She Will Be Loved, a doctor who fanfic

Quite a lengthy one-shot, set post Doomsday and slightly AU. Song lyrics from "She will be loved" by Maroon 5. And for the record, the thing that caused the scar on Rose's back... that happened to me! True story!

Beauty queen of only 18

She had some trouble with herself

In those months spent on board the TARDIS with her, he'd seen all her insecurities. Living in such close proximity it was impossible to not get to know people, and get to know them well. Rose was everything he'd imagined her to be when he met her and more. She was cute and fun and sexy and brave and kind and a damned good dancer. She was also so typically female in the way she constantly agonised over every inch of her body. She was forever stomping round in a bad temper, demanding they go home right away so she could pick up a pair of jeans she'd left behind. Never mind the six pairs on the floor in her room, they just didn't look right today. On one of her fat days. She couldn't be fat if she tried, and even if she did occasionally put on a little bit of weight, it only made her more attractive. She wouldn't listen though.

It was more than having an issue with her body though. There were times when she'd tie herself in knots over what she was doing here, light years from home, away from her mum and boyfriend. She usually fell into torturing herself like this after calling Jackie and having to explain that she didn't know when she'd be home really. She'd linger around the control panel longer, on the edges, not saying much, but watching all the time, until her brief fleeting smiles became grins and soon she'd be throwing her head back in laughter again, ready for the next adventure. Until the next phone call.

He supposed part of her neuroses were down to still remembering what it felt like to be Rose Tyler, shop girl, and nothing more. Maybe she woke up in the middle of the night, just like he did, and was relieved to find that it had all been a dream that she'd gone back to where she came from. Maybe some days she looked at herself in the mirror and wondered, "Why me? Why am I special? When will this all be over?"

He was always there to help her

She always belonged to someone else

He knew that technically Rose didn't belong to anyone, least of all Mickey, but that was untrue. From the second she'd stepped on board the TARDIS, no doubt giving one of her contagious smiles which would have brightened the place up no end, she'd given herself heart and soul to the Doctor. He'd been there through everything that had happened, and had never let her down. He'd held her hand and showed her the way and all those other things that soul mates were supposed to do. It was him she ran to when things went wrong, and he was always able to fix it.

I drove for miles and miles

And wound up and your door

He pulled up outside the house on a quiet street in a London not unlike the one he'd been in only days before. The car was coming to the end of its useful life, but he couldn't hold that against it. It had served its purpose, it had got him this far, and that was no easy feat. It wasn't as though breaking the rules of time and space was exactly the usual task a Ford Escort was asked to carry out. It was time the old girl was pensioned off.

The house was small, a two-bedroom terrace with a red front door. Red as a Rose, he thought with a wince at the disgusting cliché. It was a normal house, nothing special, with an equally unprepossessing house on either side of it, one with a yellow door, and the other with a door painted a particularly vivid shade of green. The three houses looked like a set of mangled traffic lights, after a lorry had ploughed into them. He hoped the colour on the door he wanted wasn't a symbol to him to go away.

I've had you so many times

But somehow I want more

He could barely wait to break out of the car and knock on the door, but he knew that rushing in now could be a huge mistake. It had been a long time since he'd seen her, and after everything that had happened, she might not take too kindly to his suddenly showing up. A blast from the past. She'd always loved surprises, had whooped with delight when the Doctor used to keep their destination secret, letting her step out onto the Rings of Saturn without telling her where they were. But there were surprises and there were surprises. It had been five years since the Battle of Canary Wharf. For all he knew, she could have moved on entirely. He knew there was no man in her life, at least, not one she was married to. He knew so much about her by now: where she lived, where she worked, what she bought in the shops, her income, that she'd been to the doctor three times in the last year with a sore throat, what car she drove… He double-checked. Yep, there it was, a red Vauxhall Corsa parked in the street. Pretty badly parked actually, but somehow he'd never seen Rose as someone who would be particularly good at parallel parking. Even in a parallel universe.

But despite knowing all that, he wanted more. He'd found her, she was safe, she was alive, she was working. In a large department store, the men's department. A slightly unusual choice for an attractive twenty-five year-old woman, but maybe she liked it. He had to admit, that having someone like Rose manning (or womanning) the changing rooms, would certainly increase his interest in shopping there. He knew that her sweet tooth had developed even further, if the regular stocking up of chocolate was anything to go by. But it wasn't enough. He'd begun by just wanting to know she was alright, but the more he'd found out, the less he was satisfied. So he knew that she always went shopping on a Thursday night, straight after work. So what? That didn't tell him how she was feeling. He didn't know if she was happy or sad or lonely. He couldn't tell from the blurred CCTV images he'd called up, or the typically awful ID card photo whether she'd put on weight or lost it, or whether her deep brown eyes had become tinged with a melancholy. The details he'd dug out about her didn't tell him anything about her really. So one day he stopped trawling the internet and hacking into databases. He packed up a few essential items, bought a cheap second-hand car and began driving. Fast. It was a sheer fluke he'd got this far this quickly. He'd always been a man of action, and age hadn't changed him. It was time he found out what he really needed to know.

I don't mind spending every day

Out on your corner in the pouring rain

She looked like she was about to faint as she opened the door. The colour in her face drained away. Leaving only those always pouting red lips. And a deep purple bruise down her left cheekbone.

Jack pushed his foot into the doorway, stopping her from closing it.

"Rose. It's me."

She managed a wonky smile, even while turning her face to try and hide the marks.

"Never," she said sarcastically, but her eyes darted over her shoulder. Like she was scared of something. Or someone, Jack though, setting his jaw firmly. He'd been right; all the checks in the world couldn't tell him this kind of thing. It couldn't tell him that his beautiful Rose was battered and wilting.

She hadn't jumped into his arms. He didn't know what he'd been expecting, but not this. She didn't seem shocked to see him, just a little startled and… Yes, that was definitely fear he could see in her eyes. This wasn't the Rose he'd known all that time ago, the one who had more guts than half the men he'd seen in the War.

"Rose," he said again, wondering if she was in shock. Real shock, the medical sort, where people went into trances and comas and things. Maybe that was why she wasn't responding in a normal way. "You do know who I am?"

"Of course I do!" Rose forced a laugh. "I'm not stupid, I just…" Another glance over her shoulder. Jack had seen less nervous deer during hunting season. "I don't really have time right now, Jack, I…" She broke off.

"You don't have time?" Jack repeated incredulously. "I've travelled to a parallel universe and you don't have time?"

"Jack, please." Rose turned her big brown eyes on him, and he could have sworn the bruising on her cheek had grown and deepened in colour in the last few seconds. "Don't make a scene." There was a muffled shout from inside the house. Rose started, and then called back. "Just the electric board. They want to read the meter. I won't be a minute." She turned back to Jack and lowered her voice. "Jack, you've got to go."

Jack kept his foot firmly wedged in the doorway. "And leave you here? Rose, I came to make sure you were okay after… everything. What's happened to you? Your face…" He reached out a hand to touch her cheek gently, but she pulled away, not touching him.

"Jack, really, not now."

"I'm not just going to leave you!" Jack exclaimed. In all his wildest dreams about what could have become of Rose Tyler, this hadn't featured anywhere. He'd had his favourites, which changed almost daily. Ones where she'd got on with her life, found a nice man and married him. He could never decide if she'd have kids or not; he usually decided she'd probably give it a whirl. And there were the nightmarish versions, where she simply pined away for her old life. His investigations had proved that hadn't happened, but he could never have foreseen this, this utter crumbling of her old confidence.

"Jack, you're not helping!" Rose glared at him, and with a quick flick of her foot, stamped hard upon his foot. Even through his thick boots, he felt the firmness of her intention, and he yelped, instinctively shifting his weight onto his other foot. Giving her the chance to shut the door. "Just go away and leave me alone!"

"Rose! Rose, don't!" Jack hammered on the door, still keeping the weight off his crushed foot. "Rose, open the door!" There was no reply, and he could already hear voices in the house. "Rose!" He stepped back and looked up at the window. He couldn't see anything. "Rose! I'm not leaving you here, not like this! I'm not going away, I'm going to wait right here!"

It started raining.

Look for the girl with the broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay awhile

He'd sat outside her house in his car for three days. Three miserable days, both inside and outside. The rain which had started, trickling down his back as he continued banging on the door for fifteen minutes, had carried on almost without a pause. There'd been a slight break in the cloud to allow the sun to come flooding down yesterday afternoon, during which time Jack had made a sprint for the corner shop at the end of the road to buy a bottle of water and several bars of Kendal Mint Cake. Then it had begun again, bouncing off window pans and creating a glossy sheen on the road. And soaking Rose as she made her way to and from the car every morning on her way to and from work.

