Chapter Thirty-Two

28BC, Alexandria, Egypt

Bursting out of the Time Vortex, John was flung from his feet. The ground rushed up to meet him and the sharp tang of blood filled his mouth. Grunting at the impact, he rolled onto his knees and spat blood and saliva onto the sandy ground. Despite not being able to see – his vision blurred and scattered from another jump – he drew his gun and aimed it wildly around him, the startled shrieks and angry yells of whatever crowd they had landed themselves in making his fingers twitch and heart race. A tight metal band felt as though it was wrapped around his head, his blood pressure threatening to incapacitate him, and his jaw ached from where Pyl had got a lucky punch in before he had been able to reach Jack and get them away.

As no one lunged at him to attack, he assumed Pyl and Harlan hadn't yet followed them. The two of them were handling the multiple jumps better than he and Jack as they each had their own Vortex Manipulator instead of having to use one.

He took a step forward, sank to his knees, and vomited into the ground.

"Enough," he rasped, spitting the remaining bile out. "I can't take much more of this. The Vortex is going to tear us apart."

Jack groaned somewhere to the side.

He pushed himself to his knees and squinted against the bright sunlight, taking in the people wearing robes and peering at them, speaking a language that wasn't being picked up by the manipulator.

"Where the hell are we now?"

"Egypt," Jack said, weakly, pale and wan beneath the sun.

He looked worse than John felt, body bruised and battered and bleeding from fresh wounds. There was a deep burn on his arm that was scattered with sand, the aftereffect of Pyl clipping him with the blaster, and John was painfully aware that he needed to get Jack proper medical treatment sooner rather than later. With a groan, Jack reached over and reached out a trembling hand to check John's smoking Vortex Manipulator.

"28BC," he read, shoulders slumping in relief. "Good. I've got a friend here, we can go to her."

"How in the fucking fuck do you have a friend in Ancient fucking Egypt?" John demanded, digging his thumb between the manipulator and his skin to ease some of the burning pain that was searing him. Reluctant to take it off in case they needed to jump quickly once more, he blew cold air onto his skin, providing a brief respite. "Where do you travel with the Time Lord?"

"Ancient Egypt, obviously," Jack said. Head spinning, he struggled to sit out, body falling in on itself, and he thought death might be preferable to the pain settled in him. Rubbing a weak hand over his face, he looked at their surroundings. "I think...yeah, I think this is Alexandria. I just need to be able to see properly before I figure out how to get us to the ruling temple. Once we're there, we can lie low, catch our breath."

"Two people shouldn't be jumping on one manipulator," John complained, slapping at the hand of a brave and curious child who edged close to them. He watched as the child darted back, disappearing into the crowd. "I think my insides have been rearranged."

"Yeah, I'm not feeling so great either," Jack said in what John felt was a drastic understatement. "Regretting breaking me out?"

"Absolutely."

Jack laughed and dragged himself out of the road they were in, the crowd parting to let the strange naked man who had appeared out of thin air to pass; John got to his feet with great difficulty and slid down the wall of a low building with relief, collapsing next to Jack, his legs splaying in every direction. Reaching into his pocket, he removed his flask and shook the liquid, checking how much was left, before swallowing a mouthful, offering it to Jack.

"Thanks," Jack muttered, taking a small sip before his head came to rest on John's shoulder. A brief thought crossed John's mind to shrug it off, yet even as the idea came to him, he found himself resting his cheek on the top of Jack's head. "Pyl and Harlan won't be far behind."

"Fucking cunts that they are," John said. "I don't remember them being the type to do above and beyond the call of duty." Jack snorted only to wince when pain shot through him. "Who's your friend?"

"She's not really my friend," he replied, rubbing his head against John's shoulder, attempting to get comfortable. "More of the Doctor's, really; although, we're definitely friendly –"

John's heavy sigh interrupted him. "Stop giving me more information than I ask for. Honestly, since when are you so fucking talkative in the middle of an op. Have you forgotten Aotearoa?"

"Oh, fuck off, that wasn't my fault."

"Sure as hell wasn't mine," he snapped back. "Just my luck to get signed up with a rookie who didn't know when and how to keep his mouth shut. I got shot because of you."

"You got shot because you had sex with the crime boss we were tracking and he found out you were a time agent," Jack reminded him. "Not because I was talking too much."

John rubbed his eyes that ached and felt as though sand had been poured into them. "But you admit that you were a talkative fucker?"

"For about half a minute there, I was thinking I'd missed you," Jack told him. "It's gone now."

John waved a rude gesture at him. "Who's your friend? Without the story this time."

"Cleopatra."

"The queen?"

"Technically, she's a pharaoh."

"How are you friends with her? Did you fuck her?"

"No," Jack said. "She's friends with the Doctor."

"Did he fuck her?"

Jack laughed, hand pressed against his chest in an effort to keep his insides where they belonged.

"Probably, though he always denies it," he replied. "She'll help us. She's good like that."

"Your life's a bit different than it used to be," John noted, nose turned into Jack's hair to breathe in the once-familiar smell of him.

Beneath the sweat, blood, and stench of the places they had visited during their escape, he still smelt like himself. John closed his eyes and remembered the time loop: five years in the space of two weeks. The same mornings waking up in bed with him, nose pressed into his neck, hand splayed across his stomach, the peaceful serenity of domesticity that they had both mocked but secretly longed for. John felt jealously knock against his chest, rattling his ribcage. Part of him was glad Jack had found people to call his own, a life that was both adventurous and domestic, but a larger part of him was jealous that he hadn't found it for himself. He wanted to take it from Jack, pull it from his hands and make it his own.

John Hart, I presume, the distant echo of Zoe Tyler's voice reached him across the years, sending a shiver down his spine at the memory of that day.

He hadn't known the name John Hart then, he hadn't known a lot of things, and there were some things he wished remained unknown.

No.

Jack was welcome to his life.

"Yeah, it is," Jack agreed, eyes drooping as the exhaustion of everything swept over him. "Not a bad one tho –"

Screams burst into existence from the street, people dashing out the way as the crackle of Vortex Manipulators filled the air and Pyl and Harlan appeared in a flash of blue and white light. John swore and rolled over Jack, taking cover as Harlan clocked them and fired off a shot that took a chunk of the wall out, rubble and dust falling over Jack who coughed and blinked, taken aback. Swearing again, John grabbed Jack and pulled him down to the ground, hand on his head to peer through the fog.

"How are they tracking us so quickly?" John demanded. "Every time they're only minutes behind us. Did they put a fucking tracker in you?"

"I don't know, maybe," Jack said, tugging the blaster out of John's belt and sticking his head up as he aimed a shot through the crowd, sending Pyl leaping out of the way, a market stall shattering beneath the blast, fire licking at the wood. "I'd have done it in their place, just in case."

Staggering to his feet, John grabbed Jack's bare shoulder and urged him up. "Get up. We need to go again – and get you some fucking clothes. You stand out buck naked as you are."

"I did point that out back at Stormcage."

"Move!"

Jack fell out of the way, catching himself on a woman fleeing the scene. He saw the whites of her eyes before she shoved him off her, and he managed to keep his balance. John grabbed his wrist and pulled him along behind him at a fast pace, Jack's feet barely able to keep up until he found the rhythm. They swerved and dived through the back alleys of Alexandria that Jack had once explored with a few of Cleopatra's handmaidens on one of his first trips there, the women laughing and leading him into all sorts of trouble that had had the Doctor clucking his tongue when he got back with less clothing and more bruises than he had left the TARDIS with.

Turning sharply, Jack dragged John into a pleasure house and purposefully lost themselves amongst the gauzy silk and cloth, perfume filling the air, before jumping out of a window to bounce off the taut material of a market stall's roof. Misjudging the landing, he fell to his knees, teeth clacking together, blood filling his mouth. Bent over and groaning, Jack missed the way John darted into a small shop and then re-emerged with a flax gown clamped in his hands that he shoved over Jack's head, forcing his arms through it.

"That's better," John said, breathing heavily. "Not by much though. You still look like shit."

"Fuck off," he complained. "The manipulator?"

"Another jump will do it in without time to recharge afterwards," John told him, pulling him out of sight just as Harlan appeared at the window, glaring down at the ground, looking for them. They heard his deep voice – audible due to the fact he wasn't speaking Coptic. "We can do it if we have to but it needs time to call down. It's burning my wrist as it is."

