Author: Wendy Richards
Email: wendy@thedoctorandme.org
Rated: PG

For MissCam's Easter Egg ficathon; this one's for mythverdandi.

I'd like: Doctor/Jack/Rose OT3-ness. Can be either 9 or 10, I don't mind. Nothing terribly angsty. Or with a happy ending at least (Poster child for Disney, me). Any rating really, just so long as I get m'fluffness. For a prompt um...Singing. Why not? ;)

Lost and Found

Chapter 1: Sing for Your Life

"Nine thousand, four hundred and fifty-six green bottles hanging on the wa..."

She's losing count. And losing consciousness, too. Barely managing to stay awake.

"Gotta keep going, Rose." A faint kick to her ankle makes her head jerk up, difficult though it is.

"Yeah, I know," she manages to say through her dry throat. "Losin' count."

The creature hunched in the corner starts to stir. She swallows as she catches sight of it. Has to keep going.

"Doesn't matter. Just keep singing." Jack turns his head and gives her an encouraging look. But she can see that it costs him. He's exhausted, in pain and fast losing hope of rescue.

She nods. "And if one green bottle should... should accident'ly fall..."

Just another six verses. Only another six, and it'll be Jack's turn again. She can manage it. She has to.

They're going to die. She knows it. Jack does, too. They've been trying to keep each other's spirits up, but they both know it's hopeless. If the Doctor hasn't found them by now, he's not going to.

They've been here... oh, it's got to be at least a day, judging by the number of songs they've managed to get through. She still doesn't know where Jack managed to learn all those filthy rugby songs - he knows even more of them than she does. She knows they don't still play rugby in the fifty-first century.

"Nine thousand, four hundred and fifty-four green bottles..."

"Fifty-five," Jack murmurs. She ignores him.

Though she's starting to think that it might be best just to give in. This is slow torture. They know they can't hold out for ever. Sooner or later, they'll have to stop. Their voices are already giving way. They're both thirsty, their throats dry, their lungs burning and tight. Their lips are cracked and dry. They're almost hoarse. They're nearly faint from hunger and exhaustion. They can't continue much longer.

Sooner or later, they'll pass out, lose consciousness, whether for a few seconds or for longer. And then the creature will get them.

What does it matter if it's in ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, half a day? It's going to happen.

And then she looks at Jack again, sees the exhaustion on his face, the lines of pain around his mouth, the slashes of red across his chest where he was lashed with a whip trying to protect her, and she knows she has to carry on. For his sake. Because he didn't give up on her.

"The Doctor'll find us," she gasps between verses.

"Yeah," he says, but the conviction's gone from his voice.

Earlier, they'd both been confident of rescue. Sure that it was just a matter of time. All they had to do was keep the creature at bay for an hour or so until the Doctor found them and freed them. But that hour had stretched into hours, and now into more than a day, and there was no sign of the Doctor.

"Bastard should've got himself a wristcomp like mine long ago," Jack had said several times while it'd been her turn to sing. "He'd find us in minutes with that. I've got both your biosignatures coded into it. I can find either of you anywhere."

Yeah, but the Doctor doesn't have a wrist computer. Doesn't carry anything more techie than his sonic screwdriver, from what she can tell. He relies on his wits and immensely clever brain - which, this time, seems to have let him down.

He has tried. She heard her phone ringing a few times, but as it's in her pocket and her hands are secured to a manacle above her head she couldn't answer it. She can guess what her failure to answer has told him.

And she can only imagine what he must be going through. She knows how agonised he gets if he thinks something's happened to her. Remembers the way he'd hugged her after the Dalek disintegrated, all the agony he'd felt believing she was dead finding release in that desperate embrace.

If there's a way to find them, he'll do it. She can only hope he won't be too late - for his sake as much as theirs.

It had all started out so well. Another alien planet, another world to discover. The Doctor had been here before, but a long time ago. Jack had heard of the planet, but had never been here. "Explore," the Doctor had encouraged them. "Got some stuff I need to do. I'll find you later."

