To the Stars and Back

by LiteratusAO3

Following the Game Station and the Christmas Invasion, Team TARDIS set out to do what they do best: explore the universe, get into trouble, and run for their lives. And as a threat to their happiness grows in the form of a shadowy organisation known only as Torchwood, they learn that the past doesn't always stay buried and the future isn't what they think. (Covers season two.)

19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

Steam rose from the hot tea Mickey poured from his battered Thermos. The winter cold still had its icy hold on London, casting a fine frost on the surface of benches and car windows; his breath formed a white mist from where he sat on top of the bin outside the newsagents, shoulders hunched over in an effort to keep himself warm. The tip of his nose was red, and he curled his bare fingers around the tea as he waited for his friends to arrive. The usual worry that accompanied the Doctor's driving niggled at him and made him check his watch every few minutes, wondering if he was going to get there on time or be two days late with a careless apology on his lips. Mickey hoped they weren't late as, not only was he eager to see them all again, he was losing feeling to his lower limbs. Only been two and a half weeks had passed since the TARDIS wheezed itself off of the estate and Mickey hadspoken to Jack every night since then, but he missed them – even the Doctor, which was the biggest surprise of all.

"Takin' up beggin' now, Mick?"

He raised his eyes from his tea and caught the scowl before it settled on his face, swallowing back the sharp retort that clawed its way up his throat.

"Mornin', Trisha," he said, forcing politeness into his words. "Off to work?"

Trisha Delaney's lip curled. "What d'you care?"

He shrugged. "I don't really. Was just bein' polite."

"Well, you can shove your manners up your fuckin' arse," she spat, tugging her coat tighter around her, shivering. "Didn't do me much good when you broke it off with me now, did it? Thinkin' you're too good for us 'round here these days, don't think we ain't noticed."

A year of being treated like a murderer, shunned and spat at, tempered the desire to rise to the bait and fall into the argument she clearly wanted; instead, he stopped banging his heels against the bin and stilled the nervous energy coursing through him.

"I'm sorry you're upset," Mickey said. "But you know it wasn't workin' between us. You deserve better than someone who's only half interested."

Her eyes rolled in a scoff, cheeks mottled red from the cold. "Fuck off, you twat."

He watched her storm away from him, head bowed against the sharp wind that swept through the estate. The handful of weeks he had spent dating her before ending it had been an ill-advised attempt to get over Rose; he was sorry that Trisha felt badly used but he wasn't sorry for breaking things off with her before she started getting expectations of thing he wasn't able to deliver.

During the time spent on the TARDIS after Zoe's accident on Mondas and that awful period when no one was sure if she was going to live or die, he hadn't thought about Trisha once. The feeling of surprise that ripped through him the evening after his return when she knocked on his door and kissed him was something he wasn't going to forget as there had been a terrifying moment of pure blankness when he was unable to remember who she was, his head already full of Jack. She hadn't taken it well when he drew her inside and broke up with her over a cup of tea. Her anger at losing him – someone who had treated her well – made her lash out and spread vicious rumours that fell far short of the mark of hurting him considering how the people on the estate once believed him capable of murdering Rose and dumping her butchered body into the nearest river.

He drank a large mouthful of tea, nearly scalding the roof of his mouth, and forced his thoughts away from Trisha Delaney and onto the interminable wait for the TARDIS. Two cups of tea and twenty minutes later, cold wind swept up into his face and litter started to jostle on the ground moments before the air was filled with the wheezing and groaning that signalled the TARDIS's arrival. Checking his watch, Mickey nodded, impressed – only ten minutes late. As the TARDIS solidified before his eyes, a smile plucked at his lips; it was always good to see the Doctor's bluer-than-blue ship, but even better to see who tumbled out of it.

"Mickey," Jack greeted, tripping over himself in his enthusiasm, Zoe barking a laugh at his expense as she emerged from the TARDIS. "Hey!"

Closing the distance, Mickey met him in a tight hug in the middle of the courtyard. Jack was warm and smelt wonderfully familiar: the natural soap he liked to use layered with his preferred cologne made a delicate scent of sunny warmth, light citrus scents, and a gentle brush of seawater over the top of it. His fingers tightened in the back of Jack's coat, focused on the beat of his heart and the warmth of Jack's breath against his ear, before they released each other. Having spoken to him every night for two and a half weeks, Mickey felt oddly nervous now that they were face to face again, but Jack's face opened in a smile and that nervousness drained away.

"Good to see you're still in one piece," Mickey said, dropping his arms from him and stepping back. "Didn't interrupt anythin', did I?"

"Not really," the Doctor said, startling him with his sudden appearance. His eyes went over Jack's shoulder and heat climbed into his skin at the sight of the girls standing side by side, arms looped together, amused expressions on their faces. The Doctor clapped him on the shoulder with a friendly grin. "Caught us on our day off actually."

"You lot take days off?"

"Every now and then," Zoe said, ducking around Jack and the Doctor to hug him. "We were just in Cairo, 1923."

"They were in Cairo," Rose corrected, and the hug between them no longer held the tension that had characterised their relationship after her return – it was warm, friendly, and familial. "Jack an' I were doin' a face mask an' watchin' EastEnders."

Jack rubbed a hand over his cheek. "Got to stay looking good. Can't save the universe looking like hell."

"Personal experience tells me you can," the Doctor said, hands in his pockets, eyes roving over the estate. "Bit nippy, isn't it? What's the date?"

