Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own Doctor Who.

Author's Note: Here's the seventh episode of the Parallax series!

For those just dropping in, you might want to go back to episodes I – VI and catch yourself up. Otherwise, this won't make a ton of sense, being an AU and all. The previous episodes can be found on my profile. Their titles are, in order:

Doctor Who: Parallax – I Won't Dance

Doctor Who: Parallax – Counting Stars

Doctor Who: Parallax – Shake It Out

Doctor Who: Parallax – King And Lionheart

Doctor Who: Parallax – Ghosts That We Knew

Doctor Who: Parallax – Saints And Sinners

"Y'know, I spent a decade avoiding all the society events and cocktail parties and dinners that I could," Rose mused as she lay back, exhausted, against the front steps of Southwark Cathedral, "Then The Doctor shows up, and I've worn more dresses in the last six months than I did in the last six years." This time, at least, she'd managed to get away with a cocktail dress as opposed to a floor-length gown. Not that it mattered much while she was running for her life in yet another pair of heels or hanging precariously from the cathedral bell tower. Next to her, Jack Harkness was sprawled out in an equal state of exhaustion, the left leg of his tuxedo trousers torn at the knee and the severed fabric pooled around his ankle.

"Yeah, but you look incredible," The former Time Agent leaned in close with his most winning smile and nudged her with his shoulder. Rose couldn't help laughing in response as she brushed wood splinters off the olive green chiffon.

"You're shameless, you are," she chided.

"Always," he acknowledged, "But tell me, how was it?"

"How was what?"

"You. The Doctor. Crammed together in that little capsule." Mickey'd been right. Jack was the captain of the innuendo squad, and Rose felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she recalled the all-too recent incident.

"Jealous?" she asked, deflecting. Bless her, she tried, but Rose was nothing if not honest. Every thought in her head showed on her face. Mercifully, however, Jack allowed her her pride.

"Absolutely," he grinned, "Just can't decide who I'm more jealous of." It had been little over a week since Jack had left the H.M.S. Aberdeen aboard the TARDIS, and in so little a time he'd fallen into a natural rapport with the last Time Lord in existence and the girl from another universe. He'd been more than a little shocked learning of Rose's origins, though not in the manner most would suspect. By his time, parallel universes were an accepted scientific theory, a virtually undisputed fact. Humanity simply hadn't figured out how to cross the divide, yet. No, Jack was shocked by the sheer statistical unlikelihood of running into someone from a parallel world who, more importantly, had known a parallel version of himself.

"Spoilt for choice, poor thing," Rose mocked.

"Who is?" came a familiar baritone from behind them. Rose and Jack turned simultaneously to see The Doctor came strolling out of the cathedral with his easy gate and notably undamaged clothes. Rose shook her head at him before climbing reluctantly to her feet. As usual, the companions wound up winded and bedraggled while The Doctor was never the worse for wear.

"Was the pipe organ really necessary?" Rose asked, bypassing his inquiry, "I already had one cochlea replaced, you know. 'S not like they give you a bulk discount."

"The genetic manipulator worked on a sonic frequency," The Doctor explained as he trotted down the stairs, past Jack, and stopped beside her, "I needed the organ and the church bell to set up a resonance, reverse the programmin'. Had to crank it up to eleven." He said the last sentence with his mad, toothy grin, glancing expectantly between Rose and Jack.

"Figures," Rose chuckled, "Monty Python doesn't exist but Christopher Guest does."

"What's a 'Monty Python?'" Jack asked, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, but still declining to stand.

"Nothin,' doesn't matter," Rose dismissed.

"All right. Who's Christopher Guest?"

"Nobody," Rose assured.

"Oi!" The Doctor protested.

"Can we please get back to the point?" Rose asked, raising her hands to halt any further discussion on the merits of Spinal Tap, "What 'bout Lazarus?"

"Dead," The Doctor confirmed, solemnly, "He's... himself again. We can go." At his pronouncement, he and Rose both turned to look expectantly at Jack. The reformed conman looked up at them, wearily.

"Oh, come on," he replied when they wouldn't stop staring, "I just spent the night running from an evolutionary throwback, not to mention pulling Rose up off the ledge of a bell tower."

"Thank you, again," Rose interjected.

"Any time," Jack winked and The Doctor rolled his eyes, "Just, let me catch my breath a minute, all right?" For a few beats, neither Rose nor The Doctor had anything to say.