And so she and Jack had set off, her hand tucked into his arm - she only walks hand in hand with the Doctor - ready to explore this place. It'd looked exciting. A beautiful landscape, lots of hills and valleys and golden rivers stretching away into the distance. Fluffy silver clouds in the yellow sky. A different galaxy, Jack had explained, so different configurations of colours and atmosphere.

They'd strolled and looked and admired. Until suddenly their path had been blocked by a band of odd-looking creatures. Short, fat, hairy and very angry.

Thanks to the TARDIS, they'd been able to understand the creatures' accusations. They were trespassers. Spies. Intruders, come to destroy the peace and solitude of this world. They couldn't be allowed to leave, to carry word of this place to other galaxies and peoples. Their very presence was a threat.

They had to die. But these people apparently had some kind of taboo about killing. So they couldn't execute the intruders themselves. That, apparently, was the job of the beast now crouched mere feet away from them, scattered remnants of bones littering the floor beside it.

This is the natives of this planet's way of getting rid of undesirables. Chain them up to this cave wall and wait for the monster, whatever it is, to devour them. It's hungry, and they are dinner.

The singing's only because the natives told them about it. Giving them a fighting chance, they'd said. Torturing them with false hope that they might survive, she calls it. The beast is terrified of singing. So as long as they keep singing they won't get eaten.

But once they stop...

"Then there'll be nine thousa - " Her voice cracks. She's hoarse. She can't continue.

Jack looks at her, alarm in his expression. She shakes her head mutely, helplessly, at him. Immediately, he begins, "It's a long way to Tipperary..."

But his voice is little better than hers. He's slurring, croaking and faltering. This is it. It won't be long now. They can't hold out much longer.

She just wishes that she could touch him properly. Hold him, be held by him. But their arms are chained above their heads. Their legs aren't quite dangling; if they stretch, they can touch the ground with their toes. If she drags up the energy, she can touch his ankle with her foot, but that's all.

She does that. It's contact. Just a little, but it's better than nothing. He glances briefly at her, and she sees silent gratitude in his eyes.

God, she wants the Doctor so much. Just to talk to him again, to say goodbye, even if he can't get here in time to save them.

Her phone beeps again. Not ringing this time; it's the announcement that she's got a text message. Another one. There've been a few of those in the last hour. A sign that he hasn't given up on them.

If he ever does find them, will there be enough of them left for him to recognise?

A scuffling and definite stirring from the corner makes her realise that Jack's faltered. The creature's moving, standing up. It looks even more ferocious now, all teeth and big, big single eye, drool falling in huge, slobbery drops from its mouth. It's ugly and disgusting and scaly and very hungry.

"Every time I try to fly, I fall, Without my wings, I feel so small..."

Bad choice. Too many shifts up and down the scale. Britney won't work... She takes a breath and tries again.

"Who's afraid of the big bad wolf, the big bad wolf..."

Suddenly, there's another sound, louder than the shuffling and grunting of the creature retreating again, louder than her singing. It's a wheezing, groaning noise. A sound she loves more than anything else in the world.

It's the sound of the TARDIS materialising.

Jack's heard it, too. She hears his gasp of shock and relief.

"Keep going," he croaks at her. He's right. The Doctor might be here, but they're not safe yet.

She carries on singing, or croaking, as the TARDIS appears in front of them, between them and the creature. And then the doors open and the Doctor's standing there, looking at them, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You took your time!" Jack manages to say, though the words emerge as a rasp of dry, painful breath.

"Keep singin', Rose," is all the Doctor says as he uses the sonic screwdriver to free Jack. As the manacles break, Jack falls to the ground. The Doctor grabs his arm and hauls him to his feet. "Into the TARDIS. An' get ready to get out of here."

Jack nods and stumbles forward, grabbing the door-jamb for support. And then he disappears from her view.

Then it's her turn. She carries on singing, or trying to, as the Doctor works on the fastening securing her arms above her head. His eyes meet hers only briefly, and she can see the guilt and worry and apology there. But he says nothing.

