Chapter Twenty-Nine

Steam rose from the saucepan and slowly warmed the kitchen that was unusually cold that morning, suggesting one of the temperature circuits was out of alignment. Not particularly minding the cold but conscious of his humans' disdain for cool temperatures, the Doctor cranked the cobbled-together heating system – put in place for Zoe Heriot who was prone to violent shivering at the oddest moments – and stuck a post-it note on the fridge as a reminder to check on the circuits later. He had plans for the morning and he wasn't inclined to change them because of a small switch that would probably take him hours to unearth if he was lucky. Although, considering that his plans hadn't initially included Jackie Tyler, he considered that crawling through the TARDIS's bowels wasn't the worst way to start his morning.

What had started as a simple message asking for her ginger cake recipe had culminated in him having to find a way to mount his phone to the wall so his girlfriend's mother could peer down at him from her living room in London as she talked him through the steps of making it. Vehemently polite protests falling on deaf ears, he had resigned himself to her comments and company but not without a snarky comment at the glass of wine she poured herself even though it was late evening for her rather than the early hours of the morning as it was for him.

There wasn't a force powerful in the universe that would ever make him admit that he was glad she was there supervising him but he was: melting sugar was something he found difficult. An unfortunate incident with an attempt at caramelisation and no shirt had led given him a burn that made him eyes water and skin blister. After that, he was somewhat skittish around attempting to bake with melted sugar. Jackie's occasionally pleasant presence meant that he was able to hold the saucepan up to her eyes for approval or alteration and only have to suffer one or two light insults about his intellect and general personality.

Standing in front of the stove, hyper vigilant in his efforts to avoid burning the sugar, butter, and treacle mixture again, he kept one ear on Jackie. Tales of life on the estate once would have bored him but now he knew who everyone was – Bev, Deano, Big Dave, Little Dave, Shareen, Fat Jack, and all – he found himself actually interested in what was happening in his absence. While wasn't sure how long it was for Jackie in comparison to their weeks in the TARDIS, having not asked, he was sure she would let him know at some point. She had taken to sending him daily reminders – daily for her, at least – of how long it was until her birthday, thoroughly untrusting in his ability to bring her daughters back on time.

"...course that means Howard's knockin' boots with Deirdre now," Jackie said, bringing her glass of wine to her mouth and taking a healthy sip that reminded him Zoe's drinking was come by honestly rather than an affectation from France. "An' she's worried I'm goin' to make a big fuss of it because me an' him were together."

"Are you?" The Doctor carefully stirred the mixture, poking at the butter that hadn't fully melted, breaking it into small pieces with the edge of his wooden spoon. "Upset, I mean."

Stuck to the wall with one of the rubber adhesive he used to stop from slipping in the shower, his phone screen framed Jackie as she rolled her eyes.

"No."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but it's got people askin' all sorts of questions." Behind her, the view out of her living room showed the rain lashing against the window, and he wondered if her flat was as cosy as it looked right then. "Because it's not like I haven't raised hell in the past when an ex started shaggin' a mate."

"Is Deirdre a mate though?" As everything was coming together nicely, he risked a glance up at her. "I know she's no Bev or Ru but I don't remember seeing her around much. Just the New Year's Eve party, actually."

"She's kind of a mate, like a mate's mate, I s'pose," she shrugged. "Rose an' Zoe went to school with her daughter an' they were friends until Chantelle went an' got herself knocked up by a chef. She lives over in Camden now an' doesn't Deirdre think she's the bees knees with it?"

The Doctor stirred the contents of his pan. "Is Camden the place to be?"

"Nah." Fresh wine made its way into her glass. "But it's distance, y'know? She can pretend her son-in-law – not that they're married, mind – is doin' better than he is. Bev was over there before Christmas an' she says he's only a chef at Wetherspoons an' Chantelle is workin' the tills at Spar but Deirdre's walkin' around like the big 'I am' because of it. Pretentious cow."

He looked up, amused. "Sounds to me you might not be all right with her and Howard after all."

"Oh, what do you know?" Jackie scowled. "You're an alien."

"Ah, yes, but let's not forget that I'm 900, give or take a few decades." At the reminder of his age, her face scrunched up, making her look exactly like her daughters. "I've got some wisdom in me."

She snorted. "Not enough to stop your treacle burning."

"What? Shit." Swiftly removing the mixture from the heat, he peered down at it, uncertain. "What do I do now?"

"Milk, eggs, an' bicarb," Jackie read out of her recipe book that she pulled forward into her lap, wiping clean the drops of wine that fell on it. "Do it slowly though, you don't want scrambled eggs."

"Right." The Doctor whisked the wet ingredients for a final time before slowly adding it to the hot treacle, wrist twisting as he stirred everything together. "You know, you could've just sent me the recipe."

"An' miss this? No thanks."

The sigh that built up in his chest rattled around his ribcage.

He had no one to blame for himself for his current Jackie-infused situation. He was the one who had reached out to her asking for her sticky ginger cake recipe. It was one of Zoe's favourites and one he remembered with great fondness – not that he recalled eating any at Christmas – as the memory of how it tasted in Zoe's mouth when he kissed her in the small bathroom, pressing her up against the door and wedging a knee between her legs, skin thrumming from regeneration and her, was a strong one. Considering the near-Pavlovian response he seemed to have develop whenever the taste of ginger burst across his tongue, making his trousers uncomfortably tight as that memory played itself on a loop, he tended to avoid ginger-based food and drinks for fear of embarrassing himself in public and giving Zoe something to tease him about.

Not, he considered, that I'd mind that.

Yet, watching Zoe toss and turn through the night before falling into a restless sleep only a few hours earlier cemented a desire to do something to put her back together after the startling realisation that someone was following her through time. Cake was normally a good place to start with her when she was feeling out of sorts, and between her restlessness and Jack's seeming inability to sleep for longer than two or three hours at a time for reasons known only to him, the mood on the TARDIS had shifted after their victory on Níphikân.

Not even a trip to the Library had been enough to shake Zoe from her thoughts, fingers absently trailing over the spines of books, a look of alarm shared between him and Rose when she didn't check anything out – normally, she left with at least four of five. And then there was Jack who remained on the edge of grumpy even after a day spent in the Cicatrizian Rainforest on Mandaroh Minor, a well-known and well-respected wild bird sanctuary. Attempts at finding out what was wrong with him were met with deft avoidance and a small tightening of his jawline, a warning not to push too far. So far it was a warning the Doctor had respected but it was getting to the point where he felt he was going to have to push, concerned about Jack's mental health if he kept what was bothering him to himself for much longer.

There was consolation in the fact that Rose and Mickey seemed fine.

If all four of his humans started to break, he wasn't sure what he would do.

The Doctor poured another portion of the wet ingredients into his bowl and stirred. "Why's it strange?"

"Why's what strange?" Jackie asked.

"You not kicking up a fuss," he said. "You were saying that people think it's odd you're not bothered about Howard but it's not like you were in love with him, were you?"

"No," she agreed, tugging her cardigan tighter around her neck, eyes drifting from him to stare at the wall. "I don't know. I was thinkin' about it earlier an' me an' him only broke up about six weeks ago in his mind, but for me, it's been...I don't know...longer."

