Author's Notes - The kiss-o- death vine was inspired by the corpse flower, Venus flytrap, and my strange imagination. Thanks to Kassandra J and dwatlaskrhtcm for their kind reviews. Hope you enjoy.
"Do you smell that?"
Jack glanced at the Doctor, wondering what the hell he was talking about. They'd been searching for almost three hours, and were no closer to finding Melissa. They'd left instructions at the hotel that she contact them if she made it back, but so far they hadn't heard from her. Surely, even with her impaired time sense, she would have missed them by now.
When the Captain didn't immediately answer, the Doctor took off by himself. It took Jack a moment to realize he was alone, and another five minutes to find the Doctor in the crowd.
"Tell me next time you go wandering off, would you, Doc? The last thing we need is to get separated now." Impatiently, he waved his hand in front of his face—the stupid flies were everywhere.
Jack's irritation didn't faze the Time Lord, who continued to walk distractedly up the crowded street, bumping into several people without a word of apology. Only when the Captain grabbed his arm, did he snap out of his apparent trance.
"What'd you do that for? Can't you smell it?"
"Smell what? Doctor, you're not making any sense."
"I smell bananas and citrus and cinnamon with just a hint of old books. It's intoxicating, Jack."
In a flash of understanding, Jack recognized that whatever the Doctor was experiencing, it definitely came under the category of intoxicating. It also sounded suspiciously similar to Melissa's much earlier complaint about smelling something weird. As he pondered the significance of the Doctor's behavior, the Time Lord wrenched himself away and took off running. Cursing to himself, Jack did his best to overtake him.
After six blocks, the Captain slowed to a jog, finding the Doctor sauntering down a street teeming with flies, stray dogs, and little else. As soon as he took a deep breath, the aroma hit him. Immediately, he relaxed, matching the Doctor's contented stroll.
"You've got the citrus and bananas all wrong, Doc. It's sunshine and sand, cinnamon and musk, and just a hint of thyme."
Neither spoke much after that. Taking little notice of the abandoned stalls, the swarms of flies or the dogs, they came across a dirt road on the outskirts of the market. It wasn't long before they reached the alley with the carnivorous plant.
Eagerly, they sprinted forward, neither noticing the rotting corpses or the stench of the straining seed pod. Three feet away from the deadly vines, Melissa stepped in front of them, throwing her arms out to halt their progress. They either had to stop or knock her down.
They stopped, but they weren't entirely pleased to find her in their way. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I'm about to burn down a kiss-of-death vine. What in the name of sanity do you two think you're doing?"
For a moment, her answer didn't register, but when it finally did, the Doctor blinked as if waking from a daydream.
"A what of what?" Jack asked impatiently, now pushing against her outstretched arm.
Making a face, the Doctor employed his respiratory bypass, willing himself to ignore the olfactory lure. Looking around the grim alley, he finally saw the reality of the situation. The air was alive with flies, and the ground was littered with corpses. The largest kiss-of-death vine he'd ever seen was covered in haphazard piles of trash. No, not trash—it was covered in bolts of linen, bits of plywood, tattered books, broken crocks of rancid oil, and anything else that might burn. Poking out of the center of the makeshift pyre, he could see the tip of a seed pod that had to be as tall as Melissa.
Instantly, his eyes dropped to his wife. She wasn't pale so much as sickly green, and bloody scratches covered her bare arms. He could only imagine what her legs looked like.
"Where's your jacket?"
The absurdity of the question astounded her. "It's on the pile. You know, you could give me a little help with Jack. He's pushing rather hard."
Immediately, the Doctor wrapped his arms around Jack's torso, ignoring the Captain's cries of indignation. "I can't help for much longer. As soon as I deplete the oxygen in my respiratory bypass, I'll get another dose."
"You can't smell the horrible stench from the seed pod?"
"No, I take it you can?"
"Oh, yeah. I guess I have my hormones to thank for saving me. My sense of smell's so acute right now that it actually overcame the psychic lure. Unfortunately, I have to be this close for it to remain effective. I can't tell you how fun it's been being alternately drugged into a stupor and then heaving bile. Everything else in my stomach's gone."
In that instant, he wanted nothing more to take her away from there, but seeing the state of the plant, he knew the danger as well as she. "How much more fuel do you need?"
"I found a shop that sold alcohol on my last foray. I thought I'd grab as many bottles as I can carry and set it ablaze."
