Notes: Final chapter!

To all my dear readers: thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed (if that's the right word) this as much as I did.

To everyone who reviewed: thank you so much! Your feedback and encouragement mean a lot to me, and always brighten my day.

We end as we began: with one moment, and three sets of eyes.

-DW-

The Doctor's mind is buzzing as he walks towards the TARDIS, Jack at his side.

The scientific, clinical part of his mind – the part that usually makes his companions look at him oddly and remark that they'd forgotten he was an alien – is still contemplating young Mr. Jones' question. So far he's come up with about three dozen ways he could kill himself which would completely negate any chance both of regeneration and of Jack finding out about it.

All his thoughts on the matter are purely academic, now.

Another part, the one which hurts and aches and burns, which keeps bleeding into everything else despite all his attempts at compartmentalization – that part of his mind is sobbing and screaming and breaking just a little bit more, as it does with every departure, echoing in the silence in his head and reminding him that he's alone alone they always leave or if they don't leave they die and then he's alone again, alone alone alone –

He ignores it, as best he can.

Most of his considerable brainpower is consumed by a single thought:

Jack needs him.

It's not a particularly happy thought, or even a comforting one – the last thing he needs is more responsibility, and he's really not worth all that trust and love and belief (is he?) – but it's sustaining. If Jack needs him, however irrational and unwise that need is, he will do everything he can not to let him down. He owes (loves) him too much to do otherwise.

At the door of the TARDIS they stop, and Jack hugs him without a word. The Doctor accepts the embrace, choking back an unexpected rush of emotion (it's been so long since anyone held him), and then pulls away.

"Be seeing you," he says, and means it.

"I'll hold you to that."

The Doctor gives one last smile, and he knows that it's small and wan and pained, but for once it doesn't feel like a lie. He shuts the door, and soaks in the TARDIS' familiar hum as he walks up the ramp and begins the dematerialization sequence. He can feel her welcome irritation concern, and responds with his own gratitude apology reassurance. She felt the amplification of his pain, the near unraveling of his mind, and it frightened her – but he's fine now. Really, he is.

He's more fine than he's been in a long time.

-DW-

Their conversation has become flat and dissolved into silence by the time they reach the exit. Jack can't bring himself to break it as they cross the Plass. He can't think of anything to say.

Actually, that's not true. He can think of a thousand things to say, but none of them seem right. Be safe is just as pointless as it is clichéd. Take me with you is pretty damn tempting, but Jack can't just abandon his agency (home) and his friends (family). I love you is a good way to ensure that the Doctor avoids him for the rest of eternity (Jack would choke on the words, anyway).

He settles for a hug (it says everything and nothing). The Doctor returns it with enough strength to squeeze Jack's breath out of him (the desperation in his grip says all too much), but releases him quickly and steps back.

"Be seeing you," he says.

"I'll hold you to that," Jack replies, trying to put as much force as he can muster behind his mostly false cheer. (Somewhere in the darkest, deepest recesses of his mind, he realizes that there are great, gaping holes in what the Doctor told him about his responsibility to the Universe, but he won't, he can't bring himself to prod at them.)

The Doctor's lips quirk into a smile, and it's genuine, tiny and strained as it is, and that warms Jack more than anything else ever could.

The Doctor slips into the TARDIS, and Jack steps back. Soon the air is filled with an achingly familiar roar, and a moment later, Jack is alone on the pavement.

He turns back towards Torchwood, and Ianto.

-DW-

Ianto watches on the CCTV feed as Jack and the Doctor stride across the Plass, side by side, their paces perfectly matched. Their playful teasing seems to have died down, and neither of them show the animation which they did a few minutes ago. Jacks steps are heavy and tired, as they sometimes are after a particularly rough mission. The Doctor's are sharp and efficient, with none of the bounce and flourish which he usually uses (as a distraction and a shield).

When the reach the Doctor's ship, there is a brief, but obviously heartfelt, embrace. Before, this might have angered Ianto, but he understands, now (maybe even more than Jack does). Jack loves the Doctor, and the Doctor loves Jack, but it is not, nor will it ever be, the sort of love which could threaten Ianto's position with Jack (it is so much more than that). Jack would take anything the Doctor offered, but the Doctor will never offer that, and Jack will never demand it.

The Doctor is not who Ianto thought he was. He is not some aloof, god-like being who does as he wishes and pays no heed to the destruction he leaves in his wake. He is a man, a terrifying, alien, otherworldly man, but a man all the same. He thinks and bleeds and hurts (oh, how he hurts), even if he doesn't do so in the same way humans do. Above all, he cares, deeply and wholly, not just about planets and timelines and adventures but about people, old friends and total strangers and ignorant enemies alike. It's more than Ianto can say for most people. (It's more than he can say for himself.)

On the CCTV feed, Ianto watches the Doctor's ship fade from sight and Jack's shoulders sag. He turns it off. When Jack returns, he will be waiting for him with coffee, an understanding ear, and not even a touch of judgment or jealousy.

It feels like a beginning.