Chapter Text
"So are you gonna tell her or should I?" Jack asks, after Rose has gone to bed for the night.
"Tell her what?" the Doctor asks, avoiding his eyes. Staring at a burnt-out circuit like it's the most fascinating thing in the universe.
"Oh, about a little thing called 'us,'" Jack says. "It's been two days. I never thought you were the prudish type."
"I'm not!" the Doctor protests. "I just... It's not the right time."
"So what is the right time? How long do you want to play this game?" Jack steps closer, turns the Doctor to face him. Leans in, lowers his voice. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands off you until she's asleep?"
"Yes," the Doctor replies, breathily. Pulls away. "A bit of self-restraint never hurt anyone."
Jack sighs.
"I'll tell her," the Doctor insists. "I will."
"Tomorrow morning?"
The Doctor squirms. "Morning, afternoon, evening. Rather inaccurate when we're in the Vortex to fall back on the relative spin of a planet to its sun."
Jack thought it'd be longer before the Doctor's stubborn avoidance made him want to strangle him. "Fine. I'll do it."
"Fine," the Doctor says, but he doesn't look happy about that either.
"Good," Jack says, firmly.
"Going to tell her about your being unable to die while you're at it?" the Doctor counters, pointedly.
Now it's Jack's turn to avoid eye contact.
"Thought so," the Doctor says, quietly smug.
Jack decides that it's better that he goes somewhere else for a while, before he says something he regrets.
He loves the Doctor, he really does, but he can be just as infuriating as his old self was. Maybe more, but that's probably because they're much further under each other's skins this time around. Still, he knew what he was signing up for: an emotionally difficult, stubborn, handsome, childish, brilliant, wonderful bastard, who happens to be a master at avoidance.
Not that he's doing much better. He glossed over a hell of a lot when telling Rose about where he'd been. Skipped right from the game station to the twenty-first century. She deserves to know the truth, but he can't bring himself to burst the bubble of her happiness. Selfishly, he wants to stay in it himself. There's nothing he'd like better than to forget about a hundred and twenty-five years of his life, and as long as she thinks Jack is a perfectly normal fifty-first century human, Jack is a perfectly normal fifty-first century human. When she's around, it feels like he never left the TARDIS, like it was all a terrible dream and now he's awake.
It can't last. Secrets, especially secrets this big, have a way of getting out. And if Jack learned anything from running Torchwood it's that secrecy isn't all it's cracked up to be. The longer they wait to tell her everything, the harder it's going to be.
Somehow that doesn't make it any easier to actually do it.
"Were you up all night again?" Rose asks, when she comes into the kitchen to find Jack already there. She's sleepy and mussed and still in robe and pyjamas, and yawns as she sits down.
Jack shrugs. "Not much of a sleeper these days," he says. "Thought I'd make you some breakfast. What's your pleasure?"
"Hmm," Rose says. Makes a face like she's considering a very difficult choice. "French toast, please." She smiles.
"French toast coming up," Jack says. He goes to the fridge and finds eggs and butter and milk, all fresh. They didn't exist a minute ago, and neither did the loaf of cinnamon bread in the cupboard. Jack enjoys cooking; he's no gourmet, but he likes working with his hands, giving pleasure in ways other than sex. Not that he's cooked much recently. There was no kitchen in the hub, and he wonders if he left it out on purpose.
"It's so weird that you're back," Rose says, suddenly, then laughs at herself. "That didn't come out right."
Jack soaks two thick pieces of bread. "If you want to try that again, I don't mind."
"Here you are, all making me breakfast," Rose says. "I just, I don't know. Thought you'd found something you needed to do. And the Doctor wasn't worried, so..." She shrugs.
Jack watches the butter sizzle in the pan. Slaps in the sopping bread. "I did," he says. "It's done."
"Mm," Rose says. She drums her fork against the table. "What do you think of him? The Doctor, I mean. The new him."
Jack smiles to himself. "He's different. Full of surprises."
"Oh, totally," Rose agrees. "Oh my god, when he changed? I completely freaked out. You have no idea. I thought he was a Slitheen or something, and then he started shouting and then passed out! It was a nightmare."
"He didn't warn you?"
"Barely," she groans. "He was going on about having two heads, or none. Completely mad. God, it's good to have someone I can finally talk to about this."
Jack serves her a plate and one for himself, and joins her at the table. "It's just been the two of you?"
"Mickey came along for a while."
"Really?" Jack says, surprised. "How'd you twist the Doctor's arm?"
"He actually wanted him along," she says. She leans forward. "He's been acting kinda weird, but..."
"Hard to know what's weird for him?" Jack guesses.
