"Any idea what that's all about?"

The Doctor continued with his calculations, plugging numbers into the control panel. "Nope."

"Don't you think you should go after her?"

"Nope."

Rose had been unusually subdued when she returned, suggesting that her farewells to Mickey had not gone smoothly. She stared longingly at the Slitheen egg as the TARDIS roared to life, then turned abruptly and stumbled out of the control room. Busy as he was checking the extrapolator for damage, Jack had still seen the tears glistening in her eyes. Since he was not yet completely sure of his role in the blue box, he had waited uncomfortably for the Doctor to follow her. The Doctor moved about the console, adjusting dials and plotting coordinates as if there was nothing unusual about narrowly averting a cosmic disaster and almost losing a loved one in the process. What kind of relationship was that?

"Come on, Doctor, the kid is obviously upset. Hell, I'm still shaking, and I wasn't the one dangling from an alien claw. Not to mention breaking up with a boyfriend. Don't you think she could use a shoulder to cry on?"

The Doctor stared hard at Jack before rolling his eyes toward the ceiling mockingly. "Funny little humans - all those useless emotions mucking about in your heads, winding you up all the time. I suppose it's part of your charm that you try to help each other sort them out, but it always makes an untidy business worse. Best left each to his own." He bent down to study a panel on the lower column, well aware that Jack was glaring at him with increasing anger. Finally he relented, but his eyes remained icy as he looked up. "She knows what to do. She's doing it. Don't interfere."

That sounded remarkably hardhearted, even to Jack. "Hypocrite," he sneered, but let the subject drop. They worked on and the silence grew more tense until Jack suddenly slammed his fist against a support beam. "No, dammit! I won't help you break her spirit." He stormed off into the depths of the TARDIS.

Behind him the Doctor shut his eyes for a moment as if in pain, then took a deep breath and returned to work.

— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — –

"Rose?"

He should not have followed her here. This was her sanctuary. The Doctor had led her here after their last visit to Cardiff, when she was still mourning the death of Gwyneth. A small room tucked into an odd corner deep inside the ship, from the doorway it seemed unimportant yet somehow inviting. As soon as she stepped inside, the lights had come up to reveal an oasis of tranquility. There was a small fountain in the center, with a wide stone surround where she could sit and watch the sparkling fall of the water - or with a single thought the jets would stop and she could gaze into its inky depths. Trellises dripping with honeysuckle, flowering shrubs and precisely clipped boxwood lined the sides of the room, and stone paths separated small beds of perfect roses in all colors. Soft, soothing sounds of far-off birds and humming insects managed somehow to drown out even the thrum of the TARDIS engines. The very air shivered with energy, just like the mist at the base of a magnificent waterfall they had visited on Valhalla where the natives gathered to heal their souls and open their minds to inspiration.

This was her place to reflect on the fantastical and sometimes terrifying adventures she had lived through. It was where she mourned, and then came to terms with loss or disappointment. Here she could remind herself how boring her old life had been, how much more alive she felt during every minute of her new life. Most importantly, this was her haven when she needed to have a good cry, get it all out of her system, and regain the courage and poise that the Doctor expected of her. By unleashing her excess emotions in here, she could continue the pretense that she was the "best" companion he could have.

"You all right?"

Except that now she was no longer the only companion in the TARDIS. Whyever had she insisted that they save Jack and bring him along? No, that was a foolish question. Even though he was a bit mercenary and calculating and more than a bit arrogant, he had come through in the end and it was not really fair that he should die of his own selfless gesture. But she had never imagined that he would fit in so well, and win the Doctor's confidence so quickly. Granted, Jack was a brilliant storyteller who could keep them entertained for hours at a time. He was more of an intellectual match for the Doctor than she could ever be, and he had taken over all of the routine maintenance that she had never quite managed to comprehend. And oh yeah, let's not forget that he was insanely gorgeous and a great dancer and in quiet moments she found herself wondering if he kissed as boldly as he did everything else.

The Doctor liked Jack. The Doctor was coming to respect Jack. She was glad for it, she wanted Jack to stay . . . so why did she suddenly resent his presence?

"Sweetheart?"

She inhaled deeply, seeking enough control to get one sentence out without giving herself away. "Please, Jack, a few minutes peace?"

"Okay."

Rose assumed he was leaving and did not bother listening for retreating footsteps. Briefly she let all of the events of the past fifteen hours tumble through her mind, and then she set about sorting her thoughts and feelings.

The easiest to deal with was the fear she had felt while in the clutches of the Slitheen. She was becoming used to the occasional fright . . . well, not the fright itself, but dealing with the aftermath. You are alive and unharmed, she reminded herself now. The danger is over, so there is no reason to go off trembling every few minutes. Did you notice that you were able to still think clearly, on another level beneath the fear? You need to learn to pull the thinking to the top and push the fear beneath it. Talk to the Doctor about it, that is something he is sure to approve and encourage. Wasn't it nice to have Jack there to catch you when you finally broke free? Gotta admit it felt good to be able to cling to him for those few seconds.

