Author's Notes - First, thanks to dwatlaskrhtcm for commenting on the last chapter. From the lack of any other response, I'm guessing that writing fluff, or at least weddings, is not my strong suit. The action now movest to Barcelona. Hope you enjoy.

"God, Jack, how'd you get so tanned in six hours?"

Martha hugged the Captain as they met at the casual restaurant by the pool. In honor of their location, both he and the Doctor were wearing shorts and short-sleeved shirts, revealing much more of their skin than usual.

Returning her hug, Jack thought that it was a good thing that Melissa and the Doctor hadn't done much sunbathing on Pete's World. "I grew up in a desert, Martha. I'd be tanned all the time if it would actually stay sunny in Cardiff for more than a few hours."

"With the clothes you wear? No way, Captain Nemo. Surprised you didn't wear the coat to dinner."

"Hey! Don't knock the coat, Mickey. It's a classic. Besides, it's always chilly in the Hub."

"Jack's not used to the cold," the Doctor explained. "Even after a few centuries, he can't acclimatize. Warm enough here, though."

They spent a moment choosing seats and perusing the menu. The food was mostly plant based and steamed, although there was enough spice to keep it from being too bland. They ordered a variety of dishes to share.

"You must have classic morning sickness, Melissa. You look a lot better tonight than you did at lunch. You're practically glowing."

"I feel good."

"How far along are you now?"

Melissa stared blankly at the Torchwood medic. "What do you mean, Martha?"

"Um, you know, how many weeks have you been pregnant?"

"I'm pregnant," she answered with a quizzical expression on her face as she struggled to understand the question. The embryos were growing; she could feel her stomach muscles stretch as the size of her uterus increased. So, she was definitely pregnant now. She knew that she had been pregnant four times before, and she remembered she hadn't always been pregnant. But, how long? It didn't make any sense. She just was.

The Doctor came to the rescue before she could become too upset. "Emma's five weeks along, Martha."

"But she can't be," the physician replied in disbelief. "She's already showing."

Melissa gripped her bond mates' hands as Martha expressed her concern. She didn't understand the fuss being made, and it was making her nervous.

Donna swiftly intervened. "The gestational period for Time Lords is twenty-six weeks, Martha. And, Melissa's carrying twins. It's perfectly normal for her to be showing now."

She relaxed. Normal, Donna had said normal. Everything was fine.

Martha's curiosity was definitely piqued, however. "Twenty-six weeks? Seriously? That doesn't seem fair. Shouldn't it be more than a human's, not less?" Drocina had not given her any instruction on Time Lord gestation. She'd probably never thought it would be necessary.

"She's not an elephant," the Doctor replied wryly. "Our bodies operate much more efficiently than a human's. It's little wonder that a fetus would develop more quickly as well."

Jack deftly changed the subject by jokingly asking Martha if she was contemplating having children anytime soon. It was rude, embarrassing, and made Mickey uncomfortable. But, it effectively stopped the medic from asking any more questions.

Donna saved dinner by requesting that the Doctor tell them the history of Barcelona. He grew animated, gesticulating wildly as he described the colonization of the planet by the New Spanish Empire in forty-twelve. They all listened raptly until their meal arrived, and then they were busy eating. By the time they had finished dessert and the planet's version of coffee, it was quite late.

"I'm going to bed, thank you very much. I read in the brochure that the resort offers a spa package, and I've scheduled mine for the early morning. Going to get a mud treatment before hitting the pool. Think I'm entitled to a little rest and relaxation."

Knowing how hard Donna had worked in the last month to restore the original Torchwood server after Lumic's demise, the Doctor wholeheartedly agreed. "That sounds wonderful, Donna. Be sure to spend some time in the sauna. They use banana scented steam."

"You're having me on."

"Nope. It's true; you can request scented steam. Although, I'll admit that lilac and sandalwood are more popular choices."

"Me and Martha got something planned in the morning, too, Boss. We're going on a tour of the crystal caves. Transport's picking us up an hour before dawn. You three could come if you like."

The Doctor's face became a mask. "Good. That's good. A tour. Yes, of course, a tour. Think we'll skip it, if you don't mind. I've seen the crystal caves. They're crystal. And caves. Very impressive, actually."

As Martha and Mickey gaped at the Doctor, Jack quickly spoke up. "Why don't I make a reservation at a restaurant I know where there's more meat on the menu? Plus, they have a dancing dog show that's known throughout the star system."