"20th January," Mickey said. "A Monday."

He pulled a face. "Mondays. I hate Mondays. Now, Tuesday! That's a good day. Tuesdays are exciting."

"Yep," he grinned, pleased at having them back. Despite never planning on tell him it, life was more interesting when the Doctor was around. "C'mon, it's bloody freezin' out here, an' I've got lots to show you."

The Doctor nodded as they all began to make their way to Bucknall House. "Something about aliens in schools, right?"

"A school, singular," he said. "An' yeah, it's pretty –"

"Oi, you lot!" From high above them, Jackie hung over the concrete barrier. Her blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders, and her winter coat was slung haphazardly on her back. She waved at them and everyone raised their hand to wave back, frozen in place. "Get up here, kettle's on!"

"Blimey," the Doctor blinked as she disappeared back inside. "She's got a powerful set of lungs on her. She could stop an army in its tracks with that bellow."

Rose nudged him with her elbow. "Welcome to our world."

"Flashbacks to childhood," Zoe agreed with a nod. "But I'd love a cuppa. I'm still a bit drunk from the party."

Mickey glanced at her. "What party's that then?"

Zoe launched into a detailed description of the New Year's Eve party in Cairo, 1923, Rose and Jack listening in as they hadn't heard it yet. By the time they reached Jackie's flat, having automatically taken the stairs instead of the recently-repaired lift, they were laughing at Zoe's re-enactment of the Doctor tripping over a flower bed in their haste to escape when Rose pushed open the door to the flat and called out for Jackie who came swiftly round the corner from the kitchen.

"There you lot are," she beamed, sweeping in to take Rose into her arms and kissing Jack on the cheek before folding Zoe into an embrace. "Don't know why you bothered givin' me that nice new phone if you're never goin' to tell me when you're comin'."

"Sorry, Mum," she said, tucking hair behind her ear. "It was sort of a last minute trip. Besides, figured Mickey would tell you."

"Didn't know you were goin' to be on time," Mickey said over his shoulder, helping himself to the Jaffa cakes that Jackie had set out. "Didn't want to get her hopes up."

"A Time Lord is late one time," the Doctor complained, shutting the door behind him. "And he never hears the end of it."

"One time my arse," Jackie scoffed, grabbing the front of his coat when he stepped past her and dragging him to her, a look of sheer panic painting his face as her arms went around him. "C'mere, you daft sod."

"This is hell," he said, voice muffled by her shoulders and hair even as he hugged her back. "I'm in hell."

"Shut up," Jackie released him and gave him a push into the living room where everyone already had a cup of tea and were making themselves at home. "Go on then, how long has it been for you lot this time?"

"Only about three weeks," Zoe said, tying her hair back with a hairband she plucked from the table. "Feels like longer though, we've done so much."

"Yeah, what's this about Queen Victoria an' a werewolf?" Jackie sat down in a chair, tea held to her chest. "Mickey said you were all knighted an' exiled on the same day?"

"Bit of a misunderstanding," the Doctor said, mouth full of Jaffa cakes. "Queen Vic took something of a dislike to us. No idea why."

Zoe rolled her eyes. "I can think of one or two reasons."

He made a rude gesture as he chewed.

On the sofa, Mickey and Jack sat with their thighs pressed together as Rose told her mother the about their time with Queen Victoria. Having heard the story from Jack the night after it had happened, Mickey let his mind drift to the heat pressed against his thigh and the way Jack's fingers brushed over his own every few minutes; the light touch was so distracting that the Doctor had to say his name three times before he realised that he was being spoken to. He jerked and looked around, faint amusement sketched around the Doctor's eyes.

"Sorry, mate, what?"

"Aliens in school," the Doctor reminded him. "I was asking you what that was all about."

"Right, sorry." He cleared his throat and sat up straighter, trying to ignore how good Jack smelt. "Deffry Vale High over in Ealin', they're gettin' academic scores that are off the chart."

"That's it?" The Doctor asked, unimpressed. "High academic scores?"

"Don't be daft," he said. "Like I'd call you in for that." From the corner of his eyes, he saw Zoe hide her smile behind her mug. "Nah, these scores are weird because three months ago the school was failin': OFSTED marked it as inadequate last year just before the change. Then in October, in the middle of the first term, a new headteacher came in an' the scores started goin' up quickly."

The stretch of Jack's legs next to him sent awareness shooting through his body.

"Change in leadership might have instigated the change," Jack suggested. "I've seen it before: get rid of piss-poor leaders, put someone who knows what they're doing in their place, and the changes speak for themselves."

"Maybe," Zoe said. "But if the teaching staff hasn't changed then it's unlikely the teaching methods have. Most teachers I know don't like being told that their methods aren't effective, and they'll drag their feet to implement changes." Her eyes flicked to Mickey. "Have the teaching staff changed as well?"

He nodded. "Most of the maths department, the headteacher, an' the dinin' room staff."

"The dining staff?" The Doctor asked, eyebrows raised. "That's odd. Why them?"

"No idea," he shrugged. "I called down to ask about it an' pretended to be a concerned parent but the admin just said they'd switched contracts with staffin' agencies so they had to replace them. Thing is though, this happened at the same time that the headteacher came in – an' I mean exactly the same time. On the same day that Mr Finch – that's the headteacher – started, the new dinin' staff started an' that's when the students started gettin' better results. The maths teachers have come in one by one over the last few months."

"All right," the Doctor said, slowly. "That is a bit weird. Still not seeing what makes it alien though."