Don't go there now, she scolded herself.

Her fears then had been nothing compared to the terror she felt under the bridge, however. Seeing that wall of energy shooting up from the TARDIS had almost stopped her heart. All she could think was that the Doctor and Jack were inside and she was outside. The team - when had they become a team? - was scattered. She did not remember running across the plaza; the only thought in her head had been that if the world was about to explode, she needed to be with them at the end. Yanking at the door of the TARDIS, she had vowed to herself that no matter what happened, she would face it as bravely as her two friends.

But in her all-consuming need to be with her new friends, she had badly hurt an old friend, possibly for the last time.

Maybe it had been unfair of her to call Mickey with the flimsy excuse of needing her passport, but she had been so happy to see him again. Once the Doctor had done twitting him, and Jack had stopped his alpha male posturing, they had all gotten on quite well together. For a while it had even seemed that Mickey might fit in after all as he joined in the capture of Margaret. She should have known better. Mickey was not cut out for an adventurous life. He wanted a simple life and a "nice" relationship, and she was now committed to exploring the unknown with the Doctor. It hurt when he confessed that he had been seeing someone else, even though she knew in her heart that she had really given him no other choice. They should have left it at that, said goodbye over a couple of drinks, and parted as friends. But no, she had led him on and then abandoned him as soon as trouble started, only to later find herself abandoned in return.

The tears she had been struggling to hold back overflowed. She had never meant to be thoughtless. She really hadn't. She did not want to hurt anyone, least of all her mum or her boyfriend. She did not like to think she was so selfish. Only, when the Doctor had offered to show her different worlds, her yearning for excitement had overwhelmed all thought of the consequences of her actions. She had at least tried to explain things to her mum, but she had completely ignored Mickey's feelings. Oh, why couldn't she have just taken ten minutes, at some point before now, to settle things with him? It wasn't as if the TARDIS had to keep to a strict schedule.

Margaret had gone back to the egg. The murderous Slitheen would be given a second chance to get her life right. Why couldn't one stupid little human have the same chance? Why couldn't she just relive five minutes with Mickey, to make him understand and then set him free? But no, the Doctor would never allow that, not after she had mucked it up so badly the last time.

She shook her head at her thoughts, closing her eyes to hold back the tears. Then she turned to the routine she had set up for calming herself. The fountain reduced itself to a low bubbling, and she focused on the gentle sound while breathing in the scent of the flowers and energized air around her. Slowly the sadness and regret retreated, to be replaced by acceptance and, eventually, calm.

That was that, then. The garden had done its job and once again she could stop being a silly female ape and go back to being the intrepid Companion. They would go to Raxacoricofallapatorius, dump the lucky egg, and then pick a new destination. Always moving on, as the Doctor said. Leave the past and the regrets behind. There would be plenty of new things to worry about in the future.

Thinking the fountain off, she leaned over to look into the suddenly mirror-like surface. She wiped a finger under each eye carefully so her mascara would not be smeared, and gave her reflection a wry little smile. Perhaps, just to twit Jack, she would suggest that they visit Pompeii next.

"Twenty-seven minutes - not bad. I've known women who say 'a few minutes' and mean three days."

Rose turned her head to the left. Jack was leaning against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest, curiosity ripe in his vivid blue eyes. The lazy posture and the slow smile spreading across his face were undoubtedly meant to be provocative, but she wasn't having any of that right now. "Don't you have something better to do?" she snapped, irritated by the realization that he had been there all along. "A little male bonding perhaps? Surely there are bolts to tighten or planets to align or some other tinkering that is much more important."

"Nothing is more important than looking at a pretty girl," he grinned. Then his expression grew serious. "Except maybe wanting to help a friend who is hurting. When I tried to come in, she wouldn't let me." His glance at the ceiling showed he meant the TARDIS. When he looked down again, there was a challenge in his eyes.

"You may come in now," she said after a moment's consideration. She thought about adding a qualification that he could only come in this once, but she was not sure how literally the TARDIS would take that. Better to put the condition on him. "This is my place to think. The Doctor gave it to me, and he respects my boundaries. Will you?"

Jack nodded, and discovered that where he had previously been blocked by some invisible barrier, he could now easily step across the threshold. All he saw before him was an empty room, heavily shadowed except for the plain bench in the middle where Rose sat, bathed in a faint blue-white glow. Half an hour ago the light around her had been a deep, pulsing red. As he watched the variety of expressions pass over her face, the light also changed and he realized he was seeing a visual representation of her feelings. As long as the colors were in the warm range, he knew to keep his mouth shut and wait. When deep umber had eased into pale yellow and finally moved toward greenish-blue, coinciding with her attempt to restore her appearance, he had figured she was better. Not best, perhaps, but better.

