Title: These Three Remain
Author: Fireheart93
Pairing: Jack/Eleven
Rating: T

Word Count: 6129
Spoilers/warnings: No spoilers. Mentions of war, murder and torture but nothing too graphic.
Summary: "Pandora opened her box, because she was curious to see what was inside. Are you?" Hurt/Comfort, with a little bit of fluff thrown in for good measure because I could never do anything to permanently damage our charming boys.

The room was cold. That was all he could feel, the snow white tiles chilling the bare flesh on his bones. The room was lit by an icy blue light that never went out, day and night merged into one long fitful nightmare. He did not know where he was, could not remember how he came to be here. All he knew with certainty was how long he had been imprisoned. Once every 24 hours a woman walked in, put food on the floor and scraped a black mark onto the wall. There were 55 marks.

The prisoner lay on his back this time, lethargic, doing nothing to hide his bare chest from the calculating gaze of his captor. The silence hang heavy in the blue-lit room until the captor cut it down with a voice like a delicately sharp knife.

"So Captain, 55 days, and you haven't said a word. I'm actually quite impressed. Unfortunately my patience has now run out, so I have taken action. Well I say I, I mean my men, but they must be entertained and I wish to avoid a repeat of day 48's…regrettable episode." The bruises on the Captain's skin were still visible, sickly yellow splashes on his pale chest and arms. "So I sent my men out, and I had them bring back a gift for you." She gestured to the guard standing in the door. "It's actually surprising how easy it is to find him, if you know where to look. And I always know where to look." Two guards carried a heavily drugged man into the room and dumped him on the floor between the Captain and his captor. For the first time in over a month life returned to the Captains eyes and he crawled over to the body on the floor, hands ghosting over his eyes and mouth before coming to rest on his neck, feeling for his pulse.

"You needn't worry," his captor said, "I gave orders he was not to be harmed and my men follow my orders to the letter. However he will not come around for some time, so that gives you an opportunity to say what I want you to say." The captain remained stubbornly silent. "Your refusal to speak is beginning to grate on my nerves. We can advance no further until you ask the question. I had hoped you would see reason before we reached this juncture but clearly my hopes were unfounded. Of course before this point we really had no option other than to wait, but now the circumstances are rather different. Now I have leverage." She extended her right hand and a guard handed her a long knife. "I doubt I need to tell you how much pain can be caused with this blade; you of course have first-hand experience of that fact. I imagine that torturing you would not induce you to talk, in fact it would do precisely the opposite. Of course, torturing you would be counterproductive as I need you to ask the question of your own free will. Your friend however," she knelt and placed the knife on the drugged man's neck, "torturing your friend may make you fall over yourself to give me what I want." She began to draw the flat of the blade slowly across the sleeping man's neck. The Captain remained silent. She calmly turned the blade and carefully cut the skin, crimson blood wetting the knife blade and dripping down his neck, staining his shirt collar and bow-tie. The man whimpered in pain, trying in vain to escape the pressure of the knife.

"Alright," the Captain croaked, voice harsh with lack of use. His captor stopped the blade. "Alright. I'll ask your question."

"Excellent," his captor stood, wiping the blade with her white handkerchief, staining it crimson, before handing it back to a guard.

"What do you want me to ask?" the Captain said as he tried to stop his friend's blood with his fingers.

"It's not what I want you to ask, my dear Captain. It's what you want to ask me. So go on, ask the question you've been dying to ask since you woke up to discover you were my prisoner." The Captain met her eyes, fearless but defeated, opened his mouth and asked,

"What do you want with me?" His captor smiled her icy smile, before turning and walking out of the room, leaving the Captain and his sleeping Doctor alone in the blue-lit room.

The room was warmer now, still blue-lit but softened with white. The wound in the Doctor's neck had been bound and the Captain had been given a shirt. He sat with the Doctor's head in his lap, gently stroking his hair as he slept, still under the hold of the drug. He looked up as his captor walked in.

"Good morning Captain, I see you are more comfortable," she began scratching another mark into the wall.

"Who are you?" The Captain growled.

"And more vocal, well that is nice. I am glad. To show my gratitude I will give you an answer, though not the one you want. You asked who I am; let's just say I'm an interested party. You can call me…Pandora. And, like the Pandora in the myth, I have a box." A guard brought a silver box in and placed it on a mahogany table that another guard had put in front of Pandora.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said, stroking the ornate silver gently. "It took half a lifetime to find it, not my lifetime of course. But finding it is one thing, opening it is a different story altogether. And that's why I needed this." She held up a small silver voice recorder in her right hand. "Because this isn't just a box. This was backwards engineered from Time Lord technology. It's a box that was made for you, Captain Jack Harkness, therefore only you can open it. Allow me to demonstrate." She pressed play.

