"Well, hello there, roomie."
John looked up from his novel as his friend sauntered into the flat, a lopsided grin on his face and his eyes sparkling with mischief as he eyed John up. John frowned at him over the thick black rims of his glasses, suspicious of his friend's strange behaviour. With a quick exhale he turned his eyes back down to his book, flipping a page casually. "What did you do?" He asked Jack in his warning tone.
"Me?" Jack said in false surprise, giving John an affronted look. "I haven't done anything. You, on the other hand…what have you been doing. Or rather," he gave John a pointed look, "who have you been doing?"
John's head didn't move, but his eyes flicked up to Jack, glaring over his glasses again. Jack said nothing in response, simply shrugging his shoulders and making his way to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and grabbed an apple, rubbing it on his shirt whilst meeting John's eyes and smirking. With an annoyed eye roll, John snapped his book closed and took off his glasses. "I didn't shag Rose."
Jack stopped, frowning at John before letting out an annoyed huff. "You're serious?" He asked, taking in John's serious, irritated expression before growing in frustration. "You are serious. What the hell, John? Why not? She's great, and you couldn't keep your eyes off her all night."
John rolled his eyes again and stood up from his place on the recliner in their comfortable living room and going to the fridge himself, opening it and pouring himself a glass of orange juice. "I'm not you," he reminded his flat mate, "I don't shag girls I just met, and I certainly won't be shagging her. What is she, like twenty years old?" He shrugged as he took a sip, leaning back against the counter and tucking his free hand in his pocket.
Jack scoffed and took a bite from his apple, collapsing in the chair that John had just left. "Who cares?" He asked with his mouth full, making John cringe in disgust. He swallowed before speaking again. "She's nice, and brilliant, and clever. Who cares if she's a few years younger?"
"How much is a few years?" John asked, taking a final swing from his glass before putting in the sink to wash later.
Jack frowned as John made his way back into the living room, sitting down on their too-long couch and crossing his arms as he regarded his friend, waiting for an answer. "Nine years?" Jack said thoughtfully before shrugging. "That's nothing, John. Definitely not enough to be the real reason you won't go after her." John shook his head in annoyance, reaching for the remote that sat on the coffee table in front of him and turning on their old tellie, flicking through the channels aimlessly. "By the way," Jack continued, making John groan, "how late did you stay? Because Rose looked more tired than usual today."
"Late," John replied without looking at Jack. "I think it was almost 3AM when I left."
Jack raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
John frowned thoughtfully. "Was she still there when you left today?"
Jack let out another huff of air, nodding as he kept his eyes trained on the tellie. "Yeah. She's always there late. She doesn't usually leave until midnight."
"How do you know?"
Jack shrugged. "She has to use her key code to lock behind her. She's always the last to go, so I can check the system and see when he code was used. It tends to be around midnight."
John checked his phone, seeing that it was only 6:30. Impulsively, he unlocked it and sent a quick text.
Want to do dinner?
It was several minutes before he got a response.
Now?
Not now. In 45 mins
I'm working
He sighed, disappointed, and tucked his phone away. He resigned himself to the crap American show Jack was watching.
"What do you want to do for dinner?" Jack asked through another bite of his apple, which made John look at him in disgust. Jack was unperturbed, looking at John in question.
John sighed. "I don't know. Do you want to get a pizza?"
Jack gave him a thumb up and turned his attention back to the television. The two were silent for a few minutes, their eyes on show that John wasn't paying attention to at all. His thoughts were on Rose. He was thinking about her smile, her laugh, how easily the conversation flowed between the two of them…
Crap.
Why couldn't he stop thinking about the young blonde, anyway? She was too young for him, she barely knew him, he wasn't looking for a relationship, and she probably wasn't either. Not with someone like him. Not with someone who ruined everything he touched.