"Ah." Understanding filled him. "Right, that'll do it. You've had more time to accept the end of the relationship so you're further on ahead than everyone else."

"Yeah." Her thumb rubbed against the rim of her glass, eyes glancing back to him. "An' I didn't even think about him when I was gone, so when the gossip started that he was seein' Deirdre, I don't know, I kind of forgot I'd dated him." Her body slumped in a sigh, mouth twisting. "Isn't that horrible? He's a nice bloke an' I just clean forgot about him."

"Well, it's not great." He added the last of the wet ingredients into the bowl and dragged his spoon around the edges before stirring. "But it's not the worst thing in the world you're not broken up over it. What do they want you to do, weep into your cornflakes?"

She snorted. "It's what I've done in the past."

"Oh, we've all had a good cry over lovers every now and then." His eyes flashed with amusement as he looked at her. "When I got my hearts broken the first time, I told my parents my life was over and locked myself in my bedroom listening to orchestral music, which was kind of the emo music of your time." Her eyes rolled. "They tried to talk me out of my room but I said I was embracing the life of a hermit since that's all I was clearly suited for."

Jackie raised her eyebrows, mouth twitching. "What'd they say?"

"They said that that was a lot of lives to spend alone and they happened to know the perfect person for me," the Doctor replied, slowing his movements until he stopped, lost in the memory of his long-ago youth. "It's how my marriage was arranged, actually. I didn't realise it at the time but they'd been having discussions with my wife's parents for a while and only told me about it to get me to stop moping about the house."

"Did it work?"

"Not really," he said. "Designed the first sonic screwdriver though, so that was something."

"God, you're a nerd, no wonder Zoe likes you." A grin split across his face at that before she spoke again. "You had an arranged marriage?"

"Now, now, Jackie, is that judgement I hear?" He teased, lifting the wooden spoon from the wet ingredients to make sure there were no lumps or half-scrambled eggs; when he baked human recipes, it was known to go either way. "As you're so keen on reminding me, I am an alien: different customs and all that. Arranged marriages are common on Earth too as well mind."

"I know that," she said, annoyed. "Surprised you went through with it, that's all. Figured you'd have kicked up a fuss about bein' told what to do. Rumour has it you don't like bein' forced into things."

"Spoken to Alistair lately, have you?"

"Sarah Jane, actually, an' don't change the subject." The tone of voice was the one she used with her daughters when they were being particularly evasive and he was irritated to find it worked on him as well. "Arranged marriage?"

"A fairly common arrangement among my lot." He held the bowl up to the camera. "What now?

"Got your dry ingredients combined?"

"Yup."

"Fold that in." He set the spoon down and found his bowl. "You tellin' me that all you weird Time Lords had arranged marriages?"

"Most of us, yeah." Talking about his people made the memory of home stronger, and the TARDIS kitchen faded until he was standing in his old kitchen in the home he had shared with his wife; if he strained his ears, he might hear the children playing outside. "My people lived for a very long time, each regeneration can hold thousands of years with careful living, and we have twelve of them. It made sense to think carefully about who we married. The elders always said that love was fleeting and that marriage should be based on compatibility as that meant love could come later."

Jackie sipped her wine, gaze unusually thoughtful. "Sounds dry."

"Yeah, it was a bit."

She watched him stir the mixture, his gaze focused on the bowl. "Did you want to get married?"

"Not really," the Doctor admitted. It wasn't as though it was a secret he had been reluctant to marry, both of them had been until they met and started falling in love; they were the lucky ones, the ones who found love early and built it up higher and stronger with each passing decade. "But then I met her and you know how it goes."

"You're a romantic," Jackie accused.

"Shamelessly," he grinned. "But those arranged marriages were only for the Time Lords. Gallifreyans got to choose who they married. For them, arranged marriage was an outdated practice and an example of how out of touch we were."

"Wait, what?" Her brow crinkled in confusion. "What's the difference?"

"Think of Time Lords like a social class," he suggested. "Gallifreyans were normal, everyday citizens and the Time Lords were sort of the elite class: aristocracy but a bit more useful. We're the ones who looked into the Untempered Schism and went to the Academy. The Gallifreyans had better sense than that."

Her eyebrows lifted. "The Schism. That thing that nearly killed Zoe?"

"The very same."

"Why'd they make you look at it?" She asked. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Very much so, painful too," he said, flour bursting across his shirt when he stirred too hard. "It was an initiation ceremony. The actual reason behind why we had to do it was lost to time – ironic, I know, what with us being time travellers – but it was tradition by that point. My children –" a thick lump settled in his throat. "I refused to let my children go through it. When their time came, I couldn't let them experience that. It was one of the biggest fights me and my wife ever had. She'd been inspired when she looked into the Schism, whatever she saw in there filled her with – I don't know – joy, purpose. When I looked in though..."

The great, yawning maw of the Untempered Schism appeared in his mind and his muscles seized with remembered fear. The images he had seen in there – Gallifrey burning, people screaming and dying, the universe in flames – had all come true, to an extent, but he had only been a child and confused and terrified by the devastation; running had been the only thing he could do. The thought of one of his children seeing the same images had made him put his foot down and risked his marriage until Levokania agreed – reluctantly and with a lot of anger – not to let the children look until they were old enough to decide.

"I don't blame you," Jackie said when it was clear he wasn't going to continue. "I'm never goin' to forget what it was like with Zoe. How old were you when you looked?"

"Eight."

"Eight?" The pitch she reached threatened to summon dogs, and he winced. "You were a baby!"

Finishing combining the flour, he looked up at her. "Sympathy for the devil, Jacks?"

"Oh, please," she scoffed. "You're hardly the devil. An ass, a sod, a stupid alien, but not the devil."

The Doctor laughed. "Why, aren't you positively charming tonight?"

She swore at him before telling him to mix the stem ginger in.

"Have you met anyone else?" He asked in the lull that came with scrapping the ginger into the mix. "Zoe and Rose haven't said but I'm not sure you'd tell them if you have. I definitely never told my kids I was seeing Romana and that was centuries after their mother died. Although, they did find out, nosy buggers that they were."

Jackie poured the last of the wine into her glass, shaking it to get the dregs out. "I'm not. Not lookin' either. Speakin' of exes though, I did have coffee with Sarah Jane yesterday."

He sighed.

"She's not an ex, we never dated." She waved her hand dismissively, and he let the point go, knowing that if he rose to the bait he would be giving Jackie exactly what she wanted: his annoyance. "How is she?"

"Fine, wanted to talk a bit, that's all." Jackie watched him. "Alistair called too. Said to tell you to call the next time you're on Earth. Doesn't want to hear about you from buildings blowin' up on the news."

He stopped stirring and stared at her. "Two buildings. It's not like I go around blowing stuff up for fun."

"Don't you?"

"You know what, Jackie?" He pointed his dripping spoon at her, threateningly. "I –"

The sound of bare feet padding softly against the floor stopped the half-hearted threat in his mouth. Zoe shuffled into the room, his hearts sinking as it had only been a few hours since she fell asleep, meaning she wasn't properly rested, and the fact that he was having a morning chat with her mother was something he had hoped to avoid her finding out. She would be delighted he was getting along with Jackie but it was the teasing he didn't want to deal with.