"What do you want with me?" Jack's voice came from the speakers. Immediately the box glowed TARDIS blue and the lid unlocked. Pandora opened it, but Jack couldn't see the contents from where he sat.

"The lock is linked directly to your voice; it cannot be picked or broken. But it isn't just your voice that is needed; you have to be asking a question, you have to want to know the answer. That's why Pandora opened her box, because she was curious to see what was inside. Are you? Be careful, not everything Pandora let out of her box was nice. I will leave you two alone."

Jack stood up, gently placing the Doctor's head on his balled up jacket, before walking slowly towards the box. In it, on a bed of deep blue velvet, laid seven glass squares, each one with a different coloured strand of glass running through the centre. He reached out to touch them but stopped when he heard a groan from behind him. He walked back to the Doctor who was shifting in his sleep. A fond smile crept over his face as he brushed his floppy hair back of his forehead.

"Jack," a whisper echoed through his head. He stood and turned back to the box, the glass squares glowing gently. He brushed his hand gently over them, voices rising in his head like the tide. His fingers rested on the glass square closest to him; a blood red ribbon ran through its centre. He lifted it gently from its velvet bed. The voices in his head intensified into a scream of terror before crashing away into silence.

"Everybody keep your eyes open, the rebels are still around here. Kill any survivors. Harkness you're with me." Jack followed the Colonel through the devastated city. They picked through the piles of rubble that used to be homes, watching the smoke spiral up into the bruised purple sky. Jack tried to avert his eyes from the twisted bodies of the fallen, fixing his eyes on the Colonel's back as they picked their way through the twisted and broken city streets. His boot hit something soft and yielding. He looked down and saw a blackened, severed limb, almost unrecognisable as something that had once been attached to a living, breathing person. Jack felt the bile rise, the acrid taste biting at the back of his throat. He took deep breaths, trying desperately to control himself, but the smoke in the air just intensified the burning. The Colonel turned back,

"Keep up Harkness," and suddenly he was gone, swallowed up by an explosion, his final cry drowned out by the roar. Bullets rained down as Jack dived for cover, landing in a pool of dried blood. He cried out and the world turned black.

He woke up on the floor of the blue-lit room. The phantom smell of blood still lingered in his mind. He forced his eyes open and saw Pandora watching him eagerly.

"It didn't take long for you to give in to your curiosity did it? I'm not surprised. Men like you are always the ones to take risks, even if they don't know what risk they're taking."

"What was that?" Jack asked, ears still ringing from the sound of the explosion.

"A memory," Pandora replied, walking towards him. "Such odd things, memories. Scientists can't explain what they are or how they work, and yet they can remove them. But once a memory has been removed from a subject's brain it cannot be destroyed, so it is stored in a Morpheus Tile and locked away, hidden from view. The Time Agency uses this technology on an almost frighteningly regular basis." She knelt before him, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Long ago, you lost two years of your life. I found them again. Enjoy." Jack watched her as she left the room before his eyes were drawn inexorably to the innocent silver box, sitting on the mahogany table, glowing gently. He pulled himself to his feet as if in a dream. He flicked a glance over to the corner of the room, where the Doctor still slept, all the while walking towards the box. He looked in. his eye was drawn to the Morpheus Tile with the green strand running through it.

"Hey!" A voice shouted at him. "Hey!"

"Hey! Caston, you little pig, get over here!" The boy came running. He was a fairly recent addition to their command, horribly rich, horribly young, probably lied about his age in order to join up, be just like his brothers. He still carried puppy fat around his face and he viewed his fellow soldiers with a mixture of fear and scorn. Colonel Marxis grabbed his arm.

"When I shout you, you slimy toad, I expect you to arrive immediately, if not sooner." The other men did nothing to hide their smiles.

"I was busy," Caston replied, his fear clothed in anger.

"Oh really, doing what?"

"I think you mean, doing whom," Bretta interjected, sending his comrades into paroxysms of mocking laughter. Jack laughed along with the rest of them, before shouting

"I'm surprised you know where to stick it Caston, wonders will never cease." The laughter intensified to fever pitch. Caston's mouth opened and closed a few times, making him look like a dying fish, before he turned and ran off towards the tents. The Colonel shouted for quiet.