He would stop thinking about her, that's what he needed to do. He could do that, he could not think about Rose Tyler and her bright, honest smile, her honey-coloured eyes, the way she bit her lip…
Jack's phone shook him from his thoughts. His flat mate pulled the phone from his pocket and checked the caller ID, frowning when he saw the name. He quickly answered it. "Rose?" He said, leaning forward in his seat, his face tensing. John, who had been intently paying attention since hearing Rose's name, wished desperately to know what was going on that made Jack's mouth pop open and shock colour his eyes. The American stood quickly, asking, "are you alright?" as he moved through the flat quickly, pulling on each of his shoes single-handedly and then throwing on his coat. "Okay, I'll be right there," he said as he grabbed his keys from their key bowl and opened the door. He froze in the doorframe, frowning again, and his gaze jumped to John, who recoiled in surprise. "Yeah, he's here. Why?" He listened for a moment, then his eyebrows shot up. "Really? Don't you think – " another pause, and John was very unsure about what was going on, but he knew it was serious. "Yeah, alright, fine. See you in a few." He hung up then turned to his roommate, who was looking slightly lost. "Get your coat. We gotta go."
John moved quickly, throwing on a light jacket and his chucks before quickly joining Jack. The two made their way out of the flat, John on Jack's heels and confused about the concerned yet steely look on his flat mate's face. 'Everything alright?" John asked him as he jogged to keep up with Jack's long and fast strides.
"Hope so." Jack said as they reached the parking garage of the building. They made their way to Jack's car and quickly got in. John fumbled with his seatbelt while Jack didn't even bother, taking off with an urgency that John had never seen before. They said nothing for the rest of the drive, each sitting in tense silence, as they pulled up to the Torchwood tower.
John had been here before, a few times, but never after hours. The high-security entrance still puzzled him as they made their way through the decoy desk, often used by Ianto, that was littered with brochures and maps and a single computer that looked to be about twenty years old. Jack breezed right by it and quickly uncovered a keypad on the wall of a small alcove. He typed in a series of numbers, and a large vault-like door swung open, revealing the Torchwood hub.
Jack stepped in quickly, John still following behind. "Rose?" he called out, his voice echoing around the empty building.
"No need to shout. I'm right here." Rose replied, her voice much quieter than Jack's. She was sitting awkwardly on a bench, her face looking pale and drawn, but she smiled as they came in. "Thanks for coming," she said quietly as Jack rushed his way over, kneeling in front of her.
"What happened?" Jack asked her, seeming much calmer, though John could still detect a note of panic in the younger man's voice.
Rose bit her lip. "I was working with…" her eyes flicked up to where John was standing, still rather lost and uncomfortable, "something, but I must have assembled it wrong, so when I fired it…" her voice trailed off and she looked down at her arm. John stood on his tip toes to see over Jack's head, and realized she was holding a thick white pad of something on her forearm, and there was a puddle of blood at her feet. His heat began to pound in his chest.
Jack sighed and reached up to cup her head lightly. "Let's get you to Owen's station." He told her, and she nodded quickly, biting her lip again. Jack got to his feet quickly and made his way to John first. "Can you sew her up?" he asked quietly.
"What? No. She should go to a hospital." John replied indignantly.
"She won't. You went to med school. It's only a few stitches." Jack pleaded.
John met his eyes steadily, prepared to argue, but he saw real panic in Jack's eyes, and Rose was getting very pale, very quickly. With a sigh, he nodded. Jack clapped his shoulder before quickly making his way back to Rose and helping her stand before guiding her further into the hub as John followed.
It didn't take long until they reached the pristine station that could only be Owen's, a medical cot in the center of a circle of counters and desks. Jack helped Rose sit on the cot before rummaging through the drawers of the counters, pulling out the supplies John would need to stitch Rose's arm.
Jack handed him the equipment, and John sat in an office chair and rolled his way over to Rose, a reassuring smile on his face. She smiled weakly in return.
"Okay, Rose," John said, his voice calm as he picked up a needle that had Rose looking rather wary. "This is an anesthesia that I'm going to use to numb your arm. It's going to sting, but it'll hurt a loss less than if I were to do stitches without it." He met her eyes, watching as she took a deep breath and gave him a quick nod before looking away from her arm. He injected the local anesthesia as painlessly as he could, trying not to pay attention when her jaw tense and she ground her teeth. "Well done," he smiled as he pulled the needle out, and she gave him a tense smile. "Right, it should only take a few minutes for that to work, so keep pressing down on that pad, okay?"
"Okay," she responded tersely.
"You're sure you don't want to go to a hospital?" John checked, meeting her eyes. "I can do it, but you'll probably have a nasty scar."
"That's fine." Rose said. "I'm not going to the hospital."
"Can I ask why?" John asked gently.
She raised her eyebrows and gave him a real smile, though it looked wan. "You can ask." She responded, though she didn't say anything else.