At that point, Jack's struggles increased to the point that even the Doctor had trouble holding him. "Go," he ordered through clenched teeth. If she didn't hurry, both he and the Captain would be nothing more than extra fuel for the pile.
Running as fast as she could manage, Melissa broke into the abandoned liquor store. Grabbing a sturdy sack, she filled it with ten of the largest bottles of alcohol she could lift and then carefully slung it over her shoulder.
Returning to the alley, she watched the Doctor's face slowly turn purple; his respiratory bypass must be exhausted. With a grunt of effort, she hurled the full sack at the base of her pile. It crashed against the flameable debris, breaking most of the bottles and soaking the canvas sack in alcohol. Tearing the hem of her sundress, she wrapped it around an oil soaked plank of wood she'd been saving and then lit it. With a practiced underhand toss, she threw it onto the pile.
A small fireball engulfed the now dusky sky as the makeshift pyre blazed brightly. The pod was quickly incinerated, the millions of hazardous seeds charred to nothing more than black ashes. The psychic lure was quickly superseded by the all too real smell of cooking flesh, jolting Jack to his senses.
"What the hell is going on?"
Gasping for air, the Doctor braced himself against the Captain's body. "Later, Jack. Let's get Emma to the TARDIS and then we'll talk."
Swiveling around, Jack frantically searched for her. She was leaning against the entrance to a dilapidated restaurant about thirty feet away. He waved, but she didn't return his greeting. Instead, she stared blankly at the bonfire. In fact, she didn't react to either one of them until they were close enough to touch her. When the Doctor wiped some soot off her cheek, she smiled.
"I saved Barcelona City."
"Yes, you did," he acknowledged with a grin. "How about we take a little rest in the TARDIS before we inform the authorities, though. I have a feeling the explanation might take a while."
"I could use a rest."
"Brilliant! We'll find the local equivalent of a taxi and be back at the resort in no time at all. Well, when I say very little time . . . . Well, it will take a while to walk to a spot-oh, you know what I mean."
As he and Jack moved farther away from the roaring fire, he couldn't help but notice that she didn't follow. "Aren't you coming, Em?"
"Yeah."
She made no move to do so, however. In fact, she made no effort to look at them. Instead, her eyes were still focused in the distance towards the bonfire. Her behavior alarmed both men, but Jack reached her first.
"Sweetheart? Are you okay?"
"I'm perfect. I've decided to rest here, that's all."
Her answer bewildered him. "Why here? It smells like burnt roast and I think a fly just tried to crawl in my ear."
"I saved the city."
The Doctor shook his head in warning before the Captain could ask what that had to do with anything. Carefully, the Time Lord waved his hand in front of her face. She didn't as much as blink. Investigating further, he saw the unhealthy sheen of a cold sweat highlighting her increasing pallor.
Being extremely careful with his answer, the Doctor made his voice as soothing and gentle as possible. "Yes, you did. You might have even saved the planet. Let Jack and I take you back to the TARDIS. The vine scraped your skin. We'll put some Triplexian wound cream on it and you'll be as good as new.
Her tone became more forceful, although they noticed that her hands now trembled. "I may not be a Time Lord anymore, but I saved the city, and I can damn well rest where I want to. I am not going to faint like some stupid damsel in distress."
"Of course you're not."
Taking her hand, he swiftly pulled her into his embrace, and then swept her off her feet, carrying her as easily as a human might carry a young child. He'd hoped that she would vigorously protest her treatment, but she was limp in his arms. Silently cursing her stubbornness, he vainly searched the deserted street for transportation.
"Jack, contact Donna and have her pilot the TARDIS. Tell her to use Emergency Program Four."
It was a testament to Jack's restraint that he obeyed the Doctor without asking a single question. After a heated discussion with a member of the resort staff, he was finally able to speak to Donna, who immediately agreed to help. Not a minute later, the TARDIS materialized in front of them.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
"Jack?"
"Hello, Sweetheart. How are you feeling?"
Glancing up at the familiar ceiling tiles of the TARDIS infirmary, Melissa answered grudgingly. "Stupid . . . and hungry."
That earned her a grin. "So, just about normal, huh?"
"Jack!"
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he patted her leg. "Hey! I'm not the one who decided she didn't need help. What were you planning to do? Lean against that building forever? You were so woozy, you couldn't even see."