But, when the manacle around her wrists shatters and she starts to fall, he catches her in his arms, holds her against his chest, his hearts. His arms are tight around her as he walks swiftly to safety. Seconds later, he's setting her down inside the TARDIS. Then the doors slam shut behind them and they're dematerialising.

*******

He only just got to them in time. That's obvious from so many things. The sheer exhaustion and pain on their faces. The way Rose's voice was faltering, breaking, cracking as she tried to sing. The despair, hopelessness he'd seen through the viewscreen as he'd controlled the TARDIS's materialisation. The look in Rose's eyes as he'd freed her that told him she'd almost given up hope that he'd come for her.

Doesn't she know that he'll always come for her? No matter what?

First things first. He leaves Rose leaning against one of the curved struts and hurries up to the console, nudges Jack aside and takes over. Controlling their flight path, he takes them into the Vortex. Now, he can see to their injuries and the rest of the physical harm that they've suffered. Not that he can do much about the mental pain.

He's still cursing himself for having taken so long to work out how to find them. Course, it didn't help that he didn't even realise they were missing until they'd been gone about six hours. Repairs, a malfunctioning viewscreen, had kept him busy and he'd lost all track of time. Finally feeling a bit hungry, he'd screwed the panel he'd been working behind back into place and only then wondered where the two of them were.

And then he'd noticed it was dark outside, and he'd looked at his watch...

Even then he'd not worried. Or he'd told himself not to worry. Rose could look after herself; she'd proved it enough times by now. And she was with Jack, and if there's one thing he's learned about the former Time Agent turned conman over the past weeks it's that he's very capable. A fighter, a strategist, a tactician and courageous to the core. And he'd protect Rose with his own life if needed.

By the look of the injuries he's sustained, it probably came to something like that.

He'd gone out, taken a look around, seen no sign of them. He'd tried calling Rose's mobile, but got no answer. And then he'd begun to worry.

He'd tramped for miles last night, searching for them. Then, realising that aimless wandering would get him nowhere, he'd come back to the TARDIS and begun to think. Gathered information: about this planet, about its natives and wildlife, about its geological formations and structure, about its customs and traditions. Its predators.

It's changed since he was last here, he finally realised. Less welcoming to tourists. Its people are nervous, frightened of off-worlders, afraid that any visit is the precursor to an invasion.

He was just fortunate not to have got captured himself. Except that it was dark when he was out searching for his lost companions, and these people only venture out in daylight. Paranoia of some kind has definitely set in here.

He'd spent useless time regretting that he never coded the TARDIS to Jack's wrist computer. It'd be very easy to do, and it would mean he'd always be able to contact Jack, and Jack the TARDIS. He'd also be able to use the TARDIS to find him...

...and then he'd remembered. Rose's mobile.

He'd jiggery-poked it with a component the TARDIS could read. Could communicate with. Could track. So all he needed was to make the phone send out a signal... and he could do that by sending it a signal. Via the TARDIS, he could send text messages. Clearly, wherever Rose was, she couldn't answer the phone - and he refused to let himself think she was dead - so it didn't matter what he actually said. Gibberish. Random letters. It didn't matter - just letting the TARDIS communicate with her mobile was enough. That would tell the TARDIS where the phone was, which he hoped would tell her - and him - where Rose was.

Once the TARDIS had enough information, he was able to take her straight to the source of the signal... and, to his very great relief, he'd found Rose. And Jack.

"Come on." He loops an arm around Jack's shoulders, urging him to move. The other man makes some sort of sound, some attempt at speaking, but it's incomprehensible. He grabs hold of Jack's arm and pulls it around his own shoulders, then begins to lead him, half-carrying him in the process, down from the console.

Rose, clearly being propped up by the strut, watches him through half-closed eyes. "Can you walk?" he asks her. "If not, I'll come back for you."

She makes an obvious effort, and stands up. "Can walk." And she staggers after him.

In the medical lab, he leans Jack against a bed, bending to lift his legs up. Rose leans against the door and just watches.

Jack's fine for the moment. He goes to her and wraps his arms around her. For a long time, as Time just spins around them, he holds her. He almost lost her. Almost lost them, both of them.