Heavy with sleep and face pouting in exhaustion, she didn't register Jackie watching her from the phone as she moved towards him. She was dressed in one of the jumpers she had kept from his previous regeneration, the sleeves falling down over her hands and the hem skimming her thighs; her hair was messier than his on a bad day, and a line ran across her face where the pillow had creased her skin. The Doctor thought she looked breathtaking and he wanted to sit her on the counter and show her exactly how beautiful he thought she was but Jackie was right there and he was wearing a kiss the cook apron, and Zoe had yet to resist following that instruction whenever she saw him wearing it.

Rubbing her face, she padded towards the coffee machine. His body relaxed, relieved Jackie wasn't going to find out about them from a sleepy kiss, when her hand reached out to squeeze his arse on the way past. The jump that rolled through him made the spoon clatter from his fingers to the floor and he dropped to his knees to retrieve it, leaving Zoe with an unimpeded view of her mother mounted on the wall.

"Mornin', love," Jackie said.

Zoe paused and stepped back, squinting. "Mum?"

"You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards."

"What –?" She looked down at the Doctor in tired confusion, her hand resting on the top of his head, absently stroking his hair. "Are you two –? Do you normally do this?"

He managed to get to his feet, clumsy in his embarrassment. "Do what?"

"Talk, video chat..." her hands flapped. "Gossip."

Colour pricked his cheeks. "Er...sometimes?"

"He needed a recipe," Jackie said, saving him from himself. "An' it's not like I've got anythin' better to do tonight. Middle of the bloody week, isn't it?"

Zoe rubbed her knuckles into her eye. "Is it?"

"Have your morning coffee, sweetheart," she suggested with a fond smile "Might get your brain workin'."

"Is this some sort of nightmare?" Zoe asked, confused. "Am I still asleep? Is this because I ate those cheese things last night? People say you shouldn't eat cheese before bed because of nightmares and I guess they're right."

The Doctor reached around her and set the coffee machine to grind. "She's helping me make a cake."

"A cake?"

He tilted the bowl towards her. "Ginger."

"I love ginger cake."

"He knows," Jackie said, rolling her eyes as though his knowledge of Zoe's cake preference was odd. "Said you've been feelin' a bit down lately an' he wanted to cheer you up. You all right?"

"I...yeah." Her eyes slid to the Doctor in a quick, stinging reproof for telling her mother about her mood; he developed a sudden and intense interest in the cake batter. "It's nothing, really. I just got spooked by someone that's all and it's making me know what I'm like, there's not a situation I can't make worse by worrying about it."

"I know you don't worry for nothin'," Jackie said, ignoring her attempt at levity. "If something's spooked you, trust those instincts of yours, but' try not to worry. The Doctor's not much good for a lot of things –"

"Hey!"

"But he's good at keepin' you girls more or less safe," she finished, talking over him, and he marvelled at the fact that, not too long ago, she wouldn't have trusted him to make a cup of tea let alone keep her daughters safe. "An' Jack an' Mickey are there too. Reckon you're in good hands."

A soft smile touched Zoe's lips. "Thanks, Mum."

"Anytime, love." She finished her wine and set the glass down. "Now you're awake, make sure he doesn't burn the cake. I'm off to watch Big Brother. It's all kickin' off in the house. Huge race row goin' on – bleedin' racists – but I've got a tenner on the eviction tonight so fingers crossed."

"Good luck," the Doctor said before adding a sincere, "thanks."

"Anytime, love," Jackie said. "See you soon, darlin'. Love to everyone."

Zoe raised her hand in a small wave. "Bye, Mum."

The screen blinked, and Jackie was gone.

Three.

Two.

One.

"Since when do you have early morning chats with my mum?"

The Doctor grimaced and avoided her eyes. "Since I wanted to make you a cake to cheer you up a bit? Please, don't make a big deal out of it."

"I won't," Zoe said, taking her coffee from the machine and having her first sip of the day, eyes shining with amusement over the top of her mug. "No promises about Rose though."

Running a hand over his face with a groan and wrapping an arm around her when she stepped into his space and did as his apron instructed, he considered that the inevitable mockery from Rose was worth it as long as it kept that smile on Zoe's face.


"I don't get it," Rose said later that morning after waking to find her not-quite-younger sister leaning over her – a startling sight at the best of times but terrifying first thing in the morning with no context. "They were just...talkin'?"

"Chatting like old friends," Zoe said with the look she got on her face when imparting particularly juicy gossip. "I didn't hear much because I was still half asleep and hadn't had my coffee yet but they were rabbiting away like nobody's business."

"But – what?" Sat in front of her vanity mirror, she saw the headache start as an ache that drooped one eye. Pressing the heel of her palm against it, she rubbed Zoe's deft fingers making quick work of a French braid in her hair. "Like actually talkin' to her? Not arguin' or insultin' her or anythin' like that?"

"I'm telling you, I walked in and the two of them were making a cake together." Zoe tied off the end of the braid before running her fingers through the loose blonde hair on the other side, separating three pieces out. "Mum's ginger cake that we love? He was making that and the two of them were talking like they're old friends. He's told me that sometimes they have a bit of a chat but I always figured that was them texting about Eastenders or something. I didn't know they had these long, early morning chats."

Rose stared at her in the mirror. "This is weird. D'you think they're possessed?"

"What, both of them?"

"Have to be, right?" She leant forwards and set her cup down, tugged back into position by her hair. "If the Doctor just started bein' nice to Mum, she'd suspect somethin', an' if Mum started bein' nice to the Doctor, we'd definitely have heard about it. My bet is that they've both been snatched an' replaced with aliens or somethin'." Her eyes went wide. "Alien doppelgängers."

Zoe's hands paused halfway through the second braid. "Zygons."

Rose snorted, pulling her knees up as she laughed. "Could be. Maybe they're both hangin' upside down somewhere an' we don't know about it."

"I wouldn't put it past the bloody Zygons," she grumbled.

"You an' the Zygons, honestly," Rose laughed. Zoe opened her mouth but she held up her hand, cutting her off. "Please, it's too early to listen to a rant about them."

"Fine," Zoe sighed. "But if they do turn out to be Zygons, I'll be ranting then."

"Fine by me," she said, grinning before it dripped from her face, sudden panic taking its place. "You don't think...? God, no, forget it."

Zoe tugged her hair, chastising. "Don't do that, tell me."

"You don't think..." she paused, the thought of putting into words what had rushed through her mind making her feel nauseous. "That – y'know – him an' Mum?"

"Jesus."

"It was just a thought!"

"Why would that even cross your mind?" Zoe demanded, disgusted, a shudder running through her. "God, why would you even put that in my mind? I can't get it out now, it's there like a bloody brand." Her face pulled and her tongue stuck out, gagging, before she stomped her feet and shook her head. "For fuck's sake."

"Who knows what he likes?" Rose protested. "For all we know, Mum could be just his type."

"I swear to God, if you don't stop talking, I'm going to find a supernova and shove you into it."

She started laughing. "Can you even imagine what'd be like?"

"Rose," Zoe whined, sounding like she was thirteen again. "Stop. It's gross."

"You're right." Her shoulders twitched in a fine shudder. "The two of them'd kill each other before long. I'm not sure them bein' friends is better though. What do they even talk about?"

