Chapter 10: Post-Mortem

Rose Tyler is convinced that, without paperwork – in triplicate – UNIT would collapse upon itself, floundering in its inability to requisition troops, equipment or weaponry. Even though she's been relegated to consultant status, the Brigadier does insist upon her filling out the proper forms that accompany any sort of military action. 'Covering your asses', is how Bambera put it, but she has another term for it: 'Trite annoyance'.

At least that's sorted now. She spent ten minutes on the phone with Bambera and another five working her way through the paperwork. Though she lives in a time machine, she can never be certain when she'll next return to Earth, let alone this particular timeframe. There's no guarantee that if she fills out the forms tomorrow or the next day that, when they return to Earth, it won't be yesterday or two years from now.

The forms are piled neatly beside her on the captain's chair. All she needs to do now is to mail them to the Brigadier. She almost jumps when she feels the seat press slightly downwards as the Doctor leans over her shoulder. "That's one thing I don't miss about UNIT," the Doctor says thoughtfully.

"What's that?" she asks, though she knows the answer.

"Paperwork. Alistair did love his paperwork. Always insisted that I fill out forms and requisitions for the tiniest of items. A glass beaker? A one-page form in triplicate. Though, come to think about it, I did tend to skip that particular part of the job every now and then."

"Every now and then?" she asks, repeating his words in a dubious tone. A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as he hesitates before responding.

"Well, maybe a bit more than that. No. Not really a bit. A lot more than that, actually."

She shakes her head in fond amusement. There have been plenty of times that she wishes she could've done the same. But duty always held her back. Duty. She considers the word for a moment, wondering if that's what drove Jack to force them to leave without him.

The thought casts a shadow over their current conversation and the Doctor's gaze sharpens. "Rose?" he asks. "What is it?"

She shrugs slightly, brushing imaginary dust from her jeans. "Jus' thinking, really."

"About?" he prompts.

She's not certain how she can put her feelings to words, or even if she can. She's seen Jack twice now since she's returned to this universe, and each occasion he's been different. The first time he was darker, barely recognisable as the same man who saved her from a barrage balloon in 1941. He used her in ways that she still doesn't want to dwell on, both because of the events themselves and how they made her react. She changed too, at that point. She's just thankful that she recognised it for what it was and stopped before she followed in Jack's footsteps.

This latest time, she saw the Jack that she remembered. A bit battered, perhaps. Hurting, definitely. But recognisably him. The same Jack who danced with her on top of an invisible spaceship, the same Jack who told impossible stories and had infectious laughter. Yet he still chose to have them leave without him. There was a longing in his gaze that couldn't be feigned, but he still let them go. "Jack," she says. "He's…"

"He is," the Doctor agrees, apparently understanding what she can't say. Some unidentifiable emotion darts across his face before he moves in front of her and holds out his hand. "No time like the present."

She blinks at him, a blush darkening her cheeks. "What?" she asks, proud that her voice doesn't falter.

"You're a mystery. An enigma. Well, not really. More like a puzzle. A really, really difficult puzzle that…" His voice trails off at her blank look and he seems to switch gears, launching into an explanation. "I need to see what I can find out about how this immortality thing of yours works. I might've missed a bit of the Vortex in your head. A tiny, insignificant particle that just has the side-bonus of freezing you in time. Or maybe your DNA's been altered. No use guessing when I can have facts. Data. And scans. Lots and lots of scans."

"Oh." Scans. Tests. Experiments. A suddenly vivid image of her in the place of a lab rat causes her to shake her head, desperate to remove the illusion. The Doctor wouldn't do that to her, she knows. He might be curious, but he'd never relegate her to the position of an experiment, a curiosity.

With a weary sigh, she places her hand in his and offers him a smile. "No time like the present," she agrees.

He pulls her to her feet with enough force to cause her to overbalance, practically falling into him. His arms automatically wrap around her until she finds her feet again but, even then, he doesn't release her. "Sorry about that," he says and she gets the impression that he isn't sorry at all.

