Author's Note: This one took several days to write. I just couldn't get the conversation between Jack and Jen just right. But when I did finally get a good feel for it, I really felt like it came off well.

Chapter Seventeen

"What are you still doing awake?"

Jack looked up from the book he was reading and watched Jen enter the console room. She took a seat next to him on the sofa, her legs tucked up to her and her chin resting on her knees. He closed the book and set it aside, and then turned to smile at her. "I don't sleep much," he replied. "Sometimes not at all."

"Sure you're not a Time Lord?" Jen asked, lifting a brow. "We generally sleep only one or two hours in a night."

He glanced briefly down the hallway towards the sleeping quarters of the Tardis. "I guess tonight is the exception for some Time Lords," he observed, dryly.

Jen smiled. "He isn't exactly in the greatest of shape right now," she pointed out. "Time Lord or no, everyone needs their rest when they're recovering from illness or injury."

As he listened, Jack turned around and reached down to pick up something off of the floor next to his couch. When he came back up, he had in one hand a rich bottle of scotch, and in the other two glasses. He tipped the bottle at Jen invitingly, and then filled both glasses halfway when she nodded her acceptance.

"To a fine rescue," was his toast when they each had their drink. Amused, Jen clinked her glass against his and took a long sip.

The two fell into several long moments of companionable silence. Finally, Jack broke the moment and spoke. "I've been wondering something, and I hope you'll indulge me and answer a question."

Jen lifted a brow and gazed at him over the rim of her glass. "Go ahead," she replied.

"I look at your dad, and I can't help but wonder… what was your mother like?"

A smile touched her lips and she took a thoughtful sip of whiskey. "You know how my father is so…" she hesitated, grappling for the right word. "Expressive," was the word she finally settled on. "He radiates with energy, and you never have to doubt or wonder what he's thinking or feeling." Jack nodded, waving his hand to encourage her to go on. A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "My mother was completely and totally the opposite," she continued. "She was quiet, calm, and collected. Almost a soothing, calming presence. She kept her emotions to herself. She was very difficult to get close to, to some degree."

"Not exactly the kind of woman I'd picture your father married to," Jack replied, thoughtfully. "Did they have a good relationship?"

Jen looked at him oddly. "They were fond enough of one another, I suppose." She shrugged. "Why do you ask?"

"I've known your dad for a while," Jack began, settling back against the couch. "And it's difficult to imagine him as the domestic family man."

"He wasn't," Jen said, chuckling. "Not in the least. He was hardly home, and we would go for months and even years at a time without seeing him."

"You say that you had an absentee father with absolutely no anger or resentment," Jack observed, looking her over.

"I grew up in a completely different society," she pointed out. "We're Time Lords; traveling is what we do. I can't say that I saw my mother any more often than my father." His wide-eyed expression made her laugh. "Jack that was normal. I can't say that I lived my childhood too much differently than any other Gallifreyan child."

"That seems so… foreign," Jack observed.

Jen shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "And life on Earth would seem foreign and quaint to most Time Lords."

"I've heard the Time Lords mentioned by other species and races through the galaxy," Jack said, reaching over to refill her glass. "And a lot of times it wasn't a very… favorable light that they were painted in."

"That doesn't surprise me," Jen replied. "Time Lords, in general, were a very stuffy, boring, close-minded, and judgmental lot."

A moment of silence fell between them. "Where, then, does your father come from exactly?"

She couldn't help but throw her head back and laugh. "You're not the first person to ask that," she finally managed. "Even to the rest of the Time Lords – particularly the council – he was unconventional. His relationship with them was… a rollercoaster."

Now it was Jack's turn to laugh. "The Doctor? A rollercoaster? Naaaahhhh…" he scoffed.

Amused, Jen toasted him with her glass. "I see you do truly know him, then," she remarked, smirking.

"So what other major differences are there between Earth and Gallifrey?" Jack asked, taking a sip of his own drink.

Jen swirled the liquid around in her glass and gazed down into it thoughtfully. "Sex," she finally said, looking up at him with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. For Time Lords, it's more about procreation than recreation."

Jack promptly choked on his drink. "You've got to be kidding me," he finally replied, staring at her wide-eyed.

Amused, she lifted a brow and downed the last of the contents of her glass. "Nope," she replied. "I told you that they were a stuffy lot." She nodded briefly at the hallway, indicating the bedrooms down the corridor. "That," she went on, "is odd to me. I've never, ever seen him this… amorous."

"Does it bother you?" he asked as he poured himself a refill.