Zoe sighed, relieved that the topic of their mother and the Doctor having secret sex was over. She mulled on the decision as to whether or not to mention it to the Doctor before deciding, ultimately, not to. Talking about her mother and sex in the same sentence was the surest way to make him contemplate the life of a monk, and as she wanted to have sex with him again sometime in the next decade, it was best if he knew nothing about the depravity of Rose's mind.

"I don't know," she said. "He didn't say."

Dodging all her attempts to find out what they were talking about before she entered, he had distracted her with a very pleasant and very thorough morning kiss before dashing from the kitchen with an instruction to check on the cake in forty-five minutes if he wasn't back by then. She had been left standing in the kitchen, well kissed and deeply confused, but never one to allow cake to burn when she could prevent it, she remained in the kitchen until he returned. By that point, Jack was up and about and she hadn't been willing to embarrass him in front of Jack, so she let the matter drop for now.

It wasn't as though he wouldn't tell her eventually.

She needed only a little patience before he inevitably broke and spilled his secrets into her lap.

"Strange," Rose concluded. "But he's always been a little odd."

She laughed and tied off the end of the second braid, running her fingers down them to make sure they were straight and level with each other. "That is very true."

"Have you decided on an outfit for the party yet?"

Zoe sighed. "No, don't nag."

"Zo," Rose nagged. "It's in a week."

"Then that means there's plenty of time to have a look," she said. "I've got time."

"Don't leave it to the last minute," Rose warned. "You know you'll get stressed."

"God," she complained, stepping back from the chair to pick up her second cup of coffee that had turned lukewarm in her absence. "You sound just like Reinette.:planning an outfit takes time, darling, you can't just throw things together and expect it to be suitable. She made me think about outfits months in advance. It was torturous."

"It's sensible," Rose said, checking her hair before standing and pushing her sister into her seat. Zoe slumped down like a sulking child but a pinch behind the ear made her straighten up. "If you won't listen to me, listen to your wife."

A mulish pout appeared. "I didn't always listen to her."

"An' don't you regret that now?"

"Shut up."

Rose pulled on a curl. "Make me."

Zoe sniffed. "Shan't. Too tired."

"You've been tired a lot lately," Rose noted, separating the curls with her fingers, her touch gentle as she remembered years of doing Zoe's hair for her that felt like yesterday. Nostalgia took her by surprise and the hot tears that burned her eyes made her duck her head, an intense focus on the hair in front of her helping to shake the feeling of something lost from her shoulders. "You okay?"

"More or less," she said, leaning back and propping her feet up on the vanity. "It's just that guy I told you about. He's been on my mind recently."

"Creepy surfer man," Rose nodded, pulling sections up and clipping them back so that she could put thick braids in. "It's probably nothin'."

"That's what people keep telling me," she said, sighing. "I haven't been sleeping well because of it, that's all. After you went to bed last night, I had the Doctor take me to a lecture on the neurobiology of memory."

Rose looked at her in the mirror. "Did that put you to sleep?"

"No, it was too stimulating," she said, making Rose smile. "I ended up with more questions than answers."

"Pretty much sums you up," Rose said, relying on muscle memory to place the first cornrow in as it had been a while since she had done Zoe's hair, the thickness a challenge compared to hers. "Why don't you ask the Doctor for somethin' to help you sleep?"

"He's offered," Zoe admitted, twisting a hairband around her fingers. "But I'm fine. I am. I'm just...hell, I don't know."

"Fixatin'."

"Excuse me?"

"When you were at uni, I read a lot of books on psychology an' stuff," she said with a shrug. "Not just that self-help stuff Mickey thought it'd be funny to get me to read." Zoe hid her smile. "One of the books said fixation is an element of anxiety. Are you feel particularly anxious?"

"Only when I'm awake."

Rose poked her shoulder. "Have you spoken to Yatta about it?"

"Now you sound like the Doctor," Zoe complained.

"God, you're a pain in the ass," she said, annoyed. "Aren't you supposed to be thirty or somethin'?"

"Not for another week according to the Doctor," Zoe sniped. "Anyway, what does my age have to do with the price of milk?"

"It means you know something's botherin' you but instead of doin' somethin' about it, you're fixatin'," she told her, pointedly. "Either get the Doctor to knock you out or speak to your damned therapist about things. That's what she's for, right?"

"I'd just like to point out the irony of you telling me to talk to someone when you never spoke to anyone about Jimmy – ow!" She gave her hair a sharp yank, and Zoe's eyes went wide, hand flying to the top of her head. "Rose, that hurt."

"Therapy's expensive an' the wait list for the NHS is fuckin' long," Rose said, eyes flashing angrily, fingers looped into Zoe's hair, keeping her in place. "An' just because I didn't tell you doesn't mean I didn't speak to anyone."

Hesitant and cautious, Zoe met her eyes in the mirror. "You did?"

"Mickey found someone for me to talk to."

Slowly, she lowered her hand and the grip on her hair relaxed, Rose's fingers returning to the braid. "You never said."

"You were fifteen," Rose told her, angry colour slashed across her cheeks; she had forgotten how infuriating Zoe was capable of being at times. "I wasn't goin' to tell you the shit Jimmy did to me. You didn't need to hear it."

Zoe met her eyes in the mirror, apologetic in look if not words. "I'm not fifteen anymore. You could tell me now, if you want."

"No, I'm good," she said, swiftly, a tight iron band of anxiety squeezing her chest, and she sank her toes into the rug, grasping the material before releasing, trying to calm herself. "No sense draggin' up old ghosts. Anyway, we're talkin' about you."

"We can talk about you," Zoe offered. "I really don't mind."

"Shut up."

"You're mean."

"No I'm not, I'm lovely," Rose said. Zoe grinned, the brief tension between them fading as it always did. "Point is, you should –"

"I said leave it."

The sharp words froze them mid-conversation, eyes blinking owlishly at the unexpectedness of hearing an angry male voice on the TARDIS. By their very natures, the Doctor, Jack, and Mickey were easygoing men who were more inclined to laughter than anger and neither Zoe nor Rose were able to remember if any of them had raised their voices in anger before. Zoe recalled a heated conversation with the Doctor back when they were still getting to know each other and their relationship teetering on familial rather than romantic, but that had – so far – been a one off. The sound of angry words approaching Rose's door made Zoe sit up straighter, feet dropping to the ground as she listened, a frown dug onto her features.

"Is that Jack?"

"Sounded like him," Rose said, troubled, fingers still in Zoe's hair. "'cept I've never heard him sound like that before. Who's he talkin' to?"

Zoe shrugged. "Either the Doctor or Mickey, it's not like there's a lot of choice on board."

"I don't need you fussing over me like a mother hen," Jack said, the crack in Rose's door that Zoe hadn't shut properly when she entered earlier letting the words in. The frustration in his voice was obvious, and they looked at each other. Jack was never frustrated, at least not on the TARDIS; occasionally annoyance seeped into his tone in the middle of a tense situation but he was so laidback that hearing him genuinely annoyed and irritated was unnerving. "I just had a bad night's sleep, that's all."

"That's all," Mickey repeated, hot and annoyed, their footsteps growing louder as they came closer to Rose's room. "You woke up screamin' an' not for the first time."

