Author's Notes - This chapter is a bit slower paced, but the rollercoaster ride isn't over yet. Apologies if the last one was a bit confusing with everything happening at once. Just a reminder that these stories went AU at Journey's End. So, my take on certain things will obviously be different. I'm a little nervous about reactions to this chapter, so I'd love to hear everyone's opinions. Hope you enjoy!

And, thanks to dwatlaskrhtcm and TheGirlWithTheOnyxRose for their feedback.

"Jack?"

Sitting beside her bed, the Doctor gently held Melissa's hand. "Just me, I'm afraid. How are you feeling?"

It took her a while to decide. As her gaze swept the room, she realized that she was in the critical infirmary of the Time Lord Citadel. Something was being pumped into her veins, and she had a vague awareness that she was far from perfect. Automatically, her hands moved to her stomach; it was flaccid and sore. Only then did she remember why she would be in such a place.

"They're alright?"

Carefully, he allowed her to sense his joy at their children's birth. "Of course they are. You're going to be a fantastic mother."

His exuberance quickly faded to be replaced by worry and grief, and she distantly understood that something was terribly wrong. "You're going to have to tell me sometime."

"I know," he answered with a sigh. "Just . . . not yet. You need your rest."

Pressing a kiss against her forehead, he stroked her cheek until the drugs carried her away once again. The healers had placed her in a simulated coma in order to conserve what little strength she had left. After forty hours, it seemed to be working. Her hormone levels continued to stabilize, and they estimated she would be able to regenerate in another seventy-two hours.

Wandering a bit, he found himself in his temporary quarters. Their daughter was sleeping peacefully in her cot, and Owen was awake, kicking and poking at the artificial womb as it played a recording of his mother's voice. The children's babysitter lay wearily on the bed nearby.

"How's Emma today?"

The Doctor studied his older brother, wondering when he'd stop being so stubborn. Brax looked as pale as his bond mate, although he adamantly refused to be confined to the infirmary. The aspirin had been purged from his bloodstream, but there was permanent damage to his liver and kidneys. It was taking longer to purge the sodium pentathol. He'd been given a high enough dose that it had spread throughout his tissues, temporarily robbing him of the ability to regenerate.

"They allowed her to remain conscious for a few minutes. Your healer thinks she'll need another seventy-two hours."

"Have you seen Captain Harkness today?"

When the Doctor answered, it was as if all the emotion had been wrung out of him, leaving a dry husk. "No, I thought I'd check on the children first. They promised they'd contact me if he regained consciousness."

In that instant, Irving Braxiatel realized his brother was very close to the breaking point. Rising slowly out of bed, he stood in front of the Doctor, for once his expression warm and open.

"You need to rest, Little Bro. You're not going to lose either one of them. Emma will be new and vibrant in a matter of days. And, Harkness is too stubborn to die and too stupid to know he shouldn't be able to walk. You won't be helping either one of them or your children if you collapse from exhaustion.

Something of his speech must have had an effect, because the Doctor finally met his gaze, although his eyes were haunted. "I've lost them all, Brax. I've become everything I fear. I ripped Marshall's mind. I'm a monster."

It took every ounce of will not to shake some sense into him. But, Irving Braxiatel was old enough to know that stress manifested itself in all sorts of ways. And guilty self-recrimination was the Doctor's specialty. He took two hesitant steps forward. Awkwardly, he embraced his younger sibling, realizing with a start that he hadn't done so since that first joyful meeting on the Plass.

"They both love you too much to do anything of the kind. And you aren't a monster. You're a Time Lord who was pushed too far. Marshall harmed your bond mates. His life was yours to take, and you know it."

His brother didn't cry in front of him often. In fact, Brax had only seen him cry once, at the death of their mother, when the Doctor was merely Theta Sigma and young enough to sleep with a light beside the bed. But his entire body shook, and the things he'd seen in Marshall's mind spilled out in a jumbled rush.