Jack's suggestion was met with enthusiasm. Promising to call the restaurant in the morning, he left with Melissa and the Doctor. As soon as they entered the privacy of their suite, Melissa started to cry.

The Doctor and Jack sat beside her on the sofa, giving what comfort they could. No matter how normal her mood swings were and how many times they'd heard her cry, it still bothered them when she simply burst into tears.

"Why can't I sense them? I know I'm pregnant. I know there are two, but I can't feel their presence in my mind. Is something wrong with them? Will I lose them, too?"

The two men exchanged troubled glances. This was going to be difficult to explain.

"Sweetheart, you've only been pregnant thirty-eight days."

When she looked blankly at Jack, the Doctor added, "The embryos are too small for you to sense anything more than their existence right now."

As the Doctor held her hand and Jack brushed the tears from her cheeks, she did her best to understand. "They need to grow."

"Yes!" the Doctor answered in relief.

"But they're growing now. I can feel my body changing. They're getting bigger. Why can't I sense them?"

"They're still too young," he answered, hoping she would grasp it.

"But you just said they were growing." She became increasingly frustrated and irate as she saw the compassion in his eyes.

Turning to Jack, she pleaded with him. "I could feel Joy. She was mischievous; she liked to flip and kick. I miss her. I miss them all. I can't lose any more children. I can't, Jack. They can't be like her. Why can't I sense them?"

He didn't know what to say. Grasping at straws, he asked, "You do know you're temporal lobe is impaired, don't you?"

She instantly turned waspish. "Thanks for the reminder, Jack."

He ignored her tone. "And what does a temporal lobe regulate?"

There was a bite in her voice as she replied, but he actually preferred that to the crying. "Temporal, coming from the Latin temporalis, relating to time."

Tenderly pushing her hair behind her ears, he asked, "Can you explain the word time?"

"Time's—"

She stopped, sorrow lining her face. "I'm a lord of time. It's in my name; it's what I am. But, I don't know what that is anymore. I'm just a ghost. I did, before Rassilon's tomb. But, now I'm not a lord of anything. I'm a burden, to you and the Doctor. I'm defective. The babies will die, just like my other children, and it will be all my fault. I can't sense them, Jack. I know that means something's wrong."

She gazed at him soulfully, and the pain in her eyes was such that he pulled her against him, running his hands soothingly down her back. She was crying again, and this time it was his fault. He'd been trying to help and all he'd done is made her feel worse.

The Doctor gently cupped his cheek, kissing him in absolution before pulling Melissa towards him. Unwillingly, she faced him, her shoulders hunched.

"Listen to me, Emma. Nothing is wrong with the babies. I'm sorry; I'm so sorry that trying to explain it to you made you upset, but you have to trust us. You will sense them."

"I will?"

"Of course you will. Let me ask you a question. At what stage of gestation can a Time Lord mother sense her child's consciousness?"

She answered by rote, not really understanding what she said. "At forty-five days after conception."

Taking a deep breath, the Doctor assured her. "That's not now. It's after now."

"Oh." Tears still falling down her face, she said angrily, "I'm so stupid. Will you tell me?"

"You'll know, Sweetheart. Everything's going to be fine." Jack's assertion went a long way towards calming her, even though she thought it was more wishful thinking than fact.

"We'll tell you, though. We promise," the Doctor reassuringly added. "Just like I told you when it was time for the memorial service on Gallifrey. All you have to do is trust us."

She gave them both a watery smile. "That's the one thing I don't have a problem doing."

"See? There's nothing to worry about, then. Why don't you get ready for bed?"

"I'm not sleepy."

Neither were they, if the truth be told. "Got any ideas about what you want to do?"

Jack knew what he wanted to do. He wanted to torture Rassilon, slowly, for forcing the woman he loved to do something that had left her brain damaged. But, the Time Lord was dust, and he would forever be denied his retribution.

"I want to go home."

"Why?"

"I like it there. I miss the Hub. I like to feel useful."

"We can't leave yet, Em. We have to stay a few days so Martha and Mickey can be our alibi. We'll relax by the pool. You can feel useful when we get back."

"I don't want to relax. I want to go home."

"But Martha and Mickey do. And Donna needs a break. She was working while we were lounging on a beach," Jack pointed out reasonably. "We'll go home as soon as we can."

"I don't mean to be selfish. I just miss everything."