"Head to the sea then," Jack said, vision winnowing and blurring, something broken in his chest making it difficult to breath. "Cleo's temple is nearby. We can –"

An explosion ripped the roof from over their heads and sent fire raining down on them. Jack barrelled into John and forced him out of the way of the debris, Harlan and Pyl dropping into the centre of it with their plasters drawn. The brief glimpse Jack got of his old colleagues reassured him that they were finding the multiple jumps as difficult as they were: Pyl looked dead on her feet, alive only because of stubbornness; and Harlan –

– slammed his fist into Jack's face and sent his sprawling across the ground, Pyl blocking John from helping by twisting into his path and slamming a laser knife into his side. Jack cried out, mouth stretching in agony, as Harlan leapt on top of him, fists flying. Attempting to block the blows exhausted what little remained of his energy, his arms feeling like concrete as he covered his face, Harlan deliberately and with great concentration ripping them out of the way before resuming his assault. For one tiny, glimmering moment, Jack managed to get the upper hand by wedging his knee between them and pressing it into Harlan's stomach until the pain forced his attacker to give way.

"Get back here," Harlan growled, hand wrapping around Jack's ankle to stop him crawling away. Heaving himself up his body, he wrapped an arm around Jack's neck, hand on the back of his head, and choked him, breath hot and stale in his ear. "This is for Lydia."

Twitching in his grasp, Jack clawed at the ground as darkness crept into the corners of his eyes, vision spotting, unable to draw enough oxygen into his lungs to fight back. Jack had truly believed that he was going to see Mickey again – the Doctor, Rose, Zoe, Jackie – but Harlan's grip was tight and unrelenting, choking the life from him for a crime he didn't remember committing. Blood throbbed in his ears, blocking out the sound of Pyl and John fighting, and he gasped, drawing memories to his mind to ease his death.

Rose's smile stretched wide in his mind, her eyes sparkling as she grinned at him, tongue curled behind her teeth.

Jackie's laugh filled his ears, her Christmas hat wonky and cheeks flushed from alcohol, tumbling back off her chair to loud, riotous laughter from the family.

Zoe's warmth as she wrapped her arms around him on the Game Station, breathing her relief into his ear as he lifted her from her feet and turned her around and around because she had come for him.

The Doctor's friendship through hours spent in conversation within the underbelly of the TARDIS, the two of them getting greasy together, laughter flowing easily and making him feel at home.

Mickey's everything.

From the way he kissed to the way he snored when he lay on his back but made small snuffling sounds when he was on his side, Mickey was perfect.

He held onto the image of Mickey in his mind as his vision disappeared, blackness sweeping over him, lungs burning, and his fingernails splitting against the ground in an attempt to claw himself free. Harlan's chest rumbled with a victorious laugh before hot, wet blood splashed across Jack's face and drenched the back of his neck. Harlan slumped, grip loosening, and Jack gasped, dragging in air, desperately shucking Harlan from him. Sprawling onto his back, he coughed and stared up at the bright blue sky, heart hammering.

John dropped to his knees next to him and gripped him tightly.

"Hold on."

The Vortex wrapped around him and squeezed.


Gaborone, Botswana,

September 30th 1966

Let me die, please, let me die, Jack thought, the ground a harsh and unforgiving surface to slam into, a bone breaking in his chest, finally splintering beneath the force of the torture and the travel.

"We can't jump again," John groaned, the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes, attempting to ease the pain with little success. "The manipulator needs to cool and rest."

Jack released a sob against the dry earth.

"Enough of that," John grunted, grabbing his by the back of the gown and heaving him onto his feet. "We need shade. Wherever we are, it's fucking hot."

Looping an arm around Jack's waist and placing an arm around his neck, he half-dragged, half-carried Jack to a long line of dusty, battered-looking parked cars. After taking in the questionable safety of those closest to him, John chose one that he thought wasn't likely to explode through use and shoved Jack unceremoniously in the back of one of them, ignoring the sharp cry of pain as he jostled his broken rib, fumbling his way to the driver's seat, his vision not entirely returned to him after the last, ill-advised yet necessary jump.

It took five minutes of searching and annoyed swearing before John figured out how to work the machine, his feet awkwardly manoeuvring the peddles as they burst off the a jolting, jerky start. In the backseat, Jack kept drifting in and out of consciousness, mumbling to himself, alternating between Gray's name and those of his friends, reaching a fever pitch with Mickey before dying back down, muttering and weeping. The sound of it grated at John's ears, forcing him to grit his teeth and tighten his grip on the steering wheel in an attempt not to kill Jack after everything he had gone through to save him.

He drove and drove until the sun was settled heavily in the sky, the blazing heat of the day painfully apparent even with the wind that came from driving at full speed, the petrol tank slowly draining away as John put miles between them and the sounds of celebrations that rose up and out of the city.

He didn't know what they were celebrating but he wished them the best of it.

It was only when the engine started to choke and sputter, the tank nearly empty, did John turn his attention to finding somewhere to lie low until the manipulator was ready to be fixed and used again. Turning off the main road, the car bumped and jumped over the rough terrain, the small road leading them to a small collection of houses grouped together among the vibrant green grass, livestock roaming within loose barriers. He turned the key in the engine and felt the vibrations stop, peering through the window to find any sign of life but the hamlet appeared empty. Carefully, he stepped out of the car – leaving Jack twitching on the backseat – and he checked the area, finding only a flock of chickens that squawked away from him and a few bottles of Coke that he liberated.

"Rise and shine, asshole." John tapped the Coke bottle against Jack's foot, startling him awake. "Come on, I've found us a place to bed down for the night. Looks like everyone's gone off to whatever was happening in the city."

Jack stared at him, grey and ashen, and John had to heave him out of the car and into the house that he had decided best suited their needs – more furniture and a better vantage point of the area.

"I think we've shaken Pyl," John said, his mouth dry and tacky, head throbbing as he eased Jack onto the threadbare sofa. Rolling his shoulders, he cracked the lid on the Coke bottle and gulped it down only to grimace. "Mother of god, this is awful. Is this pure sugar? Here." Jack made an attempt to grab the bottle, missing by a wide mark. John sighed and crouched. "Right. Come here then."

He slid an arm behind Jack's shoulders and lifted him, cradling his head and helping him drink. A pained moan emerged when he swallowed but the burst of sugar helped.

Jack grimaced, Coke spilling out down his mouth, his throat aching as he swallowed, voice a rasping whisper. "Where are we?"

"Botswana, 1966," John said, checking the Vortex Manipulator that he didn't dare unwrap it from his wrist in case Pyl arrived, even though it was burning the flesh from him. "Sorry for the big jump, I wanted to shake Pyl."

Jack blinked, slowly, eyes bloodshot. "Harlan?"

"Dead."

"You killed him."

"Bastard's probably happier wherever it is we go after death," John said, feeling neither this nor that over Harlan's death. "He hasn't exactly been living since Lydia died. Besides, he was going to kill you."

Jack sunk his hand into the sweaty material of John's trousers and gripped him. "Thank you."

"Don't get sentimental on me because you think you're dying, it makes me sick," he said uncomfortably, removing Jack's hand with a careful tenderness that belied his words. "We can't do another jump. The manipulator won't make it unless it cools down and I look it over. You also don't look so good."

"'m fine," Jack lied unconvincingly.

"Sure you are." John gave him a push and Jack splayed on his back, blinking up at the dark ceiling, one hand trailing off the sofa. John picked it up and rested it on his stomach. "Sleep. Rest. I'll keep watch."

"Pyl..."

"I'm pretty sure I knocked her unconscious back there in Egypt," he told her, rubbing between his eyes where the pressure was mounting. "And I don't know if she'll want to deal with Harlan's body first or try and track us down. Either way, I think we've got some time, so rest. You're painful to look at."

Jack laughed himself to sleep and, when he woke some hours later, the pain in his ribs jarring him awake, it was dark. Lying there, he felt the aches and pains in each part of his body and sighed as his muscles twitched. He thought longingly of the TARDIS with her wonderful medical bay and his comfortable bed and Mickey. Jack closed his eyes and pulled Mickey's face to the forefront of his mind, making him as real as possible, and he let himself dream of seeing him again. For the first time since he had been snatched from the Gamma Forests, true hope made a home in his chest; he was so close to seeing Mickey again – to seeing them all again – and the first thing he was going to do was to hug them all fiercely until his arms ached and they squirmed in protest.