"He arranged it all, the Hub, the shootings. He killed Alistair and Ianto, and crippled Jack. But I would have let him live until I saw how much he enjoyed hurting Emma. I think it was worse, seeing her suffer as a human. She struggled and it excited him, and then he . . . and I couldn't—I wouldn't see more. I should have killed him permanently on the Valiant. I asked Jack, knowing it wouldn't take, but that wasn't fair either. I can't make the people I love into weapons; it's wrong. But, I'm afraid of what I might do. You know what I'm capable of. I killed you. I killed all of you. It doesn't matter that it was the only way. The universe or the Time Lords, and I chose the universe."

Brax inwardly cringed as the Doctor related Marshall's crimes. Again, he had to stifle his natural impulse. There was a part of him that wanted to shout and scream to make the Doctor acknowledge that killing Marshall should have been extremely satisfying and that wallowing in such self-loathing served no purpose.

However, attempting to make him feel good about killing the deviant was no doubt futile and counterproductive. Aside from the mythical Other, his brother was likely the most morally conscious Time Lord to ever walk under Gallifrey's twin suns. No, he would never enjoy killing, but making him see it was occasionally necessary was vital to his mental wellbeing.

"You chose the universe because it was the right choice, just like killing that psychopath was the right choice, Doc. When you named yourself, you told me you wanted to make people better, and you do. But you've got to remember that surgeons are doctors, too, Bro. Human surgeons cut out cancers that invade the body. They do it for the benefit of the patient, but the cutting can hurt. You do the same. Only, the cancers you cut out can kill planets and species, not just individuals. Take my word for it, Doctor; you're no monster. You're a healer as much as Drocina was. You just do it on a larger scale."

"I've never considered that," he finally remarked, the tenor of his voice slightly befuddled. "That's actually how you think of me?"

Smiling, he clapped his brother on the back. "Yes, you idiot. You do the things the rest of us won't. We're the cowards, Doc, not you."

As if committed to proving Brax wrong, he confessed, "I relished killing him."

Silently counting to a hundred, the older sibling acknowledged that some things would never change. "Of course you did. You'd have to be a Cyberman not to, but I'm not going to argue with you any more. If you want to go continue to beat yourself up about it, I've got a hair shirt I picked up on a visit to the Monastic Moon of Moydra you can wear."

"There's no such place."

"Oh? Then, I suppose I don't have one. Perhaps you can keep the self-flagellation to a minimum, then." With that, he sat on the bed and picked up a book.

The Doctor watched his brother do a relatively good imitation of reading for several minutes before he spoke.

"Brax?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you aware that you're a real pain in the arse?" Then, almost inaudibly, he added, "Thanks."

Looking up at him, the elder Time Lord allowed a hint of a smile to flit across his face. "You're welcome. You do know that's what older brothers are for, don't you?"

"What? Being a pain in the arse?"

"Of course, Doctor. What else? Now, either get some real sleep or go sit by your Captain."

He left. He couldn't sleep. Without Jack and Melissa, he thought his nightmares just might drive him mad.

Waking gradually, Jack realized he was in some sort of hospital, but he couldn't remember why. He just knew that he felt horrible.

"Doc?"

The Time Lord looked awful, like he'd gone on a weekend bender and never came back. His face was unshaven, and his eyes were bloodshot and glassy. But as soon as Jack spoke, an exhausted smile softened his harsh features.

"Finally get tired of sleeping, eh?" Putting his book down, the Doctor grinned at the Captain in unabashed delight. At last, a positive sign.

"Maybe." He hurt enough to think sleeping might be preferable to the pain.

Clumsily, he put his hand up to his face. He was being given oxygen, long enough for the prongs to irritate his nasal passages. Without really thinking, he tried to pull it away. The Doctor was at his side in an instant, holding his hand. Jack forgot all about the discomfort of the oxygen tube.

"You look like shit."

"Yeah, well pot and kettle there, Captain. How are you feeling, Jack?"

"I've had deaths that hurt less than this."

