Jack pulled his coat tightly around him to fight off the chill. He doubted he’d ever get use to this damp miserable place. But if the fortune teller was right he would be waiting one hundred years before he’d meet the Doctor, that meant that he had at least another thirty odd years of waiting. Jack was sceptical of fortune tellers, but this girl back in the eighteen hundreds had been so sure and she knew so much. In fact, she knew too much. Already Jack had been on Earth for almost one hundred years, but he knew he’d have to wait to the twenty-first century to meet his Doctor.
‘The Century will turn twice before you find each other again” that’s what the girl had said to him
It was the sixties now and every police box made Jack’s heart skip a beat, but it was to no avail, all of them were the genuine article and not a time travelling space ship in disguise. Jack however still held onto the hope that the right Doctor would come. He had been collecting documents and sightings of the Doctors, trying to track his progress. He was monitoring the Doctor and his regenerations trying to figure out the order they came in with his scant knowledge. He’d spent four months on the TARDIS with the Doctor but like a sponge he’d absorbed the knowledge offered to him by the Time Lord.
The immortal sniffed as he buried his hands into his pockets. He hated going on trips to London, but they were necessary. A thin layer of snow coated everything in white and Jack wondered if it would be a white Christmas. On the TARDIS Rose had taught Jack all about Christmas and they had planned to spend the celebration at Roses’ house. Jack remembered his excitement the idea of celebrating an old Earth holiday. But he never got to, probably never would be able to celebrate with Rose, her family and the Doctor. He squeezed his eyes shut chasing away the negative thoughts, ‘Of course I’ll get to celebrate Christmas with Rose and the Doctor,’ How dare he think such awful things!
Jack proceeded down the street. There was a pub he’d grown fond of over time and he planned to go there to drink away his woes. Hands deep in his pockets the immortal scuffed his boots through the snow, time and space bending around the immortal in the infinite impossibility.