A/N: Beta-d by Paranoid Seat and Eeveekitty, both of who did an awesome job of trying to make this mess readable.

Chapter Four

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Jack Harkness had decided that he was crazy. Actually, that was a fact that he'd accepted a long time ago. Only now his madness had taken a frightening new turn, somehow becoming ensnared in that of the Tylers.

A week ago, he'd been perfectly happy with his life. Sure, some people found him a little unsettling, but there really wasn't anyone he couldn't charm if he tried hard enough. The Doctor and Rose, both attractive and both friendly, had been no exception. Despite the fact that he'd noticed the ring on the Doctor's finger almost immediately – he generally checked, less mess that way – he'd flirted with both. The Doctor had been a little cool, but Rose warmed immediately, bantering back and forth with him, never letting it go further than was sensible.

Of course, that was before he knew they were - what was that odd phrase? Oh yeah: 'mad as march hares'. Absolutely stark raving mad. Also it was before he knew just how crazy he, himself was.

It had been the dream. To start with he'd just believed it was a nightmare; something twisted his sub-conscious wanted to tell him. So he'd ignored it. Then he'd had it again. And again. And again. Every night for the last four nights. The first time had been the night before he'd met the Doctor, and every night since.

He hadn't realised that the dream had anything to do with the Doctor or Rose, though he'd felt a connection with both from the first second. Then the Doctor had produced that stupid, stupid list, and Jack hadn't known what it meant, but one thing leapt of the page at him.

Game Station.

The first thought that entered his head was: this is the place that I die. Every single night. He died every single night. And every single night he was revived. Apparently somewhere called the Game Station.

How had they known what would get to him? How? Were the three of them linked in some sort of joint hallucination? Was he hallucinating the other two? Or was this some cruel joke played to upset him, by two people he could have offended - even if he didn't remember how? But how would they know that? Had they bugged his room, his office? Did he talk in his sleep?

"Madness," he said out loud, because that's what it was. He was slowly going crazy and for some reason the Tylers seemed to be involved.

Which was why he was standing on their front door step, about to ring their doorbell to demand some answers. They'd done the same to him after all: come to his shop and try and force him to answer their questions. Well, now he wanted some of his own, and he wasn't going to leave until he had them.

Rose answered the door. Her welcoming smile quickly faded into concern when she saw him. "Jack!" she exclaimed. "What -"

"I think we need to talk. You, me and handsome."

She nodded and stepped back for him to enter the house. "Of course. Um, the Doctor's through here…" She led Jack along a bookcase lined corridor and into a main room, which faced due west and currently had a fairly stunning view of the sunset. The house was smallish, but cosy - far warmer than Jack's own bare apartment.

The Doctor sat on a comfortable-looking, if slightly ragged couch, reading some heavy tome. On the low coffee table there were several stacks of books; some were colourful and bore bright titles about psychology and the sub-conscious, some, like the Doctor's, looked musty and aged. Already uneasy and off-centre, not to mention tired, Jack felt something akin to dread trickle up through him at the sight of the books.

"Rose, who was -" The Doctor looked up to see Jack standing behind his wife. Something that could have been surprise flickered through his eyes, but he seemed to suppress it for something that was distantly welcoming. "Hello, Jack. I thought we might see you again."

"Did you?" he asked bluntly, because until quarter of an hour earlier, he'd had no intention of coming here. Rose sighed softly and exited through another door to what appeared to be a kitchen/dining area. Jack barely noticed, keeping his attention on the man in front of him.

"Yes." The Doctor's gaze was steady, and he didn't elaborate, instead turning towards the door as Rose re-entered the room. She was carrying three glasses and a bottle of wine, which she set on the table, knocking a few books aside - to the Doctor's disapproval.

"Drink, Jack?" she asked, ignoring her husband as he straightened a couple of upturned texts fussily. Wine wasn't generally Jack's drink of choice, but he was feeling edgy enough that just about anything to settle his nerves would go down well. She passed him a glass of white wine that, when he tasted it, was actually pretty good.

"Please, have a seat," she said, motioning to a stuffed armchair, pouring herself and the Doctor a drink each and sitting down on the couch. "And don't mind grumpy here, he gets tetchy when he hasn't eaten."

The Doctor took his avid gaze off Jack and resettled it on his wife. "Really Rose, I've been busy. This is important!"

"So's food!" the young woman protested. They carried on, bickering back and forward for a few minutes. Jack just sat back, sipping his wine, to watch them at it. The picture they created was no less attractive than before, if anything, it was more so. Together, this pair was electric. All other misgivings aside, this was just about worth coming here tonight.

Dinner was eventually ordered via a pizza company, which prompted an argument about how much 'real' food the couple had had that week, and whether or not either of them could be bothered cooking. None of the arguments held any rancour or anger, they seemed to be purely a form of communication for the pair.