As soon as he had said it, he wished he could take it back. The Doctor had flinched as if he'd been struck. Only then did Jack realize how close he must have come to dying for good. Unfortunately, he could barely remember what had happened. There'd been an ambush, but by whom and why he couldn't quite grasp.

"I don't remember . . . ."

Watching Jack fight to remain aware, the Time Lord unabashedly caressed his cheek. "It doesn't matter, not yet. We almost lost you. You need to rest and let your body heal."

The 'we' reminded him of something very important. "Melissa, she'll be worried. I should tell her . . . ."

He didn't finish his sentence before unconsciousness took him again.

When Jack was aware of waking again, the Doctor was sitting in the same spot by his bed. The Captain still felt like someone had used his body as a football, but he was much more aware of his surroundings.

"Doc?" The exhaustion was still too apparent on the Time Lord's face. In fact, he thought the Doctor looked about as bad as he felt.

Once again, though, he took Jack's hand in his. "Hello, Captain. How are you feeling this time?"

Suddenly, he remembered and groaned in denial. "I got shot, Doc. I feel like crap."

A pleased grin broke out on his bond mate's face, and the Captain couldn't help but notice he choked back something that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "Yes, well, at least your charming personality is intact. Although, I'm afraid you're going to feel that way for a while."

Recalling exactly where he'd been when he was shot, he peered intently at the Time Lord. "You okay?"

Snorting, he almost said okay was a relative term, but he sobered rapidly as he remembered their friend's fate. "I'm fine. Alistair pushed me out of the way." He paused and then roughly continued. "He didn't make it."

Jack tried to think of the old soldier as gone for good, and couldn't manage it. He quickly changed the subject. "How long have I been out of it?"

"Long enough."

Hell, it must have been a very close thing. Suddenly, he was anxious for an entirely different reason. "Where's Melissa? Me being shot didn't make her go into labor or anything, did it?"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wasn't quite sure how to answer. As Jack watched his expression become guarded, he began to panic. "I need to know, Doc. What happened? Are she and the babies okay?"

His answer came out in a mournful undertone. "It wasn't your fault, Jack. You have to know that. Owen's fine. The healers say he'll fully mature in four weeks. And, our daughter's beautiful. Oh, just wait until you meet her, Captain. She's got the most captivating blue eyes and rich, brown hair, and you were quite right, she's going to be a handful. Brax and Flavia are already smitten, as is every other Time Lord who can invent a good enough excuse to see her."

"I'm sensing a very big 'but' here, Doc. You haven't said a word about Melissa. What's wrong?"

"She . . . ." His voice finally broke. "The shooting at the hotel was a diversion. She was the target all along. I managed to find her, but she was so weak already. When she delivered, her hearts had all but failed. The healers are doing their best to keep her alive until she can regenerate, but there's no guarantee she'll make it."

Instinctively, he struggled to rise, only to give up once he understood that his injuries were far worse than he had imagined. Terrified, he begged, "Doc, please tell me I can't move my legs because they've got me on some really fantastic painkillers."

"One of the bullets lodged against your spine, and your spinal cord is swollen as a result. And, you're right femur was shattered. Even with a tissue regenerator, it's going to be a while before you can walk."

He stared at the ceiling, not knowing what to say. He'd died too many times to be afraid of death, but being helpless was another matter entirely. Still, he pushed his fear away; Melissa was all that mattered right now.

"I don't have a while. I need to see her now. She can't think I've just abandoned her."

His face twisted in grief, and the Doctor regretted having to add to his pain. Haltingly, he tried to explain. "She won't. I promise." Again, he struggled to speak. "She's unconscious most of the time, and I don't know how aware she is the few minutes she wakes."

Flat on his back, Jack felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "How long has she got?" he asked unwillingly. He couldn't handle any more bad news.

"Seventy-two hours. If they can keep her alive past that, they think she'll be able to regenerate."

"Then I need to be out of here in seventy-two hours. I'm not letting her go through that without me."

"She won't," he promised, even though he had no idea how he was going to accomplish that.