She'd blanked him every time, ignoring his shouts for her to stop and talk to him. The bruise on her face was badly covered up by a thick layer of foundation, which he saw her applying in her car each morning, retouching the bits where the rain had already permeated through to the skin. On the second morning, she'd moved less quickly, and as she turned to look at him, an involuntary reaction, he saw her wince, grit her teeth and clutch her side. The evening before he'd heard more shouting, so much more that the neighbours on both sides had stuck their heads out of their doors, but after a few shared mutterings over several cigarettes, had disappeared back inside without doing anything.

Jack had seen the demon lurking in her house. He'd spent so long working with aliens, dealing with the evil they could produce, that when a normal-shaped, even attractive looking man had left the house shortly after Rose on the second morning, Jack had been taken aback. He'd forgotten the evil that humans dealt in. The surprise had been enough to stop him opening the car door, stepping out and beating the shit out of the guy. He hadn't seen him again. Obviously he'd disappeared back under whatever stone he'd crawled out from under. For now.

It was late, nearly midnight. The rain was still hammering down, the drops blurring into each other in the amber light of the street lamps. It was cold too, and Jack was glad of his thick overcoat, a genuine antique, he supposed it could be called. Whatever it was, right now he was just glad that they used to make proper good thick coats from real wool. Even so, his hands were freezing.

A figure walked underneath a street lamp. Even though the person was hunched over, arms wrapped around each other, hair plastered to their forehead, Jack knew it was her. She was moving with faltering steps, almost using her arms to hold herself together. She was alone. Then, as she neared the car, the security light on her neighbour's house flickered on. And Jack saw the blood around her nose, and the trickle moving down from a large split in her bottom lip.

"Rose!" He leapt out of the car. She jumped, startled by the sudden movement. He reached out a hand towards her, wishing she'd take it. She looked at it, as though she'd never seen him before. Then she slowly and methodically took her keys out of her pocket, slid them into the lock, opened the door and stepped inside.

"Rose!" Jack made towards her. She made brief eye contact with him. And then closed the door.

"Rose, no!" Jack slammed his hand against the closed door. He pressed his ear up against the door. "Rose?" He kneeled down and looked through the letterbox. He couldn't see her, but he could hear her. Muffled crying, wracking sobs that he could almost feel.

"Rose baby, open the door. Come on." No reply, just a fresh onslaught of sobbing. He could only imagine the pain she was going through. "Rose, come on. I'm not going to hurt you, I only want to help." Still nothing. Jack sighed heavily, his chest heavy with the weight of emotion pressing down on it, and let the letterbox click shut. No amount of charm would ever persuade Rose to do something she didn't want to. Stubborn was her middle name, they'd always said that. He pressed his head against the cold wet door, eyes shut as he steeled himself to give in, for now. He opened the letterbox again. "Okay, don't open the door," he said gently. "But I'm not going anyway, Rose. I'm here, when you need me. I'm not leaving you. I'm staying." He let the letterbox go again and turning round, slid down until he was sitting on the doorstep, his back against the door. The rain splashed down on his face but he didn't care. He wasn't moving from here tonight.

And she will be loved

She will be loved

Jack had been transferred from Torchwood Cardiff to London shortly after the Battle of Canary Wharf. It had suited him at the time; he'd just recruited a new member of the team in Cardiff, Dr Owen Harper, and he was already slightly regretting it. Owen was a good enough bloke, a brilliant doctor, but his personality could do with some working on. Officially, Jack was still in control down there, but he'd known as he drove up to London on the first day of his new post that as far as his team were concerned, he was gone and Owen was in control.

London, when he got there, was in many ways a shadow of its former self. Canary Wharf Tower was still standing, high and proud, but cordoned off from the general public. A hundred metre exclusion zone had been introduced whilst they sorted through the sensitive documents in the largely unstable building. And into this strolled Captain Jack Harkness, coat-tails flying and waving aside the offered hard hat.

He had walked from the bottom floor to the top, taking in the scenes of devastation all around. It would take years to sort through all of this lot. The bodies of the unfortunate victims caught in the crossfire had been removed by now, but there was still the heavy acrid stench of fear and death all around. The London Torchwood had been far bigger than the Welsh version, with different departments all with their own telephone extensions. But looking round now, Jack was glad that he'd found himself in the indie version; Torchwood Cardiff might not have had the swanky offices and the sharp suits, but it had avoided this sort of horror. He'd been left with a handful of staff here, the ones who hadn't perished or been signed off on sick leave indefinitely. Every day new reports came in concerning staff who wouldn't be returning, ever. It had all got too much for them and oblivion had seemed the easier option.

One remaining member was a young Welsh man, so Welsh it was like Jack hadn't ever left Cardiff. Ianto Jones. He'd lost his girlfriend in the Battle, Jack wasn't sure exactly how and Ianto never volunteered that sort of information. That suited Jack too. Especially when the final list of the dead was compiled, and her name stood out like a beacon.

"There must be some mistake," he insisted. She couldn't be… He would never have let it get that far, he would never have put her in that sort of danger. "Rose Tyler… she can't be dead."

No body had ever been found, but she'd been missing for months. Her mother too. There was no one left to miss them, no grandparents, no partners. Just gone. So many people had gone missing that day and after a time, it was the only way to get through the day, to accept they'd gone forever. And Jack would have done, if it wasn't for inventory list.

The description had been so accurate that it couldn't have been anything but the TARDIS. Jack knew of few other 1950s police boxes which had a tendency to uproot themselves. Many alien artefacts had been damaged in the Battle and the subsequent fires and explosions. But none had gone missing all together. Except her. The Doctor must have survived. And left.

It didn't make sense. If Rose was really dead, then Jack couldn't believe that he would just wander off again, move on. He'd done it to Jack of course, but this was different. This was Rose. So Jack spent night after night searching the sluggish and incomplete Torchwood computer archives, trying to find what had really happened that day. It had taken months, but finally he found the key, a record of an opening of the breach. And a foreign body entering just before the breach closed. And then somehow he knew that Rose wasn't dead.

Years passed, and Torchwood built itself up again. More modestly at first, but human memories are short and within that short space of time, the Institute decided that opening up the paths to other universes was a good idea again. Jack had fought against it, angrily reminding them of what had happened the last time. Ultimately, though, it wasn't his decision; he was just acting President of Torchwood London. The Institute was quick to remind him of that. Cardiff wasn't that far away. He could always go back.

That wasn't an option as far as Jack was concerned. Cardiff was looking after itself; he'd trust even that irrational Dr Harper to have more sense than the bigwigs of the Institute. London had a much greater influence; the power to change the world, as they kept saying. A far more dangerous organisation.

Jack had always been a great believer in the old adage "if you can't beat them, join them". So he used it inform his decision now. From being strongly opposed to the whole idea of travelling between universes, the Institute were surprised one day to find him applying for the job to head the team investigating the possibilities. Delighted to find one of their most able employees finally seeing their side, they'd instantly appointed him. From that day, Jack's work had taken over his life. He worked every hour of the day finding out what he could. As the technology improved, he was able to research more and more, until one day, he found himself searching a new database. And he realised he was in; this belonged to another universe. If the Institute had been surprised by his job application, what he asked for now was even more shocking.

"I'll do it."

He volunteered to be the first across the boarder. The test case to see what happened. All his colleagues had given a sharp intake of breath.

"But, Jack…" Tom, a young physics expert, who'd joined after the Battle. "It's not stable enough yet. We can't…"

"I know, you can't guarantee I'll get back. Well, someone has to do it. Anyone else volunteering?" Jack regretted the question immediately, as three of his team, Tom, another young man called Dan and a pretty woman called Sandra, stepped forward.

"Thanks for the offer," he told them softly. "But this is my project, it's my call. And I'm going through."

No one had been able to stop him. Captain Jack Harkness was a force of nature at the best of times, and even more so when he had that determined glint in his eyes. No one knew why he was so desperate to get across that boarder. No one knew it was because of an unspoken promise he'd vowed a long time ago, exchanged in the blinking of an eye, that if anything ever happened and the Doctor couldn't be there, then he, Jack, would find Rose and take care of her. Jack knew the Doctor would never have left Rose somewhere like this, if there was any way around it. So it was time he had a go.

Tap on my window, knock on my door

I want to make you feel beautiful

The tapping on his car window at first just sounded like large drops of rain. In a semi-unconscious state, Jack was reluctant to open his eyes. Sleep was calling like a lover, and didn't want to be disturbed by precipitation, even the mother of all storms since Noah.

