Junior year of college, let's go. Woo.

Edit: apologies. Somehow, the version of this I had written a while back got posted instead of the edited version from a few weeks ago.

The ride to the Centre was uncomfortable for Rose. She was crammed into the back seat with Tosh and Owen while Suzie got to ride up front with Jack. The members of Torchwood were talking back and forth, though mostly it was Jack just giving orders and the others arguing or agreeing, and she kept silent. It was a strange feeling, being the odd one out. Whenever they had others onboard, Rose had always felt that she was central to things, and usually when they were on alien planets and she and the Doctor were strangers, she still felt she belonged, even if only just. She always had something to do, even if it was just to stand there at the Doctor's shoulder as his Plus One to prove he wasn't alone in his cause. This lot wasn't making any effort to include her in the proceedings.

When they arrived at Saint David's Centre the place had been evacuated but crowds of people remained behind yellow tape, waiting for news, while police officers milled about, trying to seem in charge while they waited for orders. The five of them walked right past the people, the tape was lifted for them, and an officer approached to give them the rundown on the situation. Apparently they suspected it was some messed up kid (though obviously someone in the police force knew enough about odd happenings to have alerted Torchwood) was holed up somewhere up on the upper floor. He was suspected to have a set of blades because he'd scratched several people and he also didn't seem to understand a word of English or Welsh.

"And all officers have been ordered to withdraw upon your arrival, sir." The man finished.

The strange little device Tosh held beeped once. "I found him," she reported. "He's in Ruby Tuesday's."

"Oh, well, then he's definitely not getting a good first impression of Earth, is he?" Owen muttered.

"Alright. Owen, you stay out here and examine the wounded. Tosh, deal with any press. Suzie, Rose, with me. Don't worry," he told the officer. "We'll take care of it." He motioned for Rose and Suzie to follow him and they walked inside the mall.

It wasn't too shabby, Rose noted, looking around at the interior of the Centre as they headed for the escalators. She preferred alien bazars to Earth malls these days. They were always much more interesting. Her time at Henrick's left her with a sort of bitterness for department stores and she was glad they didn't have to search all of them for the alien.

Jack and Suzie drew their weapons as they stepped into the restaurant and they spotted the alien standing over the buffet, loading food onto a plate like he was having a normal day. He was tall and his skin was strange bluish white that went along quite nicely with the cyan feathers he had on his head instead of hair. Instead of a mouth and nose he had a small, straight black beak. It looked like someone had tried crossbreed a bluebird and a human and hadn't quite gotten it right. He wore a backless white tunic to accommodate a pair of furled feathery wings and a pair of loose brown trousers.

"Alright, don't move," Jack ordered.

The birdman's head snapped up in alarm and he nearly dropped his plate. "Keep away from me!" he cried. His beak wasn't entirely rigid like a normal bird's. The base of it seemed to be fleshy, like lips, and they curled downward into a frown. "I mean it, keep back!"

"Do you speak English?" Jack asked. "Do you understand the Interspace Dialect?"

"Please, just leave me alone!" he sounded so young, barely more than an adolescent.

"It's no good," Rose murmured. "Now what do you do?"

"We try to make him understand he has to come with us and if he refuses we stun him." Suzie said. "It's the only way."

"No," Jack held up his hand to quiet her. "It's not. Rose, you're up."

Rose took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders, and walked towards the alien. "Hey, it's okay," she soothed. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"What are you doing?" Suzie hissed and Jack shushed her.

"I'd like it if you didn't hurt me, either."

The birdboy narrowed his shockingly green eyes. "I can understand you. Can you understand me?"

"Yeah and I'm probably the only one in the whole world who can." She paused, letting that sink in. "I'm not going to hurt you, I just want to help you."

"And them?" He jerked his head at Jack and Suzie. "They have those…shooting things."

"They won't hurt you either, not unless you try to hurt them." She continued to walk towards him.

The birdboy looked between her and the two members of Torchwood. "I did not mean to hurt anyone. I do not even know where I am!"

"I believe you," Rose assured him. "By the way, that meat you just put on your plate–it's a chicken leg. That's a type of bird."

The birdboy looked appalled and flicked it off his plate with one of his talons. "How barbaric!"