"'S okay," she replies, not sure if she should try to move away from him or savour this moment. Finally, she settles on savouring when it becomes apparent that he doesn't want to release her.

Dozens of emotions flicker in his gaze, none of them gaining precedence over the others. "Whatever happens, Rose, there's something I want you to know."

"Blimey, that sounds a bit ominous," she says, trying to make a joke though it falls flat.

He stares intently at her, as if he categorising her very soul. "Nope. It isn't. Well, I suppose in some circumstances it might be considered a little…dark? No, not the right word. Freaky?" He grimaces after the word leaves his lips, as if it left a bad taste in its passing. "No, no, no. Not that. More…"

"What?" she asks. Sometimes he needs someone to stop him. Especially when it comes to babble that says nothing at all.

"I'm glad – no, happy. Ecstatic? – that you're still here. In this one tiny, almost insignifi-"

His words wash over her, warming her as much as his embrace. Here, in the safety of his arms, she can almost forget everything that's happened. Everything, that is, except Jack. She knows that his existence, his immortality, is her fault. She wanted him to live. Desperately, completely.

She thinks it's somewhat like making a deal with the devil. If nothing is clarified beyond a general 'he lives', anything might or could happen. And it did. She knows enough now to realise that he's blamed the Doctor for his condition, for leaving him. But his immortality is her fault. Not the Doctor's; just hers.

When she realises that the Doctor has stopped talking, apparently waiting for her response, she smiles up at him. "Was miles away," she says by way of apology.

He looks at her with fond exasperation. "Always knew you never listened to me."

She pretends to ignore him for a few seconds before she grins. "I'm sorry? You were sayin' something?"

He moves so swiftly that she doesn't have enough time to try and extract herself from his grip before his fingers are dancing up and down her sides, tickling her. She's torn between laughter and shouting, doing her best to dodge him as he presses his advantage. "No fair!" she says in a tone somewhere between a giggle and a laugh.

"Oh, fair's fair in l…" He pauses, brow furrowing as if he's deep in thought. His hands pause mid-assault, and she decides that this means war.

Stepping forward, close enough to be well within his grasp, she tries to retaliate. Fingers and laughter fight for dominance as he tries to reach her while avoiding her questing hands. Her sides are beginning to ache from laughter, her fingers aching from tickling, but she's not ready to give in just yet. If she has her way, he'll yield first.

She thinks he's about to say something – either that or laugh – when she hears it. A low, throaty chuckle comes from somewhere behind her.

"You know," Jack says thoughtfully, "this explains so much."

Jack Harkness doesn't remember his name. What he remembers are his labels. Who he was and when he was it. He remembers one of the few times that he was proud to carry the label of 'Jack Harkness', proud to be who he was. It was with these two – the Doctor and Rose – that he realised that there was more to life than a con. More to life than lies alone.

He remembers the first time he walked into the TARDIS and saw them together, saw what they meant to each other with each step of their dance. He remembers, at first, feeling as if he were on the outside looking in. He was the intruder here and he was distinctly aware of it. That faded over time and he remembers the first time he realised that the Doctor wasn't going to kick him out at the next available opportunity. That's when he knew that they didn't care about what he did before, who he was. What they cared about was who he is.

He feels much the same now. The outsider looking in. In some ways, he thinks he doesn't belong here. Not any more. He's changed so much since the last time he was here. He walked in here a conman. He left a man. Maybe a hero, maybe not, but he was just a man. Just him. But that part of him died on Satellite Five.

This time he's more than just a conman. He's a thief, a liar and a killer. He's someone who has done things he should regret, but doesn't. Hard and cold, that's him. He's not the Jack Harkness they remember. Not really. But immortality will do that to a person, he supposes.

He's about to say something else, perhaps something about being sorry he's missed all the fun, when he finds himself staring, spell-bound, at the Doctor. Somehow, in the past few seconds, the Time Lord has crossed the room and is staring intently at him. He feels somewhat uncomfortable as the focus of that heady gaze, as though all his sins are exposed.

