A bit of Doctor/Rose cuteness here, but not a lot... there should probably be more but it sort of keeps the tension there... one day they'll be reunited properly.

Btw, I'm still looking to change my summary if anyone fancies doing it for me or at least giving me a suggestion or two.

Extract from "Father's Day" in this one. I love that episode.

"I thought you'd be up."

Rose jumped and turned to see the Doctor standing by the kitchen door. He didn't elicit the usual response from her, the huge grin and the jump in her stomach. Instead, every word he spoke and every flicker of his eyelids just felt like someone was banging against her rib cage.

"The door was open," he explained softly, gesturing towards the front door.

Rose didn't even nod in response. She sat down heavily at the kitchen table, which was littered with coffee cups from yesterday, most undrunk.

The Doctor remained standing. "How are you?" When she didn't reply he sighed. "Sorry, stupid question."

Finally Rose found her voice. "Where did you go last night?"

"Oh, I needed a walk." He shrugged. "You know, clear my head, think things over. I wanted to go and check on the TARDIS too, make sure she was okay."

Rose only nodded, unable to speak because of the sudden ball of anger inside of her. He'd spent last night checking on that stupid ship of his instead of being here, with his family, where they needed him.

"Where's everyone else?"

"Asleep."

"Oh right." He tried to surreptitiously check the kitchen clock, but Rose saw him move.

"We did have a late night." It didn't seem to have taken much of a toll on him though, she noticed. His suit looked neatly pressed and his tie wasn't even hanging off on one side.

He nodded. Silence descended upon them again, and Rose found herself thinking of the old times, when they had so much to say that they'd talk over the top of each other. It was like a punch to the stomach as she thought about all those tales and jokes and laughter, the hugs and smiles and teasing. She'd been so happy back then, so carefree and enthusiastic about life. It felt like another person. Another time, another Rose, another Doctor.

"I've been checking a few things out." He eventually spoke again. She looked up at him. "With the TARDIS. About this legend. And Rose? It's not over yet."

Rose looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean, it's not over? They've taken her. They've taken my little girl and we couldn't do anything to stop them. You couldn't… Those… things… have taken Janie and we don't know where they are or what they're doing or why or anything!" The Doctor seemed about to protest, an excuse on the tip of his tongue, but Rose cut him dead. "Well do you, Doctor? Do you know why they've got her?"

He looked away. "No. No, I don't."

Something inside Rose broke and she had no idea what. Part of her had been clinging on, even now, to the hope that whatever had happened, whatever those aliens wanted with her beautiful daughter, the Doctor would know and would sort it out. Because that was what he did, that was who he was. She'd only seen him utterly flummoxed once in her life, and now she thought about it, she suspected that maybe he hadn't been that lost after all.

His face mellowed a little, the anger and hurt subsiding a little, and his voice lost its harsh coldness. "Alright. I'm sorry. I wasn't really going to leave you."

Rose could never resist being a little bolshy. "I know."

"But between you me… I haven't got a plan. No idea. No way out."

Rose looked at him. "You'll think of something."

He had, she knew that now. He'd already known the only way out was for Pete, her father, her daddy, to die, just like he was supposed to. Much as it had pulled her apart at the time, she'd never lost her faith him in for a second. She'd thought it would always be like that, always him knowing what to do. Of course, she'd had her part to play, she'd saved him on enough occasions. But it was always him that knew what to do. Only not this time.

He must have heard that something crack inside of her as he turned to look at her again. "I'm sorry."

Rose shook her head and didn't reply immediately, as she cradled her head in her hands and let her hair fall across her face. She wasn't really angry with him; she wanted to shout at him and demand answers, demand to know why he'd abandoned them last night when she needed him more than she'd needed anybody for a long time. But would getting angry with him help? Was any of this even his fault?

"Do you know what really kills me?" she said finally, her voice thick with tears that she was trying to hold back. She hadn't cried this much and this often since he'd left her.

"What's that?" he asked in a gentle voice, like he was talking to a child.

"That Janie thought she was meeting someone she liked." Rose sniffed. "That they'd just use her feelings, her…" She shook her head. "That poor boy." She was sure if she'd ever been introduced to this Rich Stringer, she'd have immediately decided that Janie was having nothing more to do with him. But no matter how awful he was, he didn't deserve to be butchered and then have his skin paraded round. "How can they play on her feelings like that?"

The Doctor crouched down on the floor beside her. "They don't really care about things like that, Rose. You know they don't. Emotions… half of them don't even know what they are. But Rose… it's not over yet."

