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

1. The End of the Road

The third time's a charm.

Death, the enemy he's cheated more times than any mortal had a right to, has finally caught up with him.

A bullet in the dark, a gunshot he hadn't heard - and such a primitive weapon, at that! Twenty-first century technology, finally trapping him in its fatal grip. The slug of metal caught him square in the chest. Probably not in the centre of his heart - he'd already be dead - but close enough to do a lot of damage. To make him bleed to death, if internal injuries don't do it first. And the pain - in the ankle he is pretty sure that he broke when he fell, as well as in his chest - makes sure that he can't move.

Not that there is anywhere to go. Out in the middle of nowhere, at least a mile from his car, no way of summoning help, the only life around the scum who shot him, who is probably well away from here by now.

He is dying.

And death isn't going to be handing him a miracle this time.

Not that he has any right to complain, really.

Twice before, he's danced with the Grim Reaper and lived to tell the tale - and that isn't counting the times he escaped execution sentences when he was with the Time Agency. Both times, a miraculous escape; once, with seconds to go, plucked from his ship by the most amazing man - the most amazing couple - he's ever met, just seconds before the explosion that would've killed him. The second time, even more incredible. Struck by a Dalek's death-ray, having willingly given his life in the vain attempt to save the lives of the two people he loves. And, somehow, he awakened alive and whole.

Only to see his home, the only place in the world he's ever felt he belonged, the only place where someone believed that he was worth something, disappear in front of his eyes.

He was alive... but abandoned.

Just how his life was returned to him is still a mystery. But who was behind it is obvious. It had to have been the Doctor. A parting gift from the Time Lord to a former companion.

Part of him still thinks he'd rather have stayed dead.

How the Doctor had done it is a complete mystery. He can't have turned back time . There's no way Jack would remember dying, if that were the case. And anyway, the Doctor is the most skilled user of Time that Jack has ever met. He knows all the dangers, all the risks of paradox, of disaster. And he knows that there's no way the Doctor would ever have risked letting in the Reapers again.

It's a mystery destined to remain unsolved. Because he's never seen the Doctor or Rose again.

For a while - an all-too-brief period, mere months - he'd been one of the luckiest people in the universe. He'd actually been the chosen companion of a Time Lord. He, much more than Rose, understood what a privilege that was. Especially as this was the Time Lord; the only one not wiped out of the universe, out of history, out of Time.

And then, suddenly, he wasn't any more.

The pain in his chest intensifies. He moans and tries to shift, to find a more comfortable position on the dirt road, but can't.

In the light of the moon, the dark, spreading stain on his chest is revealed in shades of black and crimson on his pale shirt. The dampness down his side is a sign that the blood is spreading, pooling in the dirt beside him. It won't be long now.

He really can't complain about dying. If only he didn't have to do it alone, and for such a futile reason...

He'd give anything - anything - to have Rose's hand to hold as he slips away. Or the Doctor to cradle his head on his lap.

Last time, at least he'd had the comfort of the Doctor's voice through the intercom. Not that goodbyes were said or anything, or that either of them even acknowledged his impending death beyond the kiss he'd pressed on the Time Lord before going out to lead his `troops' in a suicide mission to stop the Daleks. But they'd both known, all the same, that they'd never see each other again. The Doctor's eyes, as Jack had broken the kiss, had held awareness of the truth. And sadness.

But the Doctor is long gone. As is Rose, the other person he'd willingly have sacrificed his life for.

He'd struggled for a long time to work out what he'd done to be left behind. How had he offended them? Could it have just been a terrible mistake?

A mistake seems unlikely, though. Not when it had to be the Doctor who'd given him back his life.

He'd finally had to come to the conclusion that he'd just been left behind. Deliberately, for some reason.

Foolishly, he'd actually tried to find them. Had managed to get himself back to Earth, and then hitched a ride on a shuttle, persuading the pilot to make a detour to twenty-first century London. Early 2006, to be precise. After all, Rose is from that time. And the Doctor had made a point, every so often, of taking her back to see her mother. He'd said something once about the loss of his own world having made him realise how wrong it is to expect companions to forget their own ties to home as long as they`re with him.

So, at some point, he'd reasoned, Rose and the Doctor would have to turn up in London.

The only problem was, he'd never had Rose's address. And there are a hell of a lot of Tylers in the phone book. Plus, given what he'd heard about Rose's mom's attitude to the Doctor, even if he did happen to stumble on the right Mrs Tyler there was no guarantee that she'd tell him anything he needed to know.

So that had been a dead end. And anyway, after a while something else had occurred to him.

On Satellite Five, the Doctor had sent Rose away. Sent her home, to safety. There was no guarantee that he'd gone back for her either.

Which meant that Rose was quite probably living in the same time, the same place as he was. For a brief while, that had thrilled him, excited him, made him want to find her... until he'd remembered.

She had loved the Doctor too. For longer than he had. She probably wouldn't want the reminder of what she'd lost.

Because the Doctor moved on. Left companions behind.

He'd done just that not long before Jack had joined the team. Rose had told him about Adam, and the Doctor himself had dropped a few caustic asides.

Though... he hadn't been an Adam. Sure, he'd been a coward once upon a time. The kind of guy who looked out for Number One, regardless of anything else. From the Doctor, and from Rose too, he'd learned different priorities. Learned values and an approach to life he'd never encountered before. And discovered that he had it within himself to care. To put the greater good above himself. To be a hero.

And to love.

Love. Jack Harkness, one-time playboy extraordinaire, who'd long ago lost count of the number and variety of his partners, had finally learned how to love. And that sex, while fun, comes a very poor second to being with people he cares about and who care about him.

Finally, it occurred to him that maybe that's it. That's why.

Maybe the Doctor had taken him on as a project. The Redemption of Jack Harkness. And, objective achieved, he'd pushed his fledgling out into the world, to survive alone. To carry on as he'd been taught.

So he had. When he'd come to the prime minister's attention, because he simply hadn't been able to resist stepping in and averting disaster but in the process revealing that he had skills and knowledge which certainly didn't date from this time, he hadn't said no to the request to head up a new covert agency.

And, for the past two years, he's run Torchwood, which is kind of a cross between MI5 and the X-Files. It's been fun, too. He's rediscovered some of the thrill he'd got in the beginning from being a Time Agent. Chasing down possible alien sightings. Protecting the nation's security.

It doesn't come anywhere close to being a Time Lord's assistant. To working side by side with the Doctor and Rose. But it's a life, and it's something worthwhile.

Now, it's all coming to an end.

The pain is getting worse. It won't be long now.

Numbness is spreading through his extremities, the result of blood loss. God, these twenty-first century weapons hurt! They're so inaccurate and unreliable. At least, by his time, the weapons industry had perfected devices which brought instant, and practically painless, death.

What he wouldn't give to have been shot by a sonic blaster.

Still a coward, Jack. Always a coward.

He shouldn't even have been here. Damn traffic-management systems which just couldn't handle congestion. A football match - that was all. One bloody football match ending, and all the major motorways and roads were at a standstill. He'd used his GPS - again, a primitive system, but better than nothing - and found a minor road through the countryside to take him back to London. All fine... until he'd got a puncture. And then discovered that the spare was also flat.

His cellphone - mobile, as they insisted on calling it in England - hadn't any signal. Again, primitive technology; sometimes he really misses the fifty-first century.

Seeing a light through the trees, he'd set off on foot, hoping to find a house or some other building where he could use a phone. But the light had turned out to be a torch... and the owner of the torch, probably only a damn poacher, had shot him.

Killed him.

What a place to die. He's always thought he'd die young, and even when he was more of a coward the thought of his own death never troubled him that much. But then, he's always imagined going out in a blaze of glory. In the middle of an epic fight. In the line of duty. Or, later, saving Rose. Saving the Doctor.

As he did the last two times he'd almost died. Those times had been worth it.

Not from a stray bullet in the middle of nowhere, with no-one to know what happened. No-one to notice that Jack Harkness is dead. No-one to remember him.

Yes, he has friends. Colleagues, really. His staff at Torchwood will wonder where he is. Will regret his passing when they find out. Harriet Wilson will be sad, perhaps, but she'll replace him. He's already managed to pass on a lot of what he knows, what she wanted him for. And, as much as she wants his expertise, he knows that she finds him irritating. Maddening. Because he won't follow procedure, questions when he shouldn't and gets up people's noses by what they call inappropriate flirting.

The twenty-first century isn't really ready for an unashamed bisexual slut.

Not that it's ever gone any further than flirting, though. He hasn't had the heart for it. Not since he left his heart behind on a blue police box.

He can't feel his toes any more. Or his fingers. Breathing is difficult. Every inhalation hurts, and there is blood bubbling up in his throat...

Oh, just hurry up and die!

It can't be long now. Surely it can't.

Just end it. Get the pain over with. Come, oblivion.

Doctor... Rose... It was great knowing you. I wish...

There is a bright light somewhere around the area of his chest. And there is a buzzing, or maybe a roaring, in his ears... Definitely hallucinating.

Jack Harkness closes his eyes and everything goes black.

*********

2. Changes

Light shining in his eyes. A low humming. Tightness in his chest. Low voices.

Don't wake up. Can't wake up. Too much pain. Just sleep... it's easier...

"You're safe now."

Dreaming... is this what dying feels like?

"Just sleep. We'll take care of you."

Pain... still pain. Why is there still pain? I'm dead. There shouldn't be any more pain...

"Close call... it'll take a while, but you'll be fine."

Sleep... just let me sleep...

**********

His eyes snap open. The lights are low, so not much is visible. What is more apparent are the sounds.

A low humming coming from somewhere. The clink of objects rattling together. Some sort of compression machinery.

He is lying on something strange. Not a bed, not the ground, but... He gropes around experimentally with one hand. A surgical couch of some sort.

He is naked, or at least semi-nude. His chest is bare, apart from what feels like a bandage. Whether his lower half is clothed in any way is not immediately apparent. But there's something... a blanket? He can't feel air on his legs, the way he can on his chest.