"Yeah, well, take a gander at this." Mickey removed his phone and opened up the saved videos, tapping play. "Over the last three months there've been a number of reports of bright lights seen over the school. Some of the neighbours complained to the police thinkin' it was a prank or somethin', but I checked out some of the online boards that keep a tab on alien activity an' one of them posted this video. Here."

The Doctor took his phone and watched the thirty-second video. It wasn't the best quality but it was the clearest that had been posted to the boards showing a black sky, the orange light from the street lamps making it difficult to see, before there was an extended burst of bright white lights over the school. He hit replay and watched it again before handing it to Jack to look at.

"That's looks like the exhaust burn of a small vessel," Jack said after watching the clip in silence, passing the phone to Zoe. "The way it drags across the bottom of the screen is telling. If I had to guess, I'd say the ship's using a magnesium injection cycle."

Rose looked at him. "A what now?"

"Basically an engine that uses magnesium and water to generate power," he explained. "I've only seen those engines in short-range ships, so it may be a shuttle that's part of a larger ship in orbit, hard to tell."

"There's nothin' in orbit," Mickey said. "I called the Brigadier an' asked if UNIT would take a look. Reckoned they were humourin' me because I'm mates with you but they checked it out an' found nothin'." He rubbed the back of his head. "I did get a recommendation for a therapist though. They think I've got PTSD from Christmas."

The Doctor laughed. "Sorry. That's not funny, except it is. Good idea to call UNIT, Mickey, really good actually, but they weren't able to detect the Sycorax ship until it was directly on top of us. If there is a ship up there, it's probably hiding behind the moon to avoid the satellites."

"Not another bloody invasion," Jackie complained. "We've just got cleaned up."

He sighed, annoyed. "Is that really the thing to worry about, Jackie? – ow!"

Zoe removed her hand from his side, ignoring the baleful glare he threw at her as he rubbed his pinched side, passing the phone to Rose who watched the video in turn.

"It doesn't sound like an invasion unless it's a really crap one. Who invades by going after kids?" Her body went perfectly still, a dark look passing over her face that made cold seep down Mickey's spine when she looked at him. "Have any of the kids been reported missing?"

"No, none," he said. "If anythin' attendance has actually gone up. Why?"

She visibly relaxed. "Just a thought. I met some nasty aliens in France once who were taking children. I thought..." she shook her head. "It doesn't matter. It's not them."

"But it's somethin', right?" He asked, looking around to the Doctor. "I'm not imaginin' that somethin' weird is happenin' here? I was right to call you back?"

"Reckon you were," the Doctor said, tapping his knee. "This is definitely worth investigating because Jack's right, that did have the look of a small ship's energy burn. Although, why does this always happen in London? Why can't it happen somewhere else for a change? Sydney! I haven't been to Sydney in ages. What about Beijing? There's another option. But no, aliens always want to mess around with London."

Jackie sipped her tea. "Feel better with that off your chest, love?"

"A little, yeah."

He rubbed his hands over his thighs. "All right, I need to think about this a little first. Mickey, can you come back to the TARDIS with me and show me everything you've got on this? Everyone else, this might take a couple of days so do everything you need to do in London now – and Rose, by that I mean buy your cow milk – because I don't want to be making two trips. Next time we come back will be for Jackie's birthday."

She perked up. "Oh, that reminds me, there's a theme."

The Doctor groaned. "Really? It's fancy dress?"

"No, I said a theme," Jackie said, pointedly. "I don't want you comin' dressed as a flamingo or whatever –"

"I'd look cracking as a flamingo."

"It's Hollywood glamour," she told them, ignoring the Doctor. "An' I know you've got plenty of stuff in the TARDIS, just wear tuxedo or somethin'."

"I'll make sure he dresses properly," Jack promised her. "But can I have a look at your colour chart, I want to make sure I don't clash."

Mickey met the Doctor's eyes as the living descended into the usual chaotic noise of their family gatherings. The Doctor inclined his head towards the door and Mickey nodded, casting one last glance at Jack before following the Doctor out of the flat.

"A theme," the Doctor said, annoyed once they were outside. "Who's idea was that anyway? No, don't tell me. It was Bev." He scowled before he cleared his expression and looked over at him. "All right then, Mickey. Show me what you've got."

---

Number 10, Downing Street

Everything was exactly as she remembered it.

Not having spent much time in Downing Street prior to its destruction in March 2006, Harriet Jones had left the reconstruction efforts to those who were determined to rebuild it exactly as it was. Any discussion of updating the street and its houses were swept away by a tide of nostalgia and desire for continuity from the Members of Parliament and general public who were still coming to terms with the new world they were living in. Her popularity was at an all-time high after the Christmas invasion – both at home and abroad – and she was loathe to misuse that popularity for something as unimportant as the colour of the walls in the prime minister's official residence. She was looking forward to moving in, quietly eager to move out of the cramped flat that she shared with her mother who had moved to London upon her election in order to be closer to her. She loved her mother but living together while also trying to run a country was more stress than she needed.

The paint was still wet on the walls and the carpet soft and comfortable beneath her feet. All around them people were putting the finishing touches to the house, bringing furniture in as young interns stood blow-drying the walls to help the paint dry quicker. She had hoped to be installed by the first of January but there had been the usual delays that came with building a house up from the rubble and it looked as though she would finally move in at the end of the month as the security features still needed to be installed. Her private apartments, modelled after her home in Flydale, were just waiting for her belongings to be unpacked by her nieces who had volunteered their time in exchange for a free place to stay in London. She wasn't entirely sure what Charlotte and Rebecca were planning to do in London but they were pleasant enough to have around the flat, even if Harriet was tripping over family members every morning.