Shifting uncomfortably, he groaned as he sat up, head spinning before he found his feet and shuffled through the room. There was food on the table – cold cuts of goat and chicken that he wolfed down – and a glass of tepid water that he sipped at until it was gone. The relief that swept through his head as the pressure of dehydration eased was wonderful, his mouth losing the thick, tacky element that made him feel sick. As there was no mirror in the room, he ran his fingers over his face to assess the damage: bruises, abrasions, one deep cut that had been cleaned in his sleep, and the ragged mess of scar tissue where his ear used to be.

"Shit," Jack muttered, voice a tangled mess of raw nerve endings and bruises.

He had seen the Doctor work miracles before and wondered if growing an identical ear and attaching it would be beyond him. Pushing the thought from his mind, he limped out of the house to where John was sat, arms resting on his knees, face turned up to the sky where huge and colourful fireworks burst into great plumes of sparkling light.

Jack paused, leaning heavily against the doorway, catching his breath. "What are they celebrating?"

"Independence, apparently," John said, turning his head slightly and a burst of light sent a red glow dancing over his face. "The British have left."

"Good for them."

Easing away from the doorway, it took him a few minutes of grunting and groaning before he sat next to John, body heat pressed against Jack's side. The night was dark and broken only by the fireworks that painted the black canvas above their heads, and it was peaceful too. Crickets chirped and the rustling of livestock eating and moving around helped to quiet his own mind that was too full of pain and missing his friends and the grief of having his past thrown open in front of him.

Once settled and moderately comfortable, he turned his head to John. "Any sign of Pyl?"

"Nothing," John said, straightening until his back popped, leaning back while keeping his gun within easy reach. "I think we might have thrown her or she's experiencing the same effects we are from the travel. She didn't put up as much of a fight as she usually did."

Jack nodded, slowly. "What happened to Harlan?"

"Dead, I told you."

"Right, yeah." Pressing his fingers against his temples, he rubbed firmly. "Sorry. I feel like my brain – it's heavy."

"I guess this is why we were always told not to jump too far and too fast," John said, frowning at him. "We need one more jump though. Somewhere you can get in touch with the Time Lord and he can come pick you up. You got a date and location?"

"I – maybe." He wanted to go back to sleep, head lolling against his chest as he tried to think, shifting through names of people who might be able to help him. "I don't –"

John's hand was cool and dry on the back of his neck.

"Take your time," he said, thumb rubbing soothingly against the top of his spine. "Pyl's not coming for us yet. Don't force it."

Jack made a small sound in his throat – a mixture of a whimper and a sob – and pressed back into John's hand, anchoring himself.

Trying not to force himself to think too hard, his mind touched on the idea of Jackie. Under normal circumstances, he would have gone to her without question and let her fuss over him with strong cups of tea and a plethora of Jaffa cakes. Her absence in the flat – and Raphio's inability to track her – suggested she was in the TARDIS, which meant that going to her for help (more help, his guilty conscience supplied) was out of the question.

There was always the Lethbridge-Stewarts who seemed to be game for most alien-related shenanigans and wouldn't think twice about helping him, yet Jack hesitated. He had only met the Brigadier once and the thought of turning up on his doorstep in his state and with the possibility of serious trouble on his heels made him shy away from dragging them into his mess. Then there was Sarah Jane, another person who would help without hesitation despite only meeting him recently; Harriet Jones was one more who would keep him safe and help contact the Doctor, but that always ran the risk of bringing the Time Agency down on them too. Raphio had known about Jackie – he knew where she lived and her history – and it stood to reason that he also had folders on the others he had met in his travels, particularly those with an association with the Doctor.

If he was Raphio, he would have people watching the Lethbridge-Stewarts, Sarah Jane, and Harriet, waiting for him to be stupid enough to turn up.

With such a lack of people he was able to go to for help who also had a means of contacting the Doctor, he realised someone needed to put together a network of people for such situations. With the amount of people the Doctor had travelled with through the years, Jack considered the potential of a global network of former TARDIS travellers who could be called upon for help and expertise when the need arose.

Unfortunately for him, such a network didn't exist.

It was fine though.

He was fine.

Having been alone before and with his back against the wall, Jack knew how quickly his fortunes could change in both directions. The last time he was alone had been the night he met the Doctor, Rose, and future-Zoe. By all accounts, he had come out on top that day, his life changing in a matter of moments after a rollercoaster of a night that had taken him from conning a group of out-of-place time travellers to preparing to sacrifice his life for the greater good – surprisingly himself at the same time – to stepping onboard the most miraculous ship he had ever seen and finding family.

That first night on the TARDIS after everyone had rested and showered and acclimatised to the new normal, he remembered sitting in the kitchen being careful not to say or do anything that might get him thrown into a volcano by a grumpy, growling Time Lord that clearly didn't appreciate the way the girls had taken to him so warmly. Every time Zoe leaned towards him and every time Rose turned bright, delighted eyes in his direction, the space between the Doctor's eyes would darken and pucker with a frown. At first Jack thought it was because he was jealous – one man on a ship with two beautiful women and it wasn't necessarily out of the realm of possibility to assume what Jack did that first night – but as he got to know the Doctor, he realised it wasn't jealous; instead, it was worry that Jack was going to disappoint the girls and break their hearts at the same time.

Not that Jack understood how someone looked at Rose and Zoe and thought breaking their hearts was an acceptable thing to do.

That first night was Jack's happiest memory.

It was the start of everything new and wonderful for him and it felt like it had been longer than a year since he had met them in London, his life unrecognisable to how it was before. He had people he loved – a family – and a relationship that he hoped was for life and it all came down to that one night when he happened to glance out of a window and see Rose Tyler dangling from a barrage balloon with the Union Jack sprawled across her chest. He wished that Zoe had been there – his Zoe and not the future one who greeted him with wide, brimming enthusiasm – so they could talk about that night more.

He knew that his Zoe had been off dealing with something else, a spoiler occasionally slipping from her lips, making her blush and lower her head as though expecting the Doctor to tell her off only for him to cluck his tongue in mock exasperation. She told them about meeting a friend out of order and Jack remembered laughing and telling her that running into the same people over and over again happened more than she thought and the universe was a smaller place than it seemed, something the Doctor looked deeply offended by.

"I don't mind," Zoe had laughed, hands cupping her hot chocolate. "I want to run into her again because she's great. An' she's got a name like a fairytale, so she's pretty cool just for that."

Amelia Pond.

Amelia Pond.

It was a fairly distinctive name and Jack's mind starting to latch onto the idea, wondering how hard it would be to track down an Amelia Pond in the near future. Between him and John, he suspected it would be easy enough, he just needed to make sure that he got the correct version of Amelia rather than one who had no idea that the Doctor existed.

The Time Agency wouldn't have any record of her, Jack having not met her yet, and perhaps – maybe, just this once – luck was on his side.

"London, 2020," Jack said.

John snorted, snapping out of his quiet doze. "What was that?"

"London, 2020," he repeated, aiming for a little further in the future than he thought necessary simply to be on the safe side. "Zoe has a friend that the rest of us hasn't met yet. They had a crossover event a while back during the Blitz. The Time Agency probably won't know about her."

John raised an eyebrow, sceptical, before nodding.

"Best wait until morning," he said after a beat. "You need more rest, and the manipulator'll do better with more time to cool down."

"Is it okay?"

"For now," John said, face turned up to the sky. "Now shut up and watch the fireworks."

Jack's mouth twitched. "Yes, dear."


London, UK,

June 26th 2020

A knock on the front door startled Brian Williams from his nap.

Signed copy of The Hound of the Baskervilles sliding down his chest, he caught it before it hit the ground and sat up. Glancing at the clock, he realised he had been asleep for a few hours and a sigh left him at how difficult it was going to be to get to sleep later that night. It seemed that he was falling asleep during the day more and more of late, constantly exhausted by the simple act of being awake, and he hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come. Yawning and rubbing his face, he got to his feet and made his way towards the front door, wincing at the strain in his spine as he straightened; if he was going to nap, he might as well make himself comfortable in a bed and surrender himself to the inevitability of old age and well-meaning concern.

The knock rang out again – louder and more urgent – and he swore if it was the Buckets from next door, he was going to spray them with the hose. He didn't know why Amy and Rory tolerated their behaviour, finding them amusing rather than annoying, and he longed for the day one of them said something or did something while the two were away so Brian could take care of the situation for them. Never one to be annoyed by much, he found Mrs Bucket's insistence on the old-fashioned niceties to be outdated and irritating, using Rory as a handyman at all hours of the day despite his job and family.

"Well, I'll be –" Brian paused at the sight on the front step, taken aback in a way he hadn't been since the TARDIS materialised around him and took him to a dinosaur-infested spaceship. "Jack Harkness, you look like you've been through hell and back."