What she missed was what she couldn't have, however. She missed her children; she missed Owen and Tosh. She missed the Ianto she had known before. At least Cardiff was familiar. She could walk the same streets they had walked, keeping their memory alive.

"Everything?" Jack asked in an exaggerated tone, trying to cheer her up. "Are you sure? Because I personally think I could do without Splott. And the Rift. Cardiff would definitely be nicer without the Rift. And the rain. I've been on jungle planets where it rained less."

"Okay, okay, you've made your point. I don't miss everything. Besides, you two are here, so I should be content."

Now he had her. "You should be content? Sweetheart, that definitely sounds like a challenge." Glancing at the Doctor, he asked for confirmation. "What d'you think, Doc?"

"Oh, I think that was definitely a challenge. What do you think, Em?"

She grinned mischievously, her melancholy temporarily at bay. "Well, I did say I wasn't sleepy."

They'd found something to do after all.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Yanking open the door to their private sauna the next morning, Melissa raced to the toilet. "You just had to use the banana scent, didn't you, Doc?"

"Oi! What's wrong with bananas? Bananas are good. Bananas are . . . ." Seeing her hunched over the commode, her complexion far too pale, he carefully pulled her hair away from her face. "Maybe I should have picked another scent. Bananas might have been . . . too banana-y."

"No scents," she groaned, wiping her mouth. "And no more steam for me. I'm going to take a shower—alone. Then, I want to do some shopping. I'm tired of sunshine and water."

Walking into the suite's spacious bathroom, Jack did his best not to grin. He knew better than to tease her when she was so irritable. So, he did the next best thing.

"Hey, Doc. You might want to scrub that smell off of you too, unless you want your head enveloped in a buzzing swarm. I hear Barcelona City's been overrun with flies."

"That might be an improvement," Melissa added darkly as she slammed shut the shower door.

After a minute, Jack and the Doctor heard the sound of running water, and both men visibly relaxed. "I've got a thought, Doc. Anything she wants to buy today, we buy."

"As long as it's not a weapon," he agreed with a theatrical shudder. "Right now, she just might shoot us both."

"Yeah, well, that's not a prob—"

The Time Lord went still, silently assessing the Captain, who'd stopped in the middle of his sentence with a look of chagrin on his face.

"Forget again, Jack?"

He shrugged. "Force of habit." When the Doctor continued his disapproving stare, he continued frostily. "I'm well aware of my limitations, Doc. Our encounter with Lumic drove that fact home."

It was definitely time to change the subject. "What do you say, Captain? Merchants' Market or Antique Square?"

"I doubt she wants to look at antiques, no matter how much you'd like to."

"Fine," the Time Lord grumbled. Abruptly sniffing the air, he wrinkled his nose. "Blimey, I hate to admit it, but Em's right. That banana scent is just too banana-y. I'd better scrub it off."

"Want some help?"

Glancing at the towel wrapped around Jack's waist, the Doctor considered it. Then, he heard the shower being turned off. "As much as I'm tempted, I think you'd better tend to our wife. Someone has to soothe the savage beast."

There were so many comments Jack could have made to that statement that he didn't even bother. Waving the Doctor away, he grabbed Melissa's robe to wait attentively outside the shower.

"Doc? Do you think you could hand me-? Oh, thanks, Jack. Where's the Doctor?"

"Scrubbing off banana scent in the sauna. Even he decided it was too banana-y."

"Don't remind me," she warned as she searched her suitcase for something to wear. Pulling out a roomy, bright yellow sundress, she grimaced. "What's the old girl thinking?

Glancing at the dress, Jack did his best to cheer her up. "It's very sunny looking. Besides, you can buy some new clothes at the market."

Grumbling the entire time, she changed into the dress. It was indeed sunny looking, but it made her fair skin look ghostlike. "I'm freezing in this."

Without a word, Jack rummaged through her suitcase, finding a cropped green jacket for her to wear. Melissa studied herself critically in the mirror. "I look like an upside down buttercup."

Grinning, he placed a floppy yellow hat bedecked with a wide green ribbon on her head. "I think the TARDIS intended for this to be a matched set. It even comes with a pair of green and yellow sandals."

"You've got to be kidding me."

Holding up the shoes, Jack quickly pressed his mouth against hers, swallowing the yelp of indignation she had intended to make about the footwear. After a few minutes of his attentions, she decided her outfit must not look so bad.

"Oi! Captain, are you trying to get her into her clothes or out of them?"