"Sooo," Rose hedged, puckering her lips in contemplation and gazing upward innocently, "Ready yet?" Jack sighed heavily and heaved himself to his feet.

"Fine, let's go," he relented, taking a few steps back toward Lazarus Laboratories before turning around, "You know, I think I deserve a little consideration. Maybe, I don't know, a handshake or, better yet, a kiss." Ostensibly, he was looking at Rose, but he was watching The Doctor closely in his periphery. In just over a week the unresolved tension between the two had become glaringly obvious, and he'd consoled himself over the fact Rose was off limits by taking every opportunity to ruffle The Doctor's feathers. He'd also discovered he wasn't the only one. As it turned out, the TARDIS was sentient, and he suspected the ship had a hand in the fact that Rose's cocktail dress and velvet T-strap shoes closely matched The Doctor's green jumper. The Time Lord had refused to wear a tuxedo, leaving Jack to accompany Rose to the party itself, but the TARDIS had seen fit to cast her own vote in the matter.

"You want a kiss?" Rose asked, her tongue touching her canine as she smiled. She thought she knew what he was on about.

"Yeah," Jack shrugged, "I think I've earned it." He was a comical sight with his bow tie hanging loose around his neck, the cuff of his jacket mildly singed, and his left leg bare from the knee down. Rose couldn't help but feel sorry for him, just a bit.

"All right, then," she allowed, but before she could move an inch, The Doctor let out a labored huff, stepped forward, took Jack's head in both hands, and planted a quick, chaste kiss on either cheek before letting go. Rose couldn't decide if she or Jack was more stunned.

"There," The Doctor said with a smug grin, "Satisfied?" Without awaiting an answer, the Time Lord offered Rose his arm, and she took it automatically, her mouth still gaping open in disbelief as they walked away. Jack stood and watched the pair for several seconds as he regained his composure.

"Yes, actually," he said under his breath, smiling at the sight of the two of them together. Shaking his head, he began to follow and shouted after The Doctor, "Tease!"

"So, according to Pete, Lazarus Laboratories was funded by a company in the Netherlands, 'Herboren International.'" Rose informed The Doctor as she sat at the dining table, sipping her morning cuppa over her now-empty plate. The Doctor sat in the chair opposite hers, sans jacket, with one ankle crossed over the opposite knee as he reclined back and slowly drummed his fingers against the wood. This table was bigger than before, and the galley seemed to have stretched slightly to accommodate it. Rose took it as a sign that the TARDIS had accepted Jack, and it made her love the ship even more.

"Herboren," The Doctor mused, his brow crinkling and his fingers falling still, "That's Dutch. Means 'reborn.'"

"Makes sense," Rose shrugged, "Investing in age reversing technology."

"Yeah," The Doctor said, somewhat distracted, "Bit on the nose, though."

"Well, anyway, Pete's lookin' into it. Says he'll call if anythin' looks suspicious." The Doctor merely nodded, staring at the far wall in thought. Rose took her time with the rest of her Darjeeling, casting the occasional glance at the obviously preoccupied Time Lord. There was something important she needed to discuss with him after last night, and she hadn't a clue how to broach the subject. Finally, she'd drained her cup down to the dregs and she set it down with careful hands, taking a moment to pick at her neatly trimmed fingernails before fixing The Doctor with a steady look. It was now or never.

"Doctor?" she asked, and the tone of her voice caught his attention. Rarely did she sound so serious, and as he met her unflinching gaze, he straightened his chair and leaned forward to face her.

"What is it, Rose?" The Doctor asked, puzzled by her gravity but not overly concerned. As a general rule, if it were an emergency, she'd be shouting, and she certainly wouldn't have waited until after breakfast.

"Last night, I got to thinkin'," she began, her eyes falling to her clasped hands now that she had his attention, "Lazarus, he was so concerned about dyin'."

"Most sentient beings are," The Doctor pointed out, "Sometimes I think I'm missin' out on somethin'." The latter was clearly intended to lighten the mood, but it fell flat. Rose hadn't realized just how much the events of that night had troubled her until she'd gone to bed and she'd lain on that fabulously comfortable cot staring at the star-speckled ceiling for hours as the sounds and scents of a spring night outside Seoul drifted on the nonexistent breeze.