One swollen, bruised eye squinted at him. "Amelia Pond?"

"How hard did you hit your head?" He scoffed, glancing at the man who appeared to be the only thing holding Jack upright. "Amy's not here. She and Rory have popped down to Wales for their anniversary. Something about waving to their past selves and closing the loop, whatever that means. Come on in, son, before you pass out. Who's your friend?"

"Captain John Hart, it's a pleasure," John said, squeezing past him as he half-dragged Jack into the entrance hall and shut the door behind him with a firm kick. "You know him?"

"Course I do," Brian said, nose wrinkling at the smell that was coming off of the two men. "Known him for years."

"Right," John replied as though that displeased him. Dumping Jack on the sofa to let him groan into the cushion, he turned to face Brian, dirt tracking across the rug Amy and Rory had bought home from Tiaanamat three years ago. Brian wondered if it was dry clean suitable before deciding it didn't matter. "Quick lesson then: Jack here has no idea who you are. Don't tell him anything about his future. Don't give away anything that may constitute a glimpse into days to come. If you do, everything could change and then there's a giant paradox that needs to be dealt with and that's never fun. Understand?"

"Not in the slightest."

"Whatever, at this point a paradox wouldn't be the worst thing that's happened today." John rolled his eyes and rubbed his face, dried flecks of blood fluttering down to the rug. "Med kit?"

"Rory keeps one in the bathroom under the sink," Brian said, staring down at Jack in concern. "Is he going to be okay? Should I call a doctor?"

"Yes, but make it the Doctor, would you?" John called over his shoulder, taking the stairs two at a time. "Tell him to get the TARDIS here as soon as possible."

Brian looked around the quiet living room room that was beginning to smell like a particularly awful sewer, and he grunted as he knelt next to Jack, resting a hand on his shoulder only to pull it back at the pained groan that greeted him.

"Sorry," he apologised, quietly. "What happened to you?"

"Got kidnapped," Jack mumbled into the cushion. "Then tortured, then broke out of prison, then the Vortex tried to squeeze my brains out." Another groan. "Everything hurts."

"I bet it does," Brian said, wondering what he should do. "That friend of yours, should I trust him?"

"Yeah." Jack turned his head deeper into the pillow and Brian realised that he was missing an ear. "He's all right. Don't worry if he hits on you."

"I'll take it as a compliment," he replied just as John came back with Rory's medical box in his hand, and he stood up. "You know the Doctor?"

"Not personally," John said, deep lines etched on his face and dark marks pressed beneath his eyes, looking sick and exhausted. "You do have his number, don't you? We came here because Jack thought Amelia Pond could help."

"Like I said, she's in Wales," Brian told him, not sure if he liked him or not, which was different from his first meeting with Jack where he had liked the man from the start, falling for his easy charm and handsome smile. "But I've got Zoe Tyler's number."

"That'll do," he said. "Give her a call, tell her to get here."

Brian blinked, mouth dry, before deciding that calling Zoe and the Doctor was actually the best thing he could do given the circumstances, especially as calling Amy and Rory to fill them in would end in the same advice. Turning his eyes away as John began to strip Jack out of his clothes, murmuring in delight at the fact that Rory's kit contained some technology from the TARDIS, he retreated to the kitchen. Picking up the kitchen phone, he dialled Zoe's number that was stuck to the fridge behind pictures of the family and a handful of postcards Brian had sent them on his own travels.

It rang and rang and rang for long enough that Brian was beginning to lose hope when –

"Amelia!" The delighted voice of Zoe Tyler chirped down the line. "We're not late, are we? The Doctor swore blind we'd be there to meet you on time so if we're late, I'm going to be very cross with him."

"Oh, there's a surprise," the Doctor chimed in, clearly passing behind her as he spoke, his mouth falling closer to the phone. "If we're late, Amelia Pond, don't tell me! It'll create a paradox and then I'll definitely be late."

"She called me not you, go away," Zoe ordered, laughing when he kissed her on the cheek. "Sorry, Amy, tell us we're late if you like. Himself will deal with it."

"This isn't Amy," Brian said, amused as he always was by them. "It's Brian Williams."

"Brian." Humour dropped from Zoe like a brick, and he imagined her face falling from its usual cheerfulness to something stern and fierce that made his stomach curl uncomfortably inwards. "Is everything okay at home?"

"Er – define okay?"

"Jesus," she muttered. "Have you been attacked? Is anyone dead or in danger of dying? Are there planets in the sky again?"

"No, possibly, planets in the sky?"

"Never mind," she said."Who's hurt?"

"Jack, Captain Jack," Brian told her, taking the wireless phone and peering around the side of the living door to watch John dispose of bloodied rags in a portable incinerator and remove something from Rory's kit that glowed blue as it passed over Jack's skin. "He's turned up looking like he's had a building collapse on him with some bloke called John Hart and –"

"Oh." Zoe dragged the sound out, relief passing from her to him. "Right, yeah, I know what this is. Blimey, I feel old. This was a lifetime or two ago for me. Doctor, stand down. It's just Jack after Stormcage."

In the background, Brian heard the Doctor stomp and swear and laugh.

He pulled back and returned to the kitchen. "You know about this then?"

"Yeah, you need an earlier version of us," she explained. "Jack needs to make the call. Right now, you're in sync with this version of us but Jack's in sync with an earlier, younger version before we even met you. The TARDIS picks up on the correct temporal placement when a call's made so he needs to be the one to ring."

"Sometimes I only understand half the things that come out your mouth," Brian said.

She laughed. "I get that a lot. Don't worry about it though, as soon as Jack makes the call we'll be there and you can get back to whatever it is you were doing. What date is it anyway?"

"June 26th," he said before adding the year for good measure.

"Good, so Amy and Rory are heading to Wales then," Zoe said. "Why they wanted to take the train is beyond me. Public transport is so dull. Anyway, don't worry, Brian, and thanks again for helping Jack. He was clever to think of you – or rather Amy, I suppose. We'll see you when we drop Amy and Rory off after Wales, maybe take you with us. Didn't you say last time you wanted to meet King Kashta?"

"Did he?" The Doctor asked. "Brilliant choice, Brian! I haven't been to Kush in an age. We'll make a day of it, a week if we're lucky."

"All right," Brian said, hesitation making him stumble. "Just...it won't be like the time with Cleopatra, will it? I was gone for months."

"And nearly made a Great Royal Husband too, you devil," the Doctor grinned. "Who'd have thought you had it in you?"

"That was a misunderstanding, thank you," he said, primly, cheeks heating. "And I don't know why I bother speaking to the two of you when you only tease." Their joint laughter warmed his ear and his embarrassment melted away. Despite the unexpected longevity of his trip to Ancient Egypt, it had been a lot of fun, as it always was when the Doctor and Zoe Tyler came to visit. "Get on then. I'll have Jack call an earlier version of the two of you, as though that makes any sense. Hopefully your younger selves will be more sensible."

"Don't count on it, the Doctor was born ridiculous," Zoe said, dodging the man in question with a laugh. "Love and kisses, Brian! See you soon."

Brian clucked his tongue as he replaced the phone in the cradle. Since it appeared that Jack and John were going to be staying for as long as it took Jack to feel well enough to make a phone call, he put the kettle on and began throwing together the ingredients for chicken soup into a pot. The smell of onions frying brought John into the kitchen five minutes later, the late afternoon light highlighting how awful he also looked. Though not in the same state of broken disrepair as Jack, his skin was bruised and mottled and dark shadows pressed deep under his eyes, his clothes stained with sweat, blood, and filth, and Brian wondered how a man could look so bad but still remain on their feet.

"How's Jack?"

"He'll live," John said, crossing to the sink to scrub the blood from his hands and forearms, the water running pink and brown down the drain. "The Doctor and Professor Tyler?"

"I spoke with Zoe," Brian told him, finding it odd to hear a grown man call Zoe Professor Tyler when he had only ever heard children say those words. For most of Amy's childhood, she would play pretend as Professor Tyler dragging Rory and sometimes Jeff along behind her in what everyone thought was a deeply imaginative and intricate game until her wedding day. "She said that Jack needs to call the TARDIS because of temporal placement."

John sighed. "Of fucking course he does."

"That makes sense to you?"

"It doesn't to you?" Scrubbing a wet hand over the back of his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought a yawn, and Brian felt as though he was being judged and found wanting by a sleepy mass of bruises. "Jack's asleep right now and he's staying that way for at least twelve hours. I've given him something to knock him out to help with the healing. I normally don't mind forcing my company on people, but do you mind if I take a shower and find a change of clothes? I've been in these since my orgy."