Rose wiped her eyes. "What do you mean? How can it not be over?"

"They've taken Janie back to their world. My world. The world that you came from. That's all last night was, them going back through a rift, I told you that." Rose nodded, so he continued. "So this legend, this ritual… they've not done it yet. Janie's still alive."

Rose frowned. "What?"

"Janie is still alive. They've just taken her back to another world." The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "I can go after her and bring her back."

Rose stared at him for a few seconds before letting out a sharp breath in amazement. "You mean that? Seriously?"

"Never been more serious about anything in my life."

Rose stood up. "Well come on then, let's go after her!"

The Doctor rose up from his crouched position too, a sad expression on his face. "Rose, you can't come."

"What? What do you mean I can't come?"

"You're dead, Rose, officially. Back there. Dead people can't come back."

Rose shook her head. "But I'm not, am I? Not like Dad, I'm not actually dead!"

The Doctor shook his head back. "I'm sorry, Rose. I can't take that risk. Things will be mad enough, this legend, whatever it is, isn't a walk in the park. If you come through again, you could create a hole in time. And we both know that's not a good idea."

Rose swallowed a lump in her throat. "So am I just meant to sit here then, and wait for you? Wait for you to find her and bring her back, or…"

"I'll find her. And I'll bring her back to you, good as new." The Doctor took her hands in his. "I promise you, Rose. Our daughter will be safe."

Though they hadn't gone to bed until after five, and hadn't fallen asleep until gone six, when Jack woke up in Gwen's bed at nine-thirty, his first instinct was to get out of there as quickly as possible. He'd eased himself out without waking up the sleeping woman next to him. Her dark hair was falling over her face and she'd somehow managed to knot herself up in the bedclothes. Absolutely dead to the world. Jack had carefully tucked the covers back round her and then slipped out the door.

Gwen had been right; it was a beautiful day outside. He crossed the lawn, hands in his pockets, listening to the birds sing, and thinking about what had happened last night. All of yesterday in fact. Twenty-four hours of complete insanity when he'd thought that things in his life couldn't get any weirder. In his mind, it had all seemed so simple. He'd somehow deluded himself into believing that as soon as he found the Doctor and Rose, as soon as he knew what had happened to him and why he was the way he was, it would all be over. The Doctor would find a way to undo whatever immortality spell or charm had been put upon him, or if that failed, Jack could at least start to accept what had happened. In actual fact, being immortal, or whatever it was, did have its bonus sides. It wasn't like it hadn't got Jack, the Torchwood team and the whole world out of a few scrapes. So maybe acceptance would have been enough to allow him to live happily ever after.

But now he knew. Nothing was that simple. Since coming here, since meeting the Doctor and Rose again, Jack had just felt his life spiral deeper and deeper downwards, until it finally hit rock bottom yesterday. With Rose's words, he'd found his head spinning. Until that moment, Jack had felt only one emotion towards whoever had done this to him, and that was anger. Well, two: anger and hate. More than wanting to find out why, his first priority was to give whoever (or whatever) had made him immortal a big thump between the eyes. There would be plenty of time for questions later. Act first, think later: same old Jack Harkness.

But then he'd found out. He'd found out that the person who had done this to him, who had caused him so much pain and anger and confusion for so long was Rose. Sweet, perfect, beautiful Rose had done everything she could to save her Doctor and had accidentally resuscitated Jack in the process. And then had forgotten all about him, it seemed. Just moved on, changing faces and times and… just left him.

Jack wished he could hate Rose for that, that he could finally let the itch in his fist let loose and land one on her chin. But he couldn't. She was a woman for starters; rule number one, you don't hit women. And for another thing… she was Rose. The girl he'd missed non-stop since she'd left, abandoning him with this terrible gift. He adored her, would do anything for her. He couldn't hate her if he tried.

Then there was the other stuff. Janie. As soon as Jack tried to stop being so self-obsessed, endlessly examining his own messed up feelings, he only managed to plunge himself into bottomless pits of guilt concerning one Miss. Janie Tyler. Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was the fear painted across her face. She was even more beautiful in real life than she had been in the photograph Rose had given them. A perfect mixture of her mother and father. Jack knew deep down that it shouldn't make a difference, but it did. She was gorgeous, and that somehow made their failure last night worse. As though it could be any worse. They'd failed to save her from a hoard of aliens, and she'd disappeared. Leaving just them and their guilt that they'd let her down. They were Torchwood, they were the Time Lord, they were her parents for god's sake. And they couldn't protect that little girl from the evils in the world. They couldn't even deal with them themselves, Jack mused, as he briefly let his mind dart back to Gwen's room, only a few hours ago. He inwardly winced when he thought about it. What a mistake that had been. He wasn't even sure what logic had come into play with that, if any at all. How he thought that sleeping with a colleague, with Gwen, would help him or her at that moment, he couldn't understand now. And yet, it had, strangely for a few blissful minutes, all he'd been able to think about was her, and it had made all that guilt and anger and fear just disappear like it had never been there. Of course, that couldn't last. After falling into a light warm sleep he'd awoken with a bigger hole inside him than ever.