"This is big," Alex said next to her as she was shown into her office with its dark panelling and large, empty desk. He glanced out of the bullet-proof windows. "Shame about the view."

Harriet bit back a smile. "I hope it'll be warmer when everything is unpacked."

"The plumbing team are finishing up with the heating in the next couple of days," Yuri Ivanavov, the project manager, told her in English faintly accented by his Ukrainian heritage. "They've had a bit of trouble with the environmental requirements you specified but they're on schedule again."

"Good," she nodded, pleased that Number 10 was going to be the first residence of a country's leader to be fully environmentally friendly. "This is lovely. You've done an excellent job."

Yuri nodded his head, unconcerned with the praise as long as he was paid on time, a practicality that she appreciated as she and Alex followed him out and down the stairs where the portraits of the prime ministers who had come before her lined the wall again. Her eyes settled on the picture of Richard Chalmers, her predecessor who had fallen out of a cupboard dead on that awful day in March a year ago; it felt both like a lifetime and only yesterday that she had hidden in the cloak room of the Cabinet Room and watched as the Slitheen emerged from their stolen skin, changing everything about her life and her world. A shiver swept over her, and she turned away from the wall where her picture would one day hang and caught up with Yuri and Alex.

Her hand touched Alex's elbow. "I'll go in alone, thank you."

His eyes showed his concern but he nodded his head. "Of course, prime minister."

Over the last ten months she had spent more time in the Cabinet Room than anywhere else in the world. Every night she revisited the dark, historic room with its long, polished table, shuttered windows, and thin, faded carpet. Every night she remembered the fear and the terror of what had happened – sometimes she was alone in her dream, trapped and terrified with no understanding of what to do and how to save herself; sometimes the Slitheen emerged from Zoe's body, and other times she just watched in horror as her young friend was killed with a long, powerful sweep of the Slitheen's sharp claws, blood dripping onto the carpet before she woke in a cold sweat. Stepping into the room again was cold and terrifying, but the strength of the memories faded as she circled the table, fingers running over the surface, looking across the room to where the Doctor of her memory stood.

"Ghosts," she murmured, eyes closing. "Nothing can hurt me in here. Not now." She drew a deep breath in through her nose and exhaled, opening her eyes, feeling a little ridiculous. She smiled to herself. "I'm just being –"

The ping of her phone made her jump, heart slamming into her chest, catching the curse words that threatened to tumble free. Laughing at her overreaction, she removed her phone and looked at the screen, expecting a message from one of her nieces asking yet another question about where she wanted a particular ornament to go but, instead, a smile dawned over her face.

I'm in London for a few days. Fancy lunch or dinner? X

Glancing at the doors, aware that she was on a tight schedule, she lifted the phone to her ear and listened to it ring.

"Please tell me this isn't the precursor to another alien invasion," Harriet said as soon as the call was picked up. "Because we've just finished cleaning up the mess from Christmas."

Zoe's laugh was warm and welcome in her ear. "Funny, that's exactly what my mother said. And no, it's not an alien invasion. Well, it's an alien something, but we don't know what yet."

She pulled a chair out and sat down, easing her shoes off her feet and flexing her toes in the soft carpet. "Should I be worried?"

"Too early to be worried," Zoe said. "The Doctor's in the TARDIS having a think on things with Mickey. It shouldn't be too difficult to figure out what's going on but it is going to take a couple of days, which makes me hope that you're available for lunch or dinner either today or tomorrow."

"I have dinner with the American ambassador tomorrow," she said, already dreading it. "If it was anyone else, I'd reschedule, but you know what Americans are like. How about Wednesday? Will you still be here?"

"Almost definitely," Zoe said. "It's a date, but let's go somewhere fancy. There's this red dress in the TARDIS that I've been dying to wear but the Doctor hasn't taken us anywhere nice enough to justify wearing it. Although, I have just been dancing in Cairo, 1923. Got to meet Howard Carter."

"You and I lead two very different lives," Harriet informed her. "But how are you? It's not been too dangerous, has it?"

"The usual," Zoe said. "Got chased through a hospital billions of years in the future because some cat nuns made a bad decision; Rose was briefly queen of a moon; we all met Queen Victoria – she did not like us; and, we helped liberate slaves from a ship in space. So, you know, normal stuff."

"Normal, of course." A fond smile touched her lips. "Rose is a queen now?"

"I think she technically abdicated halfway through the coronation," Zoe explained. "It was a whole thing."

It was Harriet's turn to laugh, and Alex popped his head into the room. He tapped his watch as a reminder, and she nodded. "Well, I'm glad that you're back home if even for just a few days but Alex is telling me I have to go."

"Hello, Alex."

She glanced over to her assistant. "Zoe Tyler says hello."

"Hey, Zoe," Alex called out, raising his voice so she was able to hear him.

"Nice guy, is he single?"

"For you?"

"No, Rose."

She made sure Alex was on the other side of the door before she responded. "I'm afraid Rose isn't his type. Jack on the other hand –"

"Ah," she said. "Oh well, can't fault his taste. Jack's everyone's type. Anyway, I'll let you go and be prime minister. You choose the restaurant otherwise your security team will be wildly unhappy with whatever I choose."