"You all right, Doctor?" Her voice is hoarse, but her first thought is for him. That amazes and humbles him.

He dips his head and presses a kiss against her forehead. "I am now," he tells her. "Now I've got you back."

Healing. He has work to do here. Disinfect, clean and heal Jack's wounds. They both need something for the dehydration they've clearly suffered - the TARDIS has pills for that, as well as the painful swelling they no doubt have in their throats. And their wrists are red, rubbed almost raw from the metal cuffs, plus they both must feel as if their arms have been wrenched from their sockets.

None of that's a problem. Most of it can be fixed easily with the technology he has here, and sleep will take care of the rest. Sleep aided with a little bit of TARDIS and Time Lord trickery.

They'll be fine. They'll wake up healed and with no trace of the injuries or pain they've suffered.

And he'll remember how close he came to losing both of them, and suffer a little more inside. Even if the worst didn't come to pass, and the two of them haven't been added to his roll of shame, the roll that includes Adric and Katarina and Sara Kingdom. Good friends, companions, who died on his watch.

He found them in time. This time. Got them safely back home.

They'll be fine. He doesn't know if he will be.

*******

Chapter 2: No Man an Island

She wakes slowly, blinking as an unfamiliar hum enters her consciousness. Well, not unfamiliar so much as louder than usual. The TARDIS always hums a little, and she's fallen asleep to the sound of that gentle murmur every night since she joined the Doctor.

She's not in her room, though.

And then she recognises her surroundings. The med-lab. Then she remembers it all - the monster, singing for her life - makes a change from running! - almost giving up, the Doctor arriving. Saving them, in the nick of time.

Speaking of the Doctor, where is he? Where is Jack?

She tries to sit, but a hand on her shoulder prevents her, and she looks up into the ageless blue eyes of the Doctor. "Stay still," he instructs her. "Need to be sure you're okay before I let you move."

Is he okay? That's what she's more worried about. He looks tired, which tells her he was probably up all night - or however long they've been here - taking care of the two of them.

"Is Jack all right?" she has to ask, because although she has a vague memory of the Doctor taking him into the med-lab she remembers that he was hurt.

"He's fine," he reassures her, running some sort of equipment over her. Sonic, obviously, since it's not actually touching her. "Still sleeping, but he needed more work than you did. What happened to him?"

She winces. "We were tryin' to get away. Couldn't - those people were much too strong for us - an' it only got us chained up as a result. Jack tried to stop them putting the chains on me, an' they whipped him." God, she'd hated seeing it happen. Had pleaded with their captors not to hurt him. He'd just taken it, without a sign of flinching or pleading.

"Guessed it was somethin' like that." The Doctor glances across the room. "He's much braver than I gave him credit for when we met him."

She shrugs. "He didn't exactly show himself in the best light." Though she remembers a certain dance, and being pressed up close to him, and thinking that he was going to kiss her...

The Doctor's finished his examination now. He reaches for her hand, holding it tightly. "I thought I'd lost you. I searched for you, all night..."

"Thought you weren't coming," she confesses, a lump in her throat now.

He nods. "I know. I was coming, Rose. I'll always come."

Yeah, but he might have been too late. She knows that, and his expression tells her that he knows it, too.

"Never lose your mobile," he tells her, and he smiles suddenly, that warm, affectionate smile she loves so much.

"Yeah, good idea, that," she agrees. "Jack thinks you need a computer like his, though."

"Would've helped, yeah," he agrees. His thumb caresses the back of her hand.

"Your mum was givin' me nightmares," he comments dryly after a few moments.

"Why?" She tries to sit up. This time he lets her, and helps her to arrange pillows behind her back.

"Kept imagining trying to explain to her that I'd lost you, or you'd been killed." There's humour in his tone, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

With her free hand, she reaches out to stroke his face. He leans into her caress. "But you don't have to," she reminds him. "You rescued us."