His chest hurts. And there is pressure on it. Something is attached to his other hand. And he aches all over.

Okay. So clearly this is some sort of medical facility. But there's no way that it belongs in the twenty-first century. So where is he? When is he? And how has he got there?

Unless... he's dead, and just dreaming, or in some kind of post-death anteroom...

No, that's just silly.

He is alive. Somehow. Once more he's managed to cheat death.

But how?

Someone must have found him.

But who? Who has this kind of technology and is around in late 2007?

His throat is dry. An involuntary cough escapes him. Damn. He didn't intend to give any sign of being awake until he's figured out where he is...

A movement from the corner of the room catches his gaze. He isn't alone, and he hadn't even realised it. God. He'd never have let that happen in the past. Easiest way to get killed, that.

A figure turns around. A man. He is in shadow; Jack can see nothing but the impression of height and a slender build.

"You're awake at last!" The voice isn't at all familiar. The accent is English. Possibly south-eastern or London of some sort; Jack is only beginning to develop an ear for the regional accents of his new adopted country and century.

Footsteps. The man is approaching. As he comes closer to the low ceiling lights, his features become illuminated.

Brown hair, spiky, untidy. A friendly, open face, at the moment looking part-relieved, part-concerned. Brown eyes. Younger than Jack, but not by much, this man.

Dressed a little oddly, like a schoolmaster at an expensive private school. Old-fashioned - a tweedy pin-striped suit and tie. Not quite early twenty-first century apparel, but not really any time after that either. At least, not going by his knowledge of fashion history.

But who is he?

"How are you feeling?" the stranger asks as he reaches Jack. "You gave us one hell of a fright, you know. It was touch and go for a couple of days."

"I..." He has to break off and cough.

"Ah, yes, of course. That's the effect of the anaesthesia and medication. We had to dose you pretty heavily. Give me a second..." The man turns swiftly and moves away, but is back very quickly. "Here. Let me help you."

A hand raises his head gently. Another holds a glass of water to his lips. Jack tries to drink, but ends up coughing and spilling half of it down his chin. "Easy," the man says, tone gentle. "Don't rush it."

After what seems like an age, he's finally moistened his dehydrated throat. Exhausted, he allows the stranger to help him lie down again.

Who is this man? He'd spoken as if he were a doctor. Medically qualified. Yet he isn't wearing a white coat or carrying any of the usual paraphernalia. And this place, wherever it is, doesn't look like the inside of any hospital he's ever seen.

Yet he has seen something like it once before...

"I can't tell you how good is it to see you, Jack," the man is saying. "Just wish it'd been in better circumstances... it was one hell of a shock to find you like that!"

This guy knows him?

He frowns. Turns his head. Peers at the stranger, taking in every detail of his face again. Nope. Never seen him before.

Unless, of course, their encounter had happened during that particular period... Damn the Time Agency and its fondness for memory wiping!

"I..." He tries to summon a charming smile. Once upon a time, and assuming he wasn't recovering from a bullet-wound and at a distinct disadvantage, he'd have already been planning his moves on a guy as attractive as this one. "You'll have to forgive me. It sounds as if we've met before, but I don't remember."

"Oh!" The stranger shakes his head ruefully. "Rose keeps having to remind me that I can't expect everyone to realise it's me."

Rose?

But... No, it can't be.

"You must recognise where you are, surely?" The stranger smiles. It's a completely charming smile, revealing even, white teeth. "It's changed a little, true, but not that much."

The room is familiar, yet not. The gentle, throbbing hum in the background is very familiar.

Rose.

"Jack? You can't have forgotten this soon?" The softly-spoken voice holds a hint of teasing... and also of something like hurt.

It has to be... and yet, how can it? This man is nothing like... He can't be.

All the same... incredible as it is, he is in the TARDIS.

Who is this stranger? His replacement as companion?

Who picked him? The Doctor... or Rose?

No. That doesn't fit. He'd said... what had he said?

Rose keeps having to remind me that I can't expect everyone to realise it's me.

And he expects Jack to know him. Remember him.

There is no-one else it can be.

He tries to sit up, but fails miserably. He has to make do with catching his host's gaze instead.

"Do... Doctor?"

His reward is a warm smile. "Knew you'd catch on." The Doctor - this completely different Doctor, different, it seems, in personality as well as appearance - reaches into his pocket and produces something.

The final proof, if Jack needs it. That damn sonic screwdriver.

"Just checking that your vital signs are okay. You shouldn't overdo it." The screwdriver hovers over him for a few seconds. "Right, you're okay for now, though you do need to rest."

"Doctor." Jack grabs the Time Lord's sleeve. "How... You look so different..."

"And to think I've only just managed to get Rose past that phase." The Doctor sighs. "You know about Time Lords, Jack. You must have heard about regeneration."

He has. If only his brain isn't so foggy... Then the penny drops. "You died, too?"

"Long story. Let's save it for when you're feeling a bit stronger."

That's probably sensible. He is aching, and so weary...

Rose.

From what the Doctor is saying, it sounds as if she is still around after all.

"Where's... Rose?"

"Asleep, I hope." The Doctor smiles faintly. "I sent her to bed a couple of hours ago. She insisted on sitting up with you all last night, and she's dead on her feet."

Rose did that? That's... just so nice.

But this still isn't making much sense.

"Just tell me. How am I here?"

His expression sober, the Doctor explains, "Something pulled the TARDIS off-course. We were on our way to the Arctic Circle to see the Aurora Borealis - would you believe, Rose has never seen it? - and suddenly we just got tugged away. I didn't know what caused it, and I couldn't see anything on the console screen when we stopped. It was too dark. Then I stepped outside and almost fell over you. You were lying on the ground, unconscious, in a pool of your own blood, at most minutes from death."

The expression on the Doctor's face is almost worth everything Jack has gone through. It tells him that, whatever the reason he'd been left behind, it isn't because the Doctor didn't care about him. Didn't want him around.

"Anyway, I carried you in here. Got you hooked up to the equipment - good thing the TARDIS still has all your readings, including your blood type - and then it was just a matter of hoping that we'd got to you in time. Luckily, we did. It's taken several transfusions, as well as a couple of the TARDIS's special effects, but you pulled through."

Incredible. For the third time, he's been rescued at the point of death by this man. This Time Lord. It's almost as if the Doctor isn't the only one who can cheat death.

"You're making a habit of this, Doctor..." He's weak. Talking isn't easy, and yet there's so much he wants to ask. Needs to know. Has to say.

"What, saving your life?" The Doctor smiles. "Always makes a nice change, that. I do get tired of watching people die. Especially for me." And something flickers in his eyes for a moment, something very reminiscent of the Doctor Jack remembers. Whatever the outward appearance, this new Doctor isn't free of personal demons.

"Makes three times now," Jack points out. "Isn't there some sort of tribal legend about that? That you own me now or something?" He manages a weak grin, with a hint of the kind of flirtiness that was once his stock-in-trade.

"Three..." The Doctor frowns briefly. "Yes. Best saved for later." And then he grins. "As for the rest... you don't change, do you? You wouldn't believe it if I told you I actually missed your never-ending flirting."

But did you miss me?

"What I don't understand..." He breaks off, inhaling sharply as pain stabs at his chest.

"Hang on." The Doctor moves, checks some indicators, then comes back. "Time for more pain relief. This'll knock you out, by the way." He fiddles for a few seconds. "Okay, you'll start to feel the pain ease in a few minutes."

"Thanks." Jack braces himself; he wants the answer to this question, pain or no pain. "How did you find me? What made the TARDIS go right to me?"

"I wondered that, too. Until I saw you had your key around your neck, on a chain. And it was glowing. I think that must have done it. You were in danger, and the TARDIS sensed it somehow. It probably used the key to locate you."

Jack feels his eyes begin to close. "Have I ever told you I love your ship?"

As sleep overtakes him, in his imagination a voice he is just getting to know seems to whisper, "As long as that's not the only thing around here you love."

*********

3. Out in the Cold

He wakes to the sound of murmuring voices, and opens his eyes to see blonde hair. A halo of gold. And it's the most beautiful sight he's seen in two years.

The room is brighter, too; obviously the TARDIS still mimics night and day cycles.

"Rose."

She turns, and her face is just as he remembers. A little older, perhaps, but not much. And her eyes, her smile, everything shows him how happy she is to see him.

"Jack!" And she rushes across to him, arms outstretched, joy in her face. "God, you can't imagine how worried we've been!"

"Careful, sweetheart." The Doctor comes into view, sliding his arm around Rose's shoulders, slowing her flight. "He's still very weak, and his chest wound's still healing. You might hurt him."

Sweetheart?

What's been happening here?

He's always known that the Doctor loves Rose. He never needed any of the `keep off' signals that were dished out on such a frequent basis. The Doctor loves Rose; Rose loves the Doctor; therefore he never went beyond friendly, teasing flirting with either of them. No matter how much he'd wanted more when he was part of the crew. Part of the team.

But he's also always known that the Doctor would never do anything about his feelings. That for some unknown, unspoken reason he considers it wrong. Inappropriate. Maybe because he's so very much older. Maybe because Rose is human and he's a different species. Maybe because his life is so dangerous and at some point she'll want to return home, to safety, and he doesn't want to give her reasons to stay when she needs to leave.

Or maybe just because he thinks he doesn't deserve her. After all, the Doctor he knows is haunted - by grief, by guilt, by a devastating war he had no say in, no role in causing, but was forced to end in the most painful way possible.

A war whose consequences he keeps tripping over, everywhere he goes.

This, now... things have changed. This new version of the Doctor clearly hasn't held back. Or is it that Rose has finally taken matters into her own hands? He wouldn't put it past her. Though he'd like to have seen her try with the old Doctor, the leather-clad enigma who could freeze people out as quickly as he'd embrace them with his sense of fun or his casual hints that they matter to him.