Then someone knocked on his car door. And he opened his eyes.

She looked so fragile, a shadow of herself. She was still clutching her arms to her, as though without them she'd fall apart. She had a thick and baggy cardigan on, disguising her once perfect figure, but clearly showing him just how much weight she'd lost. Her eyes, once so alive, were bloodshot and pained, ringed by two perfect black eyes. Her bottom lip had swollen up. She looked awful.

She looked beautiful.

He opened the door without hesitation, and reached out a hand. Rose took a tentative step towards him, and then, in a rush, fell into his arms, her shoulders heaving with sobs again. It was still raining, and Jack wrapped his coat around them both, pulling her in towards him. Finally in his arms and safe. He held her tightly, whispering softly into her hair and dropping feather light kisses onto her head. She seemed so weak. Gently, he reached down and lifted her up, cradling her in his arms as she curled into a tiny weightless bundle. He carried her inside out of the rain.

I know I tend to get so insecure

Doesn't matter anymore

Wrapped in a blanket, Rose accepted the steaming cup of tea Jack gave to her. She took a small sip and winced as the hot liquid washed over her cut lip.

"You should get that seen to," Jack said, turning her face towards him to take a look at the ugly slash on her beautiful mouth. "You might need stitches."

Rose shrugged him off, managing a small smile. "It's fine. You worry too much." Her voice sounded hollow though, and she didn't take another sip of tea. She sat in a curled up ball in the corner of the springless sofa, her head resting against the back cushions, whilst Jack lounged, somehow seeming to take over the whole room. They didn't talk for a long time.

"How did you find me?" Rose said finally. "Did you…?"

Jack shook his head. He wished he could say yes, he wished he had seen the Doctor. But he couldn't lie. "No. I just had this feeling…"

"He said I was on the list of the dead."

Jack frowned.

"He came, once. Sort of." Rose's voice became even smaller and sadder. "To say goodbye."

Jack resisted the urge to point out that at least she'd got that much. "You were. But it didn't seem right, it felt like…" Jack shrugged. "I just didn't want to believe it, I guess."

"But how did you find me?" Rose returned to her earlier question. "How did you get back from the Gamestation?"

Jack swallowed hard, stepping away from that place in his mind. "Long story, it doesn't matter. The point is, I got here." He looked back at her, her eyes like panda's. "And just in time too, by the looks of it." Unable to resist, he reached out a hand again and cupped her cheek. "Oh Rose."

"It's not so bad," Rose managed to say, though her jaw trembled and her eyes filled with tears again. She wiped them away with her sleeve. "I'm sorry about what I said, telling you to away…"

"It doesn't matter."

"It does! I was horrible, I…" Rose met his eyes and broke off. "It's good to see you."

"You too." Jack smiled at her.

"You look good." Rose held up a hand quickly. "And don't say it. I look terrible."

"You don't look so bad," Jack insisted.

"I look a mess!"

"You're still Rose Tyler."

Rose's face creased into a smile again, and she moved so she could lay her head across his chest. Jack instinctively wrapped his arms around her, hating the way he could feel her ribs even through the blanket and thick cardigan, but loving the fact that finally he could do this. She buried her nose in his shirt, breathing in deeply.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing." Her cheeks turned pink between the bruises. "You smell of home."

Jack smiled. "And what does that smell like?"

Rose didn't reply, but lifted her head and, without warning, kissed him. Jack had never been particularly good at resisting kissing anyone, and it took a few seconds for his brain to click into gear. When it did, he pulled away violently, and tried not to register the hurt written all over her face.

"Rose, is this a good idea?"

She ran her tongue over her cut lip again. "I suppose it might hurt…"

"I didn't mean that," Jack replied. "Rose, I'm not Him." It was only now he realised that he always spoke about the Doctor with a capital letter, as though he were some sort of god or higher being. He supposed that was how he'd always thought about him. An amazing man who'd changed who Jack was forever. And now Rose seemed to want Jack to step into his shoes… Jack knew he could never measure up, but God, how he wanted to. If he could bring back half the life into her face that had existed when she was with the Doctor, he'd die a very happy man.

Rose's eyes filled with tears again. "Do you think I don't know that?" she said softly. "It doesn't matter." She put a hand against his face gently, her fingers like ice. One of her fingernails was black, he noticed, his eyes unable to keep from flickering down to it. She curled that finger under self-consciously and her eyes dropped for a moment. "I shut it in a door, it's fine."

"Oh Rose." Jack linked fingers with her. "Are you sure this is what you want?"

"Don't ask me, Jack. Just…" Rose leaned forward again and kissed him. And this time he didn't push her away.

It's not always rainbows and butterflies

It's compromise that moves us along

"Your lip's bleeding again." Jack reached out with a finger and gently wiped away the small pool of blood that had welled up in the crack.

Rose moved her own hand to dab at it. "It's not too bad. I've seen worse."

"Where?" When Rose didn't reply, Jack pressed her. "In the mirror?"

Rose sighed heavily, and her eyebrows knit together in pain. "Jack, don't," she said in a weary voice, wriggling out of his firm hold, trying to turn her back on him.

"Rose, come on." Jack tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do. She used to be so open and easy going; the Doctor had always privately said it was her fatal flaw. She was too eager to share, he always said, she wore her heart on her sleeve too much. It had also been the thing both of them had loved most about her, and now it seemed it had gone. The innocence had finally been rubbed off her completely and she'd become like so many people Jack had seen.

"Rose." He slid a hand over her hip bone, so prominent it almost made him wince. "Sweetheart, I've seen the bruises. All of them." Her body was like a patchwork quilt of pain. Her beautiful clear skin had marks all over it, bruises in greens and yellows, blues and purples. And more. There was a nasty scar along her back, fading but clearly once very deep, and perfect circular welts on her legs which could only have been made by cigarette burns. It would have been easier to say where she wasn't marked than where she was.

"I disgust you, don't I?" Her voice was hard and cold, even matter-of-fact, but there was a slight tremble in it that betrayed her upset.

"What? No!"

Rose turned to face him again. "Why not? I disgust myself. The amount of TV I've watched, the people I've met, who've gone through this and still I…" She sniffed. "It's not that easy, Jack. I've tried leaving him before, I've tried to break up with him, but…"

Jack pulled her closer, wrapping the duvet back around her bare shoulders. "Rose, you don't have to say anything. You don't disgust me."

"But I'd disgust Him." There it was, that capital letter again.

Jack felt tears rise up in his own eyes, as he realised she truly believed what she was saying. "Oh, Rose, don't be stupid!"

"I'm not being stupid!" Rose snapped suddenly, though her throat was too choked with tears to make much of an impact. "This wasn't what he wanted for me. Have a fantastic life, that's what he always said." She gestured to the tiny bedroom with an almost overpowering smell of damp. "Would you describe this as fantastic?"

"Well, I'm warm. I'm sleepy. I've just had sex with a beautiful woman. Ticks quite a few of my boxes," Jack quipped, and was glad to see a smile flash across Rose's face. "That's better. Bit of a smile. Rose, you'll get over this. Life hasn't been easy for you, has it? But it's going to get better now, I promise."

"I hope so."

"It will." It had to. Jack hadn't come all this way and risked everything he had back home for Rose to give up. It was going to be hard, he knew that. But if it was the last thing he ever did, Rose Tyler was going to become the woman she always should have. He owed it to Him.

Over the next few days, they barely left each other's side, moving from bed to sofa to kitchen like each other's shadow. At first they spoke little, just glad to feel comfortable in their own skins for a time. Rose jumped every time Jack spoke to begin with, her eyes widening and her muscles tensing up. Even the bang of a cupboard door made her frightened, like a dog Jack had once picked up off the street. He wondered what had happened to that dog; he'd left her back at home with a nice couple, but sometimes he wished he could have kept the scrappy little thing. That was when he decided that, for their first outing together, they'd get a dog.

"A dog?" Rose was surprised when he told her where they were going. The bruises on her face had died down enough to consent to be covered in thick make-up which made her look like an old tart out on the pull, but at least disguised her battered skin. "What do we want a dog for?" They'd both started talking about "we" quite naturally, as though they'd been doing it for years and not only a few days.

"Dogs are good, I like dogs." Jack shrugged, holding the steering wheel with one hand, the other dangling out the window. The rain had dried up whilst they'd been locked away in the house, giving way to bright beautiful sunshine, pouring down like a golden waterfall. He'd finally tuned the radio into a local station, which played cheerful summer songs of years gone by.

"Well, so do I, but…" Rose looked across him. "Why the sudden urge?"

"I just think every house should have a pet."

