Author's Two Cents: Once upon a time, there were seven writers, and they were The Chibi's Are Stalking Me, Isis the Sphinx, Kathryn Shadow, NewDrWhoFan, Olfactory-Ventriloquism, SilverWolf7, and me, Jessa L'Rynn. And although these writers were very, very nice and asked the good fairy to please, please give them Doctor Who, the fairy turned it over to the Man Without a Dictionary instead. And these writers sighed, and decided to come up with Plan X (Plans A-W having failed or been abandoned). And as soon as we do, we'll let you know what it is. In the meantime, please enjoy this latest jaunt in the on-going saga of Jackie's house in Wales.

Chapter 14: From Bad to Worse

The Doctor stared at the central column in abject astonishment. "You what?" he yelped.

The TARDIS chimed annoyance. She hated repeating herself. His fingers reached for several different controls at once, flipping switches, turning dials. He punched a series of keys and started the diagnostic sub-routine. The TARDIS turned it off. He turned it back on.

"You are not supposed to see ghosts," he insisted, frantically, after they did this three more times.

"Well, obviously," She agreed. "So don't you think you should be finding out why he's here?"

"But..." He jerked his hands through his hair, tugging at it in confusion. "What do I do now?" he demanded of... well, he didn't know who, but whoever it was, they didn't answer, of course. "First Jackie's seeing ghosts, and now my TARDIS?"

"How many times do I have to tell you? I am not your TARDIS. I am my TARDIS and you are my Time Lord."

"Do you really think this is the time to be debating semantics?" he asked.

She chimed at him, a grating noise of abject despair. "I raised you wrong," She announced and he felt her consciousness wander off into the depths of the corridors.

He turned the sub-routine back on, and ran the sonic screwdriver over himself just to be sure. It was possible the TARDIS's behavior was simply a reflection of his own insanity. He usually had it under control, but maybe if he was going 'round the twist - the rest of the way - the Ship might go weird as well.

Nothing unusual showed up on the screwdriver, except for an absurdly high volume of hormones and pheromones, but he'd been expecting that, anyway. "That's what you get, for letting the idea loose, before you had it all sorted," he muttered to himself. "Randy old man."

"Who's a randy old man?" Rose asked, coming into the Console Room in her dressing gown, grinning at him with her tongue poking through her teeth.

He stared up at the ceiling. "I hate you," he told the TARDIS.

"No you don't," She answered, chiming merrily. "You're just saying that to make me feel better."

"Are you two arguing again?" Rose asked him, a glitter in her dark eyes that reminded him exactly who the randy old man was. "Sometimes, you're like a couple of kids."

"Aren't you supposed to be asleep?" he asked. He just asked, he wasn't whinging. The Last of the Time Lords didn't whinge just because his ship was crazy and his almost-a-mother-in-law was crazy, and the woman he'd set both his hearts (and a great deal of the rest of his physiology) on was standing in front of him in a mint green, flimsy excuse for a dressing gown, and he couldn't do a damn thing about any of it.

"She came and got me," Rose said, pointing at the ceiling. "Said you needed me. What's wrong?" She came over and put her hand on his face, a tender, gentle gesture that made him just want to sink into her arms and drown himself.

"Your mother is contagious," he admitted, before he surrendered to the temptation to ask the TARDIS to shut Jackie's wing of the Ship off from the rest of the Universe. His luck, She'd comply that far, and then pipe in video feed.

"How do you mean? Half the Universe is gonna suddenly come over with the urge to slap you or something?"

He thought about it. "God no, not that," he complained. "Or snog-ogling me, I don't want that either, actually. I mean, I've already made a list of the person I want snogging and ogling me and your mum's not on it, although if I had to make a list of people I wanted slapping me..." Rose moved closer and his pitch went higher. His speech also sped up. "...she wouldn't be on it, either, considering that slap of hers is heavy weapons grade and, I swear to you, there are entire races in distant corners of the Universe who have never even heard of Earth, but still live in mortal fear of the slap of Jackie Ty..."

Rose apparently realized that his gob was stuck on 'ramble', and had at long last discovered the cure. Her hand traveled to the back of his neck, toying with the kiss curls they found, and all at once, she was tugging his head down and then her lips were over his and his gob suddenly and fantastically found better things to do. She kissed him thoroughly, full body contact, pressing against him, her hand tracing up into his hair as soon as she realized he wasn't going any where. His hands, completely of their own volition, wandered under her dressing gown and, liking what they found there (absolutely nothing, so far) decided to stay and set up camp.

Someone whimpered while her tongue made an extensive investigation of the inside of his mouth. He suspected that might have been her. The deep moan came from him, along with the rather embarrassing purr as his respiratory bypass kicked in to deal with the sudden oxygen starvation of his brain. All the blood in his body had been rerouted, after all, and it was no where near his skull at the moment.

Didn't look like it was going there any time soon, either.

Then, she pulled back and looked at him closely, nodding in satisfaction as his tongue snaked over his lips, drawing in every last sip of her taste to savor it. "Better now?" she whispered, her eyes darker than usual and heavy-lidded as she smiled languidly at him.