Breaking apart, Melissa held onto Jack as she grinned at the Doctor. "You're not going to get out of shopping that easily. I'm going to order some room service, and you and Jack can get dressed, without assistance from the other, understood?"

Jack saluted. "Yes, ma'am."

Grinning, she walked out of the bathroom, shoes in hand, only to reappear a minute later. Her clenched fists and reddened cheeks were a clear indication that her mood had flipped yet again. Glaring at the wall, she demanded, "Which do I order, breakfast, lunch or dinner?"

The Doctor winced, convinced it was going to be a long day. "Breakfast."

"No bananas." She practically growled the word.

"No bananas," he agreed patiently. "Order whatever you like."

"I'd like dinner," she griped as she stalked out of the room. Her bond mates were too smart to reply.

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting down at a small table, eating breakfast and watching the pool from their balcony. It was early enough that not many people were out. There were a few Hath swimming laps, and a pair of blubbery Moyaks soaking up the first rays of the morning sun.

"Can I have some of your butter to put on the poko root, Jack?"

"It's not butter," the Doctor corrected as Jack handed Melissa his cup of butter. "It's the solidified oil of the regeh plant.

"It looks like butter and tastes like butter. Might as well call it butter, Doc."

Jack had interjected quickly, hoping to forestall another angry rant from Melissa. Her mood had not improved with the arrival of breakfast, and the Captain was beginning to wonder if they shouldn't have eaten on the TARDIS. At least he could have made her pancakes. Pancakes never failed to cheer her up.

The Doctor opened his mouth to refute Jack's assertion, but seeing the look on his wife's face, he snapped his mouth closed. The threesome ate in silence for the rest of the meal.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Strapping on her sandals, Melissa rummaged in her suitcase until she found a large green and yellow straw purse. Beaming, she showed it proudly to Jack. "Look, the TARDIS even color coded my accessories."

"It's a good thing she didn't try that with us."

Both Jack and the Doctor were wearing khaki shorts, although Jack wore a navy t-shirt emblazoned with the 2010 World Cup logo, and the Doctor sported a solid red polo shirt. The TARDIS had packed trainers for them, not sandals, and each had been provided with Panama hats, which they adamantly refused to wear. All in all, they looked like typical human tourists on any number of planets.

The market was packed with people by midmorning. It was the largest on the planet, boasting of four square miles of vendor carts and permanent shops. Melissa seemed determined to visit each one, carrying a well-stocked credit stick in her purse. If the TARDIS hadn't been bigger on the outside, the Doctor might have wondered how they were going to fit all of her purchases in the time ship.

By the fortieth store, the Doctor had had enough. "We don't need a comfy chair for the console room. We have the jump seat!"

"Fine," Melissa huffed. "It was the wrong color anyway." Explaining to the merchant that she'd changed her mind, the pregnant Time Lord neglected to retrieve her purse from the counter. Walking out with the Doctor by her side, they met up with Jack the next booth over and decided to try a different street.

Passing by the next twenty or so booths without stopping, Melissa barely noticed what items were for sale. She was feeling increasingly nauseous, and there was a faint odor of something unpleasant yet oddly compelling. "Does it smell weird to you?"

"Define weird."

Glancing at Jack, she wanted to slap the smirk off his face. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking. I keep getting a faint whiff of something really rotten, like spoiled meat, but it's overlaid with a hint of musk and citrus." Just then, she had to cover her mouth to keep from gagging.

Instantly, both men were extremely solicitous. "Would you like to go back to the hotel, Em? We can come back when you're feeling better."

Swatting away some of the more annoying flies, she shook her head. "No, it's gone now. Like I said, it was just a faint whiff. You sure you don't smell anything, Doc?"

Inhaling, he took a deep breath. "Nothing out of the ordinary. The smells are a little more distinct on Barcelona, but I've always thought that's because the dogs don't have noses. You're positive you don't want to return to the hotel?"

"I'm fine. Stop babying me." With that, she forged ahead of them, making them jog to catch up.

Twenty minutes later, she finally realized her purse was missing as she attempted to pay for a pair of stretchy black trousers. "I must have left it at the last shop. I'll be back," she promised the merchant as she retraced her steps.

The Doctor and Jack had wandered to a nearby vendor's stall, both intrigued by the display of tourist kitsch. "Think Gwen and Ianto would appreciate a flashing "Dogs with No Noses" aromatherapy light?"