Brian blinked. "Shower's upstairs, first door on the right. Help yourself to any clothes."

"Thanks, gorgeous."

Blowing out his cheeks in surprise, Brian watched John leave the kitchen before raising his eyes to the ceiling with a small laugh.

Jack had warned him.


The next day,

Twelve miles away

Sarah Jane turned slowly in a circle, the sonic screwdriver pointed away from her as she scanned the area. When it beeped, she pulled it in front of her eyes and puckered her face in disappointed: nothing. They had been searching for Jack for twenty-four hours, having landed in London in – according to the Doctor – an approximate time window of three days of Jack's arrival; Mickey had taken that news about as well as expected, kicking at the jumpseat as he swore in the Doctor's general direction before stalking off into London with Zoe hurrying after him to keep him out of trouble. Sarah Jane found herself in agreement with Rose that the Doctor was lucky Mickey hadn't kicked him instead.

"How hard is it to find one quasi-American in all of London?" The Doctor asked, frustrated, his hair sticking up in every direction. "It's not like Jack blends in. He should be easy to find. Instead, we're crawling through sewers and checking alleys that smell as though something has died in them."

"We haven't actually crawled through any sewers," Sarah Jane said. "You're welcome to do so though."

The whites of his eyes flashed as he rolled them at her. "I definitely got the time right. There was a burst of temporal energy in this area not too long ago, and unless there are other time travellers hiding their –"

"London's a big city," she interrupted him with the same reminder she had given him at least twenty times already that day. "And it's not a surprise Jack's concealing his position. As far as he knows, no one's coming for him except those two other Time Agents."

"You'd think he'd leave a signal for us though," he complained, kicking at an empty beer can that skittered down the street. "He has to know we're looking for him. Why wouldn't he?"

Sarah Jane refused to be the one to suggest that perhaps Jack wasn't in the best physical state to do more than protect his location. Before wiping everything from the Time Agency's computers, Zoe's virus had dragged all the information about Jack into the TARDIS, storing it and protecting it, and she had been flicking through it on her phone as they ate a quick dinner once Mickey had come back, grumbling and scowling and snapping at everything like a wounded animal. As the Doctor, Rose, and Sarah Jane organised a search grid and Jackie cleaned the kitchen, Zoe had pushed up from her seat and thrown up in the sink without any warning, startling them all, pressing her phone into the Doctor's hand.

Peeking over his shoulder, Sarah Jane had watched only a few seconds of Jack's torture before the Doctor closed the video, face set in fury that made Lorna start to sniffle.

The idea that someone was capable of hurting Jack – funny, friendly, flirty Jack – made Sarah Jane's stomach turn, and she was worried that he wasn't in any state of mind to do anything more than keep himself safe. And the information Zoe had gleaned about the partner that had supposedly rescued him did nothing to instil confidence in them as he appeared to border on the sociopathic.

She exhaled, reminding herself there was no sense in worrying about Jack until she set eyes on him.

"This would be easier if we could contact our future selves," Sarah Jane informed him as a distraction, having already sat through one tedious and mildly offensive lecture about the risks of contacting their future selves in their personal future, she knew it would set him off. "Ask them where –"

"Sarah Jane." Laughter bubbled up inside of her at the disappointed tone and stare he levelled at her, making her feel like the young woman she had been when she met him for the first time. "I expect this sort of nonsense from Jackie, but not from you."

She laughed in his face. "Oh, Doctor, you haven't changed all that much, have you?"

"What?"

She poked him in the stomach with the end of the sonic screwdriver. "Still so easy to tease."

"You're horrible," he complained, smile pulling at his mouth. "Absolutely wretched."

Sarah Jane grinned at him.

"You look exhausted," the Doctor said with his usual lack of tact. "Let's go grab a coffee before we carry on. Even I'm beginning to feel a little tired and I don't have your silly human penchant for sleep."

"How Zoe puts up with you is beyond me," she said, shaking her head. "I'm surprised she hasn't tried killing you yet."

"Zoe loves me and all my flaws, of which there are only a few," he said, grin widening. "Besides, she wouldn't kill me. I bring her coffee every morning."

Sarah Jane rolled her eyes. "She'd probably kill you for the TARDIS."

"Without question and/or hesitation." The Doctor didn't appear bothered by his impending murder at the hands of the woman he loved, holding the door open to a café for her. "Ooo, look! They're putting whipped cream on the top. I want one of those."

Sarah Jane purchased a normal cappuccino and left the Doctor at the counter, bewildering the baristas with his increasingly sugary order, giving the impression that he wasn't often left unattended. Leaning against a raised table by the window, she removed her new phone – a gift from Zoe thrust into her hands that morning with instructions to use it instead of her normal one – and checked the messages. Jackie was on the TARDIS looking after Lorna, the two of them going swimming to stop the incessant where's Captain Jack questions, and she had sent a picture of a wide-eyed Lorna waist deep in the water looking terrified and delighted. Rose, who was manning the TARDIS controls, had sent her regular half-hourly update telling them that she still hadn't pinged anything for Jack, which was expected but disappointing. There was a terse message from Zoe that spoke to her mounting frustration with Mickey's behaviour but nothing new. She tapped out her own report and sent it before a presence at her side made her look up, expecting the Doctor.

"Hello," a young, handsome man said.

"Hello," Sarah Jane replied, his eyes looking at her with a deep, painful hunger. She shifted onto her back foot. "Do I know you?"

"No, not really," he said, unhelpfully. "I just – I wanted to see you, that's all. It's silly but...I shouldn't be here. Rani said it was a bad idea but I couldn't resist."

"Rani?" The Doctor repeated, approaching from behind, his coffee more whipped cream than anything else balanced in his hand. "Not my Rani?"

"I – no, no, my friend, Rani," the man stumbled, blinking at the Doctor in surprise. "Not the Time Lord."

Sarah Jane's eyebrows shot up. "You know about Time Lords?"

"This was a bad idea," he muttered, cheeks heating and he stepped away before stepping back and wrapping Sarah Jane up in a hug that was tight and loving and desperate. "I'm sorry. I've just – I love you, okay? I love you and you're the best. The absolute best. I'm sorry."

"Wait!" Sarah Jane reached out for him when he pulled back, his steps stumbling. "Who are you?"

"I –" he grimaced, glancing to the Doctor who was watching him curiously. "Luke, my name's Luke, and I'm – I'm nobody. Not really. Just – er – take care, Sarah Jane, yeah? Live a really good life because you're the best."

Unable to stay anymore, Luke tripped over his feet and fell out of the door, rushing away from the café, shoulders stiff. Sarah Jane stared at the space he had occupied and blinked slowly before turning to look at the Doctor.

"What was that about?"

"No idea," he said, peering out of the window in interest. "It was odd though. Probably someone from your personal future who knew you'd be here today. Wanted to get a quick peek at you. Happens fairly often when personal timelines are crossed. You humans are annoying curious."

"Says you," Sarah Jane scoffed, and he snorted. "Perhaps your rule about crossing personal time streams is a good one."

"I don't make rules just for fun, you know?" The Doctor's eyes swept over her, assessing that she was fine after the unexpected meeting with her future. "You okay?"

"I'm fine, don't fuss," she said, tugging on her jacket and nodding at his hands. "You're about to spill your cream."

"What? No!"

Turning her head away from the Doctor's futile attempts to save his mountain of whipped cream, she looked out of the window and found Luke at the end of the street. He was standing in the arms of a pretty, brown-skinned woman who seemed to know that she was watching them as she raised her hand in a wave before drawing her friend away and out of sight.

Interesting, she thought, the Doctor's phone ringing and drawing her attention back to her present.

"What the –?" Sarah Jane stared at the Doctor in disbelief. "How did you get cream in your hair?"

"Fairly easily," he said, angling his hip towards her. "Grab my phone, would you? Don't worry if anything moves. I've got a grass snake having a nap."

Sarah Jane pressed her lips together and dipped her hand into his pocket, his own busy by attempting to scoop the cream back into his cup, taking a pit stop along the way to lick his fingers clean. Grabbing hold of his phone and yanking her hand out before waking the snake, she took a step back from him. Zoe's name flashed across the screen, a lovely picture of her smiling the icon the Doctor had chosen for her profile.

"Hello, Zoe," Sarah Jane greeted. "The Doctor's a little busy right now doing...well, it's best for your relationship if you don't know."