"Culture differences, sorry. Back to business, you're on Earth. Also known as Sol 3. The planet of origin of humans."

He shook his head. "I have never heard of it. How did I get here?"

Rose huffed. "No idea, really. They just brought me along because he knew I'd be able to talk to you. What's your name?"

"Porruhk, son of Wæn and Calliss, leaders of the Northern Sun flock," he replied formally. Then with a shy smile he added, "Though you may call me Po if you wish."

"So that makes you some sort of…prince?"

"I suppose so, yes," Porruhk nodded.

"And what planet are you from?"

"Flane."

Rose turned to Jack. "His name's Porruhk and he's a prince of Flane."

Jack whistled, holstering his gun, and looked the alien up and down. "Wow. You're a long way from home, buddy."

"What did he say?" Po asked.

"That, ah," Rose bit her lip nervously. "He says you're a long way from home."

"Tell him he has to come with us." Jack instructed.

"Wait a second!" Suzie exclaimed. "She's talking to it! You're talking to it!"

"'He,' actually."

"B-but how?"

Rose didn't answer her, turning back to Po. "You can't stay here, Po, you've got to come with us. I promise I'm not going to let anybody hurt you, okay?"

Po frowned. "And why should I trust you? You have yet to even tell me who you are."

"I'm Rose," she said. He tilted his head to the side expectantly and she recalled how he'd introduced himself. "Dame Rose Tyler, daughter of Peter and Jacqueline Tyler, formerly of the Powell Estate. Just call me Rose."

"It warms my hearts to meet you, Rose. Though, might I ask, what a 'Dame' is?"

"It's a title," she explained. "Not as posh as prince, mind you, but it's up there. …I'm like you, Po–trapped somewhere I don't belong. But we're going to try and help you get back."

Po looked down at his plate. "May I keep the food?"

She smiled. "Yeah, sure. Take as much as you want. They're just gonna throw it all away, anyway."

"Such a waste. Although, I do hope they will at least give those poor souls a decent pyre since they are not to be consumed." He gestured to the tin of chicken and made a face.

While Po loaded up his plate, Jack got on the coms and told Owen to finish up and bring the SUV around back and Tosh to inform the police that they'd apprehended him. Rose snagged a large hoodie out of one of the plus-size stores and helped Po slide into it. He complained about having his wings covered and let out a little cry of pain when the material slid across his back.

"Are you sensitive or something?"

"No. One of your kind pointed a shooting weapon at me when I tried to flee and something hit my wing."

"Let me see," Rose instructed. Po turned, extending his wing gingerly and Rose saw singed feathers and a milky liquid that must've been the equivalent of blood for his species. "Jack," she said loudly to get his attention. "He's been shot."

The grimness in her tone did not escape the Flanean's notice. "Is that bad?"

"That depends," Rose admitted. "I think you'll be alright, though, but I have to get this hoodie on you. We have to hide your wings and your feathers. Most people here don't know about aliens yet and if anyone sees you they'll flip."

"Flip?"

"Get freaked out? Um, they'll be scared."

"Oh," he looked downcast. "Am I really so odd to your kind?"

"'fraid so. We're not all feathery and blue."

"No, you're featherless and…pink," he remarked, tucking his wing against his back. "Though, if you do not mind me saying, you are quite beautiful even without feathers."

Rose pressed her lips together but she couldn't stop a smile from showing. She gently eased the hoodie over his back and helped him slip his other arm through. He picked his plate back up and popped a slice of cantaloupe into his mouth, offering the plate to Rose, and she took a piece as well.

Po rode in the very back of the SUV on top of their equipment cases for the ride back to the hub. Now that no one was shouting and shooting at him he seemed to be enjoying himself and he chatted pleasantly with Rose the whole ride. Everyone but Jack stared at her like she'd suddenly sprouted feathers and wings herself. Po noticed and inquired if staring habitually was a trait among their species.

She laughed and said, "Sometimes." Inwardly, however, she was worried. If Po's language was something her voice box could recreate then they were hearing her speak it. If not, to them she was speaking English and he was speaking his native tongue yet they both understood each other perfectly. Neither option was any better than the other.

Po leaned towards Tosh, his head cocked to the side curiously. "This one has distinctly different features than the rest of you. Does she hail from a different flock?"