"Yeah." He smiles, and as the base of her palm brushes over his mouth he presses a brief kiss to it. Then he catches her hand in his so that he's holding both. "Was thinking about Jack, too," he says reflectively. "Couldn't stop rememberin' that almost the last thing I said to him was an insult."

Right. She remembers that. An argument that had flared out of nowhere, that seemed to be over nothing at all. Though she was pretty sure that at the root of it was one of two things. Either it was the Doctor's jealousy of Jack, that she and Jack have become such close friends so quickly and he doesn't seem to understand that it doesn't threaten one bit what she feels for him, or it was the lack of trust that still seems to be there, even weeks on from the nanogenes incident, the Doctor still persisting in believing sometimes that conman-Jack is all there is to him.

"He never mentioned it when we were out there," she says. "Shouldn't think it bothered him."

"Probably cause he's used to it from me." The Doctor sighs. " `Bout time I started bein' fair to him."

"Being fair to me, Doctor? Wouldn't want you to break the habit of a lifetime. The universe might self-destruct." An amused voice from a few feet away breaks into their conversation.

*******

Arms, legs, chest, all pain-free. Check. Hearing working fine - he can hear every word of what the Doctor's saying to Rose over there. Check. Muscles and sinews, circulation and brain function working normally - he can move fingers and toes, shrug his shoulders, blink his eyes. Check. Sight works just fine too - the ceiling above him looks as uninteresting and bland as it did last time he was flat on his back in this room.

And he can talk, too. His voice sounds normal. His throat feels normal. Whatever the Doctor's done, it's been pretty damn effective.

Suddenly, his view is altered. A narrow face with close-cropped dark hair, irregular features, unfathomable blue eyes and a long nose looms over him. "You're awake, so you must be alive, at least. How're you feeling?"

"Surprisingly fine," he tells the Doctor. "Not bad, considering last I remember my arms were about to fall out of their sockets."

"Good night's sleep'll work wonders," the Time Lord tells him. "Oh, and I'll accept your thanks for the lack of scars on your chest."

His chest? Oh, right. Yeah. Whip-lashes. "Thanks. Would hate to spoil the look."

"Oh, I don't know." The Doctor is smiling now, a wicked grin he recognises and has many times wanted to kiss off the Time Lord's face. "Scars can add character. Bit of romance, even."

He laughs at that. "Yeah, guess so." And he can't resist the follow-up. "That what turns you on, Doctor?"

Instead of the slap-down he's expecting, the Doctor grins. "That's for me to know and you to find out, Captain."

"I'll take that as a challenge, Doctor," he informs his... what? Host? Boss? Friend, maybe?

"You do that." A hand rests on his shoulder briefly before the Doctor's expression changes, becomes businesslike. "Right, then. Keep still while I examine you."

He's pronounced healed after a thorough examination with the diagnostic instrument. And then both of them are told they can get up and come and have breakfast.

*******

It's later. They've had an easy day, at the Doctor's insistence. A trip to a planet Jack recommended, for some retail therapy for her - the Doctor's treat. Though she did notice that Jack also took the opportunity to expand his wardrobe. Then a quick flight to another planet, another time, and dinner out, a quiet restaurant on the shores of a lake, a gorgeous view, their meal served to the accompaniment of a gentle breeze and the sound of waves drifting onto the shore.

It's lovely. Peaceful, so beautiful, and the three of them in perfect harmony for once. Enjoying being together, laughing and joking and sharing anecdotes, three friends who care about each other. They've put the trauma behind them - it was terrifying while it lasted, for all of them, but all's well that ends well. She and Jack are fine, and the Doctor's finally stopped apologising for taking so long to find them.

The Doctor's relaxed tonight, she can tell; he's smiling a lot, and the worry-lines have gone from his face. He's even being nice to Jack - for once, not shooting his anecdotes down in flames, and even joining in with the occasional innuendo-laden remark.

He's touching a lot, too. Though he's always been tactile, tonight he seems more so. He reaches for her hand several times, curling his fingers around hers. He touches Jack, too - occasional slaps against Jack's shoulder in amusement or approval, a couple of times ruffling his hair, once a squeeze of his hand when she commented on how Jack had kept her motivated and encouraged last night, kept her singing when she'd been ready to give up.