"Exactly," Rose says, relieved that he understands. "I mean, changing every cell in his body is weird enough. I dunno, it's hard to explain. 's like, one minute we're best mates, right? And the next he can't get far enough away. And then he's back again. It's impossible to talk to him about it. He just changes the subject."
"Sounds about right," Jack says.
"Not that I can stay mad at him," she says, softening. "He's like a big kid sometimes. Most of the time."
Jack thinks about tumbling in the grass with the Doctor. Tries not to smile too obviously. Takes a bite of his bread.
"I forget, you know?" she says, quietly. "At first, every time I looked at him, all I could see was how he was before. When he was lying in bed, sick, all I wanted was the old him back. The proper Doctor."
"And now?"
Rose pushes her food around with her fork. "Now it's different," she says, looking away. Takes a bite. "Mickey's gone."
"Gone?"
"He left," she says, sad yet somehow proud. "He's in a parallel universe, can you believe it? My Mickey. I never thought he'd step foot out of London."
"Found something he needed to do?" Jack offers.
"Mm," Rose says. "Good for him, yeah?"
"Good for him," Jack agrees.
"So you meant it, right? You really are staying," she says, meeting his eyes, looking into them as if seeking certainty.
"I really am," he assures her.
"Still in your pajamas?" the Doctor says, bouncing into the kitchen, alight with excitement. "No time to be lounging about when we've got a destination."
"Restless Doctor," Rose says, leaning forward conspiratorially. "Better watch out."
"Oi!" the Doctor says, and snatches a piece of her bread. "Just because I don't need to sloth my life away like certain humans I could name..."
Rose grabs the syrup and holds it out threateningly. "Syrup head," she says, and lunges at him with it, trying to gets some in his hair.
The Doctor yelps and skitters away, hiding behind Jack. Jack holds up his hands in alarm. "I'm not in the middle of this," he protests.
Rose's eyes narrow, and she suddenly runs around the table, which makes the Doctor run laughing away from her, and they chase each other around until Rose gets in a good tackle. The Doctor cries out, "Wait, wait! I surrender, just not the hair, please! Olympics!"
"What?" Rose says, syrup bottle poised.
"2012 Olympics. Thirtieth Olympiad! Opening doo-dah, ceremony, tonight, wouldn't that be nice?"
"Suppose so," Rose says, easing back the bottle. "Yeah, all right!" She releases him, walks back to her chair, poised like royalty. "But I'm finishing my breakfast first. Jack made it for me." She winks at him.
The Doctor straightens his rumpled clothes, fusses with his hair. "I don't cook," he says, vaguely offended.
"That's 'cause you burn everything. He can't even make toast properly," Rose says, smirking.
"I don't see why I have to stand here and be insulted," the Doctor says. But he goes over to the fridge and pours himself a glass of orange juice anyway. Then steals a piece of Jack's french toast, licks his syrupy finger clean. "Not bad," he says.
"Gee, thanks," Jack replies, dryly.
"Stop snatching our food," Rose tells him.
"Two against one now, is it?" the Doctor says.
"Yup," Rose says.
"That's just not fair at all," the Doctor replies, attempting a pout and failing at it. He tries to snatch another piece of Jack's food, but Jack slaps his hand away. The Doctor does pout then, quite convincingly.
"Do you want me to make you some?" Jack asks, eyebrow arched.
The Doctor's pout transforms into a grin. "Thought you'd never ask," he says and slinks into a chair. Snatches the syrup and pours some onto a finger and sucks at it.
"He's got no manners, either," Rose says, as Jack opens the fridge. "Honestly, I don't know why I put up with him."
"Because I'm so adorable. And handsome," the Doctor says, confidently. "And brilliant."
"Listen to him!" Rose says, astonished. "I don't think he deserves breakfast, Jack."
Jack laughs, but soaks a piece of cinnamon bread anyway. By the time the french toast is done, the Doctor is regaling them with stories about previous opening ceremonies.
Rose rolls her eyes. "Liar," she teases. "You've got to be making that up."
"No, no, it's all true, I swear," the Doctor insists. Stops talking only to shove food into his mouth. "That was the end of that tea party, I can tell you. Oh! Just had a thought." he says, suddenly, grabs the rest of his bread and runs out of the room.
Jack and Rose exchanged bemused expressions.
"How do you keep up with him?" Jack says. "I thought he was high-energy before, but..." During the Doctor's stay at Torchwood, Jack had forgotten that he wasn't running on full steam, between recovering from his injuries, mourning Jack, and repairing the TARDIS, not to mention the whole giant demon business. It amazes him to realize that the Doctor is normally twice as manic as he'd expected, and twice again over how he was before their reunion.
"Caffeine and adrenaline," Rose says, wisely. "Though he is sort of infectious. Maybe with two of us he won't be able to run us into the ground."
Jack holds out his arm for her. "Team TARDIS?" he says, remembering their old nickname.