Zoe snorted. "I bet, but tell him to stop whatever it is because Jack's made contact."

"Doctor." She snatched a wad of napkins from the dispenser and thrust them at him. "Jack's got in touch with Zoe."

"What? He's what?" The Doctor scrubbed his hands clean, cheek pressed against Sarah Jane's in an attempt to hear Zoe. "He called you?"

"Yeah, we're heading back to the TARDIS now, so hurry up," she said, and it sounded as though she was running to keep up with Mickey. "Do you remember Amelia Pond?"

"Not personally," the Doctor said, slipping the phone from Sarah Jane's hand and ushering her towards the door. She snatched her coffee at the last moment and felt sorry for whoever had to clean up the mess the Doctor had made, whipped cream dripping onto the floor and dirty napkins piled on the table. "But I remember you telling me about her."

"Well Jack must've remembered her name from ages ago as a friend because he's gone to her house," Zoe explained. "She's not there but either her grandfather or dad is, I missed his actual connection to her, and he already knows Jack from presumably something that hasn't happened yet and he's helping them out."

"Clever man is our Jack."

"He is," she said. "But he really doesn't sound good. He's going to need medical attention quickly."

"The med bay's already set up," he assured her. "Tell Jackie to keep Lorna out of the way. The last thing that girl needs on top of everything else is to be traumatised by whatever Jack looks like."

"Doctor!" He spun and found Sarah Jane hanging out the back of a taxi. "Come on, this is quicker!"

"Up here for thinking, eh, Sarah Jane?" Ducking inside, he fell into Sarah Jane who righted him and told the driver the location of the TARDIS. "Zo, we'll be there as quick as we can. Get the TARDIS ready to go."

"On it," she promised, hanging up.

Sarah Jane reached out and put her hand on his knee, stopping it from bouncing as the taxi slid into London traffic. It took them twenty minutes to reach the TARDIS and he bounded out of the car, leaving her to deal with the money as per normal; she thrust two twenties at the driver, telling him to keep the change, before rushing inside to find everyone waiting, Mickey vibrating with restlessness.

Only Jackie was absent, tucked away with Lorna somewhere out of sight.

"Hold on," the Doctor said as soon as Sarah Jane was onboard. "This might be a little bumpy."

A little bumpy was an understatement.

By the time they landed, Rose was wielding a fire extinguisher and Zoe was coughing from the smoke that was in her lungs even as Mickey jumped over a fallen Doctor and sprinted out the door onto a street where –

"You must be Mickey," John Hart said, eyes flicking over him, stubbing a cigarette beneath his boot, soft floral skirt fluttering about his knees. "Not his usual sort but he's always been an odd one."

Mickey frowned. "Who are –?"

John grinned and pressed his finger to his lips before disappearing in a crackle of energy just as the Doctor and Sarah Jane appeared in the doorway, Rose and Zoe pressing out behind them.

"Don't tell me that was another Vortex Manipulator," the Doctor complained, scanning the area. "Was it the same woman as last time? Did she have Jack?"

"No, it was someone else," Mickey shook his head, hot and cold all over. "I don't know –"

"There you lot are." A TARDIS blue door opened and a man in his late sixties appeared, dressed in a sweater set and house slippers. "About time. Hello, Zoe, lovely to see you again." Zoe raised a hand in greeting to the stranger. "Which one of you is the Doctor? Ah, never mind. The sonic screwdriver is a bit of a giveaway. The face is strange though."

"Hey," the Doctor said. "It's my face."

Brian leant against the gate and squinted at him. "It's strange. I know you said you could change your face but this is odd, everything's different."

He raised his eyebrows. "Know me well, do you?"

"You pop in and out when it pleases you," he said, glancing around. "Where did John go?"

"Who's John?" Rose asked.

"Jack's partner, I think," Brian said. "He was out here having a smoke. Rory doesn't like people smoking on the property. Says he doesn't want to encourage it."

"He's gone," Mickey said. "He used the manipulator an' went. Look, sir, I don't mean to be rude, but where's –?"

"Mickey."

As one, they turned.

In the TARDIS blue doorway of the pale blue townhouse, Jack Harkness appeared. Mickey felt the air leave him as though he had been punched, and his knees wobbled at the sight of him. Two days had passed since he had set eyes on Jack, the fire of the Gamma Forests throwing a light that licked against his skin, and the grief and fear he had spent the last two days living in crashed through him and sent him staggering towards Jack. Tripping over the pavement, catching himself on a low stone wall, he found himself taking in the details of his appearance as he got closer and closer. Dressed in a pair of blue scrubs that highlighted the pale gauntness of him, his bare skin was a litany of mottled bruises and half-healed cuts, a tight band of bruises wrapped around his throat that made Mickey's stomach churn at the thought of what had happened to him.

And there, on the side of his head, was a mass of scar tissue that made his vision blur.

They had cut his ear off.

"Mickey," Jack said again, rasping his name across damaged vocal cords, bloodshot eyes staring at him. "Mickey."

Stumbling through the gate Brian swiftly opened for him, Mickey reached for Jack and cupped his face with more tenderness than he had believed himself capable, and kissed him. Frozen beneath his mouth, Jack twitched and made a pained, animalistic sound that had Mickey pulling back before Jack dragged him back towards him, a sob breaking against his mouth.

"Mickey," he breathed, broken.

"I've got you," Mickey whispered a promise, forehead resting against his, Jack's fingers so tight in his shirt that the material stretched and ripped but nothing mattered except the fact that Jack was alive and in his arms. "You're safe, I've got you."

"Mickey –" unable to say anything but his name, Jack repeated it on a loop, hands scrambling at the back of his shirt, breaking Mickey's heart. Jack was the strong one, the person who never seemed to break, and seeing him lost and confused and scared was agonizing. "Mickey."

"It's okay, c'mon, it's okay," he said, softly. "The Doctor's here, an' the girls. Sarah Jane too. We've got you. It's okay." He glanced over his shoulder and wished he hadn't as the others were watching with horror, hurt, and anger plastered across their faces. "Help him, please."

The Doctor moved, joints stiff and unresponsive at first, before he closed the distance between them and was at Jack's other side, supporting him as though he had always been there. Jack flinched at his appearance before relaxing, mouth forming around his name even though no sound emerged.

"Jack," the Doctor greeted. "Come on, there's a good man. Let's get you out of the doorway and sitting down. I think you're in a bit of shock. Completely understandable given everything. There we go. One step after another, that's it."

Carefully, he and Mickey lowered Jack to sit on the stone wall, a curtain twitching from one of the neighbour's houses, a pinched face peering out in disapproval. Once he was sitting down, the Doctor placed his fingers on either side of Jack's temple and closed his eyes, focusing on forming a connection before soothing the immediate panic and shock from his friend's mind. It wasn't something he liked to do often, if at all, yet Jack was in a state that bordered on unresponsive and he hoped it would help. Opening his eyes, he crouched in front of Jack and found that a small brush of colour had returned to his cheeks, his pupils no longer dilated and his eyes had more focus to them.

"There you are," the Doctor said, softly. "Hello again."

"Doctor," Jack croaked.

"The one and only," he said with a small smile. "You've led us on a right merry chess through time and space, you know? The second you're in the TARDIS, I'm putting a tracker in you, in all of you, because I'm not losing a single one of you again."

Jack swallowed. "How long?"

"It's been two days for us," he told him. "Longer for you though, I think."

"Yeah," he whispered, leaning into Mickey who sat next to him, arm around his shoulders. "A bit."

Mickey wiped his eyes with his free hand. "I'm sorry we didn't come sooner. We should've come earlier, stopped this happenin'."

"You came," Jack said, lips dry and cracking, blood pooling like a pearl against his bottom lip before falling to the thigh of his scrubs. "I thought I wasn't going to see you again. I thought it was over."

"Not a chance," Zoe said, hand resting on the Doctor's shoulder. Every part of her wanted to hug Jack and never let him go but she was afraid he would shatter in her arms if she touched him the wrong way. "Like we'd let that happen."

"Zoe," he breathed, blinking up at her. "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too," she said, reaching for him and gently stroking his greasy hair. "I've been so worried about you."

"Me too," Rose said, wiping her nose with her sleeve as she sniffed, linking arms with Zoe even though she also wanted to wrap Jack up and never let him go. "You're not allowed to scare us like this. Don't you ever, ever scare us like that again, okay? Never again."

A knot of emotion lodged in his throat. "Okay."