"What's wrong with a cat? Or a hamster, or a tortoise? We could always catch that mouse that keeps using the bathroom like an adventure playground. Why a dog?"

"They're good fun. Good company too."

Rose tensed beside him. "Jack, you're not going anywhere are you?"

Jack looked across at her, a smile on his face. "No, what makes you think that?"

"I don't know, just…" Rose shook her head. "Sorry, I'm being silly."

Jack changed hands on the steering wheel and reached out to hold hers. "No you're not. I'm not going anywhere though. I couldn't even if I wanted to."

"How do you mean?"

Jack hadn't meant to explain it all like this, but he always had had a bit of a big mouth. "The way I came through. It's sort of a one-way thing. No way back." As he saw her eyes widen in horror, he continued quickly. "Yet! It's a work in progress, I was just testing it out for them. Give them a few years, they'll suss it out." And then all Hell would break loose. Jack hoped that maybe they'd seen sense by now, and realised that if something was this hard to perfect, maybe it wasn't meant to be played with by mere mortals. But he knew deep down that sort of logic would never even enter the Institute's head, much less stop them in their tracks.

Rose took a few moments to process the information. "You mean you… You came to find me knowing you'd never get back?"

"It's an adventure." Jack shrugged it off. "Everyone loves adventures."

"But Jack-"

"I don't regret a second, Rose," he said firmly. "Not a single second, and I never will. So just forget it." They never talked about it again.

At the rescue centre, their hands entwined almost naturally, without thinking about it. As usual, Jack strode ahead, long strides which Rose struggled to keep up with at first, until he realised that his legs were quite a bit longer than hers.

"And anyway, what's the rush?" she demanded, her eyes sparkling a little. "It's not like we've got anywhere else to be."

She hadn't been to work for the last few days, and Jack had managed to convince the manager of the store that she was sick and wouldn't be in for a while. It hadn't taken much doing. The manager was a nice woman, she sounded concerned. She didn't say it so many words, but reading between the lines, Jack guessed it hadn't been the first time Rose had called in "sick". And that just wasn't her, she wasn't a natural skiver. Sooner or later they needed to talk about what had gone so wrong in her life. It wouldn't be fun and it wouldn't be pretty; he couldn't help thinking that it might even send Rose back into the scared jumpy woman she was just learning to leave behind, but it had to be done. She needed to get this out of her system.

They left that day with a russet collie cross called Red. It seemed fitting, Jack thought. Red the dog for Rose the woman in the house with the red door. It also helped that Red was one of the bounciest and liveliest dogs in the place who had taken an immediate shine to Rose.

"He's a lovely dog, he'll love having a proper family," the girl said as she handed the lead over to Rose.

"Oh, we're not…" Rose smiled and looked over at where Jack was leaning against the car. "We're not really… Thanks." She took the lead. "Come on, Red, time to go home."

On the drive back home, with Red happily chewing on a new toy in the boot, Rose asked, "Why didn't you back me up?"

"What?" Jack turned down the radio, slightly miffed at being interrupted. He'd been humming along cheerfully to The Beach Boys for the last few minutes, and her question had come just as it was getting to his very favourite bit of the song. He'd even been thinking about treating both Rose and Red to his own interpretation of the song. Still, it was Rose, and he could never stay that irritated with her long. That was his fatal flaw.

"Back at the kennels. When I said we weren't really a family," Rose reminded him. "You didn't say anything. Why?"

Jack pondered the question. Then he answered as honestly and as simply as he could. "I thought you were doing a wonderful job, dear."

Rose raised an eyebrow at him, a bemused smile on her face, then winced. "Ow. I'd forgotten that still hurt," she admitted as she rubbed her eye gingerly.

Jack hadn't. Whilst Rose continued avoiding the subject for the next few days, it was never far from Jack's mind. He had to know what had happened in the last five years.

My heart is full and my door's always open

You come any time you want

Jack had managed to get the front door open and walked right the way through the tiny hallway to the living room at the back before Red even acknowledged he was there. And then it was only with a raising of his head off his paws and a wag of his tail.

"Great guard dog you are!" Jack snorted, as he sat down on the sofa next to Rose and the dog stood up, shook himself and shoved his nose into Jack's hands. "You've been spoiling him too much."

"He's had a hard life," Rose pointed out, curled up in the corner, her head resting on a cushion. She didn't move her eyes from the TV screen. "He deserves a bit of pampering."

Red got a bit more than a bit of pampering. Jack had seen what Rose had thought she'd kept well hidden, as she sneakily fed the dog all the choice bits off her plate at mealtimes, like a naughty child. Jack had found a new role as a domestic goddess and had been making what he termed "good hearty meals" to try and get some of the weight back onto. It turned out it was good hearty food; it was just a shame it was Red who was piling on the weight. In the week since they'd brought him home, the dog had filled out considerably, whilst Rose… It made Jack feel physically ill to still see how pale and thin she was. There were brief moments when her eyes would sparkle again slightly, and then they'd revert to being dull and lifeless again. The bruises were fading and were almost completely disguised by her layering of make-up. It hurt Jack to realise that she'd become an expert at applying make-up like this; the old Rose used to adore her mascara and lip gloss, as any teenage girl did, but her beauty regime in the morning harked back to the old musical theatre days. The three key words for applying make-up: foundation, foundation, foundation. She looked like a painted doll most of the time. Even round the house she seemed ashamed of her appearance, covering up the bruises and burns on her body. After that first night, she'd got changed for bed every night in the bathroom, returning covered from head to foot in thick pyjamas which didn't reveal any skin apart from her feet, hands and from the neck up. To think she used to wander round the TARDIS in the skimpiest vest tops and shorts, made Jack wonder if this was even the same Rose Tyler.

"What are we watching?" Jack nodded towards the television screen. It looked like some godawful made-for-TV movie, which Rose seemed to have a slight addiction to. Terrible taste in TV wasn't a new thing. Maybe she was the same girl after all.

"Some film." Typically vague. "I think that guy there," she pointed, "is from the past and him and that woman knew each other in sixteenth century Venice or something, and now they're fighting to be together in twentieth century New York. I think." She shrugged. "We can turn over if you like."

"No, it's fine." Jack rubbed Red's ears, sending the dog's tail wagging madly. "I'll take Red out for a walk in a bit. I take it you haven't taken him out today?"

"No." Rose hadn't been out on her own since Jack arrived last week. It was like she needed him as some security blanket. Jack was flattered, but it worried him slightly. Rose needed to become more independent. She'd fallen too hard once before and then been left behind. He suspected that the same fear of being left alone had led to the mess she was in at the moment.

"But you only just got in," she continued. "Where've you been all day?" It was slightly accusing, as though she'd missed him. More than that: she was demanding why he hadn't been with her all day. He definitely needed to break that little habit.

"Just around." Jack shrugged. "Looking around the area. Asking some questions. Did you know there was a Torchwood here?" It had surprised him, stumbling across a small building, like a council office, with a buzzer to one of the floors marked "Torchwood". Like a little piece of home, he thought.

Her answer surprised him.

"Yeah. My dad runs it."

"Your dad?"

Rose's face closed down, like she hadn't meant to let that slip.

Jack pushed her. "But I thought your dad was dead?" He remembered how Rose had told him about her dad one day when they were on the TARDIS. Just after he'd joined them, actually, more proof of how open and vulnerable she was.

"Yeah."

"Then how?" Jack wasn't asking out of surprise really. Now the initial shock had worn off, he was more interested in the actual logistics. He'd learnt a long time ago that even the most impossible things were perfectly possible; in fact, the more impossible something was, the more likely it was to happen.

"Parallel universe, parallel Pete," Rose said flippantly. "Not really my dad, but beggars can't be choosers."

That definitely wasn't Rose talking. Jack remembered how she'd adored her father, the little she'd known him. Even after he'd toppled from the pedestal she'd put him on, she'd still thought he was the greatest man alive. Jack supposed in some ways he was. Not many guys would sacrifice their own life to rectify their daughter's mistake. And Jackie too, as much as Rose had moaned about her mother and how ridiculous she sometimes was, Rose would have moved Heaven and Earth to save her in if she had to. They were close, and now he thought about it, Jack realised it was the first time she'd mentioned anyone from her old life. Not Jackie, not her dad, not even Mickey. Jackie Tyler, by all accounts, was a fearsome character. Like a lioness with her cubs, she'd fight to the death for Rose. She'd gone missing on the same day as Rose, presumed dead. But then Rose had been presumed dead and here she was, living a life day after day. Jack suddenly got the same feeling he'd had five years ago when he'd first seen the list of the dead. Jackie wasn't dead, he just knew it. But if Jackie wasn't dead, why was Rose in this mess?