"I'll send you the address," Harriet promised. "See you on Wednesday."

"Ciao-ciao for now."

Harriet was still smiling when she stepped out of the Cabinet Room, her week already looking brighter. She had a group of close and dear friends that she was grateful for, but she and Zoe had been through the same life-changing event together and it was difficult not to feel closer to her than she did to those friends. There was something incomprehensibly valuable at having someone in her life who knew exactly how an event had changed a person and who lived with those changes day after day as she did.

"Will you make reservations for two at a fancy restaurant for Wednesday at eight, please?" Harriet requested. "Somewhere with a dress code in Central London. Zoe wants to dress up."

"You have an evening meeting with representatives from the Business Association then," Alex reminded her. "But if you're okay with losing your private lunch, I can switch it to then?" She nodded her agreement. "If you don't mind me asking, ma'am, Zoe being back in London – there's not another alien invasion is there? We've just finished cleaning up."

---

Peckham, South London

Jack waited on the corner of the estate, hands buried deep in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot as he tried to ignore the chill that settled in as night fell over London. He always forgot how cold it got and remembered a coat only because the Doctor had shouted after him to take one. He longed for the warmth of the TARDIS but the thought of waiting for Mickey there with the knowing expressions on the faces of the Doctor, Jackie, and Zoe was too much for him. Rose had slipped away earlier in the evening, Shareen texting her to come over to her flat with a bottle of wine, and had grinned when he told her what his plans were. At some point he was going to have to talk to his friends and tell them what was going on between him and Mickey; he wanted to share it all but he wasn't actually sure what was happening: they spoke every night, flirted lightly via text during the day, were happy to see each other, and Mickey had loved the gift he picked out on Shan Shen but Jack wasn't sure whether anything had changed from the last time they saw each other.

He thought that something had.

He didn't know if it was wishful thinking though.

Mickey seemed inclined to sit closer to him and stand in his personal space, only to jerk away as though suddenly conscious of what he was doing. It was both frustrating and charming in equal measure. Jack had never fallen for someone who was having to question their sexuality as where he came from, sexuality wasn't something that was thought about – people liked who they liked and that was that. The labels that the girls had taught him – straight, bisexual, gay, pan, asexual – were like a foreign language to him, sitting awkwardly on his tongue when he tried to use them. He knew that Rose only liked men and that made her straight; he knew that Zoe liked both men and women and that made her bisexual; what he didn't understand was why the labels mattered and why Mickey was struggling with his feelings towards Jack.

Unable to fully understand the turmoil that Mickey experienced every time they were alone together, Jack simply put it down to cultural differences and worked towards making him as comfortable as possible.

It's just strange, he thought, slowly losing feeling to his fingers. Why label what doesn't matter?

Jiggling on the spot to keep warm, he looked around the dreary surroundings that his friends called home. London was still exotic and foreign to Jack in a way that the Boeshane Peninsula would be to the girls if they ever visited – and he hoped they didn't as there were too many ghosts for him there – but he was beginning to see past the glamour that new places held for him. He saw the dirt on the street, the overflowing bins; he smelt the pollution in the air and watched cars keep their engines going as they waited for the traffic lights to turn green. He was getting used to the fact that not everyone he met were like the Tylers and Mickey – some were nice, some weren't. He was learning that flirting with the wrong person in Peckham might earn him a punch to the jaw, rolling the word homophobia around in his mouth, another new piece of vocabulary to add to his 21st century collection.

He liked London because it was the home of his friends, but he wasn't sure he liked London.

"Jack!" He turned, drawn to the sound of Mickey's voice, and a grin stretched across his face as Mickey jogged towards him dressed in a pair of dark jeans and an olive green jumper under his coat. His blood heated at the thought that he had put a little thought into his appearance, mind turning over what that might mean for the evening. "What you doin' out here? Figured we'd meet in the TARDIS."

"Jackie's there," he explained, desperately wondering whether it was a date. He didn't think it was but he knew from Rose and Zoe that sometimes dates weren't always classed as dates in order to give people an easy out if they were horrible. "She and the Doctor are already arguing. Thought it'd be quieter out here, didn't think it'd be this cold."

Mickey laughed, shaking his head. "Prat. C'mon then, before you freeze to death."

Jack hesitated over offering his arm, deciding against it in the end when the word homophobia fell to the front of his mind. Instead, he kept his hands in his pockets and followed Mickey along the streets of Peckham.

Since Rose was spending the night with Shareen and the Doctor was busy making fake documents for him and Zoe to use in the morning at the school, dinner had turned into a fractured affair. Seizing his opportunity for time alone with Mickey, Jack had asked him out to dinner, fully prepared for him to say no only to be elated and surprised when he had agreed as long as he was able to choose the restaurant – Mickey hadn't forgiven Jack for the restaurant in Massachusetts that served spiced eyeballs that, while delicious, were still eyeballs and were extremely spicy.

"Here it is," Mickey said, pausing outside a dilapidated-looking building with fading yellow paint and bright interior lighting. "The best Caribbean food you're goin' to eat outside the actual Caribbean."

"I've never had Caribbean food before but I'm up for anything," Jack told him, stepping through the door only to be assailed by aromas that made his mouth water. "It smells amazing."

"Right?" Mickey bumped him with his shoulder, waving to the woman behind the counter. "All right, Aunt Daphne?"