"I didn't – I thought I wouldn't see you again," he whispered, rough and hoarse, half aware he was repeating himself, his brain fogged and confused. "I thought Raphio was going to kill me, and I'd never see your faces again."

"Like we'd ever let that happen," the Doctor assured him. "And you don't have to worry about the Time Agency again. We took care of everything. Raphio and the others won't be a problem."

Jack;s head lolled onto Mickey's shoulder. "What did you do to them?"

"Little bit of this, little bit of that," he said, vague enough that Jack was pleased the Doctor had taken care of it personally. "But, enough of this. You need medical treatment and lots of it. Fair warning, Jackie's going to fuss over you like nobody's business. You scared the hell out of her by sending Lorna her way."

"Lorna," Jack remembered, hand tightening in Mickey's. "Is she okay? And Jackie? Pyl and Harlan went after her. I know she got away but –"

"They're both fine," Sarah Jane said, making her presence known. Feeling a little in the way as the TARDIS crew reunited, she had stepped to one side to stand next to Brian and watched the reunion with only the smallest hint of envy at their closeness. "They were able to get to me and I got in contact with Rose."

"Sarah Jane." Jack's eyes turned in her direction, the light falling across him, emphasising how exhausted and sick and handsome he was. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you involved in this."

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Of course I came to help."

His throat moved with another swallow. "Where's Lorna?"

"On the TARDIS with Jackie," the Doctor said. "I thought it best she not see you like this. We knew that you'd been...hurt, and the poor girl's been through enough without seeing you looking like you've been hit by a bus or two."

"She hasn't shut up about you," Mickey told him. "Captain Jack this, Captain Jack that. I think you've got a fan."

The laugh that left him made him wince, hand slowly rubbing his chest. "The Gamma Forests?"

"Are fine," Zoe told him. "We alerted the authorities before we left and they got right on it."

"The fire?"

"We can check when we go back and drop Lorna off," the Doctor said, giving his knee a small squeeze before standing. "Now, let's get you up and into the TARDIS." He touched the side of Jack's head lightly where his ear used to be. "No need to worry about that. I can grow that back."

Anger bubbled inside Mickey and he glared at the Doctor. "We should've killed him."

"He's being punished," the Doctor said, sending a chill racing down Jack's spine at the thought of what had been done. Between Zoe, Rose, Mickey, and the Doctor, he got to his feet with only the occasional burst of pain. "Your partner took off. Didn't he need help?"

"He prefers to work alone," Jack said, hunching over when he was upright. "And he didn't mean to rescue me, it just happened."

"Well, we're grateful," he said. "I would've liked to have told him that but no matter. Come on, captain, just a little bit longer and you'll be pumped full of so many pain meds you'll think everything's sunshine and lemons."

He swayed.

"I do like lemons." Holding onto Mickey, he made his way slowly towards the TARDIS before he remembered himself. "Wait, Brian...thank you."

"Any time," Brian Williams said with an easy nod. "You don't know it yet, but you're always welcome here." Jack managed a weak smile, shoulders dipping forward again, and Rose caught him. "But time for you to get on. I'm sure I'll be seeing you soon."

"I hope so," Jack murmured, energy seeping from him in a smooth rush. "Mickey –"

"Get him inside," Zoe instructed, stepping out of the way. "And someone let Mum know we've got him. She's probably climbing the walls right now." She approached Brian and smiled, wiping her hands on her thighs. "So, Amelia's father or – ?"

"Father-in-law," Brian said, fascinated by this younger version of the woman he knew. "Rory's my son."

"Rory," she repeated, turning the name over in her mouth. "I haven't met Rory yet but if he's anything like his dad, I'm sure he'll be great." Brian's smile widened. "Thank you again for helping Jack. Crossing our timelines like this is always dangerous and I'm relieved that someone like you was there to help him."

"It's nothing Jack wouldn't do for me," he said, embarrassed. "He's a good man."

"He is, not that he believes it though," Zoe agreed before she leant in and kissed his cheek. "I'll see you around, Brian Williams. Be sure to give Amelia my love when you next see her and, I suppose, Mr Pond too."

"They'll be sorry to have missed you," Brian said. "But it's nice that I have my own story to tell them this time instead of just listening to them."

"I'll bet," she said, patting his shoulder. "See you around, Brian."

Brian watched as she darted into the TARDIS, shutting the door behind her, and he waited for what he knew was coming. A smile swept across his face at the sound of the TARDIS dematerialising, his eyes feasting on the sight of the bluer-than-blue ship faded from the quiet London road, leaving behind nothing but tossed leaves and a taste of the universe in the air.


Hours later,

The TARDIS

Jack awoke in the medical bay, and there was an unsettling moment of unfamiliarity that made his muscles tense before the gentle press of the TARDIS against the back of his mind soothed him. Home breathed through him. Tension and the brief spike of adrenaline that rocketed through him in the two seconds it took to orient himself faded, leaving his heart racing in his chest and the monitor he was attached too beeping with increasing loudness. Reaching up a hand, he knocked the sensor from his chest and let it fall to the side of the bed. Sensing his displeasure, the TARDIS switched the monitor off though he didn't doubt she was keeping a close eye on him through other means, fussing over him as badly as the rest of them. Memories of Jackie hugging him as tight as his injured body allowed, smoothing a hand over his hair and whispering small, affectionate threats that told him how much he was loved, played in the haze of his mind.

He was home.

Shifting, he heard a snore next to him, and he turned his head only to be greeted by the sight of Mickey twisted into an uncomfortable position in a chair dragged up against his medical bed. Tears pressed against the back of his eyes, wanting to reach out and shake him awake just to see the colour of his eyes, but the Doctor had snuck up on him earlier and injected a sedative into the side of his neck. According to Rose, who had caught sight of the look of anger building on Jack's bruised face, Mickey was running on two days of no sleep and very little food and it was all for the best that he get some forced sleep now that Jack was safe and sound on the TARDIS.

"You know," a softly amused voice said from the doorway. "It's considered rude to unhook yourself from machines meant to monitor your vitals, especially when one's been hurt as you have."

Jack's mouth twitched. "The beeping was annoying me."

"I bet," Zoe said, slipping into the room on bare feet. "I'll turn the volume down but the sensor is going back on."

"Don't want it too."

She made a humming sound in her throat, ignoring his childish display, and leaned over him, the neck of her dressing gown gaping to disappointingly reveal a sleep shirt beneath. Sliding a hand under his hip, she lifted and rolled him an inch to retrieve the sensor before rubbing it onto her skin with a pointed look.

"You and I both know I could definitely take you in a fight right now," Zoe informed him, reaching over his head to turn the monitor back on, finger tapping on the screen to lower the volume. Jack turned his face closer towards her, breathing in the smell that he associated with Zoe: fresh soil, coffee, and a hint of the Doctor's cologne that always seemed to cling to her no matter how much physical contact she had with him or not. "Best not to embarrass yourself."

"I could take you," Jack murmured even though the truth was that Lorna would be able to beat him in a fight right them, weak and pathetic as he felt. Struggling, he lifted his arms and balled his hands into loose fists. "Put 'em up."

Zoe gently knocked her fists against his, sweeping them out of the way before lightly tweaking his nose. "Pow, game over."

"Cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater."

Her laugh was quiet and delighted. "Where did you pick that up from?"

"Don't know," he said, honestly. "New Year's Eve, I think."

"I suppose it is a bit of a cheat to agree to a fight when you're so sick," Zoe said, hand smoothing his hair back with a tenderness that made him ache. "What woke you up?"

"The pain," he told her. "My knees."

Letting her hand fall from his hair, she left his side and he listened to her search through the cabinets for pain relief that she found with a small there you are, you little bastard. Jack lay there, waiting for her, drifting in and out of lucidity as spasms of pain gripped his knees.

The Doctor had given him a quick overview of his injuries, rattling them off so fast that Mickey had taken on a grey, sick disposition and Rose had to press her knuckles into her mouth to stop from crying the longer he went on. Jack wasn't sure of all the bits and pieces but he knew that he needed a new ear, serious repair work on his knees, a spinal rejuvenation due to the battering has had taken when travelling the Vortex without a capsule, and his organs either needed regenerating or replacing.

There was a lot of work to do and despite the sheer magnitude of how broken Jack was, the Doctor remained confident he would put him back together before too long.

"Here we go," Zoe said, pressing the hypospray against one knee and then the other. "Voilà. Feeling better?" Jack's mouth worked, relief spreading through his legs, and he nodded. "You want a sedative to help you get back to sleep?"

He shook his head. "Food. I want food."