"I bet that was weird for your mum," he said now, wondering if this was the way into The Conversation. More capital letters.

"She coped."

"So they're together?"

"Yeah. I guess." Rose let her guard slip a little. "I haven't seen them for a while."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Haven't had the time."

Jack continued playing with Red, who'd produced a tug toy and was eagerly throwing himself backwards to try and wrestle it off Jack. "Funny your dad didn't give you a job then. I mean, you'd know a thing or two about aliens by now."

"He tried." Rose kept her eyes fixed on the TV screen.

"And?"

"I turned him down, alright?" Rose gave him a quick glare. "Can you just go if you're going? I'm trying to watch this."

Jack didn't reply immediately, letting the tension dissipate slightly. "I suppose being the boss's daughter would have been a bit weird, favouritism and all that."

"It wasn't that."

"Then what was it?"

"I just didn't want to work for Torchwood!" Rose snarled, and Red whined, dropped his toy and crouched down. Definitely a rubbish guard dog, Jack decided. "Why would I want to work for them after what they'd done?"

"They aren't all bad." Jack thought about his little team, about the Welsh crew. The last thing he'd done before driving through the Void had been to suggest that Ianto be transferred down to Cardiff, to be back nearer his roots. He had hoped that the Welshman might be a nice antidote to the brash Owen. He wondered how that had gone down. He wondered who'd taken his old job, heading up the team. Tom would have made a good leader, sensible if maybe a little too cautious. Those were some things he'd never know.

"They're scum." Rose delivered the words with a poison that didn't suit her.

Possibly not the best time for Jack's next admission, but his timing had always been a bit off.

"I work for Torchwood."

Rose's attention was finally dragged completely away from the screen, and she stood up, still clutching a cushion to her stomach as she backed away across the room. She didn't get far; the wall brought her up short. It wasn't really a big enough house for dramatic gestures.

"How else did you think I got here, Rose?" Jack asked. "I was heading up the team looking into opening up the Breach again."

"You what?" Rose stared at him. "Are you stupid? Have you any idea what it did the last time?"

"I know! That's what I said, I didn't agree with it, Rose!" Jack realised how weak his argument sounded now he spoke it out loud. "But-"

"If you can't beat them, join them?"

"Yes. No! No, it wasn't like that, I just thought if I was in charge I could put some control over it. And…?"

"And?" Rose faced him down with a murderous face.

"And I wanted to find you."

Rose didn't reply.

"Rose, what's happened to you? You used to be so different."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Yes you do!" Jack figured if he was in for a penny he might as well be in for a pound. "Rose, when I met you, you were smart and fun and sexy. You still are!" he added hastily. "Or you could be. But look at you, you've got a crap job, you live in this shit-hole, you've been dating some low-life who should never have been allowed to lay a finger on you, let alone a fist. And where's your mum and dad, why don't you ever see them? Rose, what happened?"

"I don't have to listen to this." Rose dropped the cushion on the floor and pushed past him, heading upstairs.

"Rose, you can't just run away forever!" Jack called after her, standing at the bottom of the stairs. "You need to talk about this, baby, you need to let it out! Rose, it's what He'd have wanted!"

Her bedroom door slammed firmly shut.

Jack hesitated before calling, "I'm taking Red out. I won't be long." He paused. "Rose, you can talk to me, anytime. I'm not going anywhere. And I won't judge you, I promise. Take care." He clicked his fingers and Red came scurrying out from the table he'd been hiding under.

I know where you hide all alone in your car

Know all of the things that make you who you are

When Jack got back home later, the house was silent apart from the synthesised music of a gameshow on the television. Red barked loudly as they entered the house, and ran round the small ground floor, tailing lashing eagerly.

"We're home," Jack called, looking around. Nothing had moved since he'd gone out. Red came pattering back into the hall, tail less animated and head on one side. "She not around?" Jack crouched down to stroke him. "She'll come down in a bit, kid. When she's feeling a bit better."

He fed Red and then headed into the living room, where he spent fifteen restless minutes flicking through the five channels Rose had, two of which had terrible reception. He finally settled on a nature documentary about wolves, more because it amused him to see Red's reactions than because he was interested into the pack nature of the creatures. Red was so entranced by the TV and Jack so absorbed in the dog's increasingly entertaining expressions, that when the front door clicked shut, it took him a minute to register what was happening. He frowned and stood up, needlessly telling Red to stay put. The collie-cross was currently riveted to a wolf cub's first hunting trip, the tip of his tail quivering in excitement.

"Rose?" Jack called up the stairs. No answer, but he'd hardly been expecting one. Anyway, that old sixth sense was kicking in again and he headed outside. The street was deserted, apart from a couple of kids playing with a football, kicking it from side to side. Jack looked up and down the road. And then he saw her.

He tapped on the window of her car. "Rose, come in, we need to talk."

Rose effortlessly blanked him, her hands on the steering wheel, gazing in front of her.

"This is stupid. You're not thinking straight. Come in, I'll make some dinner. We don't have to talk if you don't want to, we can just sit, watch TV. Rose, we can just go back to how it was before. No pressure."

Still no response. Jack had always hated being ignored, he was a born entertainer and sociable person. Attention seeking, some people called it. Whatever, he'd rather be punched in the face than be ignored.

"Rose, please." He gritted his teeth. "Just talk to me, at least, about anything." Nothing. "Where are you even going to go, Rose?"

She started the engine and began checking her blind spot and mirrors. She slipped the car into first gear, with a horrible grating noise.

"Rose!" Jack banged on the door, and it was enough to make her flinch, then determinedly manoeuvre the car out and away from the kerb.

"Rose, don't be stupid!" Jack yelled, running after her down the road. "Come back!" She turned the corner onto the main road and he lost her. "Rose!" He turned round to find the two kids sniggering. "What are you laughing at?" he growled, before heading back into the house.

After that, Jack wasn't even able to settle down to watch the inane soap that Rose had managed to get him hooked on in the short time he'd been with her. Instead he wandered from room to room, with Red following his every move. He felt the need to be active and doing something, and wouldn't have taken the dog for another walk if he hadn't also felt the need to stay here in case anything happened. In case she needed him.

Hours passed. The TV was showing a comedy, utterly unfunny, about a man who seemed to only be able to speak in expletives. The house was almost in complete darkness before Jack worked up the courage to go into Rose's room, somewhere he'd never been without her, and begin going through her stuff. There was so much stuff, she'd always been a hoarder and a downright slob at times. Most of it was rubbish, junk mail and old newspapers. He found numerous odd socks, not all Rose's. He threw the men's socks away with a grim enjoyment.

He found the crumpled letter underneath the overflowing washing basket. It was in an envelope addressed to Rose, but at a different address from this house. It had already been opened, and when Jack pulled it out, it felt well read. The paper had been folded and refolded so many times that it was soft, like well worn leather. Jack scanned the letter, not having time for the sentiments expressed, and they came on thick and fast. There was a return address at the bottom of the page, and a mobile phone number. Pete's.

Jack dialled the mobile number several times before he allowed it to ring. It was late, but this was Torchwood. If it was anything like Torchwood back home, then they'd all be wide awake and stalking some strange creature. He was proved right; the phone was answered within two rings.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is that Pete Tyler?"

"Who is this?"

Ah, very good. Definitely a Torchwood employee, never give away any information without getting some first.

"My name's Captain Jack Harkness." Jack hesitated to see if the name would ring a bell with Pete at all. Maybe, just maybe, Rose would have mentioned him once upon a time and all of this would be a lot easier. But Pete didn't answer, and not in a good way; he wasn't keeping silent because he was in shock, he was keeping silent because he genuinely didn't know who he was.

"I work for Torchwood," Jack explained quickly. "From another… world." Obviously still not that convincing. "I'm an old friend of Rose's. A really old friend."

Finally, Pete spoke. "How did you get my number?"

"Rose gave it me," Jack lied smoothly. "I thought I ought to check in with you, share some secrets, you know. So, is now convenient?"

"Um, I don't know." Some leader of Torchwood this bloke was, Jack thought unkindly. "We're a bit busy at the moment. Maybe in the morning or in a day or two."

Too late, far too late. "I'm actually only here on a flying visit," Jack replied, anxiously feeling his nose as he told another lie. "Sort of in and out. I'd love to see how you do things here." Maybe he should try the personal touch. "I'm actually a bit worried about Rose."