"If it bothers you, I'll sleep somewhere else."

"That's not the point an' you know it," Mickey snapped. "The nightmares've been gettin' worse, or maybe they've always been this bad an' I didn't know about it, but will you please talk to the –?"

A burst of angry air filled their ears as Jack exhaled. "I'm not talking to the fucking Doctor."

"Then talk to someone because –"

The argument faded as they moved further down the corridor, leaving Zoe and Rose in stunned silence.

"Right," Zoe said. "That was new."

"I didn't know Jack even knew how to fight with someone like that," Rose breathed.

"Relationships, I suppose," she shrugged. "Think he's okay?"

"No idea." Rose worried her bottom lip and began to move her fingers again, returning to the forgotten braid. "He's like you, he likes to pretend everything's fine." Zoe rolled her eyes at the dig. "I know he hasn't been sleepin' well though. He's told me he has nightmares about Gray. I thought they'd stopped though. Apparently not."

"I get that," Zoe said, quietly. "If you died..." she paused, uncomfortable. "I get it."

"Yeah, me too," Rose said, thinking of how damaged Zoe had been after Mondas and how close she had come to losing her. She tied off the last cornrow and rested her hands on her sister's shoulders, curving her fingers around the rounded joints. "Will you please get the Doctor to give you somethin' to help you sleep tonight? For me?"

She sighed. "That's playing dirty."

"I know. I don't care."

"Fine, for you."

"Thank you." Rose kissed the top of her head, resting her chin there as they stared at each other in the mirror. "With those two arguin', think the Doctor's picnic's goin' to be fun now?"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Zoe replied. "It's just a picnic."


The Gamma Forests,

Five hours and eighteen minutes later

Splinters of wood snapped away from the building that was woven into the tree like thread in a tapestry. Great chunks of sod gave way beneath the pressure of the collapsing structure, roots ripped out of the ground, the tree buckling beneath the weight of itself; the roots disappeared into a black swarm, the soil writhing and twitching as though alive itself. Those still trapped inside screamed in terror, sunlight breaking through the leafy canvas to cast a light over the scene. Children scrambled out of windows, jumping rather than remaining trapped inside, parents desperately reaching for them; in their desperation, they rushed through the black swarm, mind blank with fear and panic, only for flesh and muscle to be stripped from their bones, death taking them. Those that were able to keep their heads furiously tried to force light into the area, beating back the leaves above them and shining large portable lights into the fray, sending the swarm swinging and scattering back into the darkness.

Clinging to a branch, the Doctor looked down on the chaos and watched as a child – no older than eight – fell from the window and passed through the swarm, their white skeleton shattering on impact. Flinching, he looked away, sickened, before steeling his nerves and launching himself to the opposite branch and swung himself through the window, startling the group inside who screamed at his appearance; he spun on his heel and shoved his head back out.

"Stay out of the shadows," he yelled a reminder, barely audible above the screams. "Get to the light! Quickly, get to the light!" He swore and pulled his head back in, turning straight into Jack who appeared at his shoulder, face tight. "What –?"

"There are too many people," Jack said, words clipped and cutting to the heart of the matter. "We can't make it out, not with the swarm below."

"If we don't get out, then this is where we die," the Doctor said. "They're coming whether we like it or not. The TARDIS is too far away and your Vortex Manipulator can't take everyone."

Jack pushed his sleeve up and began unstrapping it from his forearm. "You take it then. Go on, get the TARDIS, then come back."

The Doctor placed his hands around his, stopping him. "I can't risk them getting into the TARDIS. You think it's bad now, imagine what'd happen if even one of them got into the TARDIS's systems. It would take centuries to scrape them out and if we missed it, we'd be releasing it onto an unsuspecting world. They multiply, Jack, like that."

He snapped his fingers.

"Then what do we do?" Jack dropped his sleeve back over his arm. "I can't take everyone one at a time but it might be better than nothing."

"We need to get into the light," the Doctor said, urgently. "They live in the shadows. If we're in the light, we're safe."

Jack's eyes flicked out the window and looked up at the broken canvas of leaves, frowning. "Sun's going down. We don't have long."

"One problem at a time, captain," he said, turning his gaze onto the group of frightened children that huddled behind Jack for protection. "We need to get this lot out first before anything else."

Jack nodded."Where are the others?"

A muscle in the Doctor's jaw twitched.

"Don't know," he said, worry making him gruff. "Come on, let's move."

Jack peered out of the window to the ground below and work his jaw, fearing that the sharp drop would shatter the bones of the children and make them incapable of running. It was bad enough to risk death in the building but worse still to be incapacitated and knowing that a painful death of being eaten alive was coming for them. Swearing, he pulled his head back in as the wood around the window started to crumble; it wasn't just their tree-building that was collapsing but the whole village was being destroyed. The sound of the trees creaking made his ears hurt: it was like wet rope that kept tightening and tightening. Somewhere in the noise below, he heard Rose's voice, and he turned, hopeful, catching a flash of her blonde hair as she rushed across the ground and grabbed the hands of weeping, grieving parents, pulling them to safety.

He wasn't sure where Zoe and Mickey were but he had to believe that they were okay; the thought of their skeletons lying on the ground, flesh and muscles torn away by tiny teeth, made panic threaten to overwhelm him. Jack looked at the small, frightened faces and at the tight line in the Doctor's jaw that spoke of his worry and prayed that the stupid argument he had picked with Mickey wasn't the last thing they were going to do together. As he considered his stupidity from that morning, the surface beneath his feet suddenly weakened.

He fell through the floor.

The Doctor's startled expression was the last thing he saw before he plummeted, twisting his body to protect himself on impact, but he jerked, grunting in pain, before the Doctor – a tight grip on the lapels of his coat – heaved him back up, stronger than he looked.

"Be careful, would you?" The Doctor snapped, a tight, cold expression on his face.

There was a time when such an expression would have lit a fire of fear within Jack, sending him twirling into a vortex of anxiety as he tried to figure out what he had done to put it there. Now though, nearly a year after first meeting him and the girls, he knew the Doctor well enough now to know that he was angry at the situation and not at one particular person. There was a smear of blood on his temple, though Jack had no idea where it had came from, as it wasn't as though the creatures were leaving behind anything to dirty them: they ate the flesh, muscles, nervous systems, organs, and everything, leaving only the bones behind, consuming even the hair.

"We're not all going to get out," the Doctor said, voice pitched low and urgent. "There are too many children."

"We can't leave them," Jack replied, body recoiling in horror at the thought of abandoning the children to save themselves. There was a time he would have done just that but he liked to think he was a better man than he used to be. "You said we need light, would fire work?"

A muscle beneath the Doctor's eye twitched. "Yes."

Jack realised the Doctor had wanted someone else to come up with the suggestion and a flash of anger slammed through him at his friend's reluctance. It was gone as soon as it appeared but a sharpness around his mouth that lingered at having to be the one to speak the idea aloud.

The Doctor glanced away and gathered the children in one corner as they set fire to the tree. The flames caught quickly, far quicker than either of them expected, and they pulled back when the heat burst towards them, swallowing the room whole. The screams in the room grew louder and higher in terror, and Zoe appeared in the doorway, hair wilder than normal and missing the light jacket she had been wearing. Her skin was bruised with finger marks and soil marks were streaked down her thighs but the look she gave them was pure annoyance.