He sat down beside her and took her hand, folding his fingers over hers. "Care to tell me why you choose to sit in a dark empty room to sort your thoughts? I find it a bit depressing, myself."

She looked surprised. "But I'm not. I mean it's not. The Doctor asked the TARDIS to create this garden, and I come here so he isn't bothered when I go all mental. It's safe and soothing, like cuddling on your mum's lap when you were little. Don't you feel it?" Frowning at his alert glance, she demanded, "Tell me what you see."

Aha, he thought, now that is a very revealing series of statements. Need to think about this for a bit. He shrugged as he answered her question. "An empty room. Can't really tell the size or shape because everything is in shadows except this thing we're sitting on." Suddenly he looked startled, then his expression brightened. "I smell something flowery, like the perfume my mother always wore. Nice."

"How do you feel in here?"

"Huh?" He thought about it. "Okay, I guess. Like I could take a nap."

Typical man, she thought. He would probably furnish it with telly and beer.

"And you really see a garden? Can you share it with me?"

She looked up, gauging his sincerity. After a moment, she stood and turned in a full circle, absorbing both the visual and the atmospheric aspects of the room. Then she looked directly into his eyes and opened her mind to his, a trick the Doctor had taught her.

The color of Jack's eyes deepened to midnight blue as he concentrated on receiving the data she was feeding him. He blinked once, and then looked around. The darkened room was now transformed into a perfect replica of an English garden, complete with muted birdsong and dappled sunlight. The bench they had been sitting on had become the rim of a gently bubbling fountain. He took a long, slow breath and felt the tensions of the day seep away.

"Directed illusion combined with ionic atmosphere and aural tranquilization to encourage self-hypnosis. Very nice." He smiled gently to remove any sarcasm from the last two words. "May I make a slight adjustment?"

Eyes wide, Rose nodded. He thought carefully for a few seconds, then grinned and looked back into her eyes. To her astonishment, the garden was now full of shadows and silvery moonlight. At first the only sound was the splashing of the fountain and then, rising above it, the smooth strains of "Moonlight Serenade". Their song, she thought, and ducked her head to hide a smile.

His hands were at her waist, pulling her closer. "We never did finish our dance," he murmured.

She giggled a little, remembering the Doctor's interpretation of the word.

"What?"

"Nothing, just . . . nothing." The nearness of his body overcame her humor, and she bit her lip nervously. "You can't seduce me. Not in here."

Wanna bet? But even as the thought crossed his mind, something that seemed alarmingly like a conscience warned him off. "I know." He pulled her gently into the proper form for the dance while her wide eyes gazed into his unblinkingly.

Jack could easily have let himself be hypnotized by the ebony depths of her eyes. So tempting, so seductive . . . so innocent, so trusting. He stifled a groan and reached up to pull her head to his shoulder. Sometimes he forgot how young she was, how insecure. Resting his cheek against her hair, he slipped his hand to the small of her back and held her even closer. She seemed content with this, and they danced in silence for a while.

He left her to her thoughts while he sorted his own. From his conversation with the Doctor, the hints that Rose had let slip and his own observations, he was beginning to put things together. If the TARDIS truly was telepathic, how far did that go? It was his ship, and he had spent almost a millennium adapting it to his own uses. Any worthwhile ship could monitor changes in energy or activity within itself and report back to its master. Had this ship been programmed to convey thoughts as well? Was the Doctor keeping tabs on Rose's feelings? Worse yet, was he using the ship to control them?

Beside them, the fountain suddenly shot a short stream of water into the air. Rose did not seem to notice, but Jack's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. The message was clear: don't continue that thought. Smoothly he danced them away from the pool.

Resolutely, he returned his thoughts to the woman in his arms. Obviously she came here when she was feeling hurt and upset, but it seemed a rather lonely kind of consolation. Perhaps, given his own limitations, the best the Doctor could do was offer her this solitary comfort. Maybe he did not fully comprehend the human need for physical comfort. Well, as beautiful women across the galaxy knew all too well, Jack Harkness was a master at offering physical comfort.

The fountain came to life once again, water spraying high into the air. Jack glared at it over Rose's head. All right, he said clearly in his mind, take it easy. I'm not going to hurt her. But I won't let you hurt her, either. Now get the hell out of my head!

"So, these feelings that needed sorting . . . were they about Margaret or Mickey?" he asked quietly.

She hesitated, then admitted, "Mickey. I've hurt him. I didn't mean to, but that doesn't make it right. And I guess, in a way, he hurt me too. But it isn't like I'm totally broken up about it, I just needed to work through it. My mate Shireen always said me and Mickey wouldn't last, that he would just drag me down with him. But he's a good bloke, and he didn't deserve me running off and leaving him like that."