That Doctor would never have let Rose get this close. Would never have called her sweetheart. Would never have expressed his deepest feelings beyond the occasional longing glance when he thought no-one could see. Or the torment on his face, in his voice, if he thought Rose had been hurt. Or killed. Even worse if it'd been his fault. Or the jealous, territorial behaviour he exhibited whenever another male got too close - and which he always denied he felt. He'd hugged Rose plenty of times, of course. And held her hand. But that was the most he would allow himself.

This Doctor is the same man, and yet he's different. Jack has some understanding of regeneration, after all. Obviously, this new version has fewer scruples. Which could offer interesting possibilities, except that he'll never do anything to hurt Rose - or the Doctor - and he likely won't be staying, anyway.

They left him behind, after all. He doesn't need any bigger hint than that.

Neither seems to realise what they have given away. Rose smiles up at the Doctor - a smile more intimate than any she ever gave him in his previous body - and says, "I'll be gentle."

Then she's bending over Jack, fingers soft against his face as she traces his features. And then she is kissing him.

Her kiss is even more beautiful than he remembers. And this time it is willingly, generously given, rather than being taken as he rushes off to his death. A warm caress, more than just a brush of the lips; almost a lover's kiss.

He's surprised the Doctor isn't objecting. Leather-Jacket would have.

And then he feels moisture on his face. Amazingly, she is crying.

"Rose?" He brings his hand - the one not connected to a drip - up to her face, brushing away the teardrops with a shaky finger. "Hey. It's great to know you're so pleased to see me, but there's no need for tears."

She shakes her head. "I'm so sorry, Jack. I didn't know..."

"Rose." The Doctor is standing behind her, and he puts his hand on her shoulder. His tone is concerned, but there's a note of warning there too. Chiding her for the kiss?

She nods, straightening and blinking away the tears. "He says you're still too weak for this. And he's right." So, not about the kiss. Apparently, the Doctor isn't concerned about that. Definitely a big difference.

"So..." She's making herself smile again now. And after a moment it even looks genuine. She is happy to see him again, and it makes him happy. Enough that he can ignore the continuing throb in his chest from his wounds. And from the sight of what he's missed. "How long has it been for you? Since we saw you, I mean."

"Two years."

Her face falls. She looks aghast. "Two years? It's been six months for us, and that's been bad enough."

He shrugs. "Occupational hazard of time-travelling."

"What have you been doing? Where've you been?"

Behind her, the Doctor is alert and Jack knows his friend also wants the answer to that question. Briefly, he explains about making his way back to Earth and getting to the early twenty-first century - trying not to let slip exactly why he went there - and tells them about Torchwood.

"Sounds fascinating." The Doctor grins; he's really interested. Not surprising; it's just the sort of thing that would appeal to his drive for adventure, discovery, love of alien races, his need to help the universe get along. "You'll have to tell me more later. I'm glad Harriet found you, by the way."

Of course. The Doctor knows Harriet Jones. He'd found that out by accident - something the Prime Minister had let slip one day. Still hurting from the acceptance that he'd been left behind by the Doctor, he deliberately hadn't told her that he knew the TARDIS two as well.

"We saw her, you know," Rose interjects. "At Christmas." Then she adds, "Christmas 2005, I mean. Nearly two years ago for you. There were a few problems we ended up helping with." And she turns her head slightly to look at the Doctor, and she grins.

"Yeah, so why didn't she tell you she'd seen us?" the Doctor asks. "I don't think she'd have forgotten."

He shrugs. It's kind of a pointless conversation, really. Even if he had told Harriet that he was acquainted with the Doctor and Rose, she couldn't have helped him find them. And he hadn't wanted to talk about them. Or what he'd once been and everything he'd lost.

"When did you get to London?" Rose asks.

"Got dropped off in February 2006." He waves his free hand a little. "No particular reason for that date. I went to your time because I was curious. I'd heard a lot about it from you, and what I saw of it when we were in Cardiff was interesting. And I figured it'd be safer than my own time - I'm still a wanted fugitive there." He laughs. "Thought it was pretty unlikely that the Agency would look for me in the early twenty-first century."

But Rose is looking stricken. "We were there. In London. We spent a couple of days there in early March - only a few weeks after you arrived. It was my mum's birthday. We could have found you!"

The Doctor is frowning, his expression sober. "Yeah. We were so close..." He moves closer and lays his hand on Jack's shoulder, pressing briefly. "I'm sorry. If we'd only known..."

There's a lump in Jack's throat. They would have looked for him. They would have wanted to see him.

It matters. It really matters that he wasn't forgotten. Wasn't got rid of with a `good riddance'.

Even though he still doesn't know why they left him behind.

Rose moves closer to him and, again, her fingers trace his face. "I still can't believe we found you. Thank god you had that key!"

The Doctor nods. "Really should have given you two some way of contacting the TARDIS a long time ago. That would've saved a lot of trouble. Remind me to work on it later. I'm sure I can come up with something."

Jack's heart lurches. If he'd had that...

But would he have used it? He'd thought they'd left him behind deliberately...

Now, there's room to doubt that. Because, if they had, would they be so concerned that they'd been in the same time and place as him but hadn't found him? But there's still a mystery, something they're not telling him yet. Something the Doctor's decided he's not ready to hear yet.

Okay. He can be patient. So he smiles, encompassing both of them in its warmth. A warmth he really does feel. Jack Harkness, putting on his happy face. The one that never admits to what he feels inside. Telling them that he's happy to be here. Glad to be alive. And so pleased to be with them both again. That he shares their obvious pleasure at being reunited.

"So. All this paraphernalia..." He gestures to the drip in his hand, the machines behind him, the bandage on his chest. "What's it all doing? What did you have to do to me? And how much of me is still... me?" He grins. The TARDIS does, after all, carry a lot of future, and alien, technology, including artificial and genetically-engineered replacement body parts, or the ability to create them.

"Actually - " The Doctor smiles again. This version smiles a lot more than his predecessor, even without the manic grin that Jack misses so much. Has missed so much over the past two years. "Surprisingly, it's mostly still you. I was a bit worried about your heart for a while - there was a lot of damage to muscle and tissue, and I had to dig the bullet out - but the TARDIS is pretty good at that sort of repair. You'll be good as new in about a week."

Ah, yes, he'd been very impressed by what the TARDIS is able to do. There'd been one day, not long after he'd joined the crew, when he'd got himself beaten up by a couple of Prythians - entirely his own fault; he'd been flirting with their concubines. The Doctor had taken one look at him, rolled his eyes, muttered something in a tone of absolute disgust, and marched him straight down here. To the infirmary, where he'd become acquainted with dermal regenerators far advanced even from his own century's technology, and a device to speed up the healing of broken bones. "Though I should just let you suffer," the Doctor had grunted as he'd worked on Jack. "Might stop you acting like a randy bloody teenager who can't control himself."

Even then, he'd been unable to restrain the impulse of a smart-alecky, flirty comeback. "I can control myself. Sometimes. Just depends on the..." He'd allowed his gaze to wander over the Doctor's lean body. "...company."

The Doctor had completely ignored him, but the next sweep of the dermal regenerator had actually given him a painful contact shock.

Now, Jack glances at the new Doctor, who is watching him with a half-smile on his face. He wonders if the Time Lord is remembering the same incident.

"I was more careful with the dermal regenerator this time," the Doctor murmurs, and Jack has his answer.

"Thanks." He smothers a rueful grin. "Did I break my ankle? I think I remember..."

"Yes. Mind you, I didn't notice that at first. Was too busy dealing with that bloody great hole in your chest and setting up transfusions and sedation. It wasn't until the next day that Rose pointed out your left foot was hanging a bit awkwardly. I fixed it straight away, so I hope you don't end up with a limp."

Rose has moved back to the Doctor's side, and a movement catches Jack's eye; she's sliding her hand into his. Reflexively, the Doctor grips it.

Jack sees the movement, the gesture, and an icy grip squeezes his already-painful heart.

"Oh, I don't know. Could make me even more attractive, don't you think?" He has to hide behind the old fallback of jokes and flirting. If he doesn't, he'll end up revealing something he never wants them to see. That their closeness, their intimacy, their coupledom hurts. More than he could ever have believed.

They are a unit. They have been a unit, all the time he's been gone. And, again, he is out in the cold. Even though they're clearly glad to see him, have obviously missed him.

Three's a crowd. He knows he won't be staying. Once he's better, he'll offer his thanks for one more miraculous rescue and leave, before things get awkward and hints get dropped.

He's been left behind again.

Can the pain in his chest get any worse? Not even the TARDIS's own super-efficient pain-relief can help him with this, though.

Once totally fearless in the face of danger, even mortal peril, Jack Harkness is reduced to helpless, cowering need around these two. Wanting, yearning to belong, to be a part of what they have. Knowing that he can't have it. They've formed their own bond, without him.

The force of the need, the way it leaves him helpless and close to begging for crumbs of affection, shames him. He was never like this before. Love never entered into the equation of his relationships. But that was before these two. Before they'd drawn him in, like a moth to the flame, then cast him out while he was still hopelessly addicted to them.

If only his injuries hadn't left him so weak. He'd leave right now if he could. He's better off away from their orbit, away from this place where he wants so much he can never have.

He's out in the cold. Again.

*********

4. Explanations

When he wakes once more, the lights are low and he's alone.

He can sense it; there's no movement, nothing hidden in the shadows and no sounds of another person breathing. It's probably just as well. Being with the people he loves so much, yet knowing that he's not loved the same way by them, hurts even more than when he was left behind.

There's a movement by the door, though, and the Doctor strides in. His hair is rumpled - from sleep? - and he's dressed only in trousers and a half-buttoned shirt.

Another difference. In his previous body, the Doctor would never even be seen in the TARDIS without being fully dressed. Even the leather jacket hardly ever came off. Once, once only, Jack had seen the Doctor partly clothed: the Time Lord had been injured in a ruckus as they'd been escaping from a planet that had unexpectedly turned out to be hostile. He'd had some cuts and slashes to his chest and shoulders, which Jack had treated right here in this infirmary. Once he'd completed the necessary repair work, the Doctor had pulled on his clothes again so fast Jack had worried that the bandages might get ripped off.

