'd had their own lives to go back to; he hadn't had the right to expect them to give up those lives completely for him. And they hadn't had the same kind of relationship with him as Jack had.

But the man who'd said he loved him, who'd said that they shared something special that he wanted to hold on to .... he'd expected that man to always be with him, to always be a part of his life, to never fade away into the background.

Jack was still a part of his life, that insidious little voice reminded him. He just wasn't here all the time, by the Time Lord's side, giving his support and his love.

And that was what he'd wanted, the Doctor thought, blinking to keep back a sudden rush of tears. That was all he'd wanted. For Jack to stay with him, for his companion and lover to stay by his side and not to leave him to face this never-ending loneliness again.

Having Jack with him had kept that loneliness at bay, the loneliness he'd felt even when he had other companions. Jack had been the only person who'd made that loneliness go away; he had managed to send it scurrying into the far corners of the Doctor's life.

Now that Jack was gone, it was back with him, always nagging at his heels and threatening to take him over. The loneliness that he'd hoped never to feel again was his only constant companion, the one that he'd never wanted to have.

If only Jack hadn't lied to him, this would have been easier to take. If only the immortal hadn't claimed to love him; if only his hearts hadn't become involved.

But they had, and he'd have to learn to live with this loneliness again. He'd also have to learn to deal with the fact that Jack didn't love him -- at least, not enough to stay with him. His love hadn't extended to giving up his freedom.

Those lies would catch up with him one day, the Doctor thought, almost feeling vengeful. And when they did, he really wanted to be there. He wanted to see Jack suffer the same kind of loneliness and regret that he did, to show him what it felt like.

He wanted to throw those lies back into Jack's face -- but he wouldn't. There was still a small part of him that clung to those words the other man had said, those whispered words that had meant so much to him at the time -- those words that he'd believed.

Even though they'd been lies, at least they'd given him a sense of comfort and security that he didn't have now -- and that he doubted he would ever have again.

The Doctor turned over resolutely, burying his face in the pillow and closing his eyes. He needed to forget all of those words, push them away from him as though they'd never been said. There was no point in clinging to words that hadn't been true.

Whatever Jack's reasons had been for lying to him, what they had shared was in the past now, and there was no use thinking of what might have been.

***