"Welcome home," the Doctor finally says, breaking the seriousness of his expression with a breathtaking grin.

Jack finds himself smiling and is about to reply when his attention is caught by Rose. He wonders if she's truly happy to see him, now that she's had time to digest what's happened. He did her a great disservice the last time he saw her, one that he regrets. She isn't smiling at him and he's worried. The Doctor seems happy, at least. And, in so many ways, so is he. But Rose…

Then she smiles, opening her arms wide. "Come here, you big lump," she says, gesturing for him to join her.

After a quick glance at the Doctor, feeling as if he's asking for permission, he crosses the short distance between them, enfolding her in his embrace. Something's breaking, he thinks. Cracking, crumbling. It takes him a moment to realise that it's him. This isn't who he is. Not this hard, cold man he's become. It's another layer of armour and with each second she holds him that armour is fracturing.

"I'll forgive you," she says, whispering the words into his ear. "But only if you forgive me, too."

He pulls back from the hug slightly to look into her eyes, confused. "Whatever for?" he asks.

"For what happened between us," she replies, not filling in the details. He suspects that she hasn't told the Doctor precisely what he did. For that, he's not certain if he's thankful or not. "Was as much my fault as yours. An', knowing you, you're probably beating yourself up over it. Bad as the Doctor, you are. Taking on the weight of the world. 'S not just you. Was me too."

He never thought of it in that way. Not really. He'd used her, yes. But what if she'd considered using him, too? They really were a pair, weren't they? He smiles at her, feeling the remnants of his shattered armour crumble around him. "I will, but only if you forgive yourself."

He's rewarded with a breathtaking smile and an even more enthusiastic hug. In what could be a second or a century later, he feels a second set of arms wrap around him from behind, enfolding both him and Rose. "It's good to have you back," the Doctor says.

He relishes the few moments of comfort that they're both offering him before he motions that he wishes to be freed. Though he can wait for centuries to get his answers, he doesn't want to. Not now. He's still not certain that this isn't some sort of dream, even though everything feels so real.

When they release him and step away, he puts his hands into the pockets of his trousers, feeling almost every year of his true age. He's not certain how to begin, not really. Accusations are no longer needed. Not now that he knows the truth. The Doctor didn't abandon him. In reality, the Time Lord thought he was dead. Instead, he just wants to know why. Why is he immortal? And, most importantly, can this be fixed?

Immortality is a burden he no longer wishes to keep.

"Doctor, do you think you can fix this?" he asks, trusting his friend – that never really changed, did it? Still his friend. Never doubted him, never will – to know what he means.

The Time Lord's mouth turns downwards in a faint frown as he rocks back and forth on his heels. "Oh, probably. No, definitely. Make that absolutely, actually. All things can be sorted given enough time and energy. Probably the latter that's giving you the ability to come back from the dead, actually. Too much energy. You're probably bursting with it. No, I know you are. Glowed like a light bulb, the pair of you."

The Doctor looks between him and Rose and points towards the door that leads deeper into the TARDIS. "Best get to the medical room, then. Can take a look at you both and run some scans. Lots of scans. Lots and lots… You get the idea."

"Lead on, then," he replies and follows the Doctor and Rose deeper into the ship that he once called home.

"Of course!" the Doctor exclaims, practically dancing around the various machinery and equipment in the medical room. Oh, it was obvious. So, so obvious. Amazing, really, that he hadn't realised it before. He had his suspicions when he'd first heard of this particular immortality problem, but this cinched it.

"Doctor?" Rose asks, interrupting his internal monologue. "What is it?"

"A tiny, teeny, itsy, bitsy, blink-and-you-miss-it bit of the Vortex, actually. A fragment of time, lodged in your brains. Doesn't hurt you. Just sits there, inactive, until something comes along and threatens your continued existence and POP! It activates. Fixes you up, puts you back as good as new and BAM! It's back to inactive again. It's brilliant, really. Absolutely brilliant." He gestures with his hands as he explains, barely registering that Rose has tugged Jack out of his path as he moves about the room.