They're ready to leave. The Doctor pays the bill - she's discovering how wrong she was with her assumption that he never has any money - and they stroll lazily towards the exit.

As they walk down to the lake-shore, the Doctor takes her hand. He does it automatically now most times they're out somewhere; it's almost a reflex action. Jack walks on her other side, and given the atmosphere between them this evening she slips her arm through his. She doesn't think the Doctor's likely to object.

He doesn't. The three of them stand together by the lake-side, not speaking, just enjoying the solitude. She moves closer to the Doctor and lays her head against his shoulder. He drops her hand and wraps his arm around her shoulders instead. She loops hers around his waist, under his jacket. He turns to her for a moment and smiles.

Next to her, Jack slides his arm around her waist and moves closer, too. She leans her head against his shoulder for a few seconds before returning it to the Doctor's, but wraps her free arm around Jack's waist.

A few minutes later, she hears the Doctor growling a little - but not in a way that makes her take it seriously - and Jack laughs softly at almost the same moment. And she realises that Jack's reached past her and has laid his hand on the Doctor's backside.

Despite the growl, she notices that the Doctor doesn't move.

It's so peaceful here. Just beautiful and serene... and so romantic. The three of them are just standing there, looking out across the lake, not talking, standing so close, holding each other.

Entwined. Just as their lives are.

And gradually awareness filters through to her. A sensation through her whole body, awareness of their closeness to her, their bodies against hers, their arms around her. Her breath catches. She feels her heart skip a beat. And something does somersaults in her stomach.

She senses movement to her left and turns her head almost nervously. The Doctor is looking at her, and there's something in his gaze that she's never seen there before. And it makes the fluttering in her stomach increase.

Instinct more than deliberation makes her lean upwards. And he's tilting his head down to meet her. She stops breathing.

And then his lips meet hers.

The Doctor is kissing her. Something she's dreamed about for so long, but never thought would happen.

His lips are cool against hers, gentle at first but intensifying as she returns the kiss. Her lips part, inviting him to deepen it. He doesn't need a second invitation.

The kiss in reality is even more breathtaking than her feverish dreams. Because this is real; the Doctor is kissing her. Not just a light touch of his lips to hers, something that can mean anything at all, but a real, passionate lovers' kiss.

He breaks away finally, and he's smiling at her, warmth and something else in his eyes. He doesn't need to say anything. She knows. And she knows she's sending the same message back to him.

And now he's looking past her, at Jack, and she can't read the expression on his face. But suddenly Jack's moving, they're both moving. Keeping their arms around her, but coming to form a circle.

The Doctor's free hand reaches up and he lays his palm against Jack's face. And the two of them move closer until they're kissing, too. Not a simple brush of lips against lips, either; it's a deep, intense kiss, making both of them breathe heavily as they explore each other.

The butterflies in her stomach intensify their somersaulting. Watching the two of them kiss - something even in her craziest dreaming she never imagined - is exciting in a way she wouldn't have expected.

She's almost out of breath herself by the time the kiss ends.

And then they're both looking at her, and Jack's moving closer to her, and his hand is sliding into her hair and he's tilting her head up to him, and he's kissing her too. His lips are warmer than the Doctor's, and his kiss is very different. But exciting. Thrilling. And very sensual, in a different way.

He makes her stomach flutter, too.

Both of them? She wants them both?

Loves them both?

But they don't seem to have a problem with this. The Doctor kissed Jack as well as her. And he's standing beside her, his arm still around her, as Jack kisses her now.

The kiss ends as she needs to take a breath, and she looks from one man to the other. They're both smiling, both gazing at her with warmth and more, much more, in their eyes.

Yes, she loves them both.

And Jack looks from her to the Doctor, and she notices that his expression doesn't alter. Nor does the Doctor's. Though, after a moment, humour is added to the rest of it. To the emotion. The two of them grin at each other.

But then the Doctor's face blots out the rest of the world as he kisses her again.