This Doctor obviously doesn't have the same need for personal privacy. But then, if he and Rose are lovers...

Well, he looks like he's just got out of bed.

Jack swallows. Why does the man have to look so tempting? Still? In this new body? Why couldn't he have regenerated into a slob? Someone Jack could never have fancied in a million light-years?

"I asked the TARDIS to tell me if you woke up." The Doctor's standing beside him, that friendly smile that's becoming so familiar on his face.

"You didn't need to do that. I'm doing okay - not in any pain or anything right now." And that's mostly true.

The Doctor shrugs. "You know I don't need as much sleep as humans. And anyway..." He smiles slightly. "I know what it's like to be awake at night with no company other than your own thoughts."

And he looks at Jack in that way he has sometimes - in both incarnations - that seems to suggest that he knows a lot more than he pretends. About stuff Jack would rather he didn't know about, too.

There's kindness in that look, too, another sentiment which doesn't fit with the old Doctor. Not that the other Doctor couldn't show kindness, but it would always come disguised with rough sarcasm or bantering humour. The nearest he would ever come to revealing his feelings was when one of them was in danger - even worse if it was because of a mistake he'd made. Then, the guilt and fear would take over and they'd be left in no doubt of his caring for them. His love.

Jack used to wonder if it was losing everyone he knew and loved in the Time War that had left the Doctor incapable of showing he cared about people he was close to, or whether it was just not in the Time Lord's nature to get `domestic', as he'd sarcastically said on occasion. Though, since this Doctor apparently had no trouble showing a wider range of emotions, perhaps it had been the man rather than the War.

It doesn't stop him missing the man he knew, the irritable, manic, amazing man he'd called friend. The man who could command the centre of attention anywhere he chose, simply by raising a hand or using a certain tone of voice, and who could just as easily slip anonymously into the crowd when he wanted. But he already knows that the new body is just a covering. That the man he's looking at now is still every bit the Doctor he knows and loves.

"You obviously kept yourself in good shape," the Doctor is saying. "Even with TARDIS medical technology, you're recovering a lot faster than most people would from those injuries."

"You know me - always have to look my best." Jack grins. Always, the best defence is his charm offensive.

"Yeah - not that you were looking your best when we found you the other night." A lightning smile crosses his friend's face. "Almost took you for a drunken tramp and ignored you."

Jack doesn't need the wink to know that's not true.

He's wide awake now, and feeling better than he was before. The Doctor seems willing to hang around for a bit and talk, so perhaps he can finally get some answers to his questions.

Like why they left him...

But he's still too much of a coward to ask that one just yet. The truth can still hurt.

He has other questions about Satellite Five, though.

"So, Doctor, you died. Was it a Dalek?"

The Time Lord shakes his head. "No. I... got lucky."

He turns around and reaches to grab a chair, dragging it over to Jack's couch. "If we're going to have this conversation, I'm going to make myself comfortable." And he sits close to the couch, directly in Jack's line of vision. Close enough to touch... if Jack were still the man he once was.

"Not even a Time Lord can come back from a Dalek's death-ray," the Doctor continues. "They have something that even gets around regeneration." He runs a hand through his unruly hair. "You're the only person, in my experience, who ever came back from extermination. And you understand that I'm talking about a very long time here."

All nine hundred and more years of it. Yes, he understands that. But he has to know... "Why, Doctor? Why'd you bring me back if you were just going to leave me there?"

Suddenly, as the Doctor's expression turns stricken, he knows that something's wrong. His conclusions are wrong. It wasn't like that at all...

"You thought we left you..." The words escape softly, almost under the Doctor's breath. "Of course you did." He leans closer. Actually takes Jack's hand. His touch sends a shiver through Jack's body.

"We thought you were dead. If I'd had any idea that you weren't, I'd have come straight back." He sighs roughly. "I heard you die. I heard the extermination blast and your scream. I was wrong once before when I thought a Dalek had killed someone - "

Rose. She'd told him about that once.

" - but this time I knew you had to be dead. There were too many of them - and I heard you scream. I heard you die. You know I couldn't check. There was so little time - "

"I remember. You had to do what you had to do. And that's what I wanted. I told you."

This isn't making much sense either. How had the Doctor given him back his life without knowing that he was alive?

As if he knows what's going through Jack's mind, the Doctor continues, "I didn't bring you back to life. Rose did. But she had no idea she'd done it."

Rose?

"How?"

"That's why I said it's a long story. She looked into the heart of the TARDIS. Absorbed the Time Vortex."

"My God," Jack exclaims. "How is she still alive?"

The Doctor grimaces. "Exactly. That's how she saved me, by the way. I was within seconds of being exterminated myself, along with the entire Earth and the rest of the universe. She came back to Satellite Five - you remember I sent her away?"

Jack nods.

"She wouldn't stay away. Refused to stay safe when I was in danger. Should have expected it, really, knowing Rose. She opened the heart of the TARDIS to get back to us. And once she came back she used the power of the Vortex to destroy the Daleks. She told me she wanted me safe. She ended it all, Jack. She ended the Time War. I couldn't believe it! I was so scared for her... and so proud of her."

The Doctor is actually shaking, just a little. His hand is still covering Jack's, so Jack turns his hand over and enfolds the Doctor's in it. His friend returns the comforting squeeze, and their hands stay joined.

"So what happened?"

"Well, she couldn't let it go. Didn't know how to. And it was killing her. She was dying right there in front of me. So I took it from her. That's what made me regenerate - even I can't absorb something like that and live. And that's why we rushed away so quickly once it was over. I just grabbed Rose - she was out cold - and ran into the TARDIS with her, shut the doors and dematerialised. I knew I was going to die and I wanted to be safely away from there when it happened."

Jack is silent for a few moments, absorbing what he's been told.

So the Doctor died to save Rose.

It doesn't surprise him. He's always known that the Doctor would do anything to keep Rose safe, if it was within his power. Just as Rose would do anything to save the Doctor. As he would for either of them - including giving his life for them.

"Must have been one hell of a shock for Rose when that happened. You dying and regenerating."

The Doctor smiles. "That's an understatement. Get her to tell you about it some time."

"I will." When, though? He won't be here long enough for those kinds of heart-to-heart.

"And, just for the record, Jack..." The Doctor slides off the chair, releasing Jack's hand, but doesn't take his gaze from Jack's for a second. "I'd have done exactly the same if it was you."

Jack just stares. The Doctor would sacrifice a life for him?

Finally, he says, as the Doctor checks the medical equipment again, "You really didn't leave me behind on purpose."

He's ashamed of how needy, how juvenile he sounds. He's an adult, well into his thirties, who's been looking after himself for years. He was a Time Agent. A Time Lord's right-hand man. And now he's the director of a secret government agency, on a salary that, for twenty-first century times, is pretty damned impressive. Yet here he is, almost begging for reassurance that he hadn't been abandoned.

The Doctor returns to his seat. His eyes are serious, with a hint of sadness. His expression is sober as he leans forward and lays his hand on Jack's shoulder for a long moment. The half-open shirt parts further, allowing Jack a glimpse of skin he longs to touch, to kiss, to feel against his own. "Jack, we thought you were dead."

"Yeah. I got that. And... well, I was dead. It was a reasonable conclusion. But..." He hesitates, knowing that this is going to sound bizarre at the very least, and perhaps unbelievable. "Suddenly, I just woke up. Alive. And I ran out to where you were, only to see the TARDIS disappearing as I got there."

"God." The Doctor's jaw clenches. "So close. I'm sorry, Jack."

Jack tries to lean up, to get at least into a half-sitting position. The bandages on his chest strain, giving him pain. The Doctor presses a hand to his shoulder again. "Stay where you are." He reaches down and produces a pillow, which he slides under Jack's head. "That's about the best I can do for now. Don't want to let you undo all my handiwork."

"Thanks. And it's not your fault, Doctor. You didn't know."

"No." Again, the Doctor grimaces. "We had no idea that you'd survived right up until we found you the other day. And because you had the TARDIS key, we knew you were our Jack. You can imagine it was one hell of a shock."

Our Jack. How good that sounds...

"From after we met you, I mean. Not before. Which meant that you had to have survived the Daleks. So, you see, up until two days ago we still thought you were dead."

So not really ours. Just a figure of speech. Ridiculous, painful disappointment sweeps through him.

"And I hadn't a clue how you were alive after all. The only explanation that made any kind of sense was that it had to have something to do with Rose and the Vortex. She was doing a lot of amazing stuff while she had it inside her. But she doesn't remember any of it. So - " He spread his hands. " - Once we had you stabilised, I hypnotised her. She remembered bringing you back to life. She knew, somehow, that you were dead, and she reversed it." He shook his head slightly. "Incredible, I know. I even remember her saying `I bring life', but I didn't know what she was doing. So that's how you survived, Jack. It was all Rose's doing."

Hypnotised Rose? Right... He's always wondered about the Doctor's mental powers. Time Lords, so legend said, did possess some sort of mental or telepathic abilities, but no-one had ever been sure exactly what. And the previous Doctor hadn't exactly encouraged questions about what he could and couldn't do. Except when he'd been playing games of anything-you-can-do-I-can-do-better with Jack. Or willy-waving contests, as Rose had called it once when she'd got fed up with the two of them trying to outdo each other.

So the Doctor really can reach into people's minds. He resolves to be very careful with his own thoughts around the other man.

Rose had resurrected him. In the grip of the Vortex, protecting her Doctor, destroying the Daleks, she'd thought of him. Cared that he was dead. Wanted him back.

Rose cares about him. Enough to want him alive. Enough to weep over him when he's back and alive. Even if she doesn't love him as he loves her, it's enough to begin to melt the ice that's been around his heart ever since he'd seen the TARDIS disappear.

And the Doctor... who would do the same for him as he'd done for Rose. On some level, he is loved by both of these people.

"Looks like I owe Rose a thank-you, then," is all he says.

The Doctor smiles once more. "Yes. She did well."