Seventy-four hours later, Jack held their daughter in his arms for the first time, completely in awe. All of the horrible things that had happened couldn't mar the miracle of her existence. She was perfect—ten fingers and ten toes, and a cute button nose the Doctor insisted resembled Melissa's when she was a child. Like Melissa, she had mischievous dimples when she smiled. And, like the Doctor, she had brown hair that invariably stuck out in all directions. Somehow, it seemed appropriate.

"You are gorgeous, Sweetheart."

Softly stoking her bare feet, he watched her smile in her sleep. She was worn out from an hour of attempting to reach the mobile above her cot. It had been extremely amusing to watch her reaction when she finally realized that her arms were simply too short. Jack was going to have to label that one The Oncoming Pout.

Her antics had been a welcome distraction from the fuss being made around him. It had taken days of cajoling and bullying on the Doctor's part, but the healers had finally allowed him to sit in a wheelchair. By wheelchair, they meant a wheeled device that all but encased the lower half of his body. As they had strapped it around him, he had tried very hard not to think of Davros, but it was uncomfortably easy to make the comparison.

He didn't care—much. He had no intention of needing the chair for any appreciable length of time. At the moment, it was simply a means to an end. Besides, he thought the baby liked the ride. She had certainly giggled enough as they had zipped down corridors to find Melissa's room.

When he finally saw the condition of his wife, he sharply sucked in his breath. It physically hurt to see her hooked up to so many machines. He knew they were doing the work her body couldn't, but to see her so diminished was heart wrenching.

The Doctor placed his hand on Jack's shoulder in sympathy. Anxiously, the Captain gazed upwards. The Time Lord didn't look much better than he did. Their expressions echoed each other's despair, and their faces illustrated the effects of too much trauma and stress. Jack did his best to smile in encouragement, but it was a fleeting effort at best.

"Brax, would you take the baby from Jack?"

Crossing the threshold of the bleak room, Irving Braxiatel walked to the bed and kissed his bond sister on the forehead before doing as the Doctor had asked. Gently, he took the infant from the Captain's arms.

"I'll be in your quarters with Flavia. Take all the time you need."

Softly patting his daughter's head as Brax took her away, the Doctor did his best to be stalwart. Perhaps once she had regenerated he could afford the luxury of mourning everyone who had been lost. Perhaps they all could. He still hadn't told Jack about Torchwood or Ianto. And Melissa had been too frail to be told about any of it.

When his brother left, the Doctor closed the door. As he worked to take Melissa off the machines that had been preserving her life, he explained what was about to happen to Jack.

"The healers say that Emma's body chemistry has reverted to a pre-pregnancy state. There is no physical reason for her not to regenerate, but she needs to be alert enough to trigger it. They stopped giving her sedatives a few hours ago. She should wake up fairly soon. I'm going to have to unhook her from the machines because her body won't begin the process until she's actually dying."

Reluctantly, he admitted, "It might be uncomfortable, for all of us. Her heart will eventually fail, and we'll feel that through the bond. If it gets too bad, I can sedate you. The healers don't want you to overtax yourself."

"Doc, you even try to sedate me, and you might find yourself regenerating before she does."

"Jack."

"Don't 'Jack' me with that tone of voice. You'd do the same if you were me. I'm not leaving her. Bad enough I wasn't there for the birth. I can't imagine how scared she must have been."

"About that Captain—"

Just then, Melissa cracked open her eyes. "Too noisy."

Immediately, both men were by her side. "How are you feeling, Em?"

She lied bravely. "Not bad." Looking down at the traditional loose, white regneration shift that she had been dressed in, however, she grimaced. "Guess you know that's not true."

"It's going to be okay, Sweetheart. We're both here for you. You won't be alone."

Blearily, she looked at Jack, and couldn't help but notice the contraption he was strapped into. "Why are you . . . . ?"

"Mobility issues."

Troubled, she lifted her head to try to get a better look, but she quickly dropped it back down on the bed. The effort left her too weak to speak for several minutes. When she finally could, she was necessarily brief. "Explain after, okay?"