Jack forgave Pete's bumbling style of management with his next words. With a sigh, Pete said, "Yeah, me too. Look, you can't come down to the office, you'd have to sign the official secrets act, that takes some time. I'll meet you in this bar, it's only a few streets from here." He told him the name and then rang off. Jack picked up his coat, gave Red a brief pat on the head and strode out of the house.

Pete was an ordinary looking man, Jack thought. A very ordinary looking man in a very sharp suit. He was just starting a pint of beer when Jack entered the bar.

"Drink?" Pete offered.

Jack shook his head. "I'm fine."

Pete sat back in his seat and regarded Jack. "So. How did you manage it? We thought all the portals had been closed, for good. That's what… well, what someone told us."

"The Doctor's not always right," Jack replied. "You know how it is. Impossible's like a challenge to people like Torchwood. I wasn't exactly for it."

"But you've come through anyway." Pete paused. "Rose never mentioned you."

"She didn't mention you until today." Two could play at that game. And Jack loved games.

"How long have you been here?"

Jack shrugged. "About a week."

"I thought it was a flying visit."

"The truth's a tricky thing, it can be what you want it to." Jack chose not to mention his exiled status. Even though he'd volunteered to come through, he didn't want to be quizzed over it just yet. There were more important things to be dealt with.

Pete ran his finger around the rim of his pint glass. "Is Rose okay?"

Jack looked at him, trying to decide how much Pete knew. He couldn't believe that anyone would know about their daughter being treated the way she was and wouldn't do anything. Maybe Pete didn't see her as his daughter. Or maybe he wasn't the man Rose had always built him up to be. Or maybe he just plain didn't know. Jack decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and evaded the question.

"How long is it since you saw her?"

Pete pulled a face. "You stop keeping track of things like that after a while. After a few months…" He sighed. "Four years." Jack's eyebrows flew up. "I'm not proud of it, Jackie's been going spare. But it wasn't our choice, Rose was the one who moved away."

Jack nodded. "She's always been a bit stubborn."

Pete smiled. "That's one word for it."

"What happened? Why did you stop seeing her?"

Pete looked away. "It's a long story."

Jack leaned forward. "I've got time."

Pete hesitated. "Rose didn't want to see us anymore. She wouldn't thank you for coming to find us."

"I'll be the judge of that."

Pete rubbed his forehead. "She was never the same after he left you know. It was like she'd been living for seeing him again, but after he'd said goodbye… She wasn't the same girl anymore. And then after the miscarriage, she just-"

"Hold on," Jack interrupted. "The miscarriage?"

Pete frowned. "I thought you'd know. Didn't she tell you?"

Jack shook his head. There'd been no mention on her medical records either, nothing to ever say she'd even been pregnant.

"She took it hard. I guess it was losing the last little piece of him." Pete stared into his pint. "We did everything we could think of to help her out. I offered her countless jobs at Torchwood, doing all sorts of things, but she didn't want them. She said it was our fault she was there in the first place. That if it wasn't for Torchwood…" He shrugged. "I guess she was right. She moved out after a while. We saw her for a bit, but then she changed her phone number, got a new job, moved house. I mean, I could find it all out. The power of Torchwood," he said, smiling sadly as he drummed his fingers on the laptop on the table beside him. "But it was obvious she didn't want to know. So we stopped trying. I check on her from time to time, make sure she's okay." He studied Jack intently. "She's not, though, is she?"

Jack didn't answer the question. "Can I use that?" He pointed to the laptop.

Pete nodded. "Sure. What for?"

Jack again evaded the question. "Just feeling the need to do some snooping," he said smoothly. He glanced at Pete's almost empty glass and felt in his pocket, producing a five pound note. "Get yourself another drink with that."

The bar was heaving by now, and Pete was so long getting another drink that Jack had more than enough time to search through the remote databases and find what he was looking for. He quickly scrawled down the address and carefully erased all the histories on the computer that would show what he'd been doing. Then he pulled his coat back on and left. When Pete returned five minutes later, nothing was left behind to show Captain Jack Harkness had ever been there.

I know that goodbye means nothing at all

Comes back and begs me catch her every time she falls

The neighbourhood Patrick Burton lived in was nicer than Jack would have thought. He'd expected such scum to come from some sort of run-down area of town, with junkies on every street corner and burnt out cars. Instead, he lived in a leafy suburb, proving once and for all that evil was never in the places you'd expect. Jack strode down the street, noting the neat gardens and large estate cars. A family neighbourhood. He hoped all the kids were tucked up in bed by now, well away from harm.

The door to Patrick's house, a three bedroom-semi, was white. It stood out from all the other houses who'd chosen more dingy blacks and browns. He obviously had a high opinion of himself, Jack thought. Rose's car sat outside the house, looking distinctly outclassed by the shiny vehicles around. He hated to think of her being outshone by anything or anybody. This stopped tonight.

After knocking on the door, Jack waited patiently. He could hear music drifting out from the open window, and then he heard voices and footsteps.

The door opened, and Jack was glad he'd forced his hands into his pockets or he was sure he'd have reached straight out and punched him in his stupid handsome face. He had that confident swagger that Jack recognised from the city workers in and around Torchwood Tower in London. They all behaved like they were invincible, some kind of god. It was people like them that made Jack think National Service was a fully plausible option.

"Can I help?" Even Patrick's voice set Jack's teeth on edge, but he responded with his trademark white-toothed grin.

"Hi, Captain Jack Harkness. Is Rose with you?"

Patrick's eyes narrowed. "Weren't you the guy hanging round outside her house last week?"

"A misunderstanding." Jack didn't know why he was justifying his presence to this lowlife. "Is she here?"

"I don't think she wants to see you." Patrick glowered at Jack, which suited Jack fine. If Patrick swung the first punch, then he'd be only too happy to oblige and return the favour. Unfortunately, he knew that men like Patrick never picked on anyone their own size. And that they were always the first to cry assault.

Jack kept the smile up. "And I'm not sure she wants to see you, but I'm polite enough not to mention it."

"Look, mate-"

Jack knew it was just a way of speaking. The amount of times that Owen had called him that in the short time they'd shared the Hub had astounded him. But he wouldn't let it. "I'm not your mate."

"She made it pretty clear she wasn't interested. She's with me!" Patrick leaned against the doorframe nonchalantly. "But if you want to ask her yourself… Rose!"

Like it was some sort of cue, Rose appeared in the doorway within a few seconds. Her eyes darted between Jack and Patrick anxiously, and she seemed to have shrunk even further.

"Jack, what are you doing here?" Rose asked, her voice light but never keeping eye contact with him.

"Your friend here wanted to talk to you. I said he should ask you." Patrick supplied the answer.

Rose glanced across at Jack again.

"Rose, come home." Jack willed her to listen to him. "Come home and we can talk. Or not, I don't care. Just… Rose, you're better than this."

Rose glanced over at Patrick again, who raised his eyebrows at her. Jack bit his tongue hard to stop himself lamping the manipulative shit right then.

"I think you should go, Jack," Rose said finally, and a small smile spread across Patrick's face.

"Rose, think about this," Jack begged her. "We don't have to talk, forget everything I said earlier."

"Look, mate, you heard her," Patrick began shutting the door. "She said go away. So if you'd like to get off my doorstep, it would be much appreciated."

"Rose!"

"Jack, I think you ought to find somewhere else to live." She sounded like a robot. "I'll be back tomorrow and… I want you to have moved out by then."

"What?" Jack looked horrified. "Where am I going to go, Rose?"

"That's not our problem," Patrick said smoothly. "I think you really should go now, mate, or I'll have to call the police."

"Rose!" Jack appealed to her again, but there wasn't even a flicker of her face.

"Goodbye Jack."

The door shut firmly in his face. He was almost getting used to this happening to him. It didn't mean it didn't make him angry or upset, but he was coming to expect it. He waited several minutes, before turning away from the house and walking back to her house.

He began packing up the few clothes and things he'd brought with him as soon as he got back. Red trotted around anxiously, whining.

"I tried," Jack said. "You can't say I didn't try, kid. But I can't just stand by and watch her do this to herself. If she wants me gone, I'll go. Sooner rather than later." He sat down and Red joyfully bounded onto him. "It's up to you now, you're in charge. I give you permission to butcher that bastard if he ever so much as looks at her funny." He fondled the dog's ears absent-mindedly. So he was entrusting Rose to another person now. Well, dog, but same difference. Jack couldn't help noticing how Rose had begun by being looked after by a Time Lord, and then been demoted to a human. Now she had a dog. He sighed. "You've got a hell of a lot to answer for, Doctor," he muttered. "A hell of a lot."

The telephone rang. Jack didn't get up to answer it, he knew the machine would click in. He gathered his bags together and went to turn the television off, reaching for his coat as he went. The machine cut in.