"Now that you know what it is, can you get rid of it? Deactivate it permanently?" Jack asks.

"Ah. That's the crux of the problem, isn't it? There's a way. Well, of course there's a way. Wouldn't even bother mentioning it if there wasn't." He's about to explain when Rose gasps.

"Oh no, Doctor. Not again," she says, shaking her head. "It killed you, last time. You can't-"

"I can," he says, smoothly cutting her off. "I have and will, as necessary. This time's different. New new me, after all. Not to mention the whole part where the bit that needs removing is barely enough to give me indigestion, let alone trigger a regeneration."

Jack looks between them, a look of confusion etched across his face. "What are you talking about?"

It's the simplest equation of them all, really. Before Rose has the chance to do more than open her mouth, he closes the distance between himself and Jack, close enough to see the pulse fluttering underneath the other man's neck. Vaguely, he wonders what it's like. Death. Then life. He knows little of the first. Dying, he's intimately acquainted with. But death itself? That's the greatest of mysteries, especially to one such as he.

He smiles reassuringly once he notices Jack's trepidation. "It'll only take a moment," he says.

And, with that, he kisses Jack Harkness. Jack doesn't respond, not immediately, but that's to be expected. His attention isn't really on the motions and actions of the kiss, but what he's searching for. Flashing of memory dart past him and he feels Jack trying to withdraw.

Not my name.

The phrase impacts against his mind and he winces. To him, he will always be Jack Harkness, even if it's only a label, much as he's the Doctor. He does his best not to look deeper, though he can feel the space in Jack's mind where two years' worth of memories once resided. Then he feels doors erecting themselves, keeping him out, warning him away. Jack's done this before, he realises. Telepathic contact.

He wonders if that's how his memories were stolen from him. No matter. That can be sorted later. Right now, he's got a different purpose in mind. It's a bit wily, that piece of the Vortex. Hiding cleverly somewhere behind the medulla, he thinks, but he'll get it. He concentrates more on breathing in, pulling that piece of the Vortex home. There's a gasping sound and he feels something pass between them. He breaks the kiss and withdraws his mind slowly, gently, letting Jack recover as he steps away.

Once he's certain there's enough clearance between them, he breathes out, releasing a tiny mote of golden light that flares once and disappears. "Ta-da!" he says, spreading his arms wide. "It's all gone. No more bit of the Vortex stuck in your head, no more rising from the dead. I've probably just ruined your plans for your next party, but there's nothing for it. Had to be done."

Jack blinks at him. "You kissed me," he says, shock colouring his tone.

"You kissed me goodbye once," he replies as he drops his arms. "Thought it only proper to kiss you hello."

A grin stretches Jack's lips. "Hello?" he says hopefully.

"Ah-ah," he replies, shaking his finger, though his grin widens. "Once is enough. Well, twice, if you count the last kiss. Honestly, give a man a kiss and suddenly it's gone domestic. Next thing I know, you'll be asking about china patterns."

Jack doesn't bother to respond, though he suspects that the leer he gets is answer enough. When he turns towards Rose, she's staring at him, worried. It takes him a moment to realise that she's looking for the tell-tale signs of an oncoming regeneration. Gold dancing across his skin, sudden flare of light, pain, that sort of thing.

"Still here," he tells her, letting his grin fade. "See? It's still me. Though I could be lying. I could be a Slitheen. Do you think I look like a Slitheen?" He reaches up to touch his forehead. "Nope, no zip. Can't be a Slitheen." He lets one of his hands fall to touch his neck, feeling his double pulse. "Ah, there we are. Two hearts. Binary vascular system. Brilliant system. Lose one, have a spare. Happened once, mind. But I was getting on a bit, long life. Long story, really. Not many species have two hearts, y'know, Rose. I think it comes down to one conclusion, don't you?"

He walks away from Jack, closing the distance between himself and her, and comes to a stop a few feet away. Holding out a hand towards her, he offers her a smile. "Still me?" he asks.

