Series: True/Troubled Beauty
Series tagline: How do you love someone who believes they don’t deserve your love?
Title: Prologue: Never Satisfied
Fandom: Doctor Who
Chapter Summary: Set during Jack’s time with the Ninth Doctor. Doctor’s POV. Nine/Jack
Rating: PG-13 for sexual references and maybe swearing
Word Count: Just over 1000
Warning: Not so much in this part but over the series there are a lot of references to other shows, actors etc. so there may be spoilers for them.
Disclaimer: I am a lowly fan. This is FANfiction.
A/N: I started writing a vignette but it grew into a rather large fanfic and then I had to split it into sections and now the chapters have grown into double digits. Also, this was a stand-alone story I had written but never posted and I thought it made a good prologue to True/Troubled Beauty so I’m posting it now.
Feedback: helps me to keep writing and keep improving and is GREATLY needed. Please?
Title: Never Satisfied
I can’t believe I let it get this far. Even Rose hasn’t made it to my bed, not yet anyway and I don’t think she ever will. I won’t let her. Don’t know why I let him, but it’s too late now to wonder. It’s done; it’s past; it’s history. Except for the fact that he’s still here, sleeping.
I don’t understand why I can’t find it in myself to wake him up and toss him out. It’s not as if I care about hurting his feelings, I don’t flatter myself by thinking it would hurt his feelings. This has never been about feelings for him and I can’t figure out why he’s here and Rose isn’t. It isn’t as if I fancy him more because I don’t. I don’t.
Mind you, as I look at him, his head resting on the pillow next to mine, he looks so innocent; so young, even younger than Rose; the light from the TARDIS highlighting the contrast between his pale white skin to his dark dark hair to his red kiss-swollen lips; he looks at peace; he looks so restful and I know he needs that rest because although it isn’t until you get real close that you see the worry-lines in his forehead or the bags under his eyes they are there.
God, he’s so beautiful.
And I guess that’s the difference between Rose and Jack. She may be pretty, she’s gorgeous in fact, I fancied her from the first moment I saw her but what attracts me to Jack is something different entirely. I don’t know what it is and my brain has just been fried so I hardly think I can put it into words right now. But… I dunno, it’s just Jack.
I protect Rose because I have to, she is my responsibility. I don’t have to protect Jack, he’s made that perfectly clear. He’s determined to make it on his own, to not rely on anybody, to show he doesn’t need us, he doesn’t need me. Yet for some reason that makes me want to protect him even more, prove to him that he is part of a team and that I am the leader of that team. I need his trust and even though I know he’d follow me blindly to his death I still need more than that.
I understand him, or at least I think I do. I understand the act that he puts on in front of Rose because I perform the same one. Rose is just a girl; young, sweet and innocent and that’s what Jack and I like best about her and we will do anything to try and protect her and keep her that way. Jack’s a man and he lost all his innocence a long time ago and it’s a shame and I think he thinks so too. That’s another reason he puts on that façade and I’m scared to pull back that mask because the glimpses I’ve seen of his true self have already blown my mind and affected my hearts.
He’s starting to dream now, the only dreams he ever has: nightmares. He’s tossing and turning, muttering unintelligibly, a cold sweat already breaking out on his forehead and his bare chest. It’s breaking my hearts to watch, but I do.
He’s so troubled, so disturbed, so haunted yet he keeps it so well hidden that the only chance it really has to surface is whilst he’s sleeping, helpless. Jack always has his façade up, even when he’s alone it in the TARDIS, he even wants to protect her from what he thinks and feels. He needn’t bother because the TARDIS is telepathic and she already knows but even she won’t tell me. She’s not sure I could take it and to be honest, I’m not sure she’s not wrong.
Rose has nightmares. I’m well aware of this and I think I may be responsible for a couple but all her nightmares are just skin-deep. Jack’s are soul-deep, coming from a place of darkness, loneliness and fear. I recognise that place well and I don’t want him to face it on his own. I want to save him. I want to fix him.
No, it’s more that that. I want to save him from himself. I want to fix that part of him which hates himself, because it kills me that he doesn’t know how beautiful he is. He tries too hard to get people to like him just because he doesn’t like himself.
Jack is sobbing now, I can hear it and see it and feel it in every single bone of my body. It’s almost as if the TARDIS is crying too and I can feel a prickling sensation behind my eyeballs but I won’t cry. I WILL NOT. But it hurts.
I remember telling him once, talking about something else but the meaning of the words all about him, it’s all about him: “Only good people have nightmares” I told him and he replied and argued using Freudian technology: ‘id, ego, superego, defence mechanisms’ etc. I repeated my statement because I truly believe it but then he replied by quoting Shakespeare’s ‘Richard III’. I didn’t try again.
Jack will always have an excuse as to why you shouldn’t love him. Oh you can be his friend, his acquaintance, be someone who fucks him or who he fucks but you can never be his lover. He’s only good for satisfying lust, not love.
I get it now. I get why he’s in my bed and she isn’t. It’s really rather masochistic of me actually. She isn’t in my bed because I want her to be. He’s in my bed because it isn’t just his body I want, it’s his heart and soul. He’s in my bed because last night I made love to him because I knew he wouldn’t let me love him any other way.
His pillow is soaked in tears as his shouts die down and he starts to settle, a break in his nightmares giving him a rest that I fear will be far too brief. Sweat plasters his hair to his forehead and he’s hugging his pillow as though it were a teddy bear. He’s so beautiful. I want to protect him; I want to help him; I want to love him.
I stand up and leave. I can’t hear Jack once the door is closed.