*********

5. A Kiss from a Rose

He wakes again and it's day and Rose is there, sitting close to him, a book lying ignored in her lap. She's watching him, and one hand is lying on the couch next to his arm, almost touching him but not quite.

"Hey." He turns his head and smiles at her.

"Hi." The brilliant, impish smile he remembers curves across her face. "Sleep well?"

"Think so." He shifts slightly; he's getting stiff and achy lying here, stuck on his back, his ankle firmly strapped so it can't move. "Could do with being able to move around a bit, though."

She gives him a sympathetic look, and the hand moves to squeeze his forearm. "I can imagine. But the Doctor says you have to stay here for now. If you move about too much you could tear open all the repair-work and that'd be bad."

"Sounds like there's a lot of it." It's hardly surprising, of course. He took a bullet in the heart. Internal damage, to tissue and muscle and veins and arteries, and of course the external injury. Even dermal regenerators can only do so much.

Even if he'd managed to get to a hospital, he'd have died. His injuries were too great for twenty-first century medical expertise.

"He was working on you for hours when we first got you in here." A shadow crosses her face, and he realises that it really had been touch and go and Rose knows it. "At first he thought it was hopeless. Don't get me wrong, he wasn't giving up. Neither of us were. But he told me to prepare for the worst. That you might die anyway."

Something the Doctor hadn't mentioned...

"Well, I sure never expected to wake up again. Much less to see you two." He moves his arm so that he can catch Rose's hand in his. She curls her fingers around his.

She just smiles at him then, and they are silent for a while, at ease in each other's company, two friends happy to be reunited.

"So, where's the Doctor?" he asks, just mildly curious. It seems like the Time Lord's been living in the infirmary lately.

"Doing stuff in the console room. His usual tinkering. You know what he's like." The smile remains on her face. "He says seeing as we're not going anywhere as long as you're recovering we might as well do a bit of shopping. Stock up on some stuff. He's running out of his precious Earl Grey tea." She grins then and rolls her eyes. "Ordinary Tetley's isn't good enough for him any more now he's changed. Anyway, he's going to take us somewhere there's a Sainsbury's and a Marks and a few other places. I've got a shopping list, so if there's anything you want..."

"Can't think of anything, but thanks."

"Well, I'm not going for an hour or so yet, so if you change your mind..."

"You're going on your own?" Was the Doctor really so anti-domestic that he'd send Rose to do his own grocery shopping?

She shrugs with a smile. "He's staying to keep you company."

"I don't need him to do that! I can amuse myself for a few hours, honestly." The last thing he wants is to be thought of as a burden. An obligation.

"Well, to tell the truth, he's still fussing over you like a mother hen. Even when you're asleep, he still has to keep checking all the indicators and drips to make sure you're doing okay."

He hasn't quite realised that. Even after last night.

The sensation of being cared for is spreading. What Rose has just said about how hard the Doctor worked to save him... watching over him... what the Time Lord himself said about being willing to die to save him as well as Rose...

And that reminds him. He strokes his thumb across the back of her hand. "Thank you, Rose."

Her eyes widen. "For what?"

"Saving me. Back on the Game Station."

"Oh. Yeah, he said he'd told you what happened." And she looks embarrassed.

"Sounds like you were pretty terrific." And he smiles warmly, approvingly, at her.

She shrugs. "I only did what I had to. Couldn't let him die. Couldn't let either of you die." She hesitates for a moment, then adds, "Course, he died anyway. To save me. That really bothered me for a while."

"I can imagine." He meets her gaze, trying to reassure her the way he knows the Doctor would want. After last night, he knows the Doctor considers his sacrifice well worth it. That he wouldn't want Rose to feel a second's guilt over it. "But you're okay now?"

"Oh, yeah." And her smile is back. "Took me a while to get used to the new body. But it's still him. Still the Doctor. He hasn't changed that much, and not in any way that matters." In her words, in her tone of voice, in her eyes, he can hear her love for him. Knows that it goes deeper now than it ever has.

"Good. And, yeah, the new body is kind of a shock, and I can see he's different in other ways too, but he's still the same annoying, arrogant, brilliant son of a bitch he always was." And Jack grins, knowing that'll make her laugh.

It does. When she calms, she says, "He's relieved you've accepted him so easily. Took me a lot longer."

He shrugs. "I knew about regeneration. You didn't."

"Yeah." Now she's quiet again, her fingers moving restlessly against his hand. And, finally, just as he's about to ask her what's on her mind, she speaks. "I'm really sorry, Jack."

He frowns, not understanding. "What the heck for?"

"Leaving you behind." There's a world of misery behind that statement. And he hates to hear it. Hates to make Rose unhappy.

"Hey." He slips his hand free from hers and reaches for her face, stroking her cheek with gentle fingers, brushing her chin, tracing her lips. Even now, he can't resist touching. Rose was made for caresses, even though she's someone else's and he shouldn't. "You didn't know I was alive. I know that. You have nothing to be sorry for."

She catches his hand in hers, pressing it against her face, his fingertips over her lips where she can kiss them briefly. "I brought you back to life. I knew I was doing it. I should have remembered. But I didn't, and we left, and it's been two years for you, Jack - two years! And all this time you thought we left you."

"No. Rose, no!" he insists, freeing his hand to reach for her, to tug him down to him, to give her the nearest approximation he can to a hug. "I know what happened. You had the Vortex in you. You didn't remember what you did. And, honestly - " He strokes her hair as she lays her head on his shoulder, carefully avoiding his wound. " - it hasn't been a bad two years. Running Torchwood's been fun. Almost as good as running for my life with you two every other day."

She raises her head to look at him. "But you missed us, right?" She missed him. It's loud and clear in her eyes, her face.

"You bet I did. Every day, Rose. But I found you again, and that's all that matters." Even if, soon, they'll say goodbye again. Because he can't stay. Not when the Doctor loves Rose and Rose loves the Doctor and he'll be the gooseberry in the corner.

"Yeah. It is." She sits up then. "Better move. If he comes in and sees me sprawled all over you like this, he'll throw a fit!"

"You didn't hurt me. Really, I'm feeling a lot better." And he is - psychologically as well as physically. Because this time, when he leaves, he'll know that he is cared for. Not abandoned like an unwanted parcel - or an unwanted companion.

She studies him for a moment, then bends and kisses him. It's like the kiss she gave him yesterday, warm and caring and sweet and almost lover-like, with parted lips and just a hint of heat, which affects him in ways he hopes she can't see. He can't resist reaching up and threading his hand through her hair.

As she draws back, and he has to let her go, he says, "What was that for?"

She shrugs, and there's a Rose-smile he remembers well. Happy and laughing and glad to be alive and just slightly, faintly embarrassed. "Not complaining, are you? The Captain Jack I knew wouldn't have cared why he got kissed."

The Captain Jack she used to know would have laughed and agreed with her. But this is two years later and he is two years on from having fallen in love, completely and irrevocably. With this bright, fascinating, adventuring and courageous young woman, and with the darker, enigmatic, manic, all-knowing Time Lord who'd offered him a home.

If anyone had asked him to choose between the two, the sun and the moon, day and night as they sometimes seemed in contrast with each other, he couldn't ever have done it. Settle for either Rose or the Doctor? Impossible. He'd fallen hard for both of them, inseparable, indivisible, together, a unit.

"I changed," he told her. "You changed me. You and him. And, anyway, you always neatly avoided kissing me before. No matter how many times I pleaded." And he grins, to show that he's teasing, to avoid her seeing how much this matters to him.

She grins. "That was then, too. I wasn't going to lock lips with a guy who'd just as soon kiss a Slitheen as me."

"Rose!" He presses a hand to his heart. "I'm wounded! I do have some standards, you know! Margaret never did anything for me - not even in her borrowed body."

She's laughing now. "I think she fancied the Doctor, really. I'd have loved to be a fly on the wall when he took her out to dinner."

He has to laugh too. "Yeah, I know. I wasn't asked to join them, and the less time I spent in her company the happier I was - all that crap about how we were just going to let her be killed so we were no better than her kind - " He pulls a face in memory. "But it would almost have been worth it to watch him with her. Especially as he said later she had a few tricks up her sleeve but he was too fast for her."

Reminiscing. It brings back all the happy times, the fun and the laughter and the danger and the excitement, even the gut-wrenching fear when he - when they - thought they wouldn't escape with their lives. They were together. They were a team. And life was better than it ever had been before. Or since.

And it reminds him that nothing will ever be the same again. That this is just a temporary return to that sense of belonging. To being in their orbit, part of the team of RoseandJackandtheDoctor.

Reminiscing. Like meeting up with an old friend, or a former colleague, years down the road. Excited at first to see each other, eager to catch up, spending time swapping stories about times past, finding out what's happened since.

And then, gradually, the reminder that this is the past sinking in. That times have changed. That they've moved on - from each other, from the people they were then, from the lives they had then.

Rose and the Doctor have moved on. Together. He's moved on. Alone.

And it hurts.

Even being with her now hurts. The memory of what they once were. What they once did. The knowledge that it'll never be the same again.

So he schools his features into a sleepy look. Shifts a little uncomfortably, as if he's in pain. And, immediately, she's looking concerned. Wanting to know if he's okay, if he needs any medication. He's fine, he assures her. All he needs is rest. Sleep.

And so, as he'd hoped, she says she'll leave him in peace.

Before she goes, she lays her palm against his cheek and says, "I'm so happy you're here."

And he closes his eyes and doesn't answer, because he's afraid he'll say the wrong thing if he does.

*********

6. The Doctor's Move

"Thought you might be awake again. You did sleep most of the day."

The Doctor is in the infirmary again, a too-knowing look on his face. But he can't possibly be aware that Jack's been avoiding them both, can he?

"What time is it?" he asks.

"You humans and your fascination with linear time!" the Doctor grumbles. "Suppose you want it in Earth time, too." He shrugs. "Some time around three."

He's obviously got out of bed again; like the previous night, he's dressed only in those brown trousers and a shirt. Again, the shirt isn't completely buttoned.