"You set a fire?"

"Zoe," the Doctor breathed, relieved. "You're alive."

She ignored him. "You set fire to this very wooden building in this very foresty-forest?"

"It's getting dark and we need the light," Jack said, grabbing a child and tossing them to her. She caught the small, living projectile easily. "Where's Mickey?"

"Safe," she said over her shoulder as she picked another child up into her arms, balancing them against her side. "Come on, get a move on."

Turning back to the burning stairwell, she disappeared into the thick smoke.

It took the three of them – Zoe returning with smoke streaked across her skin and ash clinging to her hair, eyes rolling in impatience at how slow they were moving – to pull the children physically from under the desks and drag them out of the building. As the only thing worse than creatures that ate all of their organic matter in a matter of heartbeats was being left behind, those that weren't immediately picked up ran after them crying.

Bursting out of the flaming tree, Jack set the child in his arms down and shook the one from his back, coughing when his reflexes kicked in, trying to clear the smoke from his lungs. A great cracking sound sent a flinch jumping through him. Behind him, the tree canted to one side, splintering and crumbling, until it fell into the neighbouring tree, the fire spreading as expected. The wave of heat from the flames pushed him back, stumbling over the children, parents, and stray animals that fled the flaming trees in search of safety.

It was a dry, hot day, and the fire was going to spread throughout the Gamma Forest, burning it to a cinder.

The greatest forest in the Milky Way galaxy was going to be turned to ash because of him.

His stomach heaved.

Twisting, he emptied his lunch onto the ground.

"Jesus." The blissful sound of Mickey's London tones reached him, a hand settling between his shoulder blades. "Are you all right?"

Jack looked up at him and nodded, relieved.

Mickey's hair had turned grey from the ash in the air and dark smoke streaked his skin, trails of sweat cutting tracks through it; his jacket was long gone, lost to the chaos, and his T-shirt stuck to his body. Jack straightened and drew his sleeve across his mouth, spitting onto the ground, the sharp tang of vomit in the back of his throat and nasal cavities. He staggered into Mickey and allowed himself the luxury of sinking into his warmth and the strength of his body, tears pressing against the back of his eyes.

The Gamma Forest was going to burn and he had lit the fuse.

The damage he had done was close to irreparable. He might have saved a roomful of school children, but he had condemned the planet to ecological ruin if the fire wasn't put out. Even if it was, people's homes would be destroyed and lives would be lost.

"I'm fine," Jack lied, hauling himself upright by Mickey's shoulders, not at all convincing. "You?"

"Bit winded," he said. "One of the kids kicked me in the stomach."

A low, buzzing started in Jack's ears. Thinking it was a mosquito, he slapped a hand to his neck before the sound built to a deafening crescendo. Mickey's eyes widened at what he saw over Jack's shoulder, mouth opening in warning before he was cut off as another burning tree crashed to the ground, the reverberations knocking them from their feet. Jack landed heavily on his back, the air knocked out of him, but he didn't waste time trying to catch his breath. He scrambled onto his feet and grabbed Mickey under the arms, dragging him away from the shadows descended on them, catching the edge of their clothes.

As another tree caught fire, a wall of heat and flame cut through the middle of the village, separating them from their friends.

"Jack!" Rose appeared through the hazy heat, arms raised as she waved at them. "Mickey! Over here!"

"Go," Jack shouted, pulling a child back from the fire. "Get the TARDIS and find us! Go!"

Her face twisted, distraught at leaving them behind, but she nodded. Stay safe he read from her lips before she disappeared. Backing away from the heat, he turned his face up to the sky. It was still pale blue but that wasn't going to last long. Nights in the Gamma Forest fell quickly and with very little warning. Mickey was gathering the children unlucky enough to be separated from their parents close to him and Jack strode over, sweat sliding down the back of his shirt and pooling in the small of his back.

"We need to run," he said. It wasn't the best option as there were things that lived in the Gamma Forest that meant death if their paths crossed but as it was either take their chances with the forest-dwelling creatures or remain behind and burn to death, there was little point in worrying about it. "We're losing the sunlight fast. We need to follow the light. If we head south-east along the fire, we can keep the sun with us and the fire at our back."

"We can't outrun the sun," Mickey said, hefting a small child up onto his hip. Thin arms wrapped around his neck and scared blue eyes looked out at Jack who was abruptly and unpleasantly reminded of Gray. "An' there's a wall of fire between us an' the TARDIS. We won't get there in time."

"We have to try," he said. "You with me?"

"Course," Mickey nodded, turning to the children's upturned faces. "All right, kids. We're goin' to have to move nice an' quick now. Hold onto each other's hands an' follow Jack, okay?"

"But those things," a girl of about ten or eleven cried out. "They're going to get us!"

"Not a chance." Jack knelt down in front of her and took her small hands in his. "What's your name?"

She sniffed. "Lorna."

"Lorna," he repeated. "That's a lovely name. Now, Lorna, listen to me. I know you're scared – I'm scared too – but all of us are going to have to be really brave for the next few hours until our friends can come rescue us in our ship, okay? Can you help the others be brave?"

Her bottom lip quivered with fresh tears. "I don't know."

"Here," Jack said, reaching into his pocket and pulled out a plastic sheriff's badge that he kept meaning to take out. It was a silly souvenir from their visit to Disney World months ago where he had taken on the role of the town's sheriff in a simulation that had cast Rose in the role of town prostitute, much to the delight of Zoe who filled the role of bartender. "This badge is a special badge. It gives the person who wears it as much courage as they need. I'd like to keep it for myself but I think you need it."

"Is it magic?"

"Absolutely," he lied. "All the best things are magic. Here." He pinned the badge onto the front of her pinafore dress and straightened it but it fell crooked anyway. "There we go. Sheriff Lorna. Feeling brave?"

Sniffling and drawing her arm across her nose, snot smearing across her skin, she nodded.

"Good girl." He took her head in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Now, go help the others be brave."

"It's going to be okay," Lorna said, moving away to take the hand of a crying boy. "Stop crying, Gretu, we're going to be okay. Captain Jack and Mr Mickey are going to help us."

Mickey stood at his shoulder. "That was adorable."

"Shut up," he murmured, grinning.

"You know which way to go?"

"I've got my manipulator," Jack said, tapping his wrist. "I can find us a path through the forest. I'll broadcast a signal so the TARDIS can trace us."

"All right then," he said, hitching the child up higher. "I'll stay at the back an' make sure no one falls behind."

Jack hesitated before leaning in a pressing a kiss to Mickey's dry lips, the child between them going wide eyed. "Make sure you don't fall behind too, please."

Mickey's lips twitched upwards towards his hazel eyes. "Copy that, cap."

Following the ribbon of fire, Jack led the way, his tall, strong form a comfort to the children that trotted along in his wake. At regular intervals, he looked back over his shoulder to make sure Mickey was safe behind him and tried not to think about how he would be pleased as long as Mickey was safe, uncomfortable with what being willing to lose the children before losing Mickey said about him. Their walk passed in a silence that was broken only by the sound of the fire burning fiercely off to one side and the occasional sobs of a scared child for which Jack was grateful as it was proving more difficult than expected to make their way through the forest.