"You do?" Her face transfused with cautious delight. "The Doctor said signs of an appetite was a good thing. Wait here, I'll get you something."

"No," Jack rasped, the nanites still working at repairing the damage to his larynx. "I want to come with you."

"Darling, you can't walk right now," she reminded him. "And best you in a fight I may be able to do, but carrying you is still beyond me."

"Wheelchair." Her eyes slipped to the corner where her old wheelchair sat, used in the aftermath of her recovery from Mondas and brought in by a hopeful Rose in anticipation of Jack's recovery; she hesitated. "Zoe...please."

The begging tone his voice took on made her flinch, and he watched the line of her throat as she swallowed.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "It's not like I can say no to you anyway, can I?"

Zoe leant over him again until the front of her was pressed up against him. He put his arms around her back and held on as she grunted, slowly and carefully lifted him upright, the strain visible in her arms and across her shoulders. Propping him against the wall, legs dangling over the side, she rolled the wheelchair towards him and brushed off some of the dust. It turned out that getting him into the wheelchair was actually easier than either of them imagined as he tilted into it and fell the rest of the way, the painkillers doing an excellent job of stopping him from feeling too much of the pain that spread from his side. Behind him, Zoe muttered about foolish friends under her breath before tucking Mickey's loose blanket tighter around him and grasping hold of the handles.

"Let's get you back before he realises you're missing," Zoe said, pushing him into the hallway that brightened at their presence. "He's snapped at me more in the past two days than he has in our entire life, and I quite like to drawn a line under that part of our friendship, if it's all the same."

"He snapped at you?"

"Like a bear with a sore head since you were abducted," she said, the TARDIS moving the kitchen so it was closer to them than normal. "Not that any of us blame him. None of us really took it well but Mickey...well, he loves you in a way we don't. Not to say we don't love you, but it's different for him. You know that."

Passing into the kitchen, Jack rubbed his sore throat to ease the thick rock of emotion that had formed there. Zoe pulled a chair out of the way and sat him at the table as she put the kettle on and had a look through the cabinets for something to eat.

"Chicken soup?"

"Brian made me some," he said.

"Did he? That was nice of him." Zoe opened the fridge door and frowned at the contents. "We need to do another shop. Porridge. Porridge'll be good for you. Easy to swallow and I'll make it tasty unlike the Doctor."

Jack half-smiled. "I don't know how he eats it so bland."

"For a man who's normally hyped up on sugar, it is a bit weird," she agreed, lifting two bottles of milk out and turning to look at him. "Chocolate or normal?"

"Chocolate, obviously."

She smiled. "Good choice."

"Where's everyone else?" Jack asked, finding comfort in watching her move about the kitchen, the domesticity a sharp and needed reminded that he was safe.

"Mum pretty much passed out as soon as you did," Zoe said, talking over her shoulder as she measured out a portion of porridge oats. "She hasn't really slept since Lorna appeared, and don't you start feeling guilty about that. Mum doesn't blame you for anything and neither do any of us. It was smart to get Lorna out the way. I've seen what the Time Agency's capable of, I don't want to think what they might've done to her to get you to do what they wanted."

Having spent money nights thinking about that exact scenario, Jack shivered.

"Rose and Sarah Jane stayed up for a bit but they were both knackered too and headed to bed a few hours ago," she continued, setting the milk and oats on the stove to cook before plucking the kettle from the stand and making him what he hoped was a Tyler tea. "And the Doctor started work on your ear before he went to take a nap, but I imagine he'll be up once he realises you're gone from the med bay. About your ear though, apparently it'll only be a few days before it's ready to be attached. He says he wants to have a specialist see you though, which is probably a good idea. He might be called the Doctor but he doesn't actually have an MD."

She set the tea down in front of him and smiled. "Here. Get this inside you. It'll help with the tremors."

Jack lifted the tea to his mouth and the strength of it nearly made him recoil, yet it was exactly what he needed. He started to feel more grounded as the tea worked its magic on his nerves.

"What about you?" His eyes tracked the movement of her arm, watching her stir the porridge. "Why are you awake? You looked exhausted earlier, so I thought you'd be sleeping by now."

"The TARDIS gave me a nudge when you disconnected the sensor, woke me up," Zoe explained. "Don't worry about it though. I'll fall back to sleep easy enough."

The tea scalded the roof of his mouth, watching her, remembering a younger Zoe who was skittish and nervous and prone to night terrors in the first few months of him knowing her. Rose had explained and he was smart enough to glean the rest from context, and he realised that out of everyone on board, she understood what he was going through the best.

Perhaps that was why the TARDIS had chosen to wake her rather than the Doctor.

Jack rubbed at his eyes. "Zoe..."

"Yeah?"

"You've been tortured."

Her body stilled before it deflated, her back to him and her voice dull and flat. "Yeah."

"Tell me it gets better," he requested, voice breaking. "Tell me I can live with this."

Carefully, she removed the porridge from the heat and set it to one side, turning to face him with a pained look on her face that creased the space between her eyes and made her look older than she was.

"It took me years to get over what happened to me on Tolandra," Zoe said quietly. "It wasn't a quick and easy recovery despite what it looked like on the outside. A lot of my recovery happened in France. Reinette – I'd wake her up most nights early on with my screaming, and it wasn't like I had a therapist to talk to there." She rubbed her fingers over her mouth. "Even now...sometimes...I..."

Jack watched her and took note of how her eyes went distant, looking at him but not seeing him. "Zoe?"

"It's been over ten years since that week on Tolandra," she said, eyes refocusing. "And I still have the marks of what they did to me. Not on my body, all the scars are healed, but here." Her fist pressed against her chest, knuckling in between her breasts. "On my soul."

"You seem fine."

"I am, most of the time," Zoe told him. "It's not – what happened to me wasn't personal. I was tortured because the idiots there were zealots. Sometimes that makes it easier to compartmentalise what happened to me, but most of the time when I'm reminded of it, or things are a little too quiet, the night a little too dark, I remember everything. But –" there was a small tremble in her hands as she twisted her wedding band about her finger. "I live with it. Some days it's easier than others, some days it's really hard. The more time that passes, the more I speak to Yatta about those moments, the easier it is."

She reached across the table and offered her hands to his.

"You can live with this," she assured him. "I promise you, you can live with this, Jack. It's going to be hard and painful and you're going to hate yourself sometimes, but you're going to live with this. It's all going to be okay. One day, what you feel right now, will be a soft whisper of pain."

Jack's jaw trembled, hot tears blinding him. "There are things I've done. Things Raphio blames me for. He might be right, Zo. Maybe I deserved what he did to me."

"Shut up," Zoe said, fiercely, her anger surprising him. "You didn't deserve a single thing that sick monster did to you. Not one thing." She squeezed his hand, a single tear tracking down her cheek. "I don't want to hear you say that again because you are good and kind and you're my friend. Whatever you might have done, it doesn't matter to me. I know the man you are now and that's what matters to me."

"She's right."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Zoe jumped and jerked back, hand swiping at her face. "I'm going to put a bloody bell on you, you hear me?"

"So you keep threatening," the Doctor said, stepping into the room dressed in his own sleep clothes, face turned towards Jack. Abandoning her seat to get her emotions back under control, Zoe turned her attention onto the porridge as the Doctor took her seat. "Raphio told me what he thought you did. I don't know if that's true or not. The man I see before me isn't capable of those things. The man from three years ago, five? I didn't know him. But I don't care. I'm not going to pass judgement on you when I've done so much worse."

"My memories are gone, Doctor," Jack said, emotion tangling in the air around them. "I erased them myself. For some reason, I took two years of my life and wiped them clean away, and I don't know why. I left myself nothing, so maybe I'm not the man you think I am. Maybe I am the monster Raphio thinks I am."

"You're not a monster," he said.

"If I'm not that and I'm not the man I thought I was, then what the hell am I?"

"You're my brother," the Doctor said, knocking the air from Jack and ripping the ground from beneath him. "That's who you are. And if anyone tries to take you from this family again, I will bring hell down upon them."

Jack moved his head from side to side, the press of emotion strangling him tighter than Harlan's arm, and he choked. A sob broke through the thick cling of his frayed restraint and his head dipped, hands pressed into his face, shoulders heaving, unable to stop the deep, wrenching sounds of the ruins of his life spilling out of him.

Arms wrapped around him, the double beat of the Doctor's heart barely penetrating his grief, loneliness, and regret, and Jack clung to him as he sobbed.

"It's okay," the Doctor murmured into his sole ear. "You're home now. You're safe."