Title: Jack Who?

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/SF

Category: Dr. Who

Summary: Jack spends his years trapped in the twentieth/twenty-first century as a guardian angel to the young Rose Tyler and has a few misadventures of his own along the way.

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"Rose Tyler, you were such a cute kid," Jack whispered as the shutter snapped again, capturing an image of a young blonde sliding down a bright red plastic chute. Her short, sandy-blonde hair glistened in the dull London sunlight as she jumped up from the slide and ran to the woman Jack knew to be her mother, Jackie Tyler. He snapped another picture.

Jack had been following the girl since the day her father died. He'd watched her father die. He'd watched as the nineteen year-old Rose Tyler ran out to her father's aid; watched as the Doctor stood by and wiped tears from his crystal-blue eyes. Jack Harkness watched Rose grow from a troubled toddler into an inquisitive young girl. He'd watched her cry and laugh; celebrate and mourn. She'd walked through her life oblivious to his existence. He knew he couldn't intervene in any way, shape, or form-- though he did his best to keep her safe. When she'd been nearly kidnapped at the age of four, Jack had been there and rescued her then fled the scene before either Rose or Jackie could get a lasting look at him. Neither of them would remember his face.

Guilt welled up in his heavy heart as he watched Jackie and Rose leave the park, a broad smile on the faces of both Tyler's. His eyes filled with tears as he thought of all that Rose had already been through; all she had yet to encounter. He raised the camera once more and pressed the button. The shutter clicked, freezing the moment on 35 millimetre film. He slowly stood up and wiped the tears from his cheeks. He had to get back to his research and the Doctor Detector. He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair and heaved a sigh as he turned from the park and walked toward his latest automobile.

The cooper was black and blue, like the bruises on his broken heart. He'd gone through so much. Life, death- the whole shebang- and what had he to show for it? Seven years worth of photography of one girl.

Rose.

It was all for her. He wanted to keep her safe and secure- a life he'd never been allowed. The Time Agency had taken him in, given him a vortex manipulator and promotion after promotion- all for what? He'd lost several years' worth of memories at the touch of a button and found himself homeless and hopeless scouring the universe for a way to get it all back. Until he'd met the Doctor. Now, his sole purpose was to keep Rose away from all that for as long as possible. He would make sure she reached the Doctor intact and in good health. He was her guardian angel. He loved her to the ends of the universe and was willing to go twice that far to protect her.

Jack pulled out of the parking lot and sped toward home. Home... what is home anymore? I don't really have a home... I've got a life... I've got a place to stay... but I don't have a home. I was at home on the TARDIS with Rose and the Doctor... new adventure every ten minutes, no more than five minutes of down time in between, and an everlasting supply of 'home'. Why did he have to leave? I had to stay and fix everything, sure... but after all that, he could've come back... he should've come back. I loved him... I loved them both... and they both left me for dead. Pity that'll never happen... I wonder...

Jack veered into the oncoming traffic, striking a large 18-wheeler truck. His car glanced off, fish-tailed, flipped, and came to a dead-halt several metres away from the big-rig, which seemed mostly unscathed. The trucker screeched to a stop, arcing across the motorway, blocking the rest of the approaching autos.

Twisted metal caged him in; the smell of burnt rubber overwhelmed him. He crawled from the wrackage and collapsed on the hard pavement, which was worn hot from constant passage. Air became difficult to inhale and the lights around him faded to black. The sounds of cars passing and the words of those around him blurred together into a motley, gray-sounding tone. There was a pin-prick of stark white in front of him, growing broader with every heartbeat he felt wrack his chest with pain. This was a familiar sight. Jack knew what had just happened, but this time seemed different. I'm sooooooo dead...

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A/N: Ooooooooh, hate me now, don't ya? I just left you with a cliff hanger and I'm not updating for a week! Muahahahahahaha! I feel the power! R&R as usual. --Lexx