"Mickey Smith, come over here an' give me a kiss." Jack watched, amused, as Mickey crossed the room and leaned over the counter to press a kiss to the woman's whiskery cheek, her eyes lingering on him over Mickey's shoulder. "An' who's this handsome man then?"

"This is Jack, he's a friend," he introduced. "He's off travellin' with Rose an' Zoe."

"Not the one who kidnapped Rose?"

"No, I came after that," Jack said, taking her offered hand and bringing it to his lips. "A pleasure, ma'am."

A blush rose to Daphne's cheeks, eyes sparkling. "My, my, ain't you somethin' different? American?"

"More or less," Mickey said, tugging on his sleeves. "Thought I'd give him some proper food before he heads off again."

"An' you brought him here; you're a good boy." She patted his cheeks and came around the counter. Jack realised she had been standing on a raised ledge as she lost a foot in height and barely came up to his chest. "You call Daphne. If I like you, you then call me Aunt Daphne."

"Yes, ma'am."

Her smile widened. "I'm startin' to like you."

"I'm very likeable."

She laughed. "An' a heartbreaker with those looks of yours. You single? I've got two lovely granddaughters."

"I'm sure they're Aphrodite made flesh," Jack said, smoothly. "However, I'm not available, but thank you."

"Shame." Her tongue clucked against the roof of her mouth before she took them by the elbows and pulled them over to a table away from the window, removing the menus. "Sit here an' I'll bring the food over."

He watched her go, bemused. "Don't we need the menus?"

"It's your first time here," Mickey said, shrugging out of his coat. "She's goin' feed you what she's goin' to feed you. Don't worry though, Aunt Daphne's the best cook in all of London. She's been runnin' this place since the 60s an' knows what she's doin'."

"I'm in your hands; I trust you completely," he said, removing his own coat. "But Aunt Daphne?"

"She's an old friend of my nan's," Mickey said. "I think they came over to Britain more or less at the same time. After Nan died a few years ago, she'd come an' check on me to make sure I was okay. She does it to everyone though. She likes takin' care of people."

"I've noticed that about here – the estate, I suppose." Jack rested his hands on the table. "You all look out for each other, it's nice."

He bounced his knee and looked away. "Yeah."

A coil of tension settled in the air between them. Jack was suddenly aware that he had blundered up against something that held lingering pain for Mickey.

"What did I say?" He asked quietly. "Just now, I said something that made you look – I don't know – uncomfortable?" Mickey opened his mouth to deny it, and he pushed forwards. "Please let me know. I don't want to say it again if I can avoid it."

A small sigh filtered from his mouth. "It's not you. It's – I don't talk about it a lot, that's all."

"Talk about what?" Jack watched as he shifted, uncomfortable by the conversation. "Mickey?"

"The year that Rose was with the Doctor," he said, the words falling heavily from him. "It wasn't – she just disappeared, an' 'round here when a girl goes missin' it's normally the boyfriend or the husband. It wasn't too bad at first but then I was hauled in for questionin' an' I tried to tell Jackie about the Doctor an' what Rose was doin' but I couldn't get the words out right. She thought I was tryin' to lie about what happened to her an' she helped stir up trouble." He shrugged as though trying to get rid of the memories. "When you said that everyone looks out for each other, I guess it just reminded me of that."

"I don't understand," Jack said. "You were questioned for what, by whom?"

"The police for Rose's murder," he said, unable to meet his eyes, choosing to look at a point on the wall behind him. "Everyone thought she was dead an' no one was listenin' when I tried to explain about the Doctor. Wish I'd known about UNIT back then. Could've bloody kept sayin' that word again an' again until someone came down to help me out, but I didn't. All I knew was that this pain in the arse bloke with a stupid leather jacket took Rose away with him an' then didn't bring her back. For all I knew, she was really dead out there, wherever he took her."

Jack stared, horrified. "Mickey...this is awful. What about Zoe? What was she doing in all of this? Wasn't she helping you?"

"Mate, Zoe was sixteen an' not what she is now," Mickey said with a small, dry laugh. "Honestly, if you'd known her as a kid you'd be proper surprised by how she's turned out. She was this quiet, shy little thing who always had her nose stuck in a book. When Rose disappeared an' it was obvious that she wasn't comin' back any time soon, Zoe disappeared into herself. I'm not sure she was really aware of what was goin' on half the time; I reckon she was just tryin' to pretend it all wasn't happenin'."

"But she must have done something," he pressed, unable to conceive of a situation where Zoe wasn't in the thick of things trying to help. "Jackie, I get, we've all seen how she didn't like the Doctor and I can see her not listening when one of the girls is in danger, but Zoe? I can't imagine her doing nothing, even as a kid."

"She did enough," he said with an edge of finality that took Jack by surprise. "There was – one night – she helped when it mattered the most but she was a kid, she didn't know what was happenin' an' she was scared. Nothin' that happened was her fault."

Aware that he had crossed an invisible line, Jack cleared his throat and pulled back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bring this all up again."

"It's fine," Mickey said, a small smile tinged with tiredness tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Things are better now. Most people have forgotten that it even happened."

Jack looked at him critically. "Not you though."

"No," he sighed. "An' not Zoe either. Sometimes she'll look at me an' I know that she's feelin' guilty over not doin' more, even though it was – what? Ten years ago for her, more? I've lost track of how old she is now."

"Comin' up for thirty," Jack said. "In a week or so, I think. The Doctor's trying to work it so that her birthday is her actual birthday, not that I think she really cares. She's been clear that there are to be no celebrations."