Jack hadn't realised just how lost in thought he'd become until the Doctor startled him back to reality with a well placed comment. "So, Jack, I doubt very much that you're here to watch me and Rose. But, I have to wonder, what did bring you here? This morning you were pretty adamant that you didn't want anything to do with us."

"Game Station."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "You did have a rather strong reaction to that, didn't you? Rose recognised it, and it didn't please her. When it comes right down to it, I don't find myself feeling overly fond of it myself." The Doctor's tone was inscrutable, and his face not showing more than mild interest. Yet Jack felt that the Doctor was far more interested and possibly concerned than he was letting on. He couldn't help wondering when he'd learned to read the man so well, when he hadn't even spent more than an hour, tops, in his presence.

"Show him, Doctor," Rose urged, her face much more mobile and easy to read.

At this the Doctor actually seemed to pout, as if Rose was forcing him into a position that he didn't necessarily want. "I don't think -"

"He deserves to see it! You're dragging him into this, the least you could do is give him the notebook to look at."

"Really, Rose -"

"What notebook?" Jack asked, confused. That morning they'd talked about a profile, which they hadn't bothered to explain then either. Unless they started to give him more information, he wasn't going to tell them anything. And if they didn't start explaining soon, he was leaving. These games didn't sit well with him. Harmless flirtations were part of his life, mind games left him with a sour taste in his mouth.

"It's not important -" the Doctor began.

"Well, obviously it is! You both keep referring to something else that I don't know about here, something that seems significant, but you won't tell me about it," he snapped, patience waning.

"And you won't tell us what's so significant to you about the Game Station. This is important. We have to know you're not just playing with us!"

"And how do I know the same about you -"

"The exchange of knowledge goes both ways!"

Jack was about to snap the same words back at the Doctor, when Rose interrupted.

"Stop it! Both of you. You're both being pig-headed. Doctor, show him the book. And Jack, we aren't trying to trick you - we just want to know what's going on. We don't know either."

They knew a damn sight more than he did, but he refrained from saying so, because Rose was right - they really did need to sort out what was happening. Jack took a deep breath.

"I die there..." The pause wasn't for dramatic irony - the way he usually intended his pauses - so much as a way of gathering his thought. However, he could see from Rose and the Doctor's expressions that whatever they'd been expecting, that wasn't it. Rose had gasped slightly and was staring at him wide-eyed, while the Doctor looked as if he'd been hit in the gut.

"Every single night," he said and he could hear the frustration in his own voice. "I'm killed by something that looks like an over-grown pepper pot. Then I wake up to piles of dust and a noise - grinding, whining, like nothing I've heard before - and I know I'm alone, that I've been left behind. I'm alone. Every night," he bit out.

"How do you know?" he asked, forestalling both of them, when they opened their mouths to speak. "How do you know about something that I've been dreaming about? How are you getting in my head?"

"Jack…" Rose began, and then stopped, apparently unsure what to say.

"As strange as it might seem to you, we're not." The Doctor rose from his seat, and strode over to a small table that had a telephone sitting on it, and, Jack noticed with some chagrin at this own lack of observation, a notebook. The book was handed to him, with a compassionate glance. "I seem to have acquired some information myself, through my sleep."

Jack opened the notebook. Inside were names, that he didn't recognise, other than they'd been on the list earlier that day. Each one was followed by a description, much crossed out and references added in. Finally he stumbled on his own name, right where he'd been told he'd find it - between the Rani and Victoria Waterfield. It made some outrageous claims - con-artist? Time Agent? - but it all seemed familiar, right down to the implication that he flirted a lot, which he did.

"This is me?" he asked, looking up in time to see the Doctor passing him a plate of pizza.

"I assume so - do you think differently?"

"No." Jack went back to the names - there were only a couple more. Then as directed, he turned to the end of the notebook to view names of places and cultures. These were about as unfamiliar to Jack as the earlier names had been, until he came across:

Game Station.

He shook his head. Yes, it all made sense, it all felt so familiar, but again, he couldn't explain what it meant. It was like reaching for a memory that wasn't there. He growled, frustrated, feeling almost helpless. "Why doesn't it come?" he asked, rhetorically.

The Doctor answered anyway. "That's what I would like to know. Why do we know this much about things we can't explain? It doesn't seem right. You should eat your dinner," he said, and the sudden inexplicable change momentarily confused Jack. "Rose'll be cross if you don't." This earned him a whack from his wife, who was nonetheless eating her pizza and giving Jack encouraging looks.

Not particularly hungry, Jack took a mouthful of pizza, which seemed to satisfy Rose for the moment. Then he flicked back through the notebook, looking at what had been written there, looking for clues that either of these two had missed. Nothing came to light. It was mostly gibberish to him, part of it didn't even seem to be referring to things in languages that might have been familiar to him.