"As soon as you're better," he promised. "We have a lot of catching up to do."

Reaching out, she took both their hands and gave them a weak squeeze. As the Doctor sat on her left and Jack her right, she drifted in her memories. Gradually, her right heart began to beat at a frenzied pace, trying in vain to do the work of two. She panicked as it faltered, trapped by the most basic of instincts, the fight for survival.

Caught in her emotions, the two men immediately reached out to her mind, calming her as best they could. With their help, she faced her death with a resigned acceptance.

Just before her heart stopped altogether, she gazed lovingly at the Doctor. He was blinking back tears, so she did her best to smile. "I wish I could have held my son."

"You will, Emma. I promise. Just as soon as he's strong enough."

Slowly, she turned to Jack. Tears streamed unabashedly down his cheeks, and she smiled bravely for his benefit. "I love you. That won't change."

"I know, Sweetheart. Everything's going to be alright."

She wanted to reassure him once more, but she no longer had the strength to speak. Gazing devotedly at her bond mates, she finally stopped fighting against the inevitable. In a way, the encroaching darkness was peaceful, and she briefly welcomed it.

But, then she felt a warm tingling spreading throughout her body. It was a familiar sensation, and she eagerly embraced it. An abundance of Life suddenly coursed through every cell of her being. With a gasp, she opened her eyes to witness it. Her skin was glowing, changing, transforming, until, like a butterfly, she burst out of her dry, useless cocoon.

Bolting upright, Melissa smiled radiantly at Jack. "Hello, Sweetie."

The Doctor blanched as his bond mate transformed into a very familiar figure. And then, he did something he'd promised never to do again. He ran.

Springing out of bed, Melissa tried to follow him, but the room spun as her new shape continued to settle around her. Staggering to the door, she clung to the frame. "In the name of sanity, what the hell does he think he's doing?"

"Sweetheart? Do you want me to get a healer?"

Jack had never felt so impotent. The Doctor had done a runner, and Melissa could barely stand. Worse, he had no way of catching her. Her could only sit helplessly in the chair and watch her struggle to remain on her feet.

"I really think you should get back to bed."

There was a flash of anger in her eyes, which Jack noted weren't such a deep green now. In fact, they were so pale that he couldn't be sure exactly what color they were—blue, green, hazel? Although, he couldn't help but notice they were mesmerizing.

"If you can tell me where that man's run off to, Jack Harkness, maybe then I'll think about getting back to bed. Am I so hideous that . . . ?"

She paused, gripping the doorframe even more tightly as a puff of golden energy burst from her mouth. Her anger was replaced by alarm. "Maybe you're right."

He watched her stagger to the bed, taking in her new appearance even as he worried that she would collapse in front of him. Her hair was lighter, although it was still ginger. And, it definitely could be called kinky this time. Her waves had transformed into beautiful curls. Her body, in a word, was stunning. Under the thin shift, he could see an outline of sensuous curves, and she was much taller, tall enough that he wouldn't have to bend very far to kiss her, if at all.

She made it back to bed with no help from him. Lying on her back, she tensed as another wisp of energy escaped her mouth. Her mind was a torrent. Why had the Doctor run away? Had he been revolted by the mere sight of her?

The regeneration had temporarily weakened her defenses, and Jack could sense the unease swirling in her mind. He wanted to comfort her, but wasn't sure how she'd react.

"Can I touch you?"

She tried to hide her anxiety. Was he repulsed by her, too? "Of course you can. I'm not contagious."

Her hands were larger, just like the rest of her, but their solidity was comforting. Taking her right hand tenderly in his, he brought it up to his lips and kissed it. And, then wanting to reassure her that she was anything but repulsive, he gave her a devilish grin. "I cannot wait to explore that fabulous body of yours. You look sexier than I could imagine, Sweetheart."

A surge of desire shot through her, and when she spoke, her voice was surprisingly sultry. "Oh, that's definitely something I look forward to. In fact, I think this body was made for dancing."