Tosh held very still, eyes wide, as if she expected to have her eyeballs pecked out at any second.

"Yeah, I suppose," Rose allowed. She wasn't sure if he understood the concept of different races within the same species. "We all do, actually."

Po leaned away and Tosh exhaled loudly. "And you have all formed a new flock? On Flane we usually belong to one flock all our lives, sometimes two, but we almost never form new flocks. Much too risky."

"Things don't work that way here," she tried to explain. "We have groups and people we're loyal to, but those shift and change all the time."

"And are these people your flock?"

Rose shook her head.

"Why are you with them, then?"

"Because I got separated from mine."

He winced as if she'd struck him. "Where are they?"

Rose sighed, resting her head against the seat. "Far away. Very far."

Po made a quiet noise that wasn't translated, a dovelike croon that sounded mournful, and put his hand (he only had three fingers instead of four, she noted) on her head. The gesture seemed like it was meant to be comforting so she didn't shake him off. Then he offered her another piece of cantaloupe.

Down in the Hub, Po remained close to Rose's side, like a chick to its mother. He gawked at everything, arms tucked protectively around his front, and jumped at every little sound.

"Toshiko," Jack ordered, pulling off his coat. "Damage control. I don't want this getting to Torchwood One." He gave Rose a long look and she wondered if she'd done something wrong. "Owen, take our guest down and see if you can't get that bullet out of his wing and run a few scans."

"Right. Come on, you," Owen patted Po on the shoulder.

Po let out a fierce screech that was not unlike an eagle's, the feathers on his head ruffling, and he made to swipe at Owen with his talons. The doctor jumped away, barely avoiding a blow to the chest, and shouted abuse at the alien who screeched right back, the hoodie tearing as he unfurled his wings aggressively.

"Stop!" Rose shouted, grabbing his arm. It wasn't probably the wisest thing to do but it was better than throwing herself between them. "Porruhk, stop!"

"He attacked me!"

Oh. Culture differences, right. She'd been to planets before where a simple pat on the arm was considered an attack. She didn't like those ones because she always felt like she had to keep her hands in her pockets so as not to offend the wrong person and start an intergalactic war.

"No, he didn't. He was just trying to get your attention. If he'd wanted to attack you then he would've actually hit you."

The Flanean huffed angrily and glared at Owen for another moment before he let his feathers lie flat and he retracted his wings. Then he winced in pain. "Ah! Ow."

"See, now you've hurt yourself even more."

"How was I to know that wasn't an assault to you?" Po cried indignantly.

"I know," she assured him. "Our cultures are different, it's okay. But none of us are going to hurt you, especially Owen. He's a doctor."

"A healer, a medicine man. He's gonna fix your wing up and–"

"Okay, will someone please explain to me how the fuck she's talking with the bird?" Owen shouted, looking right at Jack.

Jack returned his gaze evenly. "Take care of your patient, Owen."

"No! I've put up with a lot of your shit, Jack, but this just about tops it all! She shows up outta nowhere with the fucking boogeyman after her, her cellular regeneration rate is off the charts, and she's got enough alien energy in her body to power every single machine in here for a month! That's more than any human could handle and live. Now I'm not going to take another fucking step until you–"

"Until I what?" Jack asked, folding his arms across his chest.

Owen took a deep breath through his clenched teeth and rubbed his hand over his mouth. "What–" he pointed at Rose "–what the hell is she?"

"She's a human being," Rose snapped, folding her arms. "And she's gonna slap you if you call her a 'what' again."

"You be quiet, Blondie," he growled. "I want to hear this from Jack."

Though Po couldn't understand what was being said, he was sure he had an idea of what was going on, and figured it was probably best to just keep quiet and let the people–humans–deal with their insubordinate member on their own. But then the healer said something to Rose in a tone that didn't sound at all friendly and Po hissed a warning.

Rose glanced at him and smirked.

Jack cocked his head to the side and stared at Owen for a long minute then he said slowly, clearly, "Either see to your patient or see yourself out."

Owen's face went from furious, to shocked, to angry once more. "You're not serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the two men stared each other down. Finally, Owen ducked his head in submission and pressed his lips together.