Earlier, the Doctor – acting as an overenthusiastic tour guide to make Zoe laugh – told them that the Gamma Forests were the biggest and mightiest forests in the galaxy. The people of the Forests, known only as Gammas, were so at one with nature that it was difficult to know where they began and the planet ended, which meant that off-worlders were advised not to venture into the forests alone as they would get lost without the Gammas innate knowledge of nature. It was a unique culture that was unlike anything the Doctor had shown them before and had been beautiful and peaceful until the shadows started to move in the corners of their eyes. Zoe had been flat on her stomach examining a flower, chattering away to it in French as she was wont to do in her garden, when the Doctor tossed a sausage roll past her head and yanked her back by her ankle when the meat was stripped from it, panic making his voice sharp as he ordered them back to the TARDIS.

A small grunt behind him made him whip around, finding Mickey untangling himself from a root, child dangling from his neck.

"Micks?"

"I'm fine," was the immediate reply. "Keep going."

Jack hesitated before he pressed on.

Mickey freed his foot from the root and readjusted the child against his side, hurrying to catch up. He wasn't sure how long they walked for before Jack decided that enough was enough.

The sky was completely dark, cloud cover concealing both of the moons, and the fire kept spreading, blocking them off from crossing over to the side where the TARDIS was. In the end, it made sense to simply stop and wait. Though not thrilled with the idea of waiting for rescue, Mickey quietly accepted that they were stuck until the others got to them. Walking into darkness when the danger lay in the shadows was a foolish endeavour, and he helped Jack clear a large circle where they dug a shallow trench, filling it with broken branches, dry leaves, and grass. Ushering the children within the circle, they lit a flame above it and watched the fire spread, sending light spilling across their faces.

"All right then," Jack said, shrugging out of his coat to lay it on the ground for some of the children to sit on. "We're just going to wait here until our friends come and get us. A shame we don't have marshmallows."

"I'd love some s'mores right now," Mickey said. "With that chocolate Zoe likes from the planet with the tentacles."

"Grafas."

"That's the one," he said. "I'm still freaked out by the tentacles comin' out from beneath the eyelids though. I keep seein' them in my dreams."

Jack snorted. "It was a bit much."

"You doin' okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, every inch of him drawn tight with tension. "I don't like I had to set the fire but what's done is done."

"You saved us back there," Mickey reminded him. "Those things were comin' out of everythin'. The fire helped."

Jack looked at his hands and squeezed his eyes shut. No matter how hard he tried, the blood that once drenched them remained slicked across his skin. Out damned spot, out, he thought bitterly to himself, Zoe's introductory course to Shakespeare – which consisted of her dumping a pile of dog-eared plays on his bed with an instruction to read – gave him a larger vocabulary from which to draw from as he considered the sins of his past. The guilt over the fire came at the worst possible time. Having slept poorly the night before due to nightmares of missions gone wrong that always ended with Gray dead at his feet, the last thing he needed was this; he felt as though his entire being was an open bruise and the slightest touch sent rivers of pain through him.

Exhaustion pulled at him, his eyes aching, and he knuckled his eye.

"Jack –"

"Don't." He hated how sharp his voice turned. He knew Mickey was pressing because he cared and was worried about him. It was a small miracle the Doctor and the girls hadn't yet made it their business to try and fix him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before his restlessness and bad temper forced their hands. "Just...don't."

Mickey's mouth tightened, hurt flashing through his eyes that cut into Jack.

"Micks," he began, regretful. "I –"

"What are they anyway?" Mickey interrupted, eyes that hid his feelings poorly settling on Jack's face. "I didn't catch their name when the Doctor said it."

He hesitated, the air delicate between them, before he followed the subject change. "Vashta Nerada. I've heard of them before but this is my first time coming across them."

"But what are they, an' why can't we see them?"

"They're microscopic," Jack explained, smoothing his palm over his thigh, absently trying to clean the non-existent blood from it. "So small that they're invisible to the naked eye, even in swarms. They live in the darkness, in the shadows, which is why we need light to keep them away. Individually, they're not as dangerous though you definitely don't want to be around them, but in swarms? Well, you've seen what happens when a swarm gets going."

Mickey swallowed his fear down. "This feels like a bloody nightmare. How do we even know if they're comin'?"

"We don't," he said, unhelpfully. "It's really difficult to tell when they're around. The reports from the few survivors they leave behind is go that they move like a shadow cast by nothing; they mimic the shadows of their prey to get close, so I suppose we need to watch out for two shadows from one object. Light helps keep them away, but if the swarm is big enough..."

He trailed off into a hopeless shrug.

"So we just have to sit an' wait an' hope that the others get to us before the swarm does?"

"Afraid so," Jack replied, his face pale and eerie in the light of the fire. "We've been in worse situations before though."

"Have we?"

"Well...I have," he said and decided to risk the rejection by reaching for him. The tension in his shoulders eased when Mickey turned his palm up and linked their fingers together, quieting the storm raging inside his mind. "We'll be okay, I promise."

"You're so full of shit."

He barked a laugh before coughing, muttering an apology to the children. "Yeah, I know."

"But I reckon we'll be fine," Mickey said, squeezing his hand. "Between the Doctor, Zoe, an' Rose, don't think they'll let anythin' happen to us."

"You're right," Jack agreed. "Comforting, isn't it?"

"Just a bit." The child in his arms shifted and Mickey looked down. "You okay there, kid?"

The little boy sniffed. "Scared."

"Yeah, I bet you are." Mickey looked out at the other children and remembered what made him feel better when he had been scared as a child. "You lot want to hear a story?"

Jack made space for the children next to him and in his lap as they scrambled closer, eager for anything to take their minds off the darkness and the threat that lay there. He let the rise and fall of Mickey's voice lull him into calm, eyes soft as he regarded his boyfriend – partner, companion, semi-lover, they hadn't settled on a term yet, avoiding the subject with a delicacy that Jack associated only with the 21st century. He was sat cross-legged with two small children squeezed on his lap, the others clustered around him; even Lorna, who was doing her best to be as grown up as possible, shuffled in close, a bare arm tucked around a child in pink.

"...an' Peter, Wendy, an' the boys stepped off the window ledge an' flew off into the night," Mickey said some time later, weaving the story around them. "Over the city, they flew through the air on pixie dust –"

"What's pixie dust?" One of the children asked.

"It's magic."

"Ssh," Lorna hushed. "Let him finish."

Jack exchanged a small smile with Mickey and lowered his head, pressing a kiss to the tiny Gamma that was curled in his lap, breathing in the smell that only seemed to be connected with children.

Between the heat of the fire and the easy cadence of Mickey's voice, he felt his eyes grow heavy. Despite the situation, he grew relaxed and found himself absently wondering whether Mickey wanted children: Rose adored them, face lighting up in delight when they came across the stray group here and there on their travels, and the Doctor was besotted with them, soft and gentle in a way he often wasn't, while Zoe seemed to hold a healthy and amusing suspicion of them, dodging their sticky hands with little success even as she smiled.