Leering at her, he grinned. "I think you're right. But, you need to rest first. I should let you sleep."

Instantly, her face turned stony, and another word jumped into her mind as she considered her reaction. Was she capricious now? "I want to hold my daughter, Jack. I think I've earned that right."

Excess regenerative energy popped out of her mouth before he could answer. This time, it left her shuddering. With more calm than she imagined possible, she turned to him. "I'll hold her later. Could you find a healer now? I think something's gone a bit wrong."

Brax found his brother sitting near the waterfall on his estate. Not quite knowing how to start the conversation, he remarked idly. "I took it upon myself to fix the pavilion. I know how much Emma liked it."

Standing, the Doctor faced his older brother, and didn't like what he saw. "Then for the Other's sake, Brax, take a seat. You look terrible. You shouldn't have left the Citadel in your condition."

Sitting, he waited patiently for the Doctor to join him. "Well, since Jack can't walk, it was left to me to talk some sense into you."

"Oh, so it's Jack now?"

He ignored the jibe, turning serious. "Emma has regeneration sickness, but her healers aren't overly concerned." Then, he practically exploded at his brother. "What were you thinking, Thete? The Captain told me you took one look at her and bolted. Do you know how much that frightened her? She was worried that Jack wouldn't accept her, not you, you idiot!"

"Don't call me Thete."

"I'll call you Thete until you stop acting like a child! She regenerated. Get over it! She's done it before and will do so again."

"No, she won't," he spat out, his entire body shaking with rage.

Suddenly wary, the older man demanded, "What do you mean, she won't?"

"She won't," he answered harshly. "I saw her die, in the Library. Dr. River Song, professor of Archeology, nobly sacrificing her life to save mine."

"Spatial genetic multiplicity—"

"She whispered my name, Brax. Not the Doctor, not Thete, not the Oncoming Storm—my name. You tell me how anyone besides Emma or Jack could know that."

"I can't," he admitted quietly. "How did she die?"

"CAL, the data core for the Library was a giant virtual reality, created for the consciousness of the founder's daughter. She'd managed to save everyone on the planet onto the hard drive when the Vashta Nerada invaded. But, her mind couldn't handle so many people, so she shut herself down when she remembered what she'd done. I needed to restart it, but to do so would have stopped my hearts too quickly for regeneration to occur. River, she . . . she knocked me out and handcuffed me to the wall. I watched her sacrifice her life to save mine and the lives of everyone in the Library. In the end, CAL was able to use the teleport to restore everyone who had been stored when they were alive."

"And River?" He couldn't call her Emma. To do so would acknowledge the truth of the Doctor's tale.

"She died, but in the future I had given her a sonic screwdriver that contained a data chip. I found it before it began to loop, and I downloaded her consciousness into CAL. As far as I know, she still exists within the computer."

"You didn't sense she was a Time Lord?"

"No, she was insufferably enigmatic, but she also seemed quite human."

"Perhaps she was a clone."

"She certainly didn't smell like a clone, and she knew Donna."

They sat in silence for a long while.

Standing stiffly, Brax stretched his back. "So you know her future. It's not without precedent. That doesn't give you the right to reject her in the present, Doc. She needs you. Your family needs you. She almost died in childbirth. Aren't you the least bit happy that she survived?"

"Of course I am! But, the thought of losing her frightens me like nothing else!"

"Then don't waste any more time, you idiot! Grieve after she's gone and not before."

Abruptly, the Doctor deflated. He had been quite the idiot. The time they had left should be treasured, not ruined by sulking over something that was already fixed. "How bad is the regeneration sickness?"

"No worse than what you've gone through, I imagine. She's been sleeping for the most part. To be perfectly honest, I'm more concerned about the Captain at this point."

"Jack? What's happened?"

"He refuses to leave her side. Won't get out of that damn chair. The healers have tried to explain that he's only injuring himself further by subjecting his spine to additional compression, but he ignores them quite easily. I had hoped you could be more persuasive."