Jack smiled coldly then turned to his other two employees. "Suzie, back up to the desk. Tosh, I want you to keep this out of Torchwood One's notice. We don't want them seizing him." He waited until Tosh and Suzie moved on before giving Owen another glare and returning to his office.

Owen remained where he was for a second. "Right. Right…" he nodded and rubbed the spot under his nose then gestured between them and the autopsy room. "Rose, tell–tell Beaky to come on."

He went ahead of them and Rose put her hand on Po's arm. "He's going to get the bullet out of your wing now. Come on, let's go."

"Are you sure it is safe?" Po fretted. "He seems rather aggressive."

"Nothing we can't handle. Besides, I've dealt with worse." she assured him, tugging at his arm.

He followed her obediently though the sight of the medical room and all the technology within frightened him and it took a bit of convincing to get him down the stairs. By the time she got him to sit on the table, Owen seemed to have momentarily overcome any issues he had about them and was perfectly gentle as cut off the ruined hoodie. Po made the hissing noise again and jerked away when Owen touched the area around the bullet wound. Rose hushed him soothingly while keeping one eye on Owen who was deciding how to handle this.

"Alright, tell him to lay down on his stomach," Owen ordered, turning to his tools.

"Po, he needs you to lay down on the table. On your belly," she added. Po obeyed, folding his arms under his chin, and sighed.

"You're going to need to keep him still, Rose." Owen said. "I can't use any painkillers on him until I know more about his biology, and we don't have enough time for that, so this will hurt."

"What d'you want me to do?"

"I dunno, distract him?"

Rose nodded, "Alright." She grabbed the chair and pulled it around to the head of the bed. Po's eyes followed her. They were a bright shade of green around a deep black iris and she could almost picture how they would flash in anger, much like a pair of brown eyes that she knew. She swallowed and forced herself to smile and hoped he wouldn't notice how strained it was.

"What's he going to do?" Po asked.

"He's going to get the bullet out so you can heal properly. Were you hit just the once?" He nodded. "That's good. It'll be over much quicker, then. But it's going to hurt."

"He's a healer. Can he not dull pain?"

"He could, but we don't know how your body works. He might end up hurting you more."

Po sighed again, eyeing Owen warily as the doctor approached the bed with the tools. The alien stared at the human for a long moment then slowly extended his right wing, wincing in pain as he did so. It was huge, powerful muscle and sinew covered by skin and glossy blue and green feathers, at least five feet long on its own. The feathers around the bullet wound were ragged and covered in the dried milky liquid that must have been blood.

"Tell you what, Po," Rose said, pulling the Flanean's attention away from Owen. "Why don't you tell me all about where you're from, yeah? Tell me all about Flane."

"Well it is…it is beautiful," Po began uncertainly. "Our forests are made of trees, not metal."

"So are ours. This is a city, not a forest. The forests are outside the city."

"I should like to see them."

"Later," she promised. "Keep going."

"Very well. Flane has many different regions. Some flocks migrate across the regions; some remain in one all the time. Ah!" he cried in pain, swiveling his head around.

"No, no, no, don't look at him. Look at me," Rose instructed. "It's going to hurt, but just focus on me, okay? Here, you hold my hand and squeeze when it hurts. Come on, tell me more."

Po returned his gaze to her and extended his hand. She grasped it firmly in hers and smiled encouragingly. Po rested his chin on his other arm and continued on. "My parents lead the Northern Sun flock. We live–ah–in the forests on northernmost part of the Sun Continent. The days are long and the nights are warm. The–ow–the migrant flocks often stop in our lands on their way across the Great Sea to the Wind Continent. When I was younger I used to dream of sneaking away with them and flying to far off lands."

"Did you ever try?"

His eyes twinkled mischievously. "Yes and we made it a league out over the Sea before the sentinels caught up with us."

"Did you get in trouble?"

"Oh yes," he sighed and yelped again.

"Keep going, Rose," Owen instructed softly. "I've almost got it all out then I have to stich the wound closed."