Jack imagines Rose removing the jacket. The tie. The trenchcoat he'd seen once, earlier, when the Doctor had come in to check on him before accompanying Rose on her shopping trip after all. Unbuttoning the shirt. Sliding the trousers off...

And he swallows. He has to stop this. Before he drives himself crazy - and before the physical evidence of what the Doctor and his fantasies are doing to him become too obvious for the Time Lord to ignore. The last thing he wants is the Doctor noticing he has a hard-on.

"Feel like sitting up?" the Doctor asks. "I think you're up to it now."

"Yeah, and more than ready for it, too. Think I'm getting bedsores, lying here."

"Ouch." The Doctor's expression is sympathetic. "Let me know if anything needs treatment."

God, no. Torture enough having the Time Lord's hands on him as he checks the chest wound, as he's done several times a day. To imagine the Doctor touching his back, his legs, his buttocks, but only to treat injury...

The Doctor helps him sit up, and adjusts the couch to an upright position. Then he removes the drip. "I think you can do without that now. If you need pain relief, I'll give you pills."

The pain doesn't seem so bad now. He thinks he can manage.

The Doctor moves out of sight for a moment, then returns carrying something. "Thought you might like a game of Nyfrize."

"What, Rose too easy to beat?" Jack grins. Nyfrize is a Gallifreyan board game involving the same need for strategy and planning ahead as chess. He's always been a good chess player, and once the Doctor had taught him the game he'd made a tough opponent.

The game set up on a bed-table over Jack's lap, they battle in silence for an hour or so. Play is as fiercely competitive as ever, even with the more mild-mannered Doctor as an opponent. It's a close-run thing, but the Doctor wins.

"Even in two years, you haven't forgotten much," he says, resetting the pieces on the board. "You always were the best opponent I'd had in centuries. Even considering."

Considering, of course, that he is human, something the Doctor frequently points out as if it's an insult. Jack ignores the qualification; the Doctor always did prefer to avoid complimenting his companions unless absolutely essential. "You never told me that then. Afraid I'd get a swelled head or something?"

"You mean more than it was already?" The Doctor grins before moving his piece to open the second game.

Maybe because the atmosphere is companionable, because they're both focused on the game and conversation doesn't have to feel quite so intense as a result, maybe because it feels better to be sitting up - he's at less of a disadvantage - Jack finally mentions it.

"You and Rose... things have changed." Deliberately keeping it light, he waggles an eyebrow suggestively at the Doctor.

"Ah, you noticed?" The smile is actually a little bashful. The Doctor quickly looks back at the game-board and makes a move.

"You might as well have put up a neon sign." Jack makes his move and grins. Whatever his personal feelings, he can't not feel glad that his friend has found at least something of what he's so obviously needed for so long.

"We were that obvious?" Now the Doctor looks taken aback. His hand falters on the piece he's just about to move. Then he recovers. "Course, I always was irresistible, me." And a lightning grin flashes.

Okay, the ego is obviously another thing that didn't vanish with a new body.

"Well, you never called her `sweetheart' before." Jack winks. He can't just leave it there. Even though it's picking at the open wound, he can't help it. Maybe he's just a masochist after all.

Making his move gives him an excuse not to look at the Doctor as he speaks. "I always knew you loved her. I just never thought you'd actually do anything about it." He pauses for a moment, considering. "Actually, it's the other you who wouldn't have, I suppose."

The Doctor's eyes widen. "I'll have you know, it was the old me kissed her first."

"Really?" Jack stares, astounded. "When the hell did you manage that? You mean you two were at it behind my back or something?"

"Oi!" The Doctor looks genuinely offended. "Of course not!" He leans back and drags his lean fingers through his already-rumpled hair. "I did it to take the Time Vortex from her." That said, he turns back to the game-board and moves a piece, taking one of Jack's.

Well... that makes a weird kind of sense, somehow. "So she killed you with a kiss," he says, shaking his head at the irony of it. Guessing how much the Doctor had wanted that kiss, and only taking it in the knowledge that it would kill him.

"It was my choice." The tone is implacable, almost angry.

"Oh, I know." Jack reaches out and touches the Doctor's hand in apology. "For what it's worth, I'd have made the same choice. And I don't get to regenerate."

The Doctor's other hand covers his, and his eyes seem to see right into Jack's for a moment. "I know that. That's what you did on the Game Station. For both of us. I never got to thank you for that."

Jack shrugs, uncomfortable with the thanks he didn't expect, doesn't need. Delaying a little, he makes a move of his own, capturing a piece of the Doctor's in revenge. "Hey, it's what we all knew we were doing. You as much as me. And I wasn't the only one who died there." As the Doctor doesn't answer, he continues, with one eyebrow raised, "So was that the only way of taking it from her?"

To his amusement, the Doctor actually blushes as he makes his own move. "Not really. There was at least one other way, but..." He gives Jack a rueful smile. "You're right. I've felt this way about her for a long time. But I was determined never to do anything about it. For all sorts of reasons, as I'm sure you can imagine - she's so young, I'm way too old for her, I'm alien to her, this is a dangerous life and I don't want to tie her to it, she had a boyfriend... you name it. But then I had to take the Vortex from her or she'd have died. And I knew doing it would kill me. The thing with regeneration..." He trails off, and a distant look comes over his face.

"You never know what you're going to get?" Jack, after all, has heard tales about some aspects of the process.

"Exactly. And I might have ended up looking old enough to be her grandfather instead of just her dad." He pulls a face. Jack realises he's probably very happy that he looks about ten years younger in this new body. "Some of my other bodies... Well, I was happy enough with them at the time, but the thought of Rose with some of them..." He shakes his head and gives Jack a rueful grin before turning back to the game board. "So it occurred to me that it might be my last chance. If I was going to die, I wanted to grab it. Especially - " He sighs a little. "Especially as I knew she wouldn't remember it. And that makes me sound just a little perverted, doesn't it?"

No, just a guy desperately in love who's about to die for the woman he adores. Jack knows he'd have done the same - and not suffered any qualms about it.

"So she did remember it after all? Was that it?" He makes his own move.

The Doctor shakes his head. "No, she didn't remember a thing. Exactly as I expected. But she kept asking me to tell her exactly what happened after she got back to Satellite Five. Including why I regenerated. She hated the fact that she couldn't remember anything about it." He pauses, a playing-piece in his hand, and looks straight at Jack. "You of all people can understand how frustrating it is to have a gap where a memory should be."

"You're telling me." Jack nods. "I can understand why it was important to her."

"Exactly. Knowing how you felt about the memories you lost was what made me tell her everything, finally. Including the fact that I kissed her. And then she refused to let me go back to pretending that we didn't feel that way about each other."

"That sounds like Rose." Jack smiles. He can just imagine her: tenacious, argumentative, refusing to allow the Doctor to get away with excuses. And at the same time making her own feelings clear. Probably taking the initiative and kissing him.

"Yeah." And the Doctor smiles too, clearly reminiscing. "But I wanted to, anyway. Maybe I finally learned the lesson I keep preaching to other people - that life's too short to keep holding back or avoiding risks."

Or maybe, Jack thinks, this new Doctor doesn't share his predecessor's belief that he doesn't deserve to be happy. Which is no bad thing.

The Doctor moves a piece into what Jack knows is a very risky position - but one which, if it paid off, could help him win the game.

Except that Jack is much more of a strategist than the Doctor gave him credit for in the beginning of their partnership, and he knows his opponent has just laid the path to his own defeat.

"After everything that happened, how close I came to losing her - and because we did lose you - holding back just seemed futile," the Doctor continues, studying the game board. Jack knows that he can see the mistake he's made now; he's shaking his head a little at his own carelessness. "It's not that I'm not aware of how fragile life is. You know that. You know I see it all the time. And companions have died before. But this felt different, somehow."

Because there is no-one else left. Because this Doctor has already lost all his own people, loved ones, friends, relatives. He'd clung to Rose, and even to Jack, as if they were his family. Jack had known that. And now he feels ashamed of ever having thought that he'd been deliberately left behind. Everything the Doctor's said over the past few days - everything Rose has said - has told him how much they missed him and wanted him around. Maybe still do want him around.

"So you're together." He makes the important tactical move. The game's almost over now.

He gets a brilliant, dazzling smile in response. "Yes. And it's the best thing that's ever happened to me." The Doctor shakes his head, as if he can barely believe it himself. "And, given I've been around for over nine hundred of your human years, that's saying a lot."

And, really, it is pretty amazing. In nine hundred years, has the Doctor never been in love before? Yet, looking at his expression, the dazed, dazzled look on his face as he clearly thinks about Rose, Jack can believe it.

Jack wins the game this time. And yet it feels as if he's lost, and the Doctor's taken the prize.

"I'm happy for you." And he means it. Really. It's just that he wishes, so much... But that's being selfish, and if anyone deserves some measure of happiness it's these two.

"Thanks." The Doctor fiddles with a couple of the Nyfrize pieces. He's obviously a little uncomfortable with the conversation. Obviously more of his predecessor remains than was immediately apparent. "Good game, by the way. You outplayed me. Maybe I'm the one who's out of practice."

Yet Jack can't seem to take the hint and drop the subject. And there's another scab he can't avoid picking at. "You didn't seem to mind when she kissed me."

Your girlfriend, Doctor. Willingly kissing the man who'd have stolen her away from you long ago, if I hadn't inconveniently developed scruples.

The Doctor meets his gaze again, revealing wide brown eyes which seem to see right through him. "Believe it or not, Captain, even my previous self did stop feeling jealous where you and Rose were concerned. Actually, long before we got dumped on the Game Station."

Well, that was true. After an awkward first few weeks, when the Doctor had accepted him for his mechanical skills and his ability to jump into dangerous situations and sometimes even save the day but bristled every time he and Rose so much as smiled at each other, they'd all settled into a relaxed companionship. A friendship full of teasing, joking, light-hearted insults and very occasional casually affectionate comments. The Doctor had still glowered if any moderately-attractive guy happened to come into Rose's orbit - especially if she actually seemed to notice the guy in question - but had done no more than raise an eyebrow in mock impatience if he'd seen Rose and Jack hug or exchange some other gesture of affection.

