A/N: I'm going to apologize right now. This is a very, very short chapter. Let me explain. The past few weeks have been uberhectic. I work about 50 hours a week and I've had to take care of some other things, too. I've tried to write when I could, and this is the result of that. I intended this chapter to be at least double this length, if not longer, but that didn't happen. On Tuesday, I found out that a loved one has lung cancer, so I've been running around trying to take care of things on that spectrum, too.

So, I decided to post what I have so far, to feed you guys and then write the second part of this chapter as soon as possible. I know it's been a few weeks and I'm lame for not updating and I can only apologize profusely about my lack of updates so many times, so I hope you all aren't too upset with me and I hope this helps stem a little of the hunger. I will post the next part as soon as it's written and beta'd!

Enjoy.

The one constant in life is that nothing in life is constant.

Jack Harkness, as a rule, reveled in changed. Most people, especially those who claimed to change, profoundly, in actuality rarely, barely, changed at all.

Jack Harkness was a conman, through and through. He understood and appreciated the fine art of lying to someone, to make them believe you were something you weren't. Or weren't something you were.

He knew that people often told others they'd changed, acted like they'd changed, to make them feel better about themselves more than tricking others into believing it.

Mind over matter, he mused.

If you keep telling someone you're patient, eventually you will be, just to prove you're not a liar.

Even though you are.

All these thoughts, and more besides, ran through his head as he watched Rose Tyler bustle about her kitchen.

He never thought he'd use "bustle" and "Rose" in the same sentence, but she was doing it and he was one to call it as he saw it.

He wasn't half-stunned that he'd found her. Even now, even less than ten feet away, even when he was close enough to smell her perfume, she looked like an apparition to him.

Not as tan as he remembered, certainly, but then from the sheer amount of stuff in her flat, he'd assumed she didn't…get out much.

What was a night club when you'd been to the end of the world, after all?

He couldn't help but be disappointed. It was wrong of him, he supposed. But there it was.

He couldn't quite put his finger on it, though. He had spent more than 10 years looking for her and the Doctor. Mostly her. He knew, though, if the Doctor was alive and wanted to be found, Jack would've found him. The fact that he hadn't only made him wonder why the Doctor was hiding.

He didn't like to think of the reasons.

Rose Tyler was a different story altogether. She had simply gone on her way like the Doctor had told her.

Of all the times to actually listen, Jack thought.

Over his 10 years, five months, two weeks, ten days, four hours, 4 minutes and odd number of seconds of searching, he felt now, he'd built a huge pedestal for the 21—27, he corrected himself—year old and shoved her on top of it. He'd painted this ideal of her—as he'd known her—in his mind.

What a crushing disappointment it was to see her now.

The bravery, the sarcasm, the biting wit—where had all that gone?

This "fantastic" life the Doctor had doomed her to had destroyed her.

Selfish asshole.

There was selfishness on Rose's part, too. A willingness to give up because life hurt.

Even in his time, Jack's time,it did. It was part of the human condition.

She set a plate with an oozing egg sandwich in front of him before plonking down a steaming cup of tea. She put her own…meal…across the table and settled down.

"Rose," he said quietly, almost a whisper. He was amazed when she gave a full-body flinch at the sound of his voice.

Who was this girl?

He watched as she paused for a moment, gathering her wits. She took a sip of her tea, winced a bit and then looked up at him.

"Yes, Jack?"

"You shouldn't be here." Damn it. That wasn't what he wanted to say.

"If you're going to spend your time here complaining about how I should be leaving with you, you can go now." He blinked. She didn't look at him as she said it, but her voice was firmer than it had been a moment earlier. He frowned.

"I didn't mean to say that. You're just…different," he finished lamely. To shut himself up, he took a huge bite of the oozing…he made a face around the sandwich as he chewed, grateful Rose was looking down at the table. What the hell was he eating?

Okay, she couldn't cook any better than she had been able to before. That was reassuring, right?

Some things never change, all that.

It was foolish to hope that Rose Tyler was still Rose Tyler.

It was only painfully obvious that she hadn't been herself for several years. Jack thanked whatever higher power there was that he'd never fallen in love with anyone, not if this was what it did to you.

"So," Rose asked, changing the subject. "What exactly do you plan on doing while you're here?"

"I won't be here long," he muttered. His stomach growled, so he took another bite of the sandwich, holding his breath while chewing.

"What do you do on the weekends?" He asked, more to break the awkward silence than out of any real curiosity. It was probably assholish of him, but he wasn't sure if he liked this Rose, to be quite honest.

She shrugged her thin shoulders, tucked a loose strand of ebony hair behind her ear.

"Read. Watch telly. Things like that."

"How thrilling." Her cup clattered down on the table and he shot his gaze up at her, nearly flinching at the look on her face.

"Don't you dare, Jack Harkness, don't you dare. You left me, sent me home on my own. I've spent six years wondering what the hell's happened to either of you…for six years. People change, Jack. I've changed. I've had to, I've had to adapt. Do you think any of this was easy after everything I did and saw? After…after him? After him and you? No. No, it's not easy. Every day is fucking hell to get through but I do it. I do it because it's all I can do. The TARDIS wouldn't take me anywhere. I tried to get back to him, Jack, I did," she was openly crying now, "back to him and to you. But the ship wouldn't take me. Now I can't even get into the ship, or I couldn't the last time I tried and why do I want to keep hurting myself like that?"

I just…I can't, Jack. I can't. I have to move on. I have to keep going or I can't function." She took a deep breath, about to admit to him what she'd never admitted to anyone. "For days after I was sent back here, after I tried to get back and couldn't, I—I stayed in the TARDIS. I went through his papers, which didn't help because it was all in Gallifreyan. I went through his wardrobe, his drawers, everything. Searching for anything."

And d'you know what I found? Nothing. Nothing. It was planned, Jack. He'd planned all along to send me back if something happened. He didn't even trust me enough to—"

"That's not it at all, Rose," Jack broke in quietly. She broke off, her breathing ragged in the quiet kitchen. "He sent you back to keep you safe. Because he loved you."

"Jack—"

"I was there, Rose. I told you that. I tried to get in touch with you after I left you and him and he told me you were gone. I got a little pissed off but then I realized he'd sent you home. And he wouldn't talk about it. But the look on his face---I can't even describe it. He hated having to do it, but your life was worth so much more to him than anything else. The fact that you're alive, that you're living is proof."

"What sorta life is this, Jack?"

"Not much of one, I'll admit. But you're alive. You have the chance, the choice. And that's what he wanted for you. His wants or feelings didn't matter, not when it came down to keeping you safe. Because it was always you or the universe and for him it was never really a choice."

R&R please. Again, next chapter up ASAP, hopefully within the week.