"She hates bein' the centre of attention," Mickey said. "Always has."

He leaned leaned back in his seat. "You know, I'm a little envious of you." Mickey's eyebrows went up. "I'm serious. You've got all this history with Rose and Zoe, you knew them both when they were kids, all their lives really, and it feels like I'm playing catch up sometimes. I know they love me, but the way they talk about you makes me want that."

Mickey laughed, surprised. "Have you ever felt jealous of anyone, ever?"

"Yes," he nodded firmly. "My brother Gray when I was eight. For his birthday he got this small hoverboard that was all the rage at the time and I was sick with jealousy. I really wanted one but my parents were only able to afford one. Thankfully, Gray was good at sharing otherwise I'd have stolen it from him."

The conversation shifted away from the lingering feelings of hurt and betrayal from a year that had faded from people's memories and onto other matters. They slipped from one topic to the other with perfect ease, barely breaking their conversation when Daphne came over with plates of food that tasted as delicious as they smelt, bottles of chilled beers filling the table between them. After making Mickey double over with laughter, his hand clutching at the table, over a story of his time in the Time Agency, the conversation eventually drifted to the plan for the next few days.

"I don't know," Mickey said with a shake of his head. "The Doctor teachin'? Don't think he's patient enough for that."

"More like he won't be able to focus enough," Jack said. "He'll start teaching the kids physics and then end up doing an analysis of Shakespeare." Mickey choked on his beer when laughter took him by surprise. "Reckon Zoe will do all right though. She can pay attention for longer than ten minutes."

"What about you?" He asked, mopping up his spilt beer. "Ready to be a married man?"

Yes, Jack thought, taking himself by surprise.

"Of course," he replied, pushing through the unexpected certainty that swelled in his body. "Rose and I are parents to a delightful little girl named Lily who enjoys dancing, kick-boxing, and mathematics."

"Lily Harkness or Lily Tyler?"

"We're thinking Harkness-Tyler."

Mickey frowned. "Tyler-Harkness?"

"Bit of a mouthful," Jack agreed. "I'm just hoping we can swing by the dining hall tomorrow to see you in your uniform."

"I hate you," he said, rubbing his eyes with a laugh. "I really, really do."

"Liar," Jack grinned. "You're the one who volunteered. The Doctor was going to have Rose do it but you stuck your hand up and volunteered."

"I didn't realise there'd be a uniform!"

"A very fetching one that – hey!" He dodged a ball of beer-soaked tissues. "For what's it worth, I think you'll look – what's that word? Smashing?"

Mickey passed a hand across his mouth, cheeks aching from all the laughing and smiling he had been doing. "We're goin' to make a proper Londoner of you yet."

It was Daphne who drew the evening to an end by cleaning the detritus from their table and pointedly clearing her throat, nodding at the clock on the wall that let them know hours had passed since they first stepped inside. Mickey paid for the meal after a brief wrestling match with Jack and, on their way out, Daphne took Jack's face between her soft, dry hands and looked into his eyes.

"You call me Aunt Daphne."

The cold rush of air chased away some of the ease and mirth that had flowed between them. Orange light spilled over the street and cast them in an unhealthy glow, awkwardness threatening to seep in before Mickey pointed back the way they came, walking slowly back to the Powell Estate both to extend the evening and because they were full of food. Jack's mind worked overtime as he wondered what was going to happen next: his analysis of 21st century dating rituals – from a series of books he was surprised to find in the TARDIS, dog eared and with the Doctor's swirling languages in the notes that raised questions - indicated that a walk to the door was necessary along with the possibility of a goodnight kiss.

For the first time in his life, he found himself questioning whether or not it was appropriate to kiss someone. His mouth was dry and his palms were clammy when they turned onto the estate and saw that the TARDIS was missing.

"Guess they're off postin' the lottery tickets," Mickey said, looking at the empty space. "Not a bad thing to wake up to in the mornin', I s'pose."

"Definitely worse things to wake up too," he agreed. "I've definitely had a few mornings where I wished I had woken up somewhere else."

Mickey cleared his throat. "You – er – you want to come up? Knowin' the Doctor, he might not be back until mornin'."

There was a rushing sound in Jack's ears. "If it's not a problem."

Mickey's flat was as he remembered it from the start of the month, though much cleaner and warmer: the floors had been vacuumed, the skirting boards polished, and even the kitchen was in order. Jack hung his coat up on the back of the door and waited in the living room, sitting on the sofa and then standing up again, filled with a nervous energy that he wasn't able to put a name to. No one had ever made him feel so out of sorts before and he didn't know what to do about it. The things he would normally do – kiss and fuck – were off the table with Mickey for the time being, and he was left feeling as though ants were alive and crawling under his skin, searching for a satisfaction that was never going to come.

"Cup of tea, mate."

"Thanks," he said, taking the steaming mug from him. The British were odd, using tea for any situation – death, happiness, boredom, everything in between; he had never actually drank tea before meeting Rose and Zoe and now it was a staple of his daily life. "You've had a clean."

The room was dark enough that Jack wasn't able to see the colour seep into Mickey's cheeks. "Yeah, a bit of one."

The conversation was stilted as they edged around the tension that sharpened between them. Slowly they began to circle back in on themselves, mentioning things, people, and events they had already discussed and Mickey's knee started bouncing. Jack thought the best thing to do was to excuse himself; if the TARDIS wasn't back then he could at least sleep on Jackie's sofa, she wouldn't mind. He opened his mouth to suggest that he do just that when Mickey set his mug down on the coffee table with a loud clatter. His hands took Jack's from his and their faces were illuminated by the single lamp in the room, casting a close, intimate setting around them.