She smiles, relief evident in her eyes, as she reaches out and grasps his hand in her own. "Still you," she replies. "An' Jack?"

"Oh, I'd say he's still Jack. You are, right?" he asks, turning slightly to look at his friend.

Jack shakes his head, holding up his hands. "I'm staying out of this one."

"That's not what I meant," Rose says, swatting at his arm. "Is he better? Did you get rid of it?"

He gives her a wounded look as he grasps his injured arm. "Oi! What was that for? The cheek of you. All right, yes. On both counts. Right as rain, really. Just one more thing to do."

"What's that?" she asks.

In response, he pulls her into his embrace and ducks his head enough so that his lips are hovering centimetres from her own. "Just this," he says, breathing the words across her lips. Instead of him closing the distance between them, it's her, stretching upwards.

Of their own volition, his eyes close as he stretches into her mind, calling for that piece of the Vortex that's housed itself within her. She doesn't close him out of her mind, instead leaving herself open and trusting. It's tempting, so tempting, to lose himself here, to forget his purpose and seek solace in the comfort of her thoughts. He could have her, have this, forever, he knows. But he won't. He can't. Not when she trusts him, loves him, this much.

Everything ends. With renewed purpose, he stretches deeper, calling that piece of the Vortex out of its hiding place. He finds it within her memories of the alternate Earth, dancing across a Norwegian beach.

Where the fragment within Jack was easily convinced to withdraw, this one resists his summons. He finds himself on that beach, standing where he once stood in image alone, looking at a version of Rose that doesn't mesh with his memories of this place. Instead, she is as she was on Satellite Five, glowing brightly.

Bad Wolf, he realises.

"You need me," she says, speaking in the dual-tone voice that he remembers so well. "You do not want me to leave, Doctor. You wish her to live. That can be time's gift to you. Her immortality."

"No," he says, shaking his head in denial. "That's not what I want."

Laughter echoes across the beach. "Liar," she accuses him. "You do want. And need. And love. You are afraid that you'll lose her. This way, you won't have to. I can stay."

"No," he says fiercely. "That doesn't matter. Didn't realise it before, not really. Didn't realise what I had until it was gone. No more. Tomorrow doesn't matter. Yesterday doesn't matter. Today does. You're finished here."

The image of Rose smiles, satisfied. "Exactly."

And the beach fades away, replaced by the feel of lips against lips and the sensation of something passing between them. When he finally breaks the kiss, he smiles at her and pulls away from her embrace. Releasing the last fragment of the Vortex in a puff of air, he watches as it, too, flares once and disappears.

They're human again. Rose and Jack. Just as time meant them to be. But there's one thing left that has to be sorted. One last end that needs to be tidied up before he can call this done. Rose moves to his side as he spins on his heel, regarding Jack with a quizzical expression. "Torchwood?" he asks.

Jack's lips narrow as he crosses his arms before himself in what seems to be a defensive gesture. He wonders if Jack even realises he's done so. "Yeah. Torchwood."

"Why?"

"They made me an offer when I got to this century. I wasn't given the option of refusing," Jack replies, bitterness lacing his tone. "It's good work. I work with good people - and Owen."

"Like Yvonne Hartman?" he asks, unable to help himself. He feels more than sees Rose flinch beside him.

"She was a fanatic, Doctor. I kept out of her way as long as she kept out of mine. It was mutually beneficial for both of us," Jack says and a second later, his expression softens. "If I'd known. If I'd really known what they were up to, I could've stopped it."

"Not your fault," Rose says. "That's the past. What matters is now, yeah?"

Jack nods. However, when the Doctor doesn't echo that acknowledgement, she asks again. "Yeah?"

It's his turn to nod. "Yeah. Which means what does matter is now. And the future. But really now now."

"Now now?" Jack asks.

"Yup. More immediate that way. Though that isn't answering my question," he says, brow furrowing. "No, wait. That's because I haven't asked it yet." He regards Jack for a long moment before he asks, "Is this just a fly-by visit, or are you coming home to stay?"

To be concluded...