"We don't live forever, Doctor," Rose said softly, "Humans, I mean." The Doctor's chest suddenly felt constricted and his mouth went dry. He knew, acutely, just how quickly she'd be gone. He struggled every day to suppress his ever-present awareness of that numbing fact. He leaned on it every time he caught himself dwelling too long on the scent of her skin or the sensation of her warm hand in his. One day, far too soon for his liking, she would be gone. He didn't need reminding, so why was she bringing this up?

"S'pose it's for the best," she continued when he didn't respond, daring a glance at him but immediately lowering her eyes once more in response to the look on his face, "Planet would get pretty crowded." It was a lame attempt at humor, and she knew it.

"Rose..." The Doctor began, his voice harsh with strain.

"Jus'... let me finish, yeah?" This time, she did meet his gaze, and as he saw the resolve, the determination there, he closed his mouth and swallowed hard.

"I will be here, with you, forever," she said, and her tone brooked no objections, "I'm not leavin', unless you make me, and I won't let anythin' keep me from you. Not for long. Only thing is, my forever in't the same as yours, Doctor. I can't..." She almost broke, then, but what she had to say was so important, she cleared the harsh tickle from her throat and pressed on, "I can't be around your whole life. I want you to promise, Doctor. I want you to promise me that after I'm gone, after Jack's gone... Promise me you'll find someone to travel with. No matter what, find another companion; find four or five, I don't care. Just... Just don't be alone. You shouldn't be alone."

"Rose..." his tone was softer, now, consoling. His mind, already resistant to the inevitability of her loss, refused to imagine anyone else sitting on that mangy jump seat, heckling him as he replaced yet another blown fuse or warped rotor. He'd gone years without a companion, and he'd only asked her along because she fascinated him and because he thought she might actually be able to survive his hell-bent search for redemption. Now, though, she was so much more. He'd been alone; alone he could do. He could never replace her, and the thought of attempting it offended him on a primal level.

"No," she insisted, and all thoughts of reassuring her withered under that dark gaze, "Promise me, right now, or it ends here. I will go back to London, to Torchwood and bad telly and beans on toast. I will pilot this ship myself if I have to, but I will leave unless you swear that you'll find someone else when I'm gone." She knew, deep in her bones, that it was a risky gambit to threaten a Time Lord, never mind this particular Time Lord, and the look in his eyes confirmed as much. She almost regretted her words, but she couldn't. It was far, far too important to back down, now, and she held his gaze with a steadfastness she didn't know she possessed. All that time her heart pounded, terrified, in her chest.

The Doctor was speechless. Fear and fury and indignation warred for dominance. Had she not just finished saying she would never leave him? How could she then threaten to do just that? How could she attempt to prize an empty promise from him to replace her? Just as the hurt and confusion became nearly overwhelming, he saw, with stark clarity, the depth of fear in those clear hazel eyes; and just as she'd done countless times before, she became his anchor, his salvation from the Oncoming Storm. 'I'm not leavin', unless you make me,' she'd said, 'to London, to Torchwood and bad telly and beans on toast,' and she'd not once called it 'home.' She was scared and desperate and what she asked meant more to her than anything. She wasn't threatening him, not really. She was risking exile, gambling her own happiness, in an effort to save him from himself.

"Doctor?" she asked, and the tremor in her voice broke him. In the end, it was his choice: to lose her now and avoid the difficult, distasteful task of moving on in a healthy manner; or to spend all the years she had left, together, with the promise to swallow his damned pride and find someone to travel with after she was gone. He didn't have to replace her; that wasn't what she was asking. She didn't even know it was an issue. All he had to do was live a full life after she was gone, not the half-life he'd have resigned himself to if left to his own devices. Slowly, he reached out and took her clasped hands in both of his.

"I promise," he said quietly, but with level conviction, and he could almost feel the relief flood through her, "I'll find someone, Rose. I'll find someone fantastic."

"Good morning!" Jack's irritatingly chipper voice filled the kitchen as he breezed through the swinging door, and Rose and The Doctor broke apart as though scalded. When he spotted them, both looking thoroughly wounded and guilty, Jack stopped. "All right, who died?" It had been a rhetorical question, intended to lighten the mood, but as the pair glanced at one another and The Doctor rose to his feet and stalked out of the kitchen without a word, Jack's face fell.

"Wait, did someone actually die?" he asked after the Time Lord was gone. Rose shook her head and stood up, giving him a thin, watery smile.

"There's extra bacon in the pan," she said, "We'll be in the console room when you're finished."