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Chapter 8

"Then take me home!" The words hung in the atmosphere between them as they started into each other's eyes, with Jack watching on the sidelines.

The Doctor's mind tumbled with emotion – confusion, pain, anger and annoyance; he felt completely at a loss.

"I-" he faltered. "I need to think." Turning swiftly, he stalked off, leaving Jack and Rose alone.

"Oh, go away." She snapped, walking back into the room further and sitting huffily down on the edge of the bed, fear curling in her stomach. Jack's face flickered with hurt for a second, and he walked out as Rose looked up, guilt in her eyes. Dammit. She was in a right mess now.

The Doctor returned to the room some time later and leant against the doorway, his eyes tired and his face unreadable. Rose looked up, sensing his presence and sat up, her expression matching her resolve.

"I'm taking you home," he stated simply, and her heart dropped.

"For a visit." He added. It took a few seconds for her to realise what he had said, but when she did, Rose smiled. He didn't return the gesture, but left again, unable to face himself, despite what Jack had said earlier.

The Doctor had been in the garden – now at twilight, having shifted according to his mood. Forgotten stars twinkled overhead, and he lay back on the grass to find solitude in their unchanging light. His mind drew familiar patterns languidly, and he sat up suddenly, cursing silently against the tears that sprang into his eyes. He knew those constellations; he had lain, many many years ago on the soft grass, gazing up in childish wonder beside his father as shooting stars sparkled with brilliance, all the colours of an Earthen rainbow. These were the stars seen from Gallifrey, called by his traitorous mind and the TARDIS. Seeing them again added to the emotions that swirled in his gut, and he couldn't breathe. Choking, he sobbed and curled up, knees to his chest, the moist on his face, in his eyes, shining in the combined light of the stars and moon.

Torn between her two wishes – safeguarding her Theta and helping his Rose, the TARDIS noted a familiar figure, both annoying and very helpful, and unlocked the door.

Jack had been trying to find the kitchen – hell knew he needed a drink. However, the TARDIS had had to rearrange corridors for the Doctor, so everything was out of sync.

Spotting a familiar-looking door, he walked up to it and opened slowly, his hand on the handle. A sudden light breeze tickled his hair and he frowned. This wasn't the kitchen, or anywhere else he had expected the Time Lord.

He stepped inside, and froze as he spotted the sobbing figure, feeling his body jar with the strangely intimate and heavily private moment. Every sense in him firing, he stepped backwards slowly, silently retreating. However fate, or something else was conspiring against him, and a twig cracked under his foot, attracting the ears of the Doctor, even through his own grief.

The Doctor stilled, tears still soaking his face, hearts pounding. He never doubted his senses (except just post-regeneration, when everything was out of wack), and he had an choice of two – Jack or Rose. His question was answered when Jack's uncertain voice called across the room.

"Um, sorry, got lost again. I'll just–"

Wiping his face, he stood and turned. Coughing to clear his throat and hiding his discomfort in feeling so vulnerable, he replied.

"No. It's alright."

"Are you, I mean, are you alright?" Jack called, stepping forwards again. He was a bit at a loss – clearly his usual methods wouldn't work, as they consisted of alcohol, or sex. Neither of which would appeal, even from his point of view. The Doctor glanced over his new companion, weighing him up for a second, before answering truthfully.

"I don't know." He frowned, thinking, before catching Jack in a strong gaze. "You were a Time Agent, weren't you?"

"Yeah, before they wiped my memories." Jack replied, confused. The Doctor nodded.

"Then you fought in the Time War."

"To some extent."

"What do you know of the Daleks?"

Jack noted an inflection on the last word that spoke of repressed hate, and shivered.

"Not a lot. I know they were genetically modified to only feel hate, they have catastrophic weaponry. What do you mean?"

"You fought against them, and then one day they just disappeared, am I right?" Jack frowned.

"Yeah. We all thought it was weird."

"They went to fight a bigger war." The Doctor looked away. "Our war. The last true Time War between the Daleks and the Time Lords."

Jack listened with bated breath. The Doctor's voice was distant as he watched images of a war only he could see.

"Then we destroyed them. All of them. In doing so, it destroyed my planet, destroyed all the Time Lords. I thought it was worth it. Us for them. Then I was the last. I am the last." He sighed explosively, before continuing firmly. "It was worth it."

"Nothing's ever worth that." Jack replied vehemently, surprising the distracted Time Lord. "But we live with it, because we can't change it."

"Maybe you're right." The Doctor wandered around, not really thinking clearly. He had plucked a flower from its stem and was wondering at its beauty in the low light before he really looked at it, and smiled sadly. A rose. How apt.

Turning back to Jack, he held it out. Jack shot him a puzzled glance, but the Doctor gestured for him to wait. Then, concentrating, closing his eyes, he opened his link to the vortex, focusing the wealth of power on the small flower. He opened his eyes as the companion gasped, tendrils of gold light curling like smoke around the petals, reforming it. A few short seconds, and he was holding a young rosebud, which he handed over.

"Being a Time Lord isn't just having thirteen lives. We are connected to all of space and time. I used to watch the older students at the academy do this when I was young – reverse time, speed it up, stop time completely – just for fun." He looked up at Jack, meeting his gaze.

"She doesn't know what she's doing. This wouldn't be reversible. And she wouldn't ever be the same again."

Jack swallowed, knowing he was speaking for Rose now. He wasn't sure if the whole transformation was a good idea, but what the hell.

"She knows that. And she's just as terrified as us. Probably more. But she's pretty set on it."

"She doesn't know what she's doing!" the Doctor repeated. Jack's eyes narrowed.

"Maybe she knows better than we do."

"What?"

"She's changing, right? And we've already agreed it's not really hurting her… all I'm saying is, she's doing this for a reason, and that's all that matters to her."

The Doctor was silent, and Jack pondered whether it was really his right to continue. Oh well, he was always the 'in for a penny, in for a pound' sort of person.

"She loves you, you know." The Time Lord's head snapped up, his eyes disbelieving, his expression closed. Jack rolled his eyes. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You can see it."

"All the more reason to stop this." Jack felt his temper rising, and hastily stood on it. Some of his ire bit into his tone however as he replied.

"You can't take away her choices."

"If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this mess!" Jack braced himself, and stepped forwards, face stern.

"No, if it wasn't for me, she wouldn't be in this mess." The Doctor glanced over his expression, and they remained, frozen like that for a long moment.

"You didn't know what you were doing-" he tried to dismiss it, but Jack was prepared.

"And neither did you. Now you just have to live with it. And you shouldn't keep fighting yourself."

"Says you." The Doctor replied, coldness creeping into his voice as the truth bit him sharply.

"At least I'm trying!" Jack yelled, his temper finally broken. Then he turned and walked away a little, controlling himself. Without turning, he heard the Time Lord's voice, and relaxed, closing his eyes.

"Sorry. I know you've tried."

"Well, you do crazy things for people sometimes." The Time Agent mumbled.

"You know, Jack," the Doctor said, walking up to him. "I only take the best." He half-turned, and the Doctor smiled gently.

"Yeah. That's why you have Rose." Jack said after a while, turning the topic back on track. "Let her make her own mind up."

"OK." The Doctor replied, defeated. "I'll take her home – let her talk to her mum."

"That's a good idea." Jack agreed, and watched the other man leave to pass on the message. After a while, he headed on to the kitchen again. Now he really needed a drink. But, he paused, his hand over the bottle of tequila, maybe not that sort. Instead he walked to the coffee machine and set it in motion.