Jacks POV
It had been about a year since I last saw the Doctor.
It was a strange goodbye. He offered me something I always wanted. Something I'd waited for for a hundred years (and then some).
To travel with him. Again.
And I said no.
I know, it sounds insane. There could be many reasons why I did it. Maybe because of a certain cute welsh boy at home. Or a welsh girl, for that matter. Or for the Torchwood team. Or just because I was angry.
No.
I did it because of a word I've already mentioned.
Home.
I never really felt I had a true home. I mean a real, proper home. After... after Grey... family life was awful. I knew they blamed me. I blamed me.
And then when I left and found the Time Agency. There was too much travelling to find a home. It wasn't real. It didn't mean anything.
But then...
the Doctor.
That was better then a home. That was what most people dream of finding.
It was amazing.
It was crazy, messed up, scary, death defying.
But it was the best time I've ever had.
But then... well, you know the story.
And now... I have a home. A real home. A real home isin't something you worship, or something your so glad you have. It's something you always take for granted until it's gone. And even when you get back, it's not perfect. Less then perfect. Sometimes I wish I was with the Doctor. Hell, I always wish I was with the Doctor.
So why did I do it?
Because the Doctor isin't exactly constant. Eventually I'd be left again. And I wouldn't find anywhere half as good as here.
So I left. And here I am.
And it's not amazing.
But it's not bad either.