Four days of relative peace passed. Rose had accepted the Doctor's heavily edited version of events on the Gamestation with a surprising minimum of questions. For now, she just seemed relieved that he was alive and awake and himself. He was not sure how long it would be before she would ask for a more thorough accounting. Or perhaps she would begin to remember, although he doubted that would happen. The trauma caused by holding the vortex more than likely caused those memories to be lost, probably forever.

Jack emerged from his room the day after their talk and, besides slightly bloodshot eyes, looked none the worse for his drinking binge. He behaved quite as he always had – joking with the Doctor, shamelessly flirting with Rose, assisting with TARDIS repairs. The Doctor, however, could see the shadow in his blue eyes and knew that all was not completely well with the Captain and knew that, for the present at least, there was little he could do to help him. He found that, with the passage of time, the aversion he felt to Jack's presence lessened. He could now look at the man quite calmly and even tolerate physical contact without the gut-wrenching horror he had first experienced. He was truly relieved by this. He was realizing more and more each day how much the loss of Jack would have hurt him. He was glad he could offer him the support of real friendship again.

For his part, the Doctor was finding it difficult to feel settled. Excess regeneration energy was still bubbling away (he was "still cooking", as he put it), and he felt odd in his own skin. Most everything about him was the same, but there were small differences that cropped up unexpectedly, like altered notes in a well-remembered song. In the past, the changes had somehow been easier because everything was different then. These small, subtle changes left him feeling vaguely uneasy. He was still sleeping every night- normally a nap once a week was sufficient. He found he liked his tea much sweeter than he had before. When changing clothes, he picked jumpers in lighter colors and sometimes passed them up altogether in favor of soft cotton tee shirts. He had lost his taste for classical music and found himself listening to indy rock instead.

One of the strangest changes was that, at times, he seemed to have little control over what he said – the internal filter between brain and mouth appeared to have developed some troubling holes. The first time had been when they were debating where to take the TARDIS for her first small jaunt after the majority of the repairs were completed. As he moved quickly around the console, checking switches and levers, he said, "What do you say – where to? We could go to Atavaria – there's a great market with some really brilliant tool shops, although the weather is not the best right now – pretty stormy, can cover the whole planet. Or else there's Ooluck – weather's great there, but the food's terrible – they have their own version of pears, just as horrible as on Earth, why would anyone ever think to put one of those in his mouth, anyway?- and the residents are a little… slimy, and I know how you hate slime, Rose. Slime's really not that bad, you know – can be dead useful, excellent sunscreen and really helps reduce friction. Except on Zonglon 5, now that's some nasty-"

He stopped speaking abruptly as he saw the looks of astonishment on his companions' faces and felt his own face flush.

"Wow," Jack said in a deadpan tone.

"The Oncoming Babble," Rose giggled, and Jack let out a loud snort of laughter. The Doctor glared at them, and their faces assumed the somber expressions of mourners at a poorly attended funeral, except for their dancing eyes. He sighed huffily and turned around with poorly disguised embarrassment, only to hear the pair of them snickering behind him like schoolchildren. Brilliant, he thought in disgust, now I'm a blabbering idiot.

The biggest change, however, he kept to himself, and it was one he couldn't wrap his head around – the inexplicable, astounding bond between him and Rose. He still could not fully comprehend the amazing reality of the situation. Gallifreyans were a telepathic species – from birth, they were never completely alone in their own minds. Oh, it wasn't as if one could just run roughshod through another's thoughts and memories. From a young age they were taught how to erect protective barriers and also polite behavior with regard to the joining of minds. Invitation only, so to speak. The presence of others of his people in his mind had been like a low, comforting hum for centuries no matter where or when he traveled. Then came the end of the Time War and the destruction of his planet and his people, and the Doctor awoke in a new body, with literal and figurative blood on his hands and his mind silent and empty for the first time in his long life. Drowning in loneliness, he was still not sure how he had not lost his sanity in those early years of his ninth incarnation.

Now, suddenly, he could feel the smallest brush of another inside his thoughts, and he was dazed with wonder. So far she seemed unaware of the connection between them. He couldn't read her thoughts and didn't dare push himself into her mind. He merely opened his own mind, carefully lowered barriers, and allowed her emotions to passively swirl through him. The sensation was utterly dazzling. He felt intoxicated by the delicate touch of her feelings, like the brush of butterfly wings across his thoughts. He watched her closely for any sign that she sensed him, any distress or shock. Maybe her eyes lingered on him a few moments longer, a little puzzled, but that was all. Sometimes he felt uncomfortable, like he was invading her privacy, taking something from her without her awareness or permission. But the sense of presence was addictive after being so alone. So he continued to bask in the warm golden glow of her and allowed that subtle touch to chase away some of the shadows that had long ago taken up residence in him.

He would have been quite content to remain just as they were, but fate had something else less pleasant in store for him, as he abruptly discovered to his dismay.

The three were gathered in a cozy corner of the TARDIS's expansive library. Jack was sitting at a small table covered with various electronic bits and bobs, tapping his foot in rhythm to the futuristic techno music that could be heard leaking from his earphones. Rose was staring intently at the chessboard positioned between her and the Doctor. He was teaching her the basics of the game; he would have to move on from the basics pretty quickly, he thought with a bit of surprise, because she was picking up strategies with remarkable speed. He watched her proudly as she plotted with the seriousness of a general, brow furrowed in concentration and tongue caught between her teeth. He knew how desperately she wanted to beat him. Finally she slid her rook forward two spaces.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?" he murmured idly, contemplating his next move.