Rose listened raptly as Po continued to describe his home world. While he himself had never left their range, he had always listened to the tales of the travelers. Flane had five continents: Sun, Wind, Rain, Frozen, and Barren. They each had their own distinctive climates and features and native races. Porruhk's home was in a perpetual summer with forests and plains, though it wasn't tropical like the Rain Continent, which seemed to be covered in one large rainforest. The Wind continent had almost no trees, just endless fields and prairies. The Frozen Continent was an enigma as not many flocks tended to venture there and the natives barely left, though they were said to have feathers as white as the snow they lived in. The Barren Continent was a dessert and Rose couldn't help but picture vultures when he described the race from that land.

She silently promised herself that she would visit Po's home one day if–no, when she was with the Doctor again.

"All done with that," Owen announced. "But I need to run some scans on him, get a few blood samples, map his biology. Keep him occupied."

Rose explained to Po what was going on the best she could and encouraged him to keep talking. He told her about his family, his mother Calliss and his father Wæn, and his little sister who'd recently hatched, Seriss.

"She inherited our mother's feather color. But sometimes in the right lighting they have a blue sheen. Her eyes are still silver, but they'll settle soon. She's so beautiful. And she already said her first word. Do you know what it was? My name," he boasted, sitting up a bit straighter, and his feathers fluffed with pride.

"I bet you were excited."

He nodded. "It was all gibberish up until then but she pointed at me and said it, clear as day! 'Po!'" Porruhk grinned proudly, like it was his daughter and not his sister, and Rose wondered with a pang if this was how she would've felt about the tiny life that had been growing in her mum's belly.

His face fell and he seemed to deflate. "I was going to teach her to fly."

"Hey, you still can one day. We'll get you home."

"You don't even know how I came to be here, Rose. How could you send me back?"

"Just because I don't know doesn't mean they don't. This is the kind of thing they do."

"And what about you? You said you lost your flock as well. Can they not get you back to them?"

"No, I have a way back but…I can't get to it. There's this–this man, this monster…he stole our ship. It's how we fly. He stole our ship while I was inside. I fought him off as best as I could, but I wasn't able to stop him. So when I realized where we'd landed, I came here to Jack."

"And your flock got left behind?"

Rose looked away and nodded.

"Which one is Jack?"

"The, ah–" a number of ways to describe him ran through her head and most of them would probably not make any sense to Po or would be completely embarrassing for Owen to overhear, so she settled with: "The one Owen was arguing with earlier."

"Is he your mate?"

Rose couldn't help but blush a bit. "Oh, no, no, no. He's not. Really, he's not. He's just an old friend of mine."

"Was he in your flock?"

She nodded. "For a time."

"And now he is in this one."

She nodded again.

"What about the rest of these humans?"

"No. They're not mine."

Po cocked his head to one side and put his hand on her head again, a gesture that seemed to be his way of comforting. "Tell me about your flock, please."

"Well," she said slowly, glancing at Owen, but he was studiously ignoring them, looking at the results of one of the scans. "My Dad died when I was a baby so I didn't really get to know him well. My Mum's…well she's…she's on another world now, with her new husband. Mate," she corrected when she noticed his blank look. "Last time I saw her she was pregnant. I don't know anything about the baby, though. I'll never see her again–it's impossible. My old friend Mickey's there, too, so I'll never see him again, either."

"Is that all?" He lifted his hand from her head.

"No, there's a few more. My friend Martha, she's studying to be a healer but she's sort of put that on hold to travel with us. And the Doctor, he's my…well, we're not married but…" she trailed off, biting the inside of her lip.

"Are you courting?"

"Something like that."

"And you love him?"

"Yes," she sighed, closing her eyes. "Very much."

Something like disappointment flickered in Po's gaze for a moment but it was gone quickly and he smiled. "What is his name?"

"The Doctor."

"That's his name? It seems more like a title than a name."

"Not exactly, but his people went by titles instead of their real names."

"Is he from another planet as well?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, you said 'his people' as if their not your own. You called yourself Dame Rose, a title followed by a name. His title preceded no name."

"You're observant," she noted, looking down. "But yeah, he is."

"And you do not care?"

"Not with him," she smiled. "I never did."

It was Po's turn to listen as she told him about her life on Earth, growing up in the Powell estate with her mum, that she hadn't gone on to higher education (Owen was still in the room so she didn't say why), and how she'd worked in a shop to pay off her debts. She told him of the Autons and meeting the Doctor and running straight into the ship without looking back, of watching the world burn in billions of years and going into the past and meeting a famous author, though she avoided all talk of the rift.