"I—maybe I was being a little too stubborn." Then, not entirely sure she hadn't dreamt it, she asked timidly, "Did he really carry me?"
"Hell, yes, he picked you up about a second before you lost consciousness. I would have taken a picture if I hadn't been so scared that something was seriously wrong with you or the babies."
Her hands flew to her stomach. "Everything's fine. Isn't it?"
In her alarm, she had pushed herself upright, and Jack took the opportunity to wrap her in his arms. "Everything's fine, Sweetheart. Martha examined you. She's got you hooked up to an IV to replenish your fluids, and as soon as the Doctor shows up, I'm sure he'll have something for you to eat. The TARDIS has gotten very protective of you, you know. She's probably trapped him in the kitchen so he can fix you a plate."
"I'm sorry I scared you."
He'd changed at some point into his usual clothes, and she buried her head against his chest, inhaling the fresh, citrusy scent that was Jack and the faintest hint of starch. When she had convinced herself that everything was just about perfect, she looked up into his eyes.
They studied each other for a moment, and then their lips crashed together. She did her best to forget her ordeal as he plumbed the depths of her mouth. Very reluctantly, he pulled back, tucking her hair behind her ears before kissing her hand.
"I'm sorry we lost you. I shouldn't have wandered off to look at that junk."
Her lips curved upwards. "Shouldn't that be my line?"
Tracing the contour of her chin with his thumb, he didn't answer. Instead, he kissed her slowly, tenderly, but with no less passion. He was still kissing her when the Doctor walked in few minutes later.
"She's feeling better, I see," he remarked drolly as Jack ended the kiss. Melissa's satisfied grin was answer enough.
"Hungry?" With a flourish, he placed a tray filled with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob, and carrot cake on her lap.
"I'm starving."
She'd put enough emphasis on the word to make it a wicked double entendre, and the Doctor flushed. "Yes, well, as tempting as that may be, Martha would like you to stay in the infirmary for another day of observation. I don't think she would count that as rest."
Already eating a piece of chicken, she enjoyed his momentary discomfort. He hovered protectively over her until he was convinced that she was fine, and then he sat in the battered chair next to the bed. As she continued to eat her meal, Jack casually rested his hand on the Doctor's knee.
He found his mental image in the console room of the TARDIS, facing the Doctor. "Is there something you're not telling me? Is Martha worried about something specific?"
"No, Captain, she thinks the dehydration was the worst of it. The bed rest is just a precaution."
"She was lucky."
Leaning against one of the coral struts, the Doctor disagreed. "She was brilliant. We were lucky."
"Yeah, we were. So, uh, are you going to talk to her?"
"I take it you were too busy to talk?"
It wasn't often that Jack Harkness looked abashed, but he was doing a good job of it this time. "We talked. She's in a much better mood. I just thought the Time Lord stuff might sound better coming from you."
Raising his eyebrows, the Doctor stared frankly at his bond mate. "Well, this is certainly a switch, Jack. You're not usually the one who runs away."
"Look, Doc. I've been through this once before in the other timeline. I'm not avoiding the issue. I couldn't convince her that her brain damage didn't change who she was then, so what makes you think I can now when it's significantly worse?"
Running his hand through his hair, the Doctor paced around the console. "It doesn't matter to me whether she can see the timelines or if she wants to eat fish and chips at three in the morning. She's still the same woman I fell in love with."
"You're right, but it's not me you need to convince."
"You really think she'll listen to me instead of you?"
"I think you're the only one she might listen to. No matter how much she loves me, I'm still a stupid ape."
"Don't, Captain, just don't. If my former self was here, I'd give him a swift kick in the arse for ever using those words. You're not stupid, Jack, and I should never have called you or any other human an ape."
Embarrassed, Jack waved away the Doctor's praise. "I am what I am, Doc, and that's not a Time Lord. You need to talk to her, or she's going to end up hurting herself trying to prove that she's worthy of our respect. If she goes out on a mission with that attitude, she's likely not to come back."
"Fine. I'll do it, but you owe me, Captain."
"I'm sure you can come up with a suitable method of repayment." With a final smirk, he added, "Good luck. You're going to need it."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jack stayed in the infirmary for a few more minutes before he fabricated a reason to leave. Melissa continued to eat, ignoring the Doctor's presence. When she had cleaned her plates, she placed the tray on the table and carefully stood up.
"Where do you think you're going? You're still hooked up to the IV."