"Alright lads, that's quite enough of your spite, just 'cos his daddy's richer then you scum'll ever be. Get back to work." A gunshot rent the air as blackness fell.

Jack opened his eyes to see Pandora perched on the table next to the box, a folder in her hand.

"Lieutenant Sebaste Caston, 44th Engineers, fought with honour at the battles of Gabarath, Scutar and Rexis. Died of a gunshot wound to the head." She looked up, met Jack's eyes. "Suicide. Couldn't stand the ridicule of his comrades in arms. He was 17 years old." Without another word she stood and left the room. Jack held his head in his hands, shame and regret weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Time slipped past unheeded, until Jack could no longer bear the regrets circling through his head. The Captain pushed himself of the floor and walked over to the box. He chose the next Tile by closing his eyes, running his fingers over them and stopping at random. He opened his eyes. His fingers were resting gently on a Tile shot through with dark orange. Familiar whispers began to curl in through the corners of his mind as he lifted the Tile and wrapped his fingers around it.

"Jack, over here!" Pakkin called from the doorway of the barn. Jack picked his way across the farm yard, alert to any noises. Their company had been on half rations for a week now, and hunger burned in his stomach, a constant ache. He and Pakkin had been out on patrol when they had come across a small farm which had so far survived the battles. They pushed open the barn door and went inside. There was not a lot of food in there but it was more than Jack and Pakkin had seen for ages and their eyes lit up greedily. Technically theft was a court martial offence, punishable by a flogging, but this was war, the officers were willing to turn a blind eye to so many things. Pakkin began to stuff bread into his bag.

"You watch the door," he said, "I'll pack up some of this to take back to the boys." Jack moved over to the door. Just as he reached it a man emerged from the farm house, carrying a gun. He saw Jack and began to run, raising the gun and shouting,

"Oi! Get out of my barn!" Without a thought Jack raised his gun and shot him through the heart. He was dead before he hit the floor. Silence fell in the wake of the gunshot, heavy and oppressive, and blackness came with it.

Jack woke, heaving in a great breath. There was blood on his hand from where the Tile had cut into it as gripped it tightly. He slowly opened his hand and the Tile clattered to the floor, joining its companions. Pandora sat next to the Doctor.

"Murder is a funny thing," she said, eyes on the Doctor. "Kill someone during peacetime and you are cast out as the worst of society. Commit the same crime on your enemy when at war and you are a hero. But you're still a murderer."

"Why do you torment me with these memories?" Jack asked, voice harsh with unshed tears.

"You cannot blame me for the pain you are feeling," Pandora bristled, standing up. "These are your memories, your past. I have no control over them, nor can I change them." She swept towards the door then stopped, turned. "If you have seen enough and wish to know no more, then close the box. I give you my word that I will let you go." And then she was gone. Jack stood slowly, feeling an ache in his bones, and walked over to the Doctor. He brushed his palm over his sleeping friend's cheek, leaving a trail of his own blood. Sucking in a sharp breath he used the corner of his shirt to clean the Doctor's face before walking over to the box. He placed his right hand on the lid and paused. Slowly, as if he had no control of his own left hand, he reached out and picked up a Tile with a dull yellow star at its centre, letting go of the lid as he resigned himself to the darkness once more.

The village was a long way from the city that formed the heart of the battleground. At a first glance the war had barely touched it; the houses remained intact, the trees had not been burnt down or shattered by shells and washing danced on lines by the roadside. But the fields that surrounded the village which should have full of crops were empty; the few animals that remained were thin and wasted with disease. Children didn't run and play but sat listless by their houses. Jack followed his company along the road, holding his gun ready for action, ignoring the way people hid in their houses, watching with eyes empty of everything save fear. As they left the village Jack's eyes fell on a graveyard by the side of the road. The graves were all fresh. He closed his eyes to the suffering and marched onwards, towards the setting sun.

Jack sat against the wall, ignoring the food that Pandora had placed in front of him. His eyes fell on the Doctor.

"When will he wake up?" he asked. Pandora looked up from the mark she was scratching on the wall.

"Soon. The drug has worn off, he's just sleeping now. He'll wake up when the time is right, from what I can tell he has a flair for the dramatic."

"Why are you doing this? How do you know so much about us?"

"An old friend of mine called in a favour, that's all I will tell you," Pandora was closing herself off again, walking back to the door.

"Eat," she said. "You'll need your strength."

Jack picked at the food, watching the Doctor's chest rise and fall as he breathed. It had been at least ten years since he had last seen the man but the ache in his chest was familiar, almost comforting. He pushed the plate away and crawled over to the Doctor