"Who is Susan Foreman?" he asked softly to no one in particular, and jumped in surprise when the Doctor practically snatched the notebook out of his hands, and glared down at the underlined words. They turned up in more than one place and apparently held a strong significance to the Doctor.

"I don't know!" The words were frustrated and hard. "She was important, but I don't know why!" He shoved a hand through his hair, ruffling it in a way that in any other situation would have made Jack give a sly comment on his windswept looks. Rose patted her husband on the arm, then slid her hand down to entwine their fingers. It seemed to be something they did a lot. They were very sweet together, despite the strangeness of their pairing.

He shook off his thoughts. The Doctor's reaction to the name Susan Foreman seemed much the same as his own to the Game Station.

Jack turned to Rose. "What about you, beautiful?" he asked, causing the Doctor's nostrils to flare. "Any memory lapses, strange dreams?"

Rose shook her head slowly, but the Doctor turned to her sharply. "Rose -" he began, looking alarmed.

The young woman gasped and paled rapidly, so much so that Jack was tempted to reach out for her to catch her in case she fainted. Wildly, she looked at the Doctor. "I did it again, didn't I?" She buried her face into the Doctor's shoulder and he held her, rubbing her back.

At Jack's questioning glance, he explained. "Rose's mother died when she was seventeen. Just over the last few days she's been having trouble remembering it."

"Don't know how I could forget," murmured Rose.

"Either of you spoken to the neighbours?" Jack asked and at their bewildered looks he explained, although he didn't really put any weight in the theory. "See if they've had any dreams or anything? Maybe there's something in the water. Hallucinogens."

Rose, head still resting on the Doctor's shoulder, snorted. "I don't think that's very likely," the Doctor said, with raised eyebrows.

"No, not really."

"But it might be an idea to write down. Start a list of theories about what's going on; see if any look likely, or if we can eliminate some of them. I'll get some fresh paper." He turned to Rose. "You all right?" She nodded and sat up, but not before they'd exchanged a light kiss on the lips.

The Doctor arrived back in the room as Rose was encouraging Jack to eat his food. He'd been keen to start discussing theories straight away, but Rose convinced them to talk about what they did know while they finished off the food. Later, Jack would be glad for the almost enforced meal as they discussed theories about what was happening, researched as best they could what was in the notebook, and read up on the subconscious mind.

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"WHO IS SHE?" the Doctor shouted, causing both Jack and Rose to jump in fright and look up at him. "Why is she so important? And why don't I know why?" His anger at the situation had finally boiled over. They'd been working for hours and hours - and hours, Rose thought, looking at the clock sourly - and he'd already been perturbed by what was happening.

Cautiously, she moved over to where her husband was sitting and knelt in front of him, removing the notebook from his lap, where he was glaring at the words asking about Susan Foreman, and taking one of his hands in her own. Gently, she rubbed his fingers. "Doctor?"

"She's so important, Rose, and I don't know why!" he said, his tone still laden with frustration, but calmer now, his temper held in check.

"I think we need to stop for the night," was all the answer that Rose could give, all the answer she felt capable of giving. She didn't know why he couldn't remember, nor did she know who Susan Foreman was. Most of the situation was completely over her head; it wasn't going to stop her from trying, of course, but right now tiredness had limited whatever potential for help she could present. However, she could take care of her husband, so for now that's what she intended on doing. "We should all get some rest and start fresh tomorrow."

"No! I need to finish this. I need to work this out!"

"Doctor, Rose is right, it's 3am. I need some sleep," Jack added and Rose threw him a grateful look for his support. He gave her a tired smile in response, but she could see that it was just as much for his sake as it was for hers.

"I'm not tired," the Doctor snapped. With a shock, Rose realised he didn't look at all tired. By contrast, Jack's eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and she was certain she looked no better - she could barely see straight. The Doctor looked just as fresh as he would have after eight solid hours of sleep.

"But Captain Jack and I are," Rose persuaded, then stopped, wondering where her use of the title had come from. A reference to the strangeness that surrounded the three of them? Or just a slip of tongue? Whatever it was, neither man reacted.

"All right. Tomorrow then," said the Doctor. "First thing."

Both Rose and Jack nodded, though from the expression on Jack's face, Rose suspected that it might be a good deal later before they saw him.

"Do you want me to make you up a bed in the guest room, or do you want to go home?" Rose asked Jack.

"I think I'll head home."

She'd had a feeling that he would want to leave and she couldn't blame him. Part of her felt like escaping. The whole situation was just so crazy, but at the same time, compelling. Headspace at this point would not be unwelcome. However, she had no opportunity to do so; and to be honest, even if she had one, she doubted she would take it.