John sighed. "Okay, then." He gently prodded at her forearm. "Can you feel that?" She shook her head. "Okay. Let's get started. Can you take off the pad please, Rose?" he saw her eyes widen in alarm and she shot Jack a look over John's shoulder.
"Do you need me to step out?" Jack asked quietly. John was about to reassure him that no, he could stay where he was, but Rose pressed her lips together and nodded.
He waited until Rose's tense posture relaxed slightly and reached forward, not quite touching her. "Can I…" He indicated towards her arm. She let out a deep breath and nodded, not meeting his eyes again. Gently, he peeled away the pad she'd been using, revealing the large cut along her forearm that was easily six inches long. Thankfully, it didn't seem to be horribly deep, which was something, but the cuts weren't the only thing that caught John's attention.
Trying not to react too obviously, he gently pushed back her sleeve to reveal several faded bruises along her arm. They were yellow-ish in colour, showing their age and that he'd not seen them at their worst. Small, fingerprint like bruises dotted around the larger ones, and he looked up at her face in alarm. She refused to meet his eyes.
"Rose," he said quietly, knowing his worry echoed in his tone.
"Just do the stitches, please." She said quickly, closing her eyes.
He swallowed then nodded, picking up his instruments and getting to work, painstakingly disinfecting and stitching her arm to the best of his ability.
When he finished, he let the instruments clatter on the tray and examined her cut carefully, making sure the stitches were all right. With a nod, he grabbed a bandage and carefully placed it over her cut, pressing lightly on the adhesive rim so that it would stick. "There," he finally said. "Done."
She carefully rolled her sleeve down over the bandage. "Thanks John," she murmured to him, and he nodded in response.
He regarded her seriously for a moment before lightly placing his hand on her shoulder. "Do you want to talk about – "
"No." She interrupted, a finality to her tone that he couldn't argue with.
He sighed and pulled away. "Alright, then." He said.
"Can I come out now?" Jack's voice echoed around the hub, and John gave Rose a questioning look, waiting for her nod before he called his assent. Jack was back quickly, a plastic cup in his hand. He handed it over to Rose. "Apple juice. Looks like you lost a lot of blood. You could do with some sugar, I think."
"Thanks, Jack," Rose said quietly, giving him a smile before she sipped at the juice.
"I cleaned up the mess." Jack told her as he stuffed his hands into his pockets and John threw away his used materials.
Rose choked before looking at Jack in alarm, "I'm so sorry! I would have done that, you didn't have to!"
Jack flapped his hand at her before turning to John. "She's good?"
"Yeah." John said shortly.
"Good. Now let's go get dinner. I'm starving." Jack nodded.
"No, but I have to –" Rose started to say as John helped her off the medical cot.
"You have to eat something." John interrupted. "I'm sure you can take the evening off anyway. You're not even supposed to be working this late."
Rose's shoulders slumped in resignation and she let the two men lead her out. They drove to Jack's favourite pizza place and ordered a large one for the three of them to share. Rose continued to argue that she should go home, but one eye roll and smirk from Jack through the rear-view mirror of his car quieted her, and she sat quietly in the back seat until they reached Jack's and John's.
They led her up the stairs of her apartment, and John couldn't help think of how much cleaner his building was compared to Rose's, and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Her eyes darted around their flat when they led her inside, and John realized she was cataloguing everything in her mind. He wondered if maybe that was a UNIT thing.
"Nice place," she finally said quietly as she removed her shoes and awkwardly walked in.
Both men smiled at her as they made their way over to the previous seats, setting the pizza box in the coffee table. Jack flung it open immediately and grabbed a piece, stuffing it into his mouth. John rolled his eyes and turned to Rose. "You want something to drink?" He asked her.
She shook her head and gingerly sat on the couch. John sat on the other end and reached for a slice of pizza, also grabbed the tellie remote as he did so. He clicked it on as he took a bite and searched through the channels quickly, stopping when Jack let out a weird gasp of excitement. He set down the remote, unsure of what they were watching, just as Rose reached for a slice of pizza.
When their hands collided Rose withdrew hers immediately, snapping it away from his as quickly as she could, giving him a sheepish smile. He returned the smile, and neither noticed that Jack's attention had drifted away form the TV, and he was watching them curiously, a smirk growing on his face.
If you can't do the math, Rose is 21. John is 30.