A movement in the garden disturbed Jack from his own thoughts and he glanced up to see Jon wandering down the garden path, hands in his pockets, his hair an utter mess. He hesitated before joining him; surely this wasn't his role. It should be his dad or even his granddad out here with this boy this morning, giving him a man to man talk. But there was no one else, Jack realized. The Doctor… well, who knew where he even was? And even if he could be found, the gap between father and son was so wide that they'd barely even hear each other. As for Pete, no matter how hard he tried, Jack was certain that Jon had already far outstripped his granddad in terms of life experience.

So Jack ambled over to the boy, hands still firmly in his pockets. Even when he reached him, he didn't say a word, just fell into step alongside him, kicking stones along the ground. Jon glanced across at him at first, but then they lapsed into an easy silence for a time, content that the other was there if they felt the need to speak.

"Did you sleep in those clothes?" Jon asked finally.

Jack glanced down at his rumpled shirt and creased trousers. "I guess you could say that," he agreed. He nodded towards Jon. "Did you sleep in yours?"

"No." Jon shook his head. "I didn't sleep."

They'd reached a bench down by the ornamental pond Jackie had had installed when she came here. It was very tasteful, Jack thought to himself, tongue firmly in cheek. He especially liked the golden cherubs in the centre. They sat down side by side, falling silent once again. Jack didn't like to push Jon; he'd talk when he was ready.

"I'm sorry."

Jack tried not to show his surprise at the boy's choice of words, fixing his gaze instead on the centre of the pond, where a sparrow was playing in the small pools on the central statue. "What for?"

Jon pushed the stones by his feet around, his elbows resting on his knees and his chin lodged in his hands. "Last night. For… for bottling it."

"That's fine. You did good."

"I froze."

It was true, Jon had bottled it and frozen. Jack couldn't deny that. Facts were facts. If it had been Owen, Jack was almost certain he'd have given him a right royal bollocking by now, full of heated words and raised voices. The argument would have ended with Owen flouncing out of the room, hurling insults, but it would have died down again. They always did. At one time or another, every member of the Torchwood team had bottled it and they'd been yelled at about it. Jack knew it hadn't always been the right course to take, but he was their boss, their leader. It was their job to fight aliens and see things no one should have to see, and it was his job to make sure they did it. The difference this time was that it wasn't Jon's job. He wasn't part of Torchwood, he didn't want to fight aliens or save the world or anything. He was eighteen. He just wanted to find his sister. Yesterday was the first time he'd seen a gun, let alone held one and been expected to fire it. Jack just didn't have it in him to treat this boy like one of the team. And Gwen's words came flooding back to him from last night.

"It wasn't your fault."

"But I was useless, I just…" Jon's hands tensed up as though the gun were in them again, his index finger straining as though he were trying to pull the trigger and didn't quite have the guts. "I couldn't do it, I was… too scared."

"That's okay." Jack was surprising himself with his own calm replies. Being scared wasn't okay, not when you had things to do and people to save… you couldn't just give into fear…

"It's not okay! My own sister and… and… I couldn't do anything!" Jon was working himself up into a frenzy, his voice thick with emotion.

Jack glanced across at him. Then he spoke. "It's okay to be scared, Jon. Everyone is sometimes."

"Not you. Not Owen."

Jack smiled grimly. "Oh, even Owen Harper gets scared sometimes. And me."

Jon looked up at him, frowning. "You? When?"

Jack thought about all the times he'd been scared, terrified, frozen to the spot with fear. There'd been so many he hardly knew where to start. He'd spent so long covering up his terror at everything around him, at who and what he was, of his feelings for other people, that he didn't know now if he'd imagined it all or whether it was real.

He shook his head. "Plenty of times." He smiled at Jon and put a hand on his back. "Don't worry about yesterday. You were fine."

"But what about Janie?"

Janie. Jack let out a long breath again. What about Janie?