Rubbing his face, the Doctor stood next to his brother. Walking slowly towards the TARDIS in order to give Brax a chance to keep up, he asked, "How's Owen and our daughter?"

"Doc, if you three don't name that child soon, I'm going to name her myself."

He smiled at the thought. "Now, there's a frightening prospect. I suppose I'll have to find a seer."

"Already taken care of, Bro. The Elder has volunteered."

"Oh? I can't think of anyone better. It's a good thing Romana had the diglitum genetically altered."

"Yes, even if it doesn't make much sense."

"Don't, Brax, just don't. Let her rest in peace. She was obviously disturbed. I prefer to remember her how she was before the War."

"And I would prefer to understand how our president could turn into a stark raving lunatic without drawing undue attention. She had everyone fooled, even me."

"I'm sorry. I know you cared for her."

"A mistake. I won't make it again." The Time Lord stiffened, his entire body rigid. It was obvious he wasn't comfortable talking about his own feelings.

"Brax."

Half-heartedly, he tried to make light of it. "Not everyone's cut out for a relationship, Doc. Besides, I'll be too busy spoiling your kids to sit around and mope."

"I can only imagine." Smiling, he added, "Just don't give our daughter a mini black hole until she's old enough."

"Actually, I was thinking about a drum set."

"Brax?"

"Yeah, Bro?"

"You are truly evil."

He was about to get the dressing down of his life. To make matters worse, he deserved it. Walking dejectedly into his wife's room, he waited for the recriminations to start.

They didn't. Both Jack and Melissa were asleep. He didn't have the heart to wake them, so he walked over to the table where the healers had placed the artificial womb. Even Owen was sleeping, placidly sucking his thumb. He'd almost made up his mind to find his daughter when he heard Jack stirring.

Crouching beside him, he watched the Captain wake. "Hello."

Jack grunted. "You finished being an ass?"

"I think so, yeah."

They regarded each other guardedly, not quite knowing where to go from there. Jack broke the silence. "You terrified her, Doc."

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't know how to make it up to either one of you."

"You can start by explaining why you ran in the first place."

"It's complicated." He ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair, not knowing how much to tell or when to divulge it.

"With you, it always is, Doc. And this time, you'd better have a damn good reason for what you did. You broke promises to both of us."

He knew that very well. It was one of the reasons he felt so remorseful for his actions. He'd promised Melissa that he'd never run from her again. And, he'd promised Jack that he would never hurt her after doing just that the day they'd discovered who she really was.

Still, he wished in this instance he could lie and say he didn't know why he had run. Unfortunately, given the nature of their relationship, his secret would quickly come to light. It was better to get it in the open now, before they added betrayal to their list of grievances.

"I've seen her die, Jack."

The Captain stared at him, assessing. He had a really bad feeling the Doctor wasn't talking about her recent regeneration.

"Go on."

"Has Donna told you about the Library?"

Jack's bad feeling multiplied tenfold. "She might have mentioned it once or twice."

"Then I won't bother with long-winded explanations. Emma is the spitting image of Dr. River Song."

What could he say? That life was fucking unfair? Maybe he was wrong. "Donna said she knew your name."

"She did. It's the only reason I trusted her."

Jack reached out to cup the Doctor's right cheek, gazing unflinchingly into the well of sadness visible in his deep brown eyes. "We'll tell her together."

Mirroring his bond mate, the Time Lord brought his own hand to Jack's face. Motionless, the two men shared each other's sorrow and disappointment for a long moment before reluctantly breaking contact.

"You really should be getting back to bed, you know." His protest was a token one. Jack was not about to leave, and he was more than grateful for the extra support. He wasn't sure he could have faced her alone.

"One crisis at a time, Doc. I've got a feeling I'm going to be in bed for quite a while once I get out of this thing. Hell, I haven't even gotten to kiss her yet."

Trust the Captain to put everything in perspective. "And you can't do that perfectly well lying down?"

He answered with a grin. "That doesn't count, Doc. Then, she'll be kissing me."

After a few second's thought, the Doctor had to agree.