"Jack? Jack, are you there? If you are, please pick up." He knew that voice, even though it was faint and strangely echoey, and broken up by sobs. "Oh, God, I hope you haven't left already, I'm sorry, Jack, I-"

Jack picked up the receiver. "Rose? What is it? Where are you?"

"I… I don't know, some pub or other. I'm in the toilets." That explained the echo. "Jack, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean what I said, I-"

"It's okay," Jack interrupted. "That can wait. Can you remember what the pub's called?"

"I don't know, I just ran." Rose sounded almost hysterical.

"Rose, calm down and think." Jack was already pulling his coat on and reaching for his car keys. "I'm coming to get you, I just need to know where you are."

"Hang on." Static crackled down the line, but Jack could still hear what Rose was saying as she asked someone where she was. The reply was unsurprisingly slightly alarmed. "The Pig and Trumpet," he heard another woman say. "Hey, love, are you alright?" Jack could only imagine what he'd done to her this time.

"Fine, thanks. Jack, did you get that?"

"On my way, baby." Jack began lowering the receiver. "Stay there, don't go anywhere. I won't be long."

He was longer than he'd wanted to be really, as he'd had a fight with the car to get it started and then realised that he had no idea where he was going. After asking directions four times, each time curling his toes up inside his boots in embarrassment, he finally pulled up outside the pub. It looked a bit of a dive, but at least it was busy.

Jack walked in, and was almost instantly grabbed by a woman.

"Are you Jack?" He nodded. "She's waiting for you in the toilets." The woman narrowed her eyes. "She's a bit of a mess, says she fell down the stairs. She's very convincing, isn't she?"

Jack nodded again. "Too convincing."

"Anyway, she wanted you to go straight through," the woman continued. She looked Jack up and down. "She gave a good description of you. She ain't a liar."

Jack gave her a slightly bemused smile. "How did she describe me?"

"Stunning," the woman replied without blushing. "But desperately unavailable. Ain't that always the way. The best ones always are." She patted him on the arm before moving away. It took Jack a couple of seconds to realise what she'd meant.

Rose was sitting on a closed toilet seat, the cubicle door open. She lifted her head shamefully so Jack could see the mess she was in this time. She had a deep cut on her forehead extending into her hairline which looked worse than it really was. Her make-up had run horribly, and her eyes were sooty from the mascara she'd layered on before going out, but that was all the damage he could see. He guessed it was mostly her pride that was hurting.

"Oh Rose. Bit of a mess you've got yourself into this time?" Jack crouched down in front of her.

She nodded. "You could say that," she sniffed.

"What happened?"

"The usual." Rose shrugged. "I waited till he'd gone to the toilet and I just ran."

Jack nodded. "We should get you to hospital. You could have concussion."

"I'm fine."

"Rose!"

"Please. Can we just go home?" Rose gave him a beseeching look. "No hospitals, nothing just… home."

He'd never been able to refuse her anything. He nodded and led the way out to the car and back home.

Red greeted their return with excited barks and enthusiastic leaps. Rose laughed and batted him down.

"Don't be so stupid," she said, as he planted his paws on her hips and licked her hands. "It's not like we've been gone that long."

Jack hung his coat on the bottom of the stairs. "He was worried about you. We both were."

Rose met his eyes guiltily and then stepped away from the collie. "I'm going to take a bath."

"Rose…"

"I'm fine, I'm not going to drown or anything!" Rose smiled over-brightly. Jack raised an eyebrow. She let it fall. "Please, just… let me have a bath. Then we can talk." He looked doubtful. "I promise."

He managed a small smile, and kissed the top of her head. "Go on then. I'll make some tea. I'll bring it up to you."

Tap on my window, knock on my door,

I want to make you feel beautiful.

Half an hour later, Jack knocked on her bedroom door and then poked his head round. She was sitting on the end of the bed drying her hair with a towel when he came in. She was wearing completely different pyjamas tonight, three-quarter length trousers and a pretty vest. Jack chose not to remark on her new attire.

"I made some toast too." He put the plate on the bed behind her and handed her the cup of tea.

"I'm starving," Rose admitted. "I didn't have anything to eat tonight."

Jack didn't mention that he hadn't either, but picked up a slice and began eating it.

Rose began pulling a comb through her hair. She smiled at the reflection of the two of them in the dressing table mirror. "Look at us."

Jack grimaced at his own reflection. "I'd rather not."

Rose gave him a light tap on the arm. "You look great! And anyway, I didn't mean that."

"What did you mean then?" Jack finished the slice of toast and tried to fight the urge to begin on the other one. He failed; never mind, he could always make some more.

"Just… look how domesticated we've got."

Jack pulled a face. "Oh God, how boring!"

"No, it's… nice." Rose trailed off and stood up to put the comb back on the dressing table. "I thought that toast was for me?" she teased, taking a sip out of her mug. "Good tea though. For a Yank, you make good tea."

"You never used to care about domestic," Jack reminded her.

"I never said that."

"But you attached yourself to a man who didn't 'do' domestic."

Rose smiled. "Yeah, I know. God, he was always so prickly about that, wasn't he?" She shook her head. "I guess for a time, I could have lived without this. Just travelling."

"When you were with him." It was a statement not a question.

Rose nodded. "But I suppose, in the end…" She sighed. "It's a different life, here, without him. And doing domestic isn't so bad."

She moved so she was sitting at the top of the bed, leaning against the head rest. Her still damp hair dripped down onto the pillow.

"Going to bed with wet hair?" Jack joked. "Tut tut. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to do that?"

"Yeah, she did actually." Rose laughed. "How did you know?"

"I think it's a mum thing, I think they all say that." Jack shrugged, then, tentatively ventured to say, "I bet you would have."

Rose's eyes flew up from where she was fiddling with a pull in the duvet.

"Rose, I know. About the miscarriage."

Rose looked back down at the loose thread, twisting it about between her thin fingers. She used to wear rings, Jack remembered; they would fall straight off if she tried to put them on now.

"How did you find out?"

"Your dad told me."

Rose looked up at him again, half-shyly, as though suddenly embarrassed in his company. "You saw Dad?"

"Yeah." Jack nodded. "He's a nice man."

Rose didn't reply.

"He obviously cares about you."

Still nothing.

"Rose, how long did you think you could keep all this from me?"

"All what?" She sounded so like the old-Rose in one of her strops, and her jaw jutted out in exactly the same way as it used to, that Jack had to fight to stop a smile breaking out on his face. But he wasn't going to let her laugh this off this time; she'd promised she'd talk.

"You know what." Jack sighed in exasperation. "Rose, you haven't spoken to your parents in four years! You used to call your mum all the time!"

"Things change. People change."

"Not like this," Jack insisted. "I'm not angry with you, sweetheart, I just… I don't understand what happened to you. How you ended up like this." He paused. "Your dad said you changed after the miscarriage."

Rose pulled a face and then shrugged. "Maybe." She looked up to see Jack's blue eyes boring into her. "Probably," she conceded.

"It was His?"

She nodded. "Of course. Who else?"

"Well, there was always Mickey…"

"Me and Mickey were well over." Rose shrugged. "And anyway, Jack, you know how I felt about Him. Still do." She sighed, and the sound she made was so empty and hollow and heart-breaking that it made Jack want to cry. "We had such a good time together, Jack. You saw it, the three of us. It only got better after you'd gone… Oh, I didn't mean it like, I-"

Jack held up a hand. "Relax, I know three's a crowd."

Rose looked at him guiltily. "I know we sometimes seemed a bit…" She pulled a face before saying, "Well, coupley. Like those really annoying couples that only have eyes for each other. Sorry if we ever made you feel left out."

"You didn't." Jack wasn't going to mention that that was exactly how he'd felt sometimes. Especially when they'd just left him behind like that. It was all water under the bridge. It hadn't ended well for any of them; petty recriminations like that had no place here anymore.

"I'd never felt anything like it before, for anyone else. I've never loved anyone like I loved - love – him." Rose fell silent for a few minutes, her tea forgotten, staring at the wall.

"And then it ended."

"Bloody Torchwood," Rose said sadly, but without much malice this time. "It wasn't their fault really. They couldn't have known what was going on."

"Shame they don't learn from their mistakes," Jack muttered.

"He tried to send me away, save me from it all. Only I wouldn't let him." Rose wiped away a tear as she relived the day she'd been trying to bury for the last five years. "As it turned out, he got his way."

"What happened?" Jack asked. It had been the one thing that had confused him all this time, how Rose had ended up here in the first place.

