A/N: One final twist coming up and then we end on chapter 16! ... I think.

Chapter 11 - Dysfunctional

Jack re-entered the recovery room shortly after 7am the next morning, feeling, to put it bluntly, like crap. Thanks to falling asleep at his desk he was aching all over with a stiff neck as if he done anything but sleep. The room was silent save for the hearts beeping slowly but steadily, and the sound of Owen's light snores coming from a chair next to the bed. Jack couldn't help but raise a smile at the sight of Owen snoozing in the chair with his snazzy white coat on, clipboard hanging loosely from his grip.

Silently he pulled the clipboard out of Owen's loose fingers, putting it on a side table. The movements startled Owen who jerked back awake, sitting straight up in the chair.

"Mornin'," Jack said, dropping to sit on the bed, looking at the sleeping Doctor. He had broken out in a cold sweat, his lips blue, but he wasn't breathing as fast as he was before.

"What time is it?" Owen asked blearily, rubbing his eyes.

"Seven," Jack replied, pulling the covers a bit more over the Doctor. "What did I miss?"

Owen yawned as he got onto his feet, stretching. "He went into hypovolaemic shock and he's in stupor right now, but he made blood at a really fast rate and he should be out of shock in the next few hours. I think his hearts rate is back to normal but I have nothing to compare it with, there's nothing in the archive…"

"And don't even think about it," Jack said shortly, not even looking at the other man.

There was a pause. "Jack… While I was searching for a file on the Doctor, there was a file on Queen Victoria…"

Jack looked up at Owen sharply, eyes narrowing. "I know. And it's no longer valid."

"But Jack, the whole reason Torchwood was created was to take him down…"

Jack was suddenly on his feet, teeth gritted, fists clenched. "And I told you it's no longer valid! Not here, not in my Torchwood, not ever. Is that understood?"

"The other Torchwood bases don't agree with you," Owen continued, seemingly unfazed by the angry man in front of him. "They're still looking for him."

"And they're not gonna find him here," Jack replied firmly. "Queen Victoria got it wrong. He's not a threat. You've seen for yourself who he is and what he stands for, can you honestly look me in the eye and tell me he's a threat to Planet Earth?"

"No…"

"So we protect him. If those people ever got their hands on him you know what would happen."

Owen nodded. "Okay. Sorry."

Jack paused, calming down enough to sit back on the Doctor's bed, reaching up and patting down a tuft of the Time Lord's hair that stuck out at an odd angle, annoying him more than anything else. But as he touched the area of skin behind the Doctor's ear he felt a tiny bump beneath the skin. Frowning, he leant in a bit closer, examining the area for himself. At first glance it looked like a spot – but upon closer examination it was a tiny scar. Jack tried pushing the bump with his finger and it moved beneath the skin. The scar was a small, almost unnoticeable incision.

"Owen," Jack said calmly, beckoning the young doctor over. "Take a look at this."

Owen did so, running his finger over the small bump. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I hope not… Get it out."

Ten minutes later Owen was pulling out a small ball from behind the Doctor's ear with a pair of tweezers. As Jack quickly dealt with the incision Owen had made, Owen cleaned the blood off of the ball, revealing a shiny silver metal to the world.

"It is, isn't it?" he asked, gazing at it in disdain.

Jack finished tending to the Doctor, straightening up and examining the ball for himself. "It's a Torchwood tracker. What the hell is it doing in him?"

"This is just a wild guess, but tracking maybe?" Owen said with only the slightest sarcasm.

"But we'd know if…"

"Jack?"

Jack whirled around at the sound of the weak voice from the bed, finding the Doctor sat up, his eyes open wide with brown depths looking at Jack in confusion.

"Hey," Jack said softly. "Welcome back."

"This is becoming a habit," the Doctor muttered, brow furrowing as he lifted a hand to his stomach.

To clutch at nothing.

The Time Lord's eyes shot open in alarm, looking down at his flat belly. In silence he pulled back his shirt and pushed down the covers, peeling back the bandages to reveal the deep red scar below his navel with no less than 40 stitches across – it would have been more but for the partial dermal regenerator in Torchwood's possession. He traced a finger across it, a surge of tears building up behind his eyes. The only reminder of what could have been. A daughter. A daughter, he reminded himself, that wasn't even his.

So why did he feel like a part of him was missing?

"She's… She's gone…" the Doctor whispered, his eyes staring intently at his stomach as if not quite able to grasp that there was no bump. "They… They took her."

"Doctor," Jack said gently, taking his hand from his now flat stomach and holding it in his. "We knew this was going to happen. We wanted it to happen, remember? It was killin' you. You had nothin' to do with it."

"TARDIS," the Doctor said suddenly, completely changing the subject as he pulled his hand away from Jack. "Need her…"

"No way," Owen said instantly. "The move would kill you."

"Please," the Doctor whispered in such a heartbreaking tone that Jack almost found himself wanting to squish the Time Lord into a tight hug and tell him everything would be all right. "I need her. I need to… to feel her."

Jack side glanced at Owen, pulling a face. Owen stared at him for a moment, before looking back at the Doctor, whose exhausted features were morphed into an expression of hope and need. Moments passed before Owen sighed dramatically, knowing he'd lost the battle.

"Okay. But we're taking you by stretcher."

"Thank you," the Doctor whispered, and there was real gratitude in his voice. Owen fobbed it off, turning around to walk out of the room.

Jack's eyes dropped to the small silver ball in his hand, before looking up at the Doctor who was staring at his stomach. "Doctor," he began slowly. "Did you get taken by an anti-alien organisation recently? Like another Torchwood base?" But Jack could already tell the Doctor wasn't even listening, far too focused on his abdomen. Jack paused for a moment, considering the situation before dropping the silver ball into his pocket and sitting on the bed, reaching up to the Time Lord's face and cupping his chin. The Doctor's eyes averted to his, shining with tears.

"What do I do now?" the Doctor asked, voice wavering. "Do I look for her? Or do I leave her?"

Jack sighed, dropping his hand from the Doctor's chin before taking his hand, needing to touch him, to feel he was there and alive. The Doctor had saved him so many times, now it was Jack's turn to save him.