Title: When the Time Comes
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Rating: PG-13
Table: 100_situations
Prompt: 80, Afraid
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 stood at the entrance to the control room, watching Jack as his boyfriend sat looking at the planet on the large viewscreen. The Doctor's gaze didn't move from Jack's face; he didn't need to see the screen to know what planet Jack was looking at.

There was only one place that could put that look of longing on Jack's face. He was looking at Earth, at the planet of his birth, the planet that he'd left the Doctor to protect. The planet where he'd always felt that he belonged, even after all the other places he'd seen.

The Time Lord could feel a coldness starting to form around his hearts, fear seeping through him slowly, as if it was a poison that was slowly numbing his entire body. He knew that look all too well; he'd seen it often enough in the past, before Jack had left him.

He knew that restlessness that could take the immortal over all too easily. He knew when Jack felt that he needed something more, when everything that he had wasn't enough for the other man. He knew Jack Harkness far too well, his moods, his expressions.

And that expression on his face, that look of restless longing, meant that his boyfriend was ready for more adventure than he had with the Doctor. He was ready to move on to some new horizon, to do something that he'd never done before.

He was ready to leave the Time Lord behind. Again.

The Doctor could feel his breath catch in his throat at the thought; what was he going to do if Jack gave in to that restlessness that always seemed to permeate his soul and left for a second time? And what would he do, once his lover abandoned him yet again?

He would go on. That was the only option he had; there was nothing else he could do. He certainly wasn't going to bring his life to an end simply because yet one more person had left him. That would be the most idiotic, useless thing he could possibly do.

But he wouldn't have a life after Jack left him for the second time. He would exist, of course. He would keep on going, keep doing what he always did; he would even manage to smile and laugh and make jokes, and seem like the same person he'd always been.

Inside, he would be a hollow, empty shell. It might sound melodramatic, even to his own ears, but he was sure that there would a part of him -- the part of himself that was loving and emotional -- that would simply shut down and refuse to work any longer.

He was terrified of ending up like that, of being a cold, emotionless person who couldn't feel any more -- a person who couldn't love. And he was absolutely positive that if he lost Jack for a second time, that was exactly what would happen.

The Doctor took a deep breath, keeping his eyes on his lover. What was Jack thinking? Was he wishing that he was there on Earth, working with Torchwood again, leaving the Doctor and the life they shared far behind? Was he regretting the choice he'd made?

If he was, then there was probably nothing that could be done about it. Jack was, after all, an adventurer. He always had been. It had been one of the things that had made him so attractive to the Doctor when they'd first met, one of the things that had made the Time Lord fall in love.

But now that he and Jack were together, and had hopefully worked out their differences, he didn't want a boyfriend who hungered for adventure. He wanted someone who would share their life with him, someone who he could share adventures with.

He'd thought that had been one of Jack's reasons for coming back to him -- not only that the other man loved him, missed him, and wanted to be with him, but that Jack had wanted the two of them to share their experiences, rather than going through them alone.

There had been no reason for him to feel that Jack had only come back because he'd been bored with the way things had been going at Torchwood, no reason for him to believe that Jack would get restless again and decide to leave him behind for a second time.

He really had no reason to think that now, just because Jack was gazing at Earth on a viewscreen, did he? But there had been so many warning signs lately, so many little things that had made him wonder if Jack was happy with him.

The other man had seemed so preoccupied at times, even when they were in bed together. There had been times when he could have sworn that Jack was thinking about something else even while they were making love, that his lover was a million miles away.

That didn't happen often, and the Doctor hadn't wanted to bring it up with Jack and ask if anything was bothering him. But he would have to do so now, he was sure -- either that, or risk having the immortal move further away from him, in spirit if not in body.

He was afraid that was already happening -- and that it was too late for him to stop the other man from leaving again. Had he left the discussion too long? Had he let Jack slip away from him again without even realizing that it was in the process of happening?

The thought made his hearts feel as though they were being squeezed; just the idea of watching Jack turn his back and walk of the Tardis, as he'd done the first time, was enough to make panic start to well up inside him, a panic that he couldn't fight back.

He was terrified of feeling that way again, of facing the rest of his life without the one man he knew made him feel complete and loved. But if that was the way things had to be, then he had no choice but to accept them and carry on from there.

Clearing his throat, he moved forward into the control room, his hearts feeling as though they'd jumped from his chest to somewhere in the vicinity of his throat. He didn't know what to say to Jack, how to ask the questions he needed to ask, or even to start a conversation.

What he had to ask couldn't be answered with just a few well-chosen words; the restlessness he sensed in his lover was far too profound for that. And he was sure that Jack would have a hard time putting how he felt into words, as well.

Jack looked up at him, smiling and holding out a hand. The Doctor made his way to the chairs in front of the viewscreen, sinking down into one, his mind racing. How was he going to bring this up with Jack? What would be the best way to start?

He couldn't think of a single word to say, nothing that would start a conversation. He didn't want to sound as though he was accusing Jack of anything; he wasn't really doing that. He just wanted to find out if his boyfriend was happy, or if he was feeling restless again.

There was nothing to say. Nothing that he could do.

If Jack wanted to leave, then he had no choice but to let the man he loved go. If he loved Jack, then he couldn't keep him back from what he wanted to do, even at the risk of his own happiness. It was better for Jack to be away from him and happy than to be with him and be miserable.

So he wasn't going to say anything, the Doctor told himself, wincing inwardly. If Jack was feeling restless, then doubtless his boyfriend would bring it up; if he didn't, then he would just do the same thing that he'd done before, and leave when he was ready.

If Jack wanted to leave, then there was nothing he could do about that. He could plead for the other man to stay, and that might even work -- for a while. But he knew that Jack wouldn't stay if he had decided in his heart that he needed to leave.

He was afraid that Jack had already made that decision, and that what he was seeing now were the effects of that decision starting to show. There was no telling how much longer it would be before the axe fell, the bomb dropped, and he was alone again.

Until then, he would wait -- and hope that his instincts were wrong. If they were, then he could laugh and brush the uncomfortable feelings away, put them down to his own paranoia. And if they weren't -- well, then he would deal with that as best he could when the time came.

***