"We opened the Void, to send all the Daleks and Cybermen away. We had these sort of clamp things." Rose gestured vaguely with her hands. "All I had to do was hang on. But then one of the levers shifted. I moved to switch it back again." She shuddered suddenly, making Jack start. "Only I couldn't hold on any longer. The Void sucked me in."

"Then how…?"

"Dad came back for me. Even though the Doctor had told him to stop using those stupid things." Rose smiled through her tears. "No one ever tells a Tyler what to do."

Jack smiled.

"I never said thank you to him, you know. Dad saved my life and I never even gave him a proper hug."

"It's not too late," Jack reminded her. Rose didn't reply and he saw her stiffen up. He decided to move on. "You said the Doctor came back once."

"Only to say goodbye. He blew up a sun so he could."

"It's men like him that make the rest of us look bad," Jack joked.

Rose smiled. "It was lovely to see him. If only for a few minutes. But horrible too. You know what I mean?"

Jack did. He remembered the same feeling of horror and delight when he saw the TARDIS leaving the Gamestation. And when he'd found Rose again. He was starting to believe that in order for something to be truly beautifully joyful, it had to hurt like Hell at the same time.

"Did you tell him?"

"About the baby?" Rose shook her head. "I started to. Then… oh, I just bottled it, said it was Mum. Lied about it. I used to think that was why…"

Jack took her hand tightly in his. "It wasn't your fault, Rose. What happened… stuff like that happens all the time, and it's awful, but it's nobody's fault."

"I know. I know that now. But at the time…" Rose brought her knees up to her chest, curling up into a ball. "When I wasn't blaming myself, I was blaming Torchwood or Dad. I was so horrible to him." She wiped away more tears. "I used to say I wished he'd never come back, that we were much better off before him and his stupid Torchwood. I was a bitch. It was just… that baby was the only think left of Him. The only thing I had worth carrying on for. Then I lost that too."

Jack moved so he was able to stroke her damp hair. This was the most distraught he'd ever seen her, but at the same time, it was the most beautiful she'd ever looked to him. The same old joy/pain equation.

"It was just one of those things, Rose," he said gently. "You and Him… you were different, so different. Your body probably just couldn't cope with something so… alien."

Rose nodded. "I know."

"It must have been awful."

"It was."

"But…"

Rose looked at him. "But?"

"How did you end up here? With that piece of scum who, by the way, I'll still quite happily rip the shit out of."

Rose smiled, almost grinned. "Thanks but no thanks. A nice thought, but he's not worth it. Anyway, I'll never see him again."

"Won't he be round here doing his penitent act in a few days?" Jack asked. "I've seen the films, they always come crawling round promising it'll never happen again, that they'll change, that this time, babe, I promise, things will be different."

Rose gave a snort of laughter. "Not Patrick. He's a coward really, a silly little boy in a man's body."

"Then why, Rose? You're worth ten of animals like him."

Rose shrugged. "I don't know. He wasn't always such a pig, at first he was kind of fun. I missed fun, he made me laugh. Then things changed. He didn't start smacking me until we'd been going out a while."

"Why didn't you leave him then? You said you'd tried before, and you said he wouldn't come after you. Why go back?"

"I was lonely." Rose picked her fingernails. "Ever since I came here, ever since the Doctor said goodbye… I hated being by myself, all I could ever think about was him and what I'd lost. I know it seems strange, me moving away from Mum and Dad, but I just got so frustrated. Dad kept offering me jobs and Mum kept on talking about nice young men she'd met. Like I should be over Him, and moving on and just forgetting everything."

"I'm sure they didn't think that."

"I know, I was being stupid," Rose agreed. "I was hardly in the right state of mind back then."

"Why didn't you see a doctor or a counsellor? They might have helped."

"Yeah, right after they'd locked me up. Hi, I'm behaving like an absolute cow because I just lost the baby I was having with an alien who I'll never seen again because I'm trapped in a different universe to him."

Jack stifled a laugh. "I suppose it would be a bit difficult."

"Just a bit," Rose agreed, but smiled. "I was so restless, I needed to get away. And then I just kept moving, never staying still for long. This is the fifth house I've lived in since leaving Dad's."

"And what about Patrick?"

"The one constant." Rose rolled her eyes. "I met him not long after I moved out of home. He was loud-mouthed, a bit of a show off. He reminded me of you, a bit."

"Thanks!"

Rose laughed. "In a good way. Me and him, it just sort of happened. It started off easy-going and then I woke up one morning and realised I was stuck."

"Was that before or after he smacked you one?"

"Like I said, he didn't start that straight away. He waited until he knew I was well and truly sucked in. Bastard."

"That's the first really horrible thing I've heard you say about him," Jack remarked.

"The first time he hit me we'd been going out about a year. It was just a slap, on the arm, nothing major. And he apologised almost immediately. Then he started getting a bit more controlling." Rose shook her head. "It all sort of blurs into one after that. I kept telling myself that tomorrow I'd leave, tomorrow it would all be over, but then I'd spend a night apart from him and I'd be so scared of being alone forever that I'd have called him before the next evening. I was such a loser."

"People do stupid things when they're scared," Jack said. Rose gave him a look. "What? I'm being serious."

"Serious doesn't always suit you, Jack Harkness. Sometimes you could just agree with me."

"What, and say you're a loser?"

"Yeah."

"Alright." Jack played with a piece of her hair. "You, Rose Tyler, are a loser."

Rose giggled. "There you go, not so hard was it?"

Jack stroked her cheek. "I wish I'd found you earlier. I wish I could have stopped all this from happening."

Rose caught his hand and held it against her cheek. "You're here now. That's all that matters."

"And I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." Rose snuggled closer to him.

"Tired?"

"No, not really." Rose shook her head.

"Good."

"Why?" Rose raised an eyebrow at him. "What do you want to do?"

"I'm starting to forget how much I hate Patrick," Jack informed her. "So I want you to tell me exactly how you got every single scar on your body."

"Jack…" Rose looked at him with a warning face. "I don't want you going round there doing anything stupid. Honestly, he's not worth it."

"I'm not going to," Jack insisted. "You can start with this one." He stroked a fading burn on her right forearm.

"He did that with an iron. I was doing his shirts and he thought I was taking too long." Rose ran her own hand over it. "I never quite measured up to his mother with his washing."

"How about this one?" Jack touched an old scar on her hand.

"He pushed me and my hand went through a window. That was easier than most to lie about, I was always doing stupid clumsy stuff like that at work."

They spent nearly an hour going over all the scars and burns and welts on her body, Jack moving her on before she could linger too long on the past. He saved the prominent scar on her back till last, running a light finger over it.

"How about this one?"

"Which one?" Rose turned to look, and to his surprise, a huge grin spread across her face. "Oh that! I'd rather not say."

It was the first time she'd refused to talk about any of her injuries and it terrified Jack. He'd listened without making comment on any of the others, but each one had made him feel more and more sick and more and more angry about what she'd had to go through, all alone.

"Rose, what happened?" he pressed her now. He couldn't imagine what could be so bad she wouldn't tell him. She'd told him all the rest.

"It's nothing."

"Rose!"

Rose blushed. "Okay, but you have to promise not to laugh."

"Why would I laugh?"

Rose took a deep breath. "I was in a rush one day and I couldn't be bothered to have a shower, so I washed my hair over the bath. Anyway, I stood up a bit quick and…"

"And?" Jack demanded. His mind was frantically ticking away, wondering what disgusting thing that lowlife had done to her when she wasn't looking.

"And I caught myself on the shower screen." Rose blushed even brighter red.

Jack frowned. "What?"

"Oh you heard me."

"You got attacked by a shower screen?"

"It's pretty sharp on the corners!" Rose protested. "Jack, I said don't laugh!"

Jack was unable to stop the laughter spilling out of his mouth though. "I thought he'd gone for you with a knife or something!"

"That would make for a more glamorous story," Rose agreed.

Jack pulled her towards him and hugged her close. "Tell you what, first thing tomorrow, I'll get a new screen and then you don't have to be afraid of it anymore!"

"Shut up!" Rose said, smacking him, but laughing. She nuzzled his neck. "First thing tomorrow I'm going to call Mum."

Jack looked down at her. "That sound like a good idea to me."

"It's been too long. She won't even recognise me."

"She will." Jack kissed her forehead, avoiding the fresh scar. "You're still the same old Rose."

"You make me sound so boring!"

"Never." Jack kissed her cheeks. "You're many things, Rose Tyler, but boring isn't one of them."

"Really?" Rose challenged him.

Jack brought his mouth close to hers. "Really." His mouth found its target and all the talking stopped.