"I need some space to think," he continued, echoing her thoughts.

The Doctor didn't notice either of them, having gone back to his work. He barely even responded to Jack's farewell. Rose rolled her eyes at her new friend. There was just no hope for her husband, but then she'd known that when she married him, and she still loved him for it.

Rose walked Jack to the door, momentarily leaving the Doctor still muttering over their notes. Shortly, it would be a battle to drag him away from them, but she would do it, because they'd all be much better for a little sleep.

Before leaving, Jack stooped and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Instinctively, she pulled him into a hug, which he returned warmly. She wondered if this was what knowing someone in another life was like, this close attachment to a person you'd only just met.

"Take care of yourself. And look after him - I get the feeling he needs it," Jack told her. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"You too," she told him. She then fought an irrational urge to drag him back into the house and make him stay where she knew where he was at all times. It was as if she didn't, she might just lose him, and she wasn't sure she could stand that.

With an act of supreme will, she shut the door as Jack climbed into his car. Then she gave in and leaned against it, clutching at the handle until she heard the car drive off and the street return to silence. Once she was sure he was gone, she stuck her head out the door looking out into the dark emptiness. Some distant and malformed memory rose up in her.

"We're going to see him again, aren't we?"

No answer was forthcoming.

She shook it off, not understanding its significance and not knowing who was talking. Maybe the craziness was catching, or maybe it was just getting worse. Jack felt like a part of her she didn't know she was missing, and she didn't want him to slip out of her fingers again. The Doctor was upset about a woman that he didn't know; and she kept forgetting and remembering things for no good reason.

It wasn't until she sniffed that she realised she was crying. Quietly, she shut the door again, and carefully, she brushed her cheeks to remove the traces of tears. The Doctor didn't need to see them.

Her husband actually looked up when she re-entered the room. He gave her a cursory glance and a tight smile before looking back down at the book in front of him. Then he did a double take and looked back up at her.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Well, her cunning attempt at disguise had succeeded so very well.

She nodded, but the concern in his voice was her undoing, and fresh tears spilled out. Quickly, he placed the book to one side and came over to her. "Rose?"

"I'm all right," she mumbled against his chest. His arms were warm and secure around her. "Just tired."

"I supposed you would be," he said. "It is very late. I'm sorry," he said abruptly.

"You should be. People need sleep, Doctor," she said, but without any real anger. He'd always been fairly obsessive about things. If he got a thought in his head he'd be up all night trying to figure it out. Just because this time the stakes seemed to be higher, didn't mean that he was going to change.

"No, I mean…well, yes, I am sorry I kept you up, but actually I was trying to say: I'm sorry for not being a very good husband."

She pulled back slightly in surprise. "What?"

"Well, I've been caught up … and not been very … attentive…" he was frowning at her, but then she was sure she was staring at him in shock. "And…I'm sorry," he finished lamely, giving her an almost pathetically hopeful look.

Rose shook her head, about to ask him when he'd ever been particularly attentive when caught up in his work, but stopped herself with a sigh.

"I'm not a pot plant, Doctor," she said at length. "I'm not going to die if you forget to water me."

"No, but you might just wither away if I'm not careful."

"What? Wives need regular watering?"

He flashed her a sly smile. "Well, I don't know about watering…"

"Eugh! Doctor, that was terrible!" She pushed at his chest lightly, but not so much that she separated them. She was enjoying that his attention was completely focused on her, no matter what she had just told him.

"Yes, it was, wasn't it? Our new friend must be rubbing off on me -" He blinked and sighed at the unintended innuendo. "Forget I said anything."

Rose nearly commented that he wasn't their new friend, that they'd known him much longer, but she didn't really want to distract the Doctor. She liked that he was thinking about her right now. She moved closer, and he tightened his arms around her.

"I love you," he murmured into her hair.

"I love you," she answered back, listening to his heartbeat. "My Doctor."

An almost foreign voice echoed back at her.

I want you safe... My Doctor. Protected from the false god.

"Yours," the Doctor agreed, banishing the traces of memory. "Come on, time for bed!" he said suddenly, mood changing again. "Time for sleep … or not. As the case may be."

They made love a little desperately, voices rising quickly in succession, and then falling sharply. Afterwards, Rose lay in her husband's arms, worry holding her to consciousness a little longer. He was so edgy at the moment, which was unlike him. The Doctor was a strong person, and to see him like this unsettled her a little. Well, they'd do their best, and she was sure it'd work out in the end.

As she fell asleep, she was aware that despite her husband's even breathing, he was still stroking her hair lightly.

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Notes: Thanks for taking the time to read and I really hope you take the time to review. I love hearing what you think, no matter what it is, so please do let me know. Chocolate Doctors to all reviewers…