"I just..."

Jack peered at him, concerned. "What is it? Was it the lamb thing? Because I didn't want to say anything but I swear it was a little under –"

Mickey kissed him.

His brain short circuited in a flurry of sparks and sensation and finally. Instructions that normally had him kissing back got tangled up in his delight and confusion, his eyes remaining wide open as he looked at Mickey. His skin formed a smooth, dark canvas up close, and the heat of his lips seared through him.

As soon as it began, it was over, and Jack's mouth slowly fell open into an unattractive gape that he wasn't able to wipe away. "Wha –?"

"The first kiss is the hardest," Mickey said, words tumbling over each other in their haste to leave his mouth. "Always is, so I thought if I just went for it then it'd be easy, but it's just – now I feel stupid an' –"

"Don't feel stupid," Jack interrupted, lips tingling and his body slowly unfreezing. "I wasn't prepared, you took me by surprise. None of that was my best work. Want to try again?"

Mickey slumped back into the sofa and laughed weakly. He ran a hand over his face and looked at him from between his fingers.

"I don't know what I'm doin' here, Jack."

His mouth twisted, sympathetically. "I know."

"But the thing is..." his tongue wet his bottom lip, and Jack followed it with his eyes. "I think about you all the time. I wake up in the mornin' an' I check my phone straight away to see if you've sent me a message; I'm workin' on a car an' I think about you for no reason; I'm down the pub with the boys an' I'm still thinkin' about you. I don't – I've never – not even with Rose –"

Jack swallowed, relieved it wasn't just him. "This is new for me too. I've never felt this way about anyone either."

"You seem to be handlin' it better though."

A rueful laugh slipped free. "I'm really not. The others have started making fun because of how obvious I am in my feelings for you. Rose and I even talked about it last week."

"You an' Rose talked?" Mickey asked, sitting up sharply. "About this?"

"I needed someone to talk to," he said. "And you want to try talking to the Doctor about this?"

"Good point," he agreed. "I tried Zoe an' she was no help. Then again, I got her durin' her study period."

"Surprised you made it out alive," Jack said, making him snort. "We're a right pair, aren't we?"

Mickey slowly grasped hold of what little courage he was able to find. "That's what you want, isn't it? The two of us to...be a pair?"

"I want us to be together." His heart thundered in his chest, feeling as though he was standing on the edge of a precipice, waiting for reassurance that he would be caught if he jumped. "Whatever form that takes. I just know that I've never felt this way before. I really, really like you, and I want to spend more time with you."

Mickey swallowed. "I think I needed you to leave before I could figure how much I liked you. I just – I wanted you here an' you weren't, but now that you are – I don't want you to go." Heat bloomed through Jack at the admission. "I still don't – I'm not ready for everythin' but I am ready for some things if – if that's what you want."

His breath left him in a hot, rapid gush. "Mickey, yes."

"An' when this is over, the alien school thing," he continued, mouth dry from nerves. "I'm goin' to ask the Doctor if he minds me taggin' along. I should've come at New Year's but I wasn't ready for that an' you, but now I am."

The smile that spread across Jack's face reminded Mickey of the rising sun.

"He's going to say yes," Jack assured him. "He's been expecting you to join us for a while. Think he's a little upset that you kept saying no to him, but it's good for him to hear no every now and then."

"So, we're doin' this?" He asked awkwardly, hand inching towards his only to stop halfway there.

Jack closed the distance and took his hand, revelling in the dry softness of the skin and the way their fingers slotted together.

"We're doing this," he said, heart full. "But only at your speed. We're going to go as fast or as slow or as nothing as you want. Don't worry about me. I want you to be comfortable with everything."

"Good, okay, thank you," Mickey said, breath coming a little easier though he still felt as though he was drowning with the unknown, but he felt safe: Jack was a safe port in a storm, something steady and concrete. He laughed, shaking his head. "This is mad. I never thought – you're the only bloke that I – y'know."

Jack's smile was soft and delighted. "I do know. Mickey?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you mind if I kiss you again?" Hope lifted his voice and made him feel young again. "Because I really wasn't paying attention the first time and I'd quite like to actually remember it."

A wave of dizziness passed through Mickey, nerves and excitement fluttering in his chest, chin dipping in a weak nod. "Go for it."

Jack's smile stayed on his face as he leaned in. Gently, he brushed his lips over Mickey's and savoured every moment, glad that he had hold of Mickey's hand as he was shaking like a leaf caught in a storm. He pulled back an inch to drink him in – the dark eyelashes, the dark skin, the bow-shaped lips that softened in a small pout – and exhaled, terrified at how important it was to get it right, wondering if this was what love felt like. Mickey's eyelashes fluttered against his cheekbones, eyes beginning to open, when Jack pressed forward and kissed him harder, fingers curling around his, the ip of his tongue tasting the inside of his mouth for the first time, and Jack revelled in the fact that every decision in his life – good and bad – had led him to this moment.

He eased back to murmur against Mickey's mouth. "Good?"

He was tugged forward, falling on top of him as their bodies fell back onto the sofa. Beneath him, Mickey's eyes were shadowed.

"Good," he said, tilting his mouth up, seeking another kiss.

Jack was thrilled to oblige.