She stared at the darkened hallway with considering gaze. "I don't know if 'bother' is the right word," she finally said. "It is different, though." She shifted her glance back to Jack. "You have to understand that Time Lords had strict rules and laws about not having… relations with other species and races," she explained. "So I suppose my upbringing is rearing its head. But, then," she added, with a sigh, "it's not exactly like we have other Time Lords as an option anymore. I suppose that, given the circumstances, the rules have to change." She shrugged. "I guess I've never really thought about it until now. Never really been forced to."

"But surely you've…" Jack trailed off, watching her face.

She snorted softly. "Nope," she replied.

He blinked, surprised. "Not ever?" he asked.

"Never," she replied with a rueful smile.

Jack fell into stunned silence for several moments. "You're two hundred and fifty years old," he finally said, "and you've never, ever…."

"No," she replied, firmly. "You act like it's an intergalactic crime."

"It is!" Jack insisted. "It's a travesty of unparalleled proportions!" He sat his glass down on the floor firmly and turned to her. "Honey, we have gotta do something about this."

"Oh, we do?" Jen laughed.

"Absolutely," he replied. "If you're going to be a proper Time Lady then you need to know everything there is to know about the universe. And you can't know everything about the universe until you've experienced everything."

"So you're saying that this should be an experiment purely for the sake of science," she replied, raising a brow.

"Yes," he nodded. "And – since it's in the name of science –" He paused dramatically. "I'd be willing to sacrifice myself for the cause."

"Would you really?" Jen replied around a chuckle. "You would be my guinea pig?"

"Anything in the name of science," he replied, tossing back his drink.

"I'll tell you what," she began. "I'll go along with this little experiment of yours under one condition."

He was slightly surprised that she agreed to it so easily, but still was cautious about her terms. "And what's that condition?"

She smiled sweetly. "You have to convince my father that it's a good idea."

Now it was Jack's turn to laugh. "Do you really think that I won't ask him?" he asked.

"Oh, I have no doubts that you will," she retorted. A slow, mischievous grin spread over her lips. "The question will then be, how long will he let you live?"

At first Rose thought she had dreamed the cry. So deep was she caught up in her sleep that it became incorporated into the images that played in her head. The third time that it sounded in the dark, silent room, however, she startled awake and sat up in the bed.

The Doctor was still sleeping next to her, the dim light in the room dancing across his face and bare, bruised chest. He was not, however, resting peacefully. Rose could not see the visions that assailed him, but he thrashed around fretfully, his brow furrowed and drenched in sweat.

"Doctor," Rose murmured sleepily, gently rubbing his arm to wake him. When he didn't respond she turned over toward him and spoke a little louder. "Doctor!"

He jolted awake, sitting halfway up in the bed as his dark eyes flew open. The sudden motion, however, sent white-hot shockwaves of pain exploding through his ribcage and he fell back against the bed and rolled over to curl up on his side, groaning as he did so.

"Easy, easy," she soothed, reaching over to smooth the hair off of his brow while he caught his breath. When some of the tension slid out of his body, she stretched out next to him once more, though she continued to run her fingers through his hair soothingly. "What were you dreaming about?"

His eyes were closed as he fought for control against the pain that still echoed through his body. A fight against the physical pain, and the emotional pain that was brought on by the images that he had experienced in his dreams. Briefly, he debated whether or not to tell Rose what he had experienced. Finally, he relented, though is eyes remained closed. "Gallifrey," he replied softly, through clenched teeth. "And Arcadia."

Her expression visibly softened. "Jen thought her presence might bring up unpleasant memories for you," she replied.

His eyes slid open and he gazed at her for a moment. "I don't want her to feel that way," he replied.

"Is she wrong?"

Briefly, he hesitated and desperately wanted to say that yes, Jen was absolutely wrong. Finally he sighed and closed his eyes. "No," he admitted. "She's not wrong."

"You should talk to her about it," Rose said, sympathy in her voice. "It might put your mind at ease."

"I—" he hesitated. "As awful as it is to admit, I've been avoiding a moment alone with her because, I'll admit, I'm a little afraid to talk to her about it."

Rose was silent for several moments. "She told me a little of what happened," she finally said. "At Arcadia."

His expression hardened. "She shouldn't have done that," he said.

"She doesn't hate you, you know," she cut him off, gently. "She did say that she, of all people, would have every reason to, but she doesn't."

Again he sighed and looked at her. "I have no idea why not," he said softly. He looked almost more vulnerable than Rose had ever seen him, and she felt a sharp, sympathetic pang slice through her heart.

"Come here," she murmured, pulling him into her arms. With a soft, contended exhale, he slid into her embrace and rested his cheek against her shoulder. Rose kissed his forehead and murmured into his hair. "Talk to her," she said. "She needs it as much as you do, though she'll never admit it."