How?

The sun had already risen by the time they got off of A470 into Cardiff, and Jack was still struggling with what he was supposed to do next. How would he explain the Doctor to his team? How would he help the Doctor through this? How were they going to fix the TARDIS?—because they would fix her. "What do you want to do?"

The Doctor seemed to snap back to reality at Jack's words and gave him a blank look. "What?"

"What do you want to do? With the TARDIS, I mean. It would probably be easier and more secure if we brought her into Torchwood, but we can manage it if you want to leave her on the Plass or in an alley…" It truthfully would be easier to try to solve what happened if they could have easy access to the ship; but that meant Torchwood would have easy access to the ship; and even after everything, he doubted the Doctor trusted Jack's influence that much to be able to protect such an invaluable part of him. (Or even to be able to protect himself…).

Fortunately the Doctor seemed to have thought about this already—he probably thought about it the moment he called Jack—so, although he was hesitant, he simply nodded and said, "We can take her into Torchwood."

Jack was honestly surprised, but decided that there wasn't anything he could say that would express his relief and gratitude, so instead he just stayed silent and headed towards their garage.

The Doctor was agitated the whole way there; not necessarily from what had happened, but from the uncertainty of what was going to happen next. Jack's repeated assurances throughout the ride didn't do much to calm him as they pulled into the garage, but he easily composed himself when they got out of the car, and Jack didn't know whether the facade was for his benefit or the Doctor's.

He was still slightly unbalanced on his own two feet, but with assistance from the car he managed to make his way to the back. "You think you can lift this?" Jack asked him with worry.

"Jack, I'm—"

"I swear to God, if you say 'fine' one more time, I'm locking you out here." The Doctor looked at him shocked. "Doctor, I'm sorry. But you shouldn't have to lie to me; I just want you to be truthfully 'okay'."

"Can we just get inside? Please? I can carry her, Jack, really."

Jack took a deep breath in and out, examining the Doctor, before getting in the back to lift the TARDIS from there. "On three, then?" The Doctor nodded. "One… Two… Three!" With strained grunts from both men they managed to get the ship out of the van and onto solid ground. Jack walked away to open the door, then came back and they once again hoisted the TARDIS in between them and carried her into Torchwood.

By the time they were done the Doctor looked spent, his remaining energy focused on keeping himself upright. "Okay, c'mon, sit down for a minute before you pass out."

"What? No, I—" he cut himself off short when he remembered Jack's threat—as harmless as it may have been—and gave in and laid down on the couch where Jack was. Within minutes he was asleep.

It was weird to see the Time Lord so still, so sedentary, when all he ever does is run around. Or run away, depending on the situation. Jack sighed and pushed himself off the couch, taking one last look at the Doctor before going into his office and closing the door. He ran over all the possible explanations again, but, still coming up with nothing positive, pulled out his phone to at least take care of one thing.

"What do you want, Jack?" Owen whined over the phone.

"I need you back at the hub."

"Jack, it's 6:30. What could possibly be so important that you can't wait 2 hours for me to do it?"

"I have a friend who's hurt—"

"Give him a band-aid."

"Owen. No, I'm talking needing stitches and pulling out metal shards hurt. I can't do it by myself, and I can't trust him to do it without completely disregarding whatever pain he's in."

Jack heard him sigh heavily but knew he'd won—as hard as Owen tried to be, he was still a doctor and cared about the well being of others. "Okay, I'll be right there. You seem pretty calm, though, so I assume he's stable?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping on the couch right now," Jack answered, looking out at the floor below him.

"Mmm... Did—okay. Just make sure there isn't pressure on any of his wounds."

Jack noticed Owen's tone change to being semi-hesitant, "What's wrong?"

"Uhh, does he have a head wound?"

"Yeah... Why?"

"'Cause I don't know how good it is for him to be sleeping when he could have a potential concussion."

"Oh sh—" Jack just about fell out of his chair in his haste simply trying to stand up.

"Jack, relax, I'm sure it's fine."

"I'm going to ban that word from the hub," he mumbled under his breath.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm going to go check on him."

"Sounds good. I'll be there soon."

"Thanks, Owen."

They hung up, both men swearing for different reasons, yet standing up for the same purpose.

Jack skipped most of the steps on his way down—only to find the Doctor in the same position—then tried not to worry when he didn't stir at Jack's persistent nudging. Jack just (ironically) hoped his body was so broken it fell into a healing coma—the alternative was... Inconceivable. He took a deep breath to calm himself before gently lifting the limp form into his arms and carrying him down to the med bay.

He watched him lying still on the table for a little longer before returning to the main part of the hub and the TARDIS. He circled it a few times, then paced back and forth in front of the doors, then hesitantly laid a hand on the exterior, hoping for some kind of connection. But the Doctor was right, there was absolutely no sign of life radiating off of the normally-inviting ship. It was cold, in fact. So cold it burned. And Jack wondered if that was just a taste of how it felt inside the Doctor's head: cold and empty and silent. He shivered and withdrew his hand.

He went back up to his office to mix himself a drink and not 5 minutes later—with a scowl determinedly fixed on his face—Owen walked in.

TBC