*******

He never intended this. Has fought it for so long. Fought against it with Rose almost the whole time he's known her, and then more recently - though he was barely aware of it - with Jack. Probably why he couldn't seem to stop baiting the bloke.

The night before last, searching for them, battling the ever-growing fear that they were dead already, he'd wondered why he'd fought. Why he hadn't taken the chance when he had it.

Life is so short. Especially for these humans. A blink of an eye, and they're gone. No regeneration, either. No second chance. One life, one opportunity to grab at everything on offer.

He's seen that before with too many people he came to care about. Got to know them. Loved them. Saw them leave him. Watched them, some of them, from a distance as they grew old. Attended the funerals of some of them.

The downside of being from a long-lived species. And even worse now that he's the only one of his kind left. He has four lifetimes in front of him still, not counting this one, to watch people he cares about grow old and die.

And that's one reason why he's always held back, with humans and other species with similar life-spans, at any rate. What's the point of getting involved, of coming to love someone - well, love them more than he's come to love most of his companions and friends over the years - if he'll just have to watch them leave him, or grow old and frail and die on him?

Now, he's the only Gallifreyan left alive. The only Time Lord. There is no-one else. No Romana. There's only him. And, even if he had made a habit of keeping himself detached, at arms' length, from the rest of the Time Lords, he always knew they were there. Now, there's just him. And anyone he picks up along his travels.

He can keep himself detached from them as well... or he can allow himself to feel.

No man is an island
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.

This might not quite be what Donne meant, but the sentiment still applies. Man or Time Lord, he cannot remain detached from the rest of the universe for ever. Cannot refuse to feel - to love - for the rest of his life.

Fearing them dead, and then last night keeping vigil over them in the med-lab, he'd finally admitted what he was denying almost as long as he's known them both. That he loves them. Both of them.

Rose first, as she will always be first in his hearts. He's loved her almost as long as he's known her. Why, he's not sure, but he thinks he may already have been falling for her when she swung into his arms on the end of that chain.

Jack... the conman who isn't really, the outwardly happy, fun-loving bloke who, in private moments, broods over and has bad dreams about his missing memories. Who, entirely unexpectedly, has become a friend. More than a friend.

Rose, in his arms and with his lips on hers. Jack, arms around the two of them, pressing kisses to the back of his neck and making him shiver. They'll be with him for far too short a time - but one thing he's learned, since the Time War, since Rose, is that the past and the future don't always matter as much as he thinks.

Sometimes, it's important just to live for the present. And the present is Jack and Rose and love.

*******

He urges them back to the TARDIS. There's a time for taking advantage of a beautiful view, and a time for having some privacy.

Funny how things turn out. Just when he'd decided he's never going to get anywhere with these two, that they only have eyes for each other even if they're never going to do anything about it and that neither of them is interested in sharing, suddenly everything changes.

Just when he'd started to realise, anyway, that his usual preference, a no-strings affair with no regrets on either side when one partner wants out, isn't what he wants with either of them, it turns out that they might actually feel the same way.

At least, if the way the Doctor looked at him just a few minutes ago is anything to go by, and the way Rose smiled and laid her head on his shoulder when he kissed the Doctor again.

He's never had much use for love, considering it a false, traitorous emotion. It lasts as long as the person claiming to love wants something from the object of their affections, he believed. But something's telling him that this love isn't selfish. It's not manipulative. It's not only there while there's something for the taking.

And he thinks that maybe he's never been loved before, if this is how it feels.

Back to the TARDIS, then, where they can explore these new feelings, this new desire, this love, in privacy and comfort. Where he can find out - assuming the two of them are ready to let things go that far at this stage - whether he can make the Doctor lose that tight control he has over his reactions, whether Rose will moan and cry out when she's pushed over the edge.

Though, this time, sex isn't at the top of his agenda. Being with the Doctor and Rose, just touching and kissing and exploring, is enough. Being in love is enough.

These two didn't just rescue him from his doomed ship and a life of crime. They found him. They saved him. And they gave him a place to belong.

In their hearts.

END