"So why couldn't you just talk to the Doctor - or me - about it?" That was what disturbed him the most, the idea that she had to hide herself away when her emotions overwhelmed her, instead of seeking comfort from her companions. Solitude did not seem to be a natural part of her nature, and he resented the Doctor forcing it on her.

Rose leaned back to look up at him earnestly. "The Doctor hates what he calls domestic upheavals. Besides, he was only just starting to like Mickey, but if I let him know that my feelings were hurt he would go back to dismissing him as a waste of oxygen. As for you . . ."

She shrugged and looked away, but Jack got the message. Hardened flirts like him were hardly the type to be confided in when a heart was bruised. Normally he would have agreed with that assessment. But he liked her, dammit, and he wanted more from her than just tolerance. He wanted her friendship, and her trust. Sure, her body too, but he reluctantly admitted that this was not the time or place. No need to get the "fountain" all riled up again.

"How old are you, Rose?"

She looked up at him again, her confusion giving way to an irritated frown. "What you on about now?"

"Just answer the question."

"I'm nineteen. And despite what me mum thinks, I am quite capable . . . "

"Rose." The look he gave her, both stern and tender, shut her up. "Have you ever had your heart broken? I don't mean this, I mean totally crushed, where you weren't sure you wanted to ever care about anything or anyone again?"

She tensed and looked away, thinking of her father. "Oh, yeah," she whispered.

Interesting, he thought, trying to quell the compassion brought on by the sudden tears in her eyes. He wanted to hear that story, but now was not the time. This was a golden opportunity to earn her trust by sharing a little piece of himself. "I've lived twice as long as you have. And although I've lived those years mostly in a more advanced world than you, it doesn't mean that I don't have a heart. In fact, my heart has been broken, bruised and stepped on more times than I can count. Each time I find myself alone, I resolve that it won't happen again, and I'm always wrong. But each time I've also learned to be a little more cautious, and a little tougher, maybe even a little colder. What you probably see as a careless, tough-guy attitude is really just my way of trying to protect myself from another heartache."

He raised her chin with one finger and pinned her with an intent gaze. "Sweetheart, do you truly understand how old the Doctor is? He has been around forty-five of your lifetimes. Have you thought about what nine hundred years means, in terms of memories? He has seen things, felt things, endured things that you and I cannot even imagine. Although I don't doubt that he is capable of strong emotions . . . "

"Oh he is, I've seen it!"

". . . over the years he has to have developed priorities. Otherwise he would be paralyzed by the sheer enormity of his past. He can't let himself get involved in the little ups and downs that you and I deal with regularly. Maybe at this point the only way he can live with himself is to stand back and observe, like a scientist in the lab."

"What are you trying to say? That the Doctor doesn't care? He does, I know he does. He helps people - and not just human people - all the time. He saves entire worlds. And he gives people . . . you . . . things like Margaret . . . a second chance. Even me." Her anger slipped away as suddenly as it had come, leaving her looking more vulnerable than before. "I'm the one who keeps getting it wrong."

The music had faded away. Jack took a step back and reached down to take her hands in his. "Aw, Rose, you aren't getting it wrong. You're just living your life the best way you can. Everyone makes mistakes, and we just have to deal with them, learn from them, and move on." He glanced over at the fountain, now suspiciously silent, and suddenly it all came clear. "I followed you down here because when I saw that you were hurting, I wanted to take away your pain. I wanted to show you - and the Doctor - that I do care. But you know, he was one step ahead of me yet again. He gave you a place designed to help you cope and grow strong on your own. It's the only way he knows to show that he cares. I guess he has spent so much time alone that he doesn't remember - if he ever knew - that un-evolved beings like us can also take comfort from simple physical contact."

When Rose only looked at him with wide, questioning eyes, he knew he could not disillusion her as he had planned. For all her seeming sophistication, on some unconscious level she still needed to believe in the magic of her special garden. If he told her that the ship - or was it the Doctor himself? - was manipulating her emotions, it could destroy the last of her innocence, the source of the vibrant personality that he found so endearing. At that moment, he knew he would do whatever it took to protect her . . . and in the next moment, he understood that the Doctor felt the same way.

Suppressing a wry smile, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "He does care for you, Rose. But the only way he can show it is by teaching you to be strong and independent. I care for you, too, although teaching isn't quite my style." He grinned mischievously and held out his arms. "But I got no problem offering hugs."

With a smile as bright as the sun, she threw herself into his arms. Thank you, he thought as he wrapped her in a warm embrace. It's nice to know I can still do some good.

— – — – — – — – — – — – — – — –

In the control room, the Doctor cleared the screen on the monitor and stood a moment, listening carefully. There, deep beneath the routine hum of the engines, was the TARDIS's soft song of approval. He patted the nearest upright and returned to work with a smug little smile. The captain had passed another test with flying colors.