"But his driving is horrible," she laughed. "He got the flight wrong and ended up arriving twelve months after we left instead of twelve hours. I'd been missing for a whole year! Oh, my Mum nearly slapped him out the window."

Po chuckled.

"Ever since then the Doctor's been secretly terrified of her. It's hilarious, really, it is."

"She sounds like a formidable woman."

The sound of Rose Tyler laughing was like a magnetic force pulling Jack in. He stood on the upper level of the autopsy room arms folded in front of him on the railing, and listened with a smile on his face. Po made a sound that resembled laughter again and said something that made Rose snort. "Oh, hardly. He's completely useless without me."

"That he is," Jack agreed. Rose and Po looked up, the latter warbling curiously.

"He's agreeing with me."

"Jack," Owen called, motioning for him to come down. Jack pushed off the railing and descended the stairs. "I've got Beaky's results here. Quite a biology let me tell you. Take a look." He pointed a controller the projector and two images appeared on the wall. "Two hearts, two stomachs, four sets of lungs plus air sacs."

At the mention of two hearts, Rose sat up a little straighter. While she knew it was unreasonable to think the Doctor's people were the only in the universe to have two hearts, she'd never met another species with two. Not to her knowledge, at least. "He's got two hearts?"

Po tilted his head. "Of course. Don't you?"

"Yeah, he does," Owen said. "Higher metabolism rate than a human and about double the white blood cell count. His blood is thicker than ours, which is why he didn't lose more blood than he did with the bullet wound. Hollow bones, excellent muscle tones, thicker skin, and those talons of his are solid all the way through. I'd say Beaky here is designed to live it rough."

"He says they're all migrants," Rose explained. "Some of them travel all across the planet, some of them only move around a certain area."

"No, but its more than that. He's designed for survival. Literally. It's like someone took a human being and changed their biology to survive in the wild. …Ask him if there's others."

"What?"

"Ask him if there are other species like his on the planet."

"Po, is there any other species on your planet?" Rose asked. Po squawked. "I mean sentient species. They'd have their own homesteads and territories."

Po squawked again, nodding his head. Rose listened as he spoke, moving his hands around to illustrate whatever he was saying. "He says there are three groups: His kind, the Flyers, plus the types of Walkers, the Swimmers. The Walkers live on the ground and, from what he's describing, they're like big cats, wolves, and horses, I think. He doesn't know much about the Swimmers, other than they live in the oceans."

"Rose, ask him what year it is on his planet." Jack ordered quietly.

"I don't think they use the same measurements."

"Just do it."

She rolled her eyes and did as he asked. Po warbled back a response, which Rose translated. Jack inhaled slowly and nodded, folding his arms as he did the math in his head. That confirmed what he already had guessed: the rift had sucked Porruhk through space and time. He didn't know much about the planet Flane, only that it had once been a brilliant, advanced world and at some point in their history, Daleks had invaded and wiped out most of their population and cities. As a result, the survivors had allowed themselves to be altered genetically in order to be better prepared should they ever be threatened that way again.

Jack seriously hoped that they could find some way of getting Po out of the country, somewhere he could be safe. Torchwood One would never let him go if they found out about this and Rose would fight for him, he knew she would, and the Prince would fight to stay with her. What would happen if they figured out the two of them could communicate? Oh, he damn well knew. They'd take her, too, and sooner or later they'd figure out she was Rose Tyler, the last known companion of the Doctor.

Now how was he supposed to break it to them?

Unfortunately, her time with the Doctor had made Rose Tyler very good at reading people, and Jack was no exception. "Jack, what is it?"

Jack sighed, resting his hands on the railing. "From our perspective, Po is about two thousand years out of his time. I don't know the exact conversion, but I'd say he's from somewhere around the forty-sixth century. The rift pulled him through time as well as space."

"So can't you just open it up and send home?" Rose asked.

"No," Jack said seriously. "Rule number one: don't mess with the rift. We have no control of what comes through when or where and when it comes from."

Rose pressed her lips together. "You can't send him back."

Po made a quiet noise and gazed up at Jack with frightened green eyes.

"I'm sorry," Jack told them.

Whoops.