"I was just talkin' to my mum. She said it's almost Christmas at home. Two days away."

"Is it?" A-ha! She hadn't anticipated this, he thought gleefully, and reached out to make his move.

"She'd really like it if we came for dinner."

The Doctor's hand jerked and knocked over his king. His eyes shot up to her face in alarm.

"What?" he exclaimed, his voice louder than usual.

"I haven't been home since… well, you know," Rose began.

"You've talked to her on the phone almost every day," he retorted, straightening his pieces with rather more care than necessary. No, no, no, this was not good – this was very, very bad. Suitcases full of bad.

"I want to see her," she reiterated, quite stubbornly in his opinion. "And Mickey'll be there, too. Don't make that face!" she added as she watched his expression become disdainful.

"Ricky's not exactly a big draw, Rose." He became aware that Jack had removed his earphones and was watching their exchange with amused interest, so he made a show of studying the chessboard again. "And besides, the TARDIS might not be up to such a long trip. Someone took a tow truck to her, remember?" He smirked slightly. Nothing like the application of a little guilt to help his cause, he thought with satisfaction.

His satisfaction, however, was short-lived. "It'd be so nice for Mum, having me actually come on a specific day and not have it end up to be a year later." Rose did not so much as blink an eye as she returned the guilt back to him with interest. "You said yourself the TARDIS was back in shape." Her voice took on a gently wheedling tone. "Doctor, it's Christmas…" He realized with a fresh wave of alarm that this did not bode well for his resolve.

"Rose, we live on a time machine. We can go back anytime and it can be Christmas." Not paying attention, he made his move and immediately saw that he had left his queen wide open to attack. Trying again to distract her, he added with a wide smile, "Besides, I was thinkin' of stretching the old girl's legs by goin' to this great little planet – you'd love it, shops everywhere and miles of sunny beaches –"

"I wanna go home for Christmas. This Christmas." Her expression was determined.

"Rooose…" He was appalled to hear himself whine her name.

She obviously smelled victory, for she pulled out her final weapon. She looked at him pleadingly from beneath her lashes. "Please, Doctor?" she said softly.

And that was the end. With a deep sigh of defeat, the Doctor figuratively fell on his sword. "Oh, all right, if you're going to keep at me about it," he relented huffily, and Rose let out a squeal.

"Game, set, and match!" Jack exclaimed, pointing at Rose with a triumphant gesture.

"Stay out of this, captain, or I'll sic her mum on you," the Doctor grumbled, refusing to look his way.

"That's right – you never met my mum!" Rose smiled at Jack.

"This should be entertaining – Jack Harkness versus Jackie Tyler," said the Doctor with a wicked lift of his eyebrows.

"She'll love me," Jack declared with his broad grin.

"That's why you should be afraid," rejoined the Doctor, smirking.

Rose jumped up from her chair. "I'm going to go call her now. She'll be so excited."

"What about our game?" The Doctor gestured toward the board, forgetting his potentially disastrous last move.

"Oh, you're going to beat me again anyway – you're so clever," she replied breezily, giving his ego a quick stroke, magnanimous in her victory.

"Too true, that," he agreed smugly.

He did not want her to leave quite yet, he decided. So, as she began to walk past his chair, he shot his arm out and caught her by the waist. His other arm snaked around her and he linked his hands behind her back, encircling her and tugging until she stood between his knees. Rose looked down at him, first in surprise and then in delight. She placed her own hands on his shoulders and beamed down at him, eyes shining and tongue caught between her teeth in the smile he liked to think was only for him. His hearts contracted as he felt her joy brush against his mind and his own joy rise up out of dark, dusty corners. Christmas with Jackie was a small price to pay for this, he thought, relishing the moment.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"You're welcome," he returned, unable to keep a wide smile off his own face. He had a strange feeling that capitulating to her requests was going to become a habit if such happiness was the result.

She took her right hand off his shoulder and briefly laid it, soft and warm, against the hard plane of his cheek, then bent down and pressed a swift kiss on his forehead. Before he could fully register the gesture, she was stepping away from him, heading toward the library door. "I've got tons to do – see you later," she called back gaily as she disappeared from view. The Doctor stared after her in bemusement, then became aware that a silly, very un-Doctorish smile was plastered all over his face and felt himself flushing.

"Don't even think it," he said, knowing without looking that Jack's face was alight with wicked humor.

"Wouldn't dare to," Jack answered with perfect innocence. He waited a beat before adding quickly, "You didn't stand a chance, you know."

"Shut it," the Doctor said succinctly, not yet willing to let go of the moment.

"Well, what are we going to do about getting presents?" Jack asked. "We'd better make a quick stop before the big day."

The Doctor looked around so quickly that he cricked his neck. "Presents?" he squawked, wincing with pain, the smile now thoroughly wiped away.

"Presents," Jack repeated firmly. "I may be from the 51st century, but I do know enough about Christmas to know that present are a definite requirement. Unless you want to get on Rose's bad side – and, based on your behavior the past few minutes, I'm guessing you don't." He stood up, snickering at the Doctor's expression. "Suck it up, Doc – we're going shopping, and not for TARDIS parts, either."