"It's on a nice metal pole with casters, see?" Trailing it behind her, she washed her hands in the sink. "My hands are greasy from the fried chicken, so I'm washing them. And, then I'm going to the toilet. I imagine I'll wash my hands again after that. Any other hygienic function you want to know about, Doc?"
Damn, Jack had said she was in a good mood. "You were unconscious for almost three hours, Em. I can't help worrying."
"Worry all you want. We may be bond mates, but I still don't have to tell you every time I take a piss."
He let her go to the toilet by herself. Her vulgar language told him just how upset she really was, and he had suspicion that it wasn't entirely related to his over protectiveness. For a moment, he considered calling Jack into the room so they could tag team, but decided to hold the Captain in reserve.
She returned exhausted from her short trip and didn't protest when he helped her into bed. He decided to take that as a positive sign. Pulling out his stethoscope, he warmed it before placing it on her chest. Repositioning a few times, he listened intently to her hearts.
"Okay, Doc. I give up, what are you doing?"
"Well, you told me you weren't a Time Lord anymore. I wanted to hear what just having one heart sounded like, but you still have two."
She rolled her eyes, too tired to make her response any more biting. "You know what I meant."
Smiling, he did his best imitation of befuddlement. "I really don't. Maybe you could explain it to me."
She wished he'd just disappear, but when she opened her eyes, he was still sitting next to her. "I can't do all those Time Lord-y things anymore. Therefore, I am no longer a Time Lord."
"Ah, Time Lord-y things. I understand perfectly now. So, basically, you no longer have a penchant for political intrigue, backbiting, betrayal and blackmail."
"That doesn't describe a Time Lord, and you know it."
"What? I think it describes the High Council perfectly, my brother included."
"Doc!"
"Ooh, tetchy. Perhaps you could give me an example of one of these Time Lord-y things, so I don't make any more embarrassing assumptions."
Sitting up, she balled her hands into fists, wishing at that moment she could hit him. "You know full well what I'm talking about. Being a Time Lord means you devote your life to upholding the Web of Time. We protect the lesser species from outside influences and sometimes themselves. We keep the fixed points fixed, and let those in flux flow. But I can't see the Web of Time anymore, much less understand what it is. I wouldn't know a fixed point if it hit me in the face. I'm nothing more than a ghost, an afterimage of something that was so much more."
Studying her for a moment, his expression turned surprisingly derisive. "Really, Emma, I understand you're pregnant, but I certainly didn't expect this much drama from you."
Completely gobsmacked, her voice caught in her throat. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," he answered insistently, "that you are being ridiculous." Before she could even think to be angry, he swiftly explained. "You're judging yourself far too harshly. Yes, you've been injured, and yes, one of your senses is impaired. But, if Jack were to be blinded tomorrow, you'd still call him human, wouldn't you?"
Unwillingly, she nodded in agreement and he pressed on. "You've devoted most of your life to upholding the Web of Time, but that isn't who you are. It's merely what you do. And, you still managed to protect the lesser species today, even with you disability. You are brilliant, you know, and still a Time Lord, no matter what you might think."
Her throat was too tight to speak, and she could feel her mouth pulling into a frown as she fought tears. She desperately wanted to believe him.
Solemnly, he placed his hand on her rounded stomach. He had a feeling she was worried about something far more monumental than her disability. "You told us that you couldn't terminate the pregnancy because it wasn't the babies' fault, and I respect your decision, you know. It's admirable that you treat life as a precious gift. But, you didn't choose this. I'm asking you now; do you want to be a mother again?"
Lips quivering, she couldn't meet his eyes. Silent tears ran down her face, and her chest hurt from the magnitude of emotions his question had unleashed. Eventually, she placed her hand over his.
"Yes."
His own eyes filled with tears, and he tenderly stroked her cheek until she met his gaze. When he spoke, his voice was surprisingly hoarse. "Good. That's good, isn't it? I know Jack is positively giddy at the prospect. And, I never thought I'd say this, but I think I'm ready to be a father again. You are our wife, and we love you dearly."
Then, before she could completely absorb the enormity of what he'd just said, the Doctor grinned at her playfully, intentionally lightening his tone. "So, snap at us all you want, but the Captain and I are going to be over protective until the children are born and probably long after that. We're a family now, Em."