"I think you'll need to buy them something much nicer if you expect to bribe your way to their forgiveness, Captain."

Putting down the light, Jack frowned. "Yeah, well, I should have taken them and Rhys with us. If anyone deserves a vacation, it's Gwen and Ianto."

"How long have they been on your team?"

The Doctor's question spurred a lengthy discussion about all of the Torchwood agents who had worked with Jack over the years. In the middle of a sentence, Jack realized that Melissa was taking a very long time in the shop. Curious, he gestured to the Doctor to follow.

After a thorough investigation, the shop proved to be empty except for the merchant. "Excuse me; have you seen a woman in a yellow dress?"

"She wanted to buy this pair of trousers, but she said she'd lost her purse. Went looking for it."

"How long ago?"

"Oh, fifteen minutes or so. Why?"

Taking out his mobile, the Doctor tried to call her. It rang for a while and then went into voicemail. "She could be anywhere by now. How the hell could we be so stupid, Jack?"

"Hey, we weren't stupid. Relax, Doctor. Barcelona's safe. Besides, she's retracing her steps; that means we can too." Confidently, Jack began to retrace the route they'd taken, the Doctor pausing at each stall and shop to inquire after Melissa.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Staring at a four way junction, Melissa tried to remember which one she'd originally taken. The increasingly large swarms of humming fruit flies were proving to be a distracting nuisance. Batting them away, her stomach churned unpleasantly as she caught another whiff of the strange smell. Inexplicably, she turned towards the odor, walking dreamily down a busy street, completely ignoring the merchants and their wares.

By the time the Doctor and Jack had found her purse, she was over a mile away, wandering down an increasingly deserted street in a half stupor. The rotting stench abruptly overwhelmed her, however, and she doubled over, retching against a street sign. There was no one except the flies and a dozen or so stray dogs to witness her discomfort, however.

For a fleeting moment, she was clearheaded. Gazing about, she anxiously wondered where she was and why all the market stalls had been abandoned. And then, she inhaled a scent so lovely that a soft smile stole over her face.

It was musky spice and tangy citrus and a just a hint of cream cheese icing, and it was tantalizing. In a daze, she followed her nose. As she walked, she could discern other scents she'd always associated with home and comfort. She smelled Susan's wet clay, the sharp whiff of chlorine that clung to Matthew after a swim meet, and the clean aroma of wet, red grass after rainstorm. It mixed with the dampness of the Hub, the spice and citrus warmth of the men she loved, and the sweetness of her favorite foods. Entranced, she searched for its source.

Stumbling onto a narrow, dirt road over an hour later, she followed the enticing aroma into a decrepit alley. Immediately, her nostrils were again assailed by the stench of rotting meat. Vomiting what little remained in her stomach, she fell to her hands and knees. The sight before her was enough to make anyone sick.

There were over two dozen corpses in various states of decay strewn about the small space. All were partially covered by pulsing purple vines that connected to a single, towering, bulbous seed pod. With each pulse of the vines, the seed pod emitted the stench of the dead from a tiny opening at its peak. It had attracted an inordinate amount of buzzing flies, no doubt lured there by the overwhelming smell of rotten meat.

Choking down bile, Melissa backed quickly away. The carnivorous plant in front of her, colloquially known as the kiss-of-death vine, was indigenous to Stema Young, a jungle planet located in Orion's belt. There it had stiff competition for nutrients, and had developed a psychic olfactory lure to make it easier to subdue its prey. It usually attracted small game the size of rabbits, but without its natural predators, the plant had obviously thrived in Barcelona City, with disastrous results.

After six steps backwards, she once more came under the spell of the plant. Inhaling deeply, she eagerly ran forwards, only to be assaulted by the true stench of the seed pod. Retching violently, she considered her options as she took three careful steps backwards.

Her purse was missing, which meant she had no phone, which meant she had no way of contacting anyone. The pod was expanding to an alarming size. It was going to explode, expelling tiny carnivorous seeds onto the gentle air currents to germinate throughout the city. If that happened, only the dogs with no noses would be immune.

She needed to burn it before it could release the seeds. If she used her respiratory bypass, she might be able to retrieve enough flammable materials to create a funeral pile for the predatory vine. If that didn't work, she'd be stuck between the lure and the stench until the pod opened. Then, the stench would dissipate until she would only smell the lure. Gazing at the corpses not ten feet away, she had a clear picture of what would happen to her then. Determined, she took a deep breath and ran.