Jack wanted children: not immediately and not for a very long time, but he wanted them. He liked the idea of filling a home with children who got underfoot and looked like him or his partner – of late, those dreams of future children had his eyes and Mickey's dark skin. He hadn't thought that was a possibility for him, not for years as the Time Agency didn't encourage their agents to have families due to the conflict of interest, and all agents were sterilised upon joining the Agency to ensure that no accidents happened when in the past. It was easily reversible. All he had to do was ask the Doctor to have a look or go to any hospital in the 51st century to have the procedure reversed but there was no rush. Nothing that –

Snap.

Jack jerked his head around, wide awake again, and he stared into the darkness, something shadowed moving between the trees. The Vashta Nerada didn't make noise when they moved but there were other things that lived in the Gamma Forests and the last thing they needed was a tree dragon descending on them with large bony wings and scales that oozed poison – beautiful to look at from a distance but terrifying and deadly up close. He looked up into the thick branches above him, afraid of the possibility that round, glowing eyes would be staring back at him but there was nothing.

By the time Mickey finished the story, most of the children were asleep and the edge of wariness had faded a little when nothing leaped out at them. Even Lorna's head lolled on her neck, mouth dropping open before she jerked awake and looked around, confused and afraid; Jack was able to persuade her to lie down, tucking her arms around the children that were clinging to her, and he wished he had something to tuck over them but most were lying on his coat. In the firelight, Mickey looked older than he was and heat pooled low in Jack's body.

"What happened to Peter?" Jack asked, quietly, fingers stroking through the soft, downy hair of the golden-haired boy in his lap.

"Hmm?"

"After he took Wendy and her brothers home?" He asked. "What happened to Peter?"

"Oh, he went back to Neverland," Mickey said. "Found some new Lost Boys an' never grew up."

"This is a children's story in your time?"

Mickey muffled a laugh. "Yeah. I think the films are probably less traumatic than the book."

"Sounds a little like the Doctor," Jack mused thoughtfully. "Peter, that is."

"Does that make us the Lost Boys?"

"I suppose so," he replied with a curve of a smile on his mouth. "I was definitely lost before the Doctor and the girls found me." Mickey looked at him, the flames dancing across his face, before a yawn stole whatever was on his mind. "You're tired."

"I'm fine."

"Mickey –"

"It's just the heat," he said, frowning. "An' you're one to talk about bein' tired."

"I –" Jack sighed, the fight draining from him; his shoulders slumped in defeat. "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Don't –" annoyance stole his words. "Don't apologise. Just – I don't know – if you won't tell me what's wrong an' you won't go to the Doctor for help, I don't know how to help."

"I don't need help," Jack said, their words treading dangerously close to their argument from that morning. "I'm sorry I woke you –"

"Jack."

"I know, I know, that's not the point," he said, quickly. "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll give myself a sedative tonight. Knock myself out properly, okay?"

Mickey eyed him. "That's the best I'm goin' to get, isn't it?"

His stomach tangled itself into knots. "Yeah, kind of."

"Fine," he said. "But I think you're bein' an idiot about this."

"Duly noted," Jack said. "But you might as well get some sleep while we wait. I'll keep watch."

"I'm not sure I can sleep knowin' what's out there," Mickey replied, looking out past the ring of fire, shadows shivering around them. "Sometimes, this isn't as fun as I thought it'd be."

Jack hummed an agreement. "It's fun most of the time though."

"Yeah," he murmured. "It is."


Fifteen kilometres away, Zoe slammed the door shut behind her, chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath; it wasn't the run that caused the tight pain in her chest but rather the fact that she had been carrying a child like it was Yoda. The child slithered from back and scurried over to the others where a large group of them were clinging onto their teachers and the few parents that had been able to reach the school before the tree went down. Every one of them were streaked with smoke, sweat, and ash, the latter of which had turned into a thick paste and clumped on their skin. Zoe herself was hardly better off and she stripped out of her shirt, wiping her forehead and face clean before tossing it to one side when an unpleasant odour made her nose twitch.

"What – what is that?" Muscles in her thighs twitching rapidly, she pulled herself up the ramp and looked around. "It smells like –"

Her stomach turned when she found Rose slumped by the jumpseat, legs splayed out and head resting against the railing as her stomach sizzled painfully.

"Oh my god." She closed the distance between them and dropped to her knees, hands hovering over her side where her T-shirt had been burnt into her skin. "Shit, Rose. This is – you're going to be okay."

"Why would a tree dragon breathe fire?" Rose complained, white beneath her smeared makeup. "What sort of fucked up shit is that?"

For a species that had evolved in the depths of the Gamma Forests, it was an unusual ability to have; fortunately though, the fire-breathing tree dragons had proved inadvertently useful in combating the Vashta Nerada, distracting the swarm long enough for the fearful Gammas and their rescuers to get through the trees to the TARDIS as the skeletons of the tree dragons fell to the ground behind them.

"Are you both okay?"

The Doctor popped his sooty face around the Time Rotor, eyes red-rimmed from the smoke and hair that was covered in ash; there was a streak of blood on him from somewhere or someone but he was, otherwise, in one piece.

"I'm fine, Rose is injured," Zoe said, grabbing the emergency medical kit and jabbing a painkiller into her sister's side, ignoring her sharp hiss. "Can you find Mickey and Jack?"

"Eventually," he said, eyes already skidding away from her. "This would be easier if I'd put trackers in you lot long ago: do it while you're sleeping so you can't complain, then I wouldn't have to figure out a way to track you down when you go missing as you all inevitably do because I've yet to meet a human who doesn't know the meaning of don't – wander – off."

Zoe and Rose share an exasperated look, his frustration bleeding over into them.

"Try Jack's Vortex Manipulator," Zoe suggested, coughing to clear the smoke from her lungs before slapping a temporary bandage over Rose's wound, sealing it against her side. "He was messing with it this morning, something about adding a few new apps or whatever. If he's –" still alive, she didn't say. "He'll broadcast their location on it."

"Right, yes, good point," he said, frustration disappearing. "Who'd have thought a Vortex Manipulator would be useful for something?"

By the time Zoe finished putting Rose temporarily back together, the Doctor had pinpointed Jack's exact coordinates and he flung the TARDIS into action. Heavy on her feet but refusing to stay seated, Rose staggered to the door and threw it open before the TARDIS had finished materialising, the world distorted before it reformed itself. Within a blazing circle of fire, their skin slick with sweat, Mickey and Jack were sat with children huddled close to them, their wide eyes staring at the TARDIS in terror and amazement. Grabbing the fire extinguisher that was always close to hand in the event of an emergency, Rose stepped out of the TARDIS and extinguished a path out of the flames.

"Come on," she called out. "Hurry!"

Zoe and the Doctor appeared in the light, and they all worked together to get the children into the ship. A shadow passed nearby, catching on the corner of Jack's vision, and he looked up, stomach tightening when he saw that nothing had cast it. He glanced around, making sure all the children were in place, counting them again and again; Lorna was at the back, trying to carry a child with the twisted ankle, and Mickey and Jack doubled back for them. As Mickey lifted the small child into his arms, Jack took Lorna by the hand.

"Come on now," he smiled down at her, the edges tight. "We're almost –"

A flash and crackle of dry energy stopped him in his tracks, and blank horror slammed into him as the face of his handler from the Time Agency appeared before him.

"Hello, Javic," Agent Pyl greeted, flint in her eyes. "You're under arrest."