They'd been a unit. All for one, and one for all. No room for jealousy, for pettiness, for making one of the team feel less wanted, less cared for.

Still... The strange thing here is that the Doctor is actually saying so.

"You look surprised," the Doctor says. "Did you think my opinion of you hadn't changed in all that time? After everything we did together?"

"It's not that. It's... you'd never have told me anything like that before." Or any of this. The other Doctor would never have entertained any kind of discussion of his feelings - especially the way he felt about Rose. He'd have ended the conversation, by simply refusing to answer, by changing the subject, by telling Jack bluntly to shut it, or by walking off.

The Doctor starts to pack away the game pieces. He's getting ready to leave. But then, Jack reminds himself, morning is approaching. And Rose will wake and reach for her lover and find him missing.

He glances up and finds the Time Lord watching him, his expression knowing, too knowing.

"Regeneration brings a lot of changes. I know you've noticed. It's not just the appearance - although," the Doctor adds, a mischievous grin slashing across his boyishly handsome features, "I think this is an improvement. Don't you?"

Invited to comment, how can Jack resist? Besides, if he says nothing, the Doctor will know that something's wrong. The old Jack Harkness would never have held back, given an opportunity like this.

"Oh, I don't know," he says, and summons his very best Jack-the-Lad grin. "The brooding look had a lot going for it. Used to send shivers down my spine sometimes."

The Doctor grins again. "Down, boy." And, in that mock-chiding tone, Jack hears echoes of the Doctor he knew first. "But, all the same... the ears, Jack. The nose. And what was I doing with that hair?"

All Jack knows is that the earlier model was perfectly put together. He'd never have changed a thing. And he suspects Rose wouldn't either.

"Adds character, Doctor," is all he can trust himself to say at first. "Besides," he adds then, knowing it's true, "I don't think Rose had any complaints. I certainly didn't."

The Time Lord grins. "S'pose I was attractive, in a dark, rugged sort of way. At least I wasn't a pretty boy."

"What, like me?" Jack laughs. In his acquaintance with the Doctor, he's heard plenty of the man's caustic asides on handsome young men, especially Rose's apparent predilection for them.

"Oh, I don't know." And it seems that the Doctor is studying him. Appraising him. "Not pretty. Rose always thought you were good-looking, though." At Jack's surprise, he adds, "She said so. When you teleported out of the Albion before coming back to rescue us. I told her I was trying hard not to be offended." He pulls a face, all wounded vanity.

"You look a bit pretty-boyish yourself now." Jack can't resist the opportunity.

"Oi!" He gets a mock-offended look in return. "I happen to like the hair. And the teeth."

So does Jack. But he's not saying so. Definitely not. That could lead to all kinds of trouble he has no intention of causing.

After a pause, the Doctor speaks again, and his tone is sober. "Yes, regeneration changes me in a lot of ways, and it's more than just appearance. But in some respects you must remember that I haven't changed at all. I'm still amazingly brilliant, of course." A quick grin, before the Time Lord's expression sobers again. "I'm also still the same man who's killed. Left other people to be killed. Destroyed planets. Wiped out entire races. And I'd do it again if I have to." His eyes seem to bore into Jack's. "Remember that."

Jack nods. He hasn't missed the steel behind the mild-mannered exterior of the new Doctor. Not for one minute. But he knows this man, too. Knows he's always done far more good than harm, and has only ever done harm in order to do good. He has made mistakes, true, but he makes up for them in the best way he can. The only way he knows how.

To him, the end justifies the means, at least some of the time. That's not everyone's philosophy, and it's one where Rose and the Doctor have had some of their most spectacular disagreements, but it's usually been Jack's philosophy. And the end the Doctor strives for is always, barring the odd miscalculation, worth it.

He is no saint, but he is the best person - of any species - that Jack has ever met.

He is about to say so, even at risk of inflating the Time Lord's ego still further. But, suddenly, the Doctor is standing. Moving closer to Jack's bed. Leaning over him.

And the look in his eyes makes Jack forget to breathe. Makes time itself slow down.

"You think I've changed," the Doctor is saying, almost whispering, a voice that echoes right down to Jack's soul. "Too much for you? Too much for... this?"

And he leans in closer still, and his lips close over Jack's.

*********

7. Better With Three

The Doctor's lips are warm on his, warm and so inviting and too, too tempting. He can't help but return the kiss, parting his lips beneath the ones he's wanted to taste again for longer than he's ever waited for anyone before.

It's better, way better, than the kiss he once stole. The kiss that has haunted his dreams for hundreds of nights.

The Doctor's hand is in his hair, tugging him closer, holding him still. He wraps his own arm around the Doctor's shoulders, as if afraid the other man will pull away too soon. That the kiss will end before he's ready for it.

He'll never be ready for it to end.

The Doctor tastes of tea and the curry the three of them shared for dinner and of the unmistakeable taste of Time Lord. And suddenly there's a tongue and it's stroking his and tangling and devouring...

There's heat and passion and it's not just on Jack's side. And he has no idea at all what's going on here, but as long as the Doctor keeps this up he has no intention of questioning it...

The Doctor draws back. Eyes alight with something Jack doesn't dare to put a name to, he says, "So, am I?"

Jack couldn't have counted to ten without stumbling right at this moment. "Are you... what?"

"Too different?"

"God, no." He's unable to resist, and stretches out a hand to run his fingertips over the Doctor's face. "This... the new body... it's just appearances. And, yeah," he adds, his voice husky with wanting, "it's a pretty damn attractive appearance too. Right now I couldn't choose between the old you and the new you."

"Good." And the other man is grinning, apparently pleased with himself.

"So..." Now, he has to know. "What was that for?"

Suddenly, the Doctor sobers. Jack lets his hand fall away from the man's face. But the Doctor catches hold of it.

Holding Jack's gaze, the Doctor says, "It troubled me for a long time that the only kiss you ever got from me was saying goodbye."

The words, and the expression in the Doctor's eyes, leave him speechless.

Jack knows all about sexual attraction. He wouldn't be Jack Harkness if he didn't. He'd always known that the other Doctor was never indifferent to him. He'd never have tried it on with the Doctor in the first place if the signals had been complete lack of interest.

The Doctor - either Doctor - is not an asexual being. Nor is he only attracted to the opposite sex, or only to his own race.

But feeling attraction and doing something about it are two very different things, and Jack had long ago come to the conclusion that the Doctor simply would never acknowledge anything when it came to sex. Either with Rose or himself. Perhaps he didn't care enough. Perhaps humans were beneath him. Perhaps he'd had his fill of sexual adventures in his nine hundred years and simply preferred to control his libido.

The kiss Jack had stolen had been partly in revenge for the Doctor's refusal to play, as much as it'd been him saying goodbye in the way which meant most to him. It had been the kiss he'd always wanted and thought he'd never get.

Now... he has no idea what's happening. What the Doctor is really saying. Is this just some form of compensation? Saying sorry for what happened?

Or is it... more? Is there something here that he's been failing to understand?

He can test the waters a little. Raising an eyebrow in interrogation, he says, "So does this mean you'll let me kiss you when we say goodbye again?"

The Doctor's expression changes instantly. He frowns, seeming disappointed and unhappy. "We were - Rose and me - hoping you'd want to stay."

The diffidence in the Time Lord's voice is marked. Overwhelming. So different from his former incarnation. That Doctor would have behaved as if it didn't matter that much to him at all. Made clear that it was entirely Jack's choice. Hidden his own feelings under a façade of bland, maybe even cold indifference. Getting that Doctor to show any emotions at all, other than manic humour or occasional flashes of grief over his home planet, had been almost impossible.

Yet he'd loved the man anyway, despite all that. And had felt loved in return. Cared about, anyway.

Now, though, he needs the diffidence. Needs to feel that he is wanted.

"But... things are different now. I mean, you two. I wouldn't want to be in the way. Three's a crowd and all that." Even with them wanting him to stay, he doesn't know if he can bear being the one on the outside.

Even if staying means occasional casual, or even heated, kisses like this one. And the ones he's been unexpectedly getting from Rose. Because they are a couple and he'll still be the outsider, the one being thrown a few crumbs every now and then when he wants so much more.

The Doctor is shaking his head. "In our case, that's never been true."

Yes, of course, he was always welcome as part of the team. He'd been a valuable, even indispensable, part, too - he's not so modest that he doesn't know that.

"What is it, Jack?" the Doctor asks then. "Is it because I've changed? Or... well, I know two years is a long time. You don't want to leave the life you've made for yourself? Torchwood is that important to you?"

"Torchwood?" He almost has to think to retrieve the context. And he realises that he's barely thought about his job, the agency he's lived, slept and breathed for almost two years, since waking up in the TARDIS. "No. I enjoy the job, but it's just a job."

Too late, he realises that he should have used that as his excuse. He can't say it's because the Doctor has changed too much with regeneration, because he's already said that's not true. And the one thing he can't tell the Doctor is that he can't stay because of him and Rose.

"Then stay." The Doctor is looking straight at him, something in his gaze that Jack has never seen before. Something that looks suspiciously like... the kind of look he'd expect to be reserved for Rose. "We want you, Jack. It's not been the same without you."

He's weakening. He can feel it - the longing, the insane need just to say yes, even though he knows it'll be torture.

"Unless..." Now the Doctor is sounding confused. A little hurt. "Unless I'm wrong, and you don't feel the same as you used to... You loved us once. The way I love Rose. And you wanted us. Didn't you?"

God. He hadn't realised his feelings had been that obvious. Oh, sure, he'd never made any secret of the fact that he was attracted to both of them. That, given the chance, he'd have pursued that. But he'd just assumed they saw it as what he was - the insatiable Jack Harkness, incapable of reining in his libido.

There's no point denying it. He's already aware that the Doctor sees too much, and that he may even have some talent for mind-reading.