He nodded, opened his mouth, couldn't speak. He cleared his throat, tried again. "...ler," he managed. He swallowed hard while she giggled at him. "Right. What was I saying?"

"Dunno," she said, softly, and ran her hand up his shirt, toying with the buttons as she went.

Just a little more pressure, he thought, and then he cleared his throat again. "Oh, yeah. The TARDIS says Uncle Mortimer is on board. Obviously, your mum isn't making it up and is contagious."

Rose sighed. "Did you even consider that She might be right?" Rose asked him.

He stared at her incredulously. "What?" he demanded. Not Rose, not his precious girl. He didn't want to have to patch her brilliantly clever little mind back together, too. "There's no such thing as ghosts," he said, gently. "It's impossible."

"You're always saying that word," Rose teased, cheekily. "I do not think that word means what you think it means."

He caught the reference immediately and rolled his eyes with a groan. "All right," he resigned himself, "if it isn't impossible, then what is it?"

"Well, is there alien tech that could make a ghost hang about?" she asked.

He stared at her in wonder. "Never leave me," he said, softly. He knew he was begging and he didn't care. He snatched her hands, tugged them to his mouth and kissed them both, then kissed her lips, lightly, chastely. "Just. Never leave me."

She smiled at him like sunrise. "OK," she said.

After a moment of just standing there, hands in hands, smiling at each other in mutual adoration, the Doctor shook himself and darted over to the databank. "Ok, a Dogon eye, a Kilacantri Restario, a series of Therall Loops, or a huge dose of Meesultin Powder are the things I know of that'll keep... not, a ghost, exactly, but say an imprint of a person after their death. It isn't the Loops, I'd've seen them, and I'm pretty sure... um, certain people would have detected the Restario years ago."

"What certain people?" Rose asked. Of course, she would immediately pick up on the bit he wanted to gloss over.

He tugged at his ear. "Well, you know. UNIT, I told you about them."

"UNIT?" she asked.

"Last body, Downing Street, Slitheen, remember?"

"Oh, right," she said. She blinked at him as he tugged at his ear some more. Her eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips.

He realized what he was doing (giving himself away) and stopped it. Besides, the view was... exquisite (she had on matching knickers and an ickle tiny night top under that dressing gown and oh, hell, he couldn't breathe...), and he needed that hand to make sure he wasn't drooling. "All right. Let's see what we get."

He reached over and twisted the sphere where it glittered in the turquoise light. All the lights in the console room came up, almost blindingly.

In the nearby city of Cardiff, another bank of lights also lit up. The Doctor, had he known, might have been relieved to know that there was only one person awake at the time to notice.

Mind, if he had known, and known who the person was, relieved would not have been the word he would have used.

The word he would have used wasn't fit for publication on any planet.

Ever.

In the entire recorded history of time.

Mortimer had spent his first ten minutes on the TARDIS trying to figure out how the Doctor had managed to get a ginormous alien spaceship inside the lovingly, if not authentically, restored antique Police Box. Then, he'd spent the rest of the time, right up until this moment being, he thought, carefully confused by something that seemed to be watching him. Every time he tried to go anywhere, the corridors shifted and he found himself back in the first room. He'd tried to walk through every wall in the place - walls weren't exactly a problem in his house, after all - but so far all he'd managed to get was carefully herded back into that room.

And now, he was standing there and it was rather apparent that they could at least catch a flicker of him. Rose was astonishingly underdressed, as Mortimer understood was the way of girls her age when they were trying to catch the attention of the chap they fancied. Still, she was holding her robe close to her body and her arms folded up over that. The Doctor was standing, firmly, in between her and Mortimer, and his hands were loose, his body language quite open, but incontrovertibly threatening, in a way that made the most threatening threats ever look quite commonplace.

Rose was definitely in safe hands, here, but Mortimer wasn't so sure about himself.

"Normally, I don't have a problem with stowaways on my ship," said the Doctor. He really didn't seem anything like the giddy and slightly dashing fellow Mortimer had taken him for before. "It's amazing the people you can pick up over the years, and I can't tell you the number of them who have just wandered in unannounced. But normally, I can see them, and normally, I find them without having to use extraordinary measures."

Then, the Doctor smiled, all the thunder and danger gone, his cheeky grin back on his face, and deep sympathy in his dark eyes. "Now, I don't exactly know what's going on here, I really don't, not yet, but I promise I'll find out and try to free you. If you're Rose's family, and you mean no harm, you're welcome on my ship. However, I would ask that you not haunt Jackie, as the woman's got enough problems just being herself." The Doctor smirked devilishly, and Rose protested with an elbow to his ribs while a grin she obviously couldn't help spread over her pretty face.

Mortimer laughed and, though it made no sound, it was obvious that the pair at the console were somehow aware of it. No wonder lovely little Rose chose this one. Aside from the spaceship and the rather pretty looks, which might recommend him, but in no guarantee his loyalty, she'd looked deeper. She'd done the sensible thing and gone for intelligence instead of muscle or money or any of the silly things girls were inclined to in this world. Just like his Rosa.