A family—the tightness in her chest unraveled with that one word, and she managed a tremulous smile. Careful of the IV, the Doctor walked around to the other side of the bed, lying down beside her to encase her in a protective cocoon. Gently, he caressed her stomach until they both fell into a restful sleep.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Hours later, Martha found them curled up together, Jack dozing fitfully in the chair. The Captain woke as she was removing Melissa's IV.
"Martha. Everything alright?"
"Everything's fine, Jack. Just wondering how much I should charge for the house call."
"Charge whatever you want to Torchwood. I'm sure Her Majesty would be happy to pick up the tab."
"She might at that. I hear she's partial to you and the Doctor."
"Long stories, both of them. Ask me again sometime. Sorry your holiday turned into a working vacation."
"As soon as I stepped into the TARDIS, I knew there'd be some sort of excitement. Besides, it's not that bad. Mickey and I are sleeping in my old room tonight. It almost feels like I'm at home."
"I doubt you'd be sleeping with Mickey at Francine's."
"True, Mum's a bit old-fashioned. I haven't even told her I'm dating again yet."
"You did tell her about Tom, didn't you, Martha?"
"The day it happened. She was quite pleased. She never liked the fact that Tom put his work above me, says I should come first. Mum's always been a bit . . . ." She shrugged, not knowing how to finish that sentence.
"Francine only wants the best for you, and there's nothing wrong with that. You deserve to come first, Martha Jones." Then, without a hint of teasing, he added, "Mickey adores you, you know."
Flushing, she looked at Jack in surprise. "And you're determined to play matchmaker now that every one of your fantasies is coming true?"
Watching fondly as the Doctor and Melissa slept, he couldn't help but grin. "Why not? Mickey's a good kid. He's grown a lot since I first met him. Besides, you wouldn't have to lie to him about your job."
"Don't let Mickey hear you calling him a kid. He's twenty-seven. I think that classifies him as an adult."
"And I'm a hundred and seventy-six, give or take nineteen hundred years. I think I can call him a kid if I want."
The physician in Martha suddenly took over. "You should really let me examine you, Jack. You've only been mortal a few days. No telling what state your body's in."
Melissa frowned in her sleep, and Jack decided to take the conversation into the hall. "The Doc checked me soon after I revived. Physically, I'm in my mid thirties, just like I was before the Game Station. If I'm lucky, I've got another hundred years."
"Humans live that long?"
"It's the fifty-first century, Martha. You can live longer if you're really desperate, but the brain starts to decay after one-fifty, no matter how many genetic enhancements you've had. I'd rather die with a little dignity."
Suddenly, it hit her that he actually was going to die at some point. And, then she realized that if he kept working for Torchwood, he wouldn't have to worry about reaching old age. "Don't talk like that, Jack."
"Like what?"
"Like you're going to die. It's just wrong. You were the one who was going to outlive all of us, who was going to keep our memories alive with those crazy stories you tell. I've gotten so used to you being immortal that I can't imagine you dying now."
"Yeah? Well, I've been thinking about it a lot. And, I've got to admit, it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it would. I'm going to be a dad, and that's good enough for me."
"What are you talking about? I thought you said you and Melissa weren't compatible, or do you have someone on the side?"
"Being a dad's not an act of biology, Martha. I'll love her kids as if they were my own. Besides, someone has to teach them bananas aren't the only food group."
Brightening, she replied, "And marmalade. They'll probably eat it by the jar."
"Why not? The Doc certainly does." He was about to tell her good night, when she blindsided him with another question.
"Have you ever had a child of your own?"
"Once," he acknowledged, finding it unexpectedly difficult to talk about. "I had the most beautiful baby girl. She was born with a heart defect and lived four days."
"Oh, Jack, I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you went through, knowing that if she'd been born later, she wouldn't have died."
"Everyone dies, Martha. But, for those four days, I felt so alive. She was a miracle, even with her heart defect, and her mother and I treasured every minute we had with her. In a horrible situation, she was our joy."
Impulsively, Martha threw her arms around Jack, giving him an encouraging hug. "You're going to be a great dad, Jack. And, I think the Doctor and Melissa are lucky to have you."
"Definitely the other way around there, Martha, but thanks. Now, don't you have a boyfriend to sleep with?"
Her face split into a wide grin. "Excellent suggestion, Mr. Harkness. I'll see you in the morning, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Watching Martha jog down the hallway, Jack hoped things would work out between her and Mickey. She was right; every one of his fantasies was coming true. Why shouldn't it be the same for them?"