"Yes," he says quietly. "I did. I do. Nothing's changed there. But there's a difference now."

"What's different?"

"You and Rose!" he almost snaps. "Come on, man, you know what I'm talking about. You two are together. I'm happy for you, you have to believe that, but can't you understand that I've got feelings too? How can I stay here knowing that you two are a couple and I'm not part of it? I love you. Both of you. Once, I was happy with the way things were - loving you, not doing anything about it - but that was before you two got it together. I can't live with being on the sidelines. Not now."

The Doctor whistles soundlessly. "So that's it. And that never even occurred to us."

"What?" He's feeling awkward now, embarrassed, just wanting the Doctor to leave and this conversation to be over.

"We've been wondering why you seemed to be... well, holding back. I know you love Rose. I was pretty sure that you love me. What we didn't realise is that... you didn't know we love you too." And, suddenly, his palms are cupping Jack's face, holding him, and his eyes are gazing into Jack's in a way that leaves no room for doubt about what he's saying.

Then the Doctor's lips are brushing his once more, and it's the most tender kiss he's ever had from a man.

When the other man draws back, Jack's mouth is dry and he can barely swallow. This... it's more than he ever dared hope for. Ever dreamed of.

"You... want me to stay because you love me?"

The Doctor's eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "You need an engraved invitation? Jack, what do you think's been going on here over the last couple of days?"

He gives a helpless shrug. "Okay, call me thick, but I had no idea."

"So I see." Shaking his head, the Doctor resumes his seat next to Jack. "Looks like I have some convincing to do."

"Well..." Jack smiles. He's finding it hard not to smile now. In fact, if he could see his own face, he's pretty sure he'd find that that the smile has taken over. "I think I'm getting the point."

"Good." The Doctor reaches for his hand again, holding it between his own two. "Still, I think you should hear this."

"Okay." He's far from averse to having the Doctor stick around a while longer. Especially in these new circumstances. And when it might mean more kisses like those he's just had.

"Rose is the strongest, bravest woman I've known," the Doctor begins, to Jack's surprise. He knows this about Rose, anyway, and wonders why the Doctor is telling him. "And there's been a lot," the Doctor continues. "Including women Time Lords, and they're a tough bunch. Anyway, after we left Satellite Five, she had to cope with my regeneration. Suddenly finding herself with what felt like a complete stranger. And then I was sick and going crazy, and she had to help me even though the way I was behaving scared her rigid. She wouldn't leave me. She stayed right by me even though I was nothing like the man she remembered. And she persuaded other people that I was who I said I was. Even after all that was over, and she was still left with a stranger, she coped. Got to know me all over again. She never gave up. Never faltered, not even for a moment."

From the moment Jack met Rose, he knew she was a special woman. He's seen her courage more times than he can count. He's not remotely surprised that she took all this in her stride.

"She cried over you, Jack," the Doctor continues, and he stills, listening, very touched. "Once she had time to stop and think and it all sunk in. She cried because you were dead. In her bedroom, she has a photograph - it's of the three of us. We took it on Woman Wept - remember?"

Jack remembers. That was a good day. One of the best. They'd all been so happy, playing like children, laughing, secure in each other's friendship.

"I've found her there so many times, just staring at that photo, tears in her eyes. Even though I told her you wouldn't want her to cry for you, and she knows that. She told me, once, that she wished she'd just told you that she loved you when she had the chance."

There's a lump in Jack's throat. He had no idea. And yet it's all so obvious, when he thinks about it. Rose resurrected him. Why else would she have done that, if not out of love? The same love that made her go back to save her Doctor.

"And it was never just Rose," the Doctor continued. "I've lost friends before. Too many times. Many more times than I want to remember. I wept for them all. I remember them all. I see their faces in my head all the time, every day. None hurt so much as losing you."

And now he's stunned. Wondering how he could have ever doubted their love for him.

"Doctor..."

"Yes?"

"I..." He falters for a moment, but then continues. "Thanks for telling me. I should have known, but... thanks."

"I'm glad you know." The Doctor squeezes his hand briefly. "Maybe now you won't doubt us again."

Jack shakes his head. "I won't. And... the answer to your question is yes. I'd love to stay."

"Wait." The Doctor frees one hand and holds it up. "I want you to. But I also want you to go into this with your eyes open."

"Oh?" What now?

"You know this is one hell of a dangerous way to live. I reminded Rose of that, too, when she said she was staying with me even after I changed." He smiles ruefully. "She still misses the old me sometimes. I can see it in her eyes. But she loves me as I am now, too, and that's all that matters."

"You're still the Doctor. Sure, there are differences, but they don't count."

The Doctor gives him a quick grin. "Nice to know you think so. For some reason, even compared against risking life and limb on a regular basis, regeneration's always been the hardest part of this for companions to accept. Some have left me because of it."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "But did any of the others love you? Like we do?"

"No. And you're right, that makes a difference. But you still have to think about this. This life is dangerous. You could get killed at any time. Any of us could."

"You think I don't know that? Rose and me more than most?"

"True." The smile was rueful again. "I can't protect you all the time - I can't even protect myself."

"We protect each other," Jack points out. It's always been like that, as long as he was part of the crew, and from what he's heard it's been the same since Rose joined too. "As much as we can. You think Rose or I wouldn't do whatever we had to do to save you? Or each other? Or that we don't know you'd do exactly the same?"

"I know. But I also know that's not always possible. There may come a time when it's a stark choice: one of you or the universe - "

"I know. And you'll do what you have to do. I know that too."

The Doctor nods. "Yes. You do. Stupid of me." And Jack knows they're both remembering Satellite Five once more.

"Anyway, that's not the point," Jack says. "You couldn't live any other way. And neither could I. Or Rose."

"You're right there. She told me she could be sitting at home in her mum's flat, eating beans on toast and looking forward to a boring, dead-end job in the morning, marriage to some bloke who'll never really excite her and growing old without ever having lived - or she could be dashing in and out of danger with me, barely escaping with her life, and maybe dead before she's twenty-three. And this life's what she'd choose every time."

Jack grins. He hasn't met Rose's mum, but he's heard plenty. And he's met Mickey, who seems to be very much history.

"You have to make a choice, Jack." The Doctor's tone is sober, and his eyes are serious. "Before, when you joined us, it wasn't much more than an accident. We rescued you, and you stayed. And you were welcome, never doubt that. But this time you have somewhere else to go - you have a life you've made for yourself in the last two years. I know you enjoy it. Do you want to give that up to come travelling with us again?" He presses a hand to Jack's shoulder. "Think about it. Decide what you want. And then tell me."

And then he stands and, with one more too-brief kiss, leaves the infirmary.

*********

The Doctor says he'll give Jack time to think about his decision. And he does - they both do. Over the next couple of days, he slowly gets more freedom from his confined position in the infirmary and is actually allowed to join his friends in the console room or the kitchen for short periods at a time. Clothes appear - his own clothes, left behind on the TARDIS and apparently kept; he realises that they never got rid of his things. And he's drawn into their warmth once more. Their friendship, their camaraderie, is back, as if it's never been interrupted.

He is teased, joked with, insulted, encouraged to swap stories about the past couple of years of his life, hugged, punched - not enough to hurt; they are careful of his injuries - laughed with. He sits on the grating as the Doctor tinkers with the TARDIS; he passes tools, makes suggestions and even tinkers himself when the Doctor's not looking. He hears about their adventures, the ones without him, and feels warmed as they tell him they missed him and wish he'd been there. He is kissed, and he kisses in return. He feels wanted. Needed.

He feels loved.

But the future is never discussed. The TARDIS remains in limbo, somewhere in the Earth's atmosphere but not travelling anywhere. This is a time out of time. They all know it won't last.

And then he is pronounced recovered enough to move out of the infirmary. He still has dressings on his chest, but the wound is almost healed. His ankle can still be painful, and he can't put much weight on it, but it is not far from full recovery. The Doctor says he can move to a bedroom tonight.

It's getting dark when the Doctor, in shirt-sleeves once more, comes to the infirmary. He has insisted on walking Jack to his bedroom, saying that he doesn't want Jack straining the ankle. A stick would have done just as well, but Jack sure as hell isn't going to pass up the opportunity of the Doctor's arm around his waist, his arm around the other man's shoulders.

"So." They're slowly walking out of the infirmary, into one of the TARDIS's endless corridors. "Have you made your decision?"

There was never any decision to make. Jack knows it, and wonders how his companions can't have known it too. They know how he feels about them. They know now what being separated from them did to him.

Now, back in their company, invited to stay, to be part of their indivisible, unbreakable unit, he knows that they have saved his life again. For the fourth time.

He grins impishly. "My bedroom still available?"

"If you want it to be. Though you have a choice."

"I do?" Well, he knows the TARDIS has a lot of rooms.

"If you don't mind sharing..." He turns swiftly to see a sidelong glance full of humour and love. And also desire. His heart lurches, and something else does too.

"I've always been a fan of sharing," he says, and grins. But the offer, the suggestion, touches him deeply.

"Good." The Doctor steers him along a route he recognises. The Time Lord's own room is down this way. "Rose told me I'd better not come back alone." He grins again.

"And I'd never want to disappoint Rose." He can think of much, much more interesting things to do with Rose. And with the Doctor. Though probably not all of them just yet, as he's still recovering. Plenty of potential for the future, though.

"Tomorrow, we'll go back to London," the Doctor announces happily. "You'll need to tell Harriet you're resigning. We'll come with you - I'd like to see her again. And it might help, just in case she has some crazy idea of making you work notice."

Jack shrugs. He can always get around Harriet. "I don't think that'll be a problem."

"Good. It's going to be great having you around again!"

"Yeah." And that's Rose, standing in the doorway of a room they've just reached. "Like I said, Doctor, better with three, eh?"

"Yeah." The Doctor grins and loops his free arm around Rose's shoulder, keeping his other around Jack's waist. Jack completes the circle by tugging Rose closer and sliding his free arm around her waist. He rests his head on her shoulder, and the Doctor lowers his to touch both of them. "Definitely better with three."

END