Oh, she was the daughter they never had a chance to have.

Mortimer waved a cheery goodnight to the pair, since he couldn't tell them anything if even his deep laugh wasn't audible. He stepped over to the door and meant to go through it. The Doctor reached for the console, flipped a switch and the door opened for him.

"What a very strange world our girl lives in, Rosa," he murmured to the loving spirit he could almost feel beside him.

Jackie swore quietly as she flipped through the directory, looking for a roofer who could come out yesterday.

"You'd better call someone for the septic system, too," the Doctor shouted. He was outside, mucking with that space lawnmow of his, again, and Jackie wanted to get him and Rose both to toddle off to Polaris or somewhere.

Rose had been acting silly all morning, taking items down from the shelves and looking at them closely, then putting them back up again. Jackie had no idea what she was looking for, but whatever it was, she was whistling cheerfully or - dammit all - talking to Uncle Mortimer as she did it.

The Doctor had obviously spent the night arguing with his ship, as she'd come in that morning and still found him doing that. She'd stopped by Rose's room on her way to the console room, hoping to find them shacked up together, but her oblivious child was sleeping alone, fully dressed (after a fashion), no sign of any attempts at seduction in sight. He hadn't even had the decency to leave an obvious love bite on Rose's neck for Jackie to raise Cain about.

She hefted the directory, contemplated whacking the Doctor 'round the head with it. She walked out to the shed where he lived when he was doing whatever the hell it was that didn't involve getting on with seducing her daughter immediately so they could get this damn farce over with. "You said it's a time machine," Jackie said, jerking her finger toward the rather hospitable blue box that had even left her a nice glass of water and a couple of aspirin on her bedside table last night.

"She is," the Doctor agreed, taking the sonic screwdriver out of his mouth.

"Can you go back in time a month or so and call one of these buggers to come fix the roof?"

"Pair of ducks," he said, and waved her off.

"I don't care how many ducks it takes," she bellowed. "You don't have to get them to come out yesterday, just get them to come out today!"

"What have ducks got to do with it?" he demanded.

"You said ducks!" she snapped.

"I did not," he replied, standing up and looking at her, all injured dignity and touseled hair.

It was a shame he was being so cute when she wanted to murder him. He and Lovey had that in common, actually. "I asked you," she said, slowly, as if talking to the idiot she sometimes suspected him to be, "to go and call the roofers and you said 'pair of ducks.'"

The Doctor looked at her and made a face like a fish. A startled and baffled fish. Then, he burst out laughing. "Jackie Tyler, promise me you will never change." Then he darted off into the house.

She followed him, disgruntled and confused, and when she found him, he and Rose were falling over one of the recliners together, giggling like crazy.

Jackie wished she'd never even bothered. Then again... they inched closer. Jackie held her breath. Rose was about to fall off the sofa arm. Maybe they'd... closer...

The door bell rang and, turning to answer it, Jackie hated everything.

She opened the door, briefly appraised the familiar looking, gorgeous bloke on her doorstep, and the large, black SUV in her drive and decided that maybe she only hated almost everything. "Hello," she said, in her most inviting voice.

The man blinked at her in surprise. "Hello," he answered and held out his hand. "Captain Jack Harkness," he said, in the most compelling and flirtatious tone she had ever heard.

Jackie beamed and accepted his hand, and he lifted hers to his lips and kissed it. "I don't know if you've noticed anything odd, ma'am. Strange lights in the sky, anything like that?" he asked, his eyebrows arching intriguingly as he looked her over.

She looked for her voice, but it was pretty obvious that the damn cat had run off with her tongue, just like the butter dish and anything else in this house you were looking for. She shook her head, slowly.

The man smiled. "Do you mind if I..." he started.

Over her shoulder, Jackie heard Rose say, "Mum, who's at the door?" She hated everything, again.

The bloke, Captain Jack, froze and looked around Jackie to, apparently, see Rose's retreating back. His hand went to the device in his ear. "Stand down," he said. "False alarm, just a hiccup is all."

He had the strangest look on his face. "You must be Jackie," he said.

"Yes," she agreed, rather startled at this sudden conclusion.

"What do you mean just some bloke Jackie's chatting up?" came the Doctor's voice, now. "The sonic screwdriver just went crazy, I'm sure there's alien tech in the..."

The man in the doorway and the Doctor looked at each other, the Captain with an interested, confused expression, the Doctor so pale that the only color in his face was his freckles. Rose still hadn't seen the bloke, and the Doctor didn't seem to want her to do, as his hands gently but firmly shoved Rose behind him and then turned and dragged her back into the living room.

"That's the Doctor, then?" the Captain asked.

Jackie nodded, a little confused as to how this... wait. She'd seen pictures of him before, somewhere. Maybe it was in Rose's things.

"I love you, too, Rosie!" he shouted into the house. He grinned at Jackie. "So, those two," he said. "What's the plan?"

Jackie didn't get a chance to tell him, because Rose rudely shoved her out of the way and slammed into the Captain as if she'd been shot from a cannon.