"Absolutely," Rose says, grinning, and they walk arm in arm to the console room.
The Doctor's epiphany turned out to be a sudden desire for fairy cake. "Did you ever have one of those little cakes with the crunchy ball bearings on top?" he asks, when they arrive to find him rummaging through his toolbox. "Do you know those, those things? These things!" He pulls out a small vial, triumphant, and then frowns sadly. He rattles the vial and the lone candy bearing tinkles against the plastic.
"You keep cake decorations in your toolbox?" Jack asks.
"Where else would you keep ball bearings?" the Doctor replies, as if this makes perfect sense. "Nobody else in this entire galaxy's ever even bothered to make edible ball bearings. Genius. We have to get more." He hops to his feet. "Allons-y!" He smacks the console and the TARDIS wheezes to a landing.
"We're getting ball bearings at the Olympics?" Rose asks, still as bemused as Jack is.
"Of course," the Doctor says. "Just need to find a tea party. Come on!" And with that, he bounces to the doors and out. Stops dead. "Ah."
"What's wrong?" Jack asks.
"Bit of a tight spot. Hold on." The Doctor goes back to the console, fiddles with the navigation and tries again. Goes to the door more cautiously and peeks out. "Ah!" he says, pleased, and walks outside.
As they follow him out, Jack thinks to himself that he's in love with a lunatic.
"What's that smile about?" Rose asks, bumping him with her elbow. "Hoping we'll find another Mark? Legs strong as a whippet?" She laughs. "Same old Jack."
"You got me," Jack lies, but his happiness turns sour inside him. He wants to tell her the truth, he really does. All of it. But it's not just his story to tell. He wants the Doctor to be honest with her, too.
But the Doctor is blithely sauntering along the street, hands in his pockets and not a care in the world. Poking about like he owns the place, like nothing can touch him. Still blithering on even though it's hard for them to make out what he's saying, because he hasn't bothered to wait up for them. He expects the universe to change to suit his needs, and damned if he doesn't get his way more often than not. He certainly got Jack to change, leaving everything behind the moment he showed up. It doesn't matter that Jack was waiting for him anyway. It's the fact that the Doctor got what he wanted so effortlessly. Even Jack's forgiveness.
They catch up to him when he's stopped in front of a telephone pole, peering at some papers stuck to it. Posters for missing children, all taken in the past week.
"Something's here," the Doctor says, suddenly serious.
"Why would a person do something like this?" Rose asks, concerned. Sympathetic. She was always good at sympathy.
"What makes you think it's a person?" the Doctor replies, and tugs his coat closer around himself. "And why is it so cold? Is something reducing the temperature?"
It's only then that Jack notices the chill. It's supposed to be summer, but he can see his breath. There's definitely something strange going on, and he doesn't like it. His first instinct is to call his team, but he doesn't have a team anymore. No Hub, no SUV, no weapons. It unsettles him.
"We should call UNIT," Jack insists. "It's probably still around. Get in some equipment, sweep the area. We need to contain this, if it's not already too late."
But Rose and the Doctor just stare at him.
"Jack, we've handled massive alien invasions," Rose says. "Cybermen. Werewolves. It's just some missing kids."
Jack thinks of Estelle. Of Jasmine and mouths full of petals. He thinks he doesn't want to think about Rose and Cybermen. "Whatever's taking those kids, it's evil. We're not prepared to take it down. We need equipment, backup, manpower."
The Doctor frowns, disapproving. "We don't need the military coming in guns blazing," he says, sternly. "We don't even know that it's evil."
"We don't know it's not," Jack replies, back straight, meeting his gaze. "It's irresponsible not to use every resource we have."
"It's mindless military stupidity," the Doctor says, trying to glare Jack down. "I thought you knew better, Jack. I thought you'd learned."
"Yeah? Well, maybe I unlearned," Jack says, loudly. "Maybe we don't have to do everything your way. Maybe I'm more interested in saving lives than goddamn tea parties."
Rose gapes at them.
The Doctor looks furious. "You want to do things your way?" he challenges. "Fine. You go your way, I'll go mine. Rose, come on." He takes a few long strides away until he realizes Rose isn't following him.
"I'm staying with Jack," she says, though she doesn't seem entirely certain about it. Then she suddenly does. "We're together, right? A team." Then, more softly: "We'll meet up once we've looked around."
The Doctor softens, nods. Then glares at Jack before striding off down the street.
Rose turns to Jack. "Maybe it's a monster. Maybe not. But I'm not having the two of you butting heads when there's kids missing."
"Yes ma'am," Jack nods, more chastised by her calmness than all of the Doctor's anger.
Rose holds out her arm. "Come on. Let's find them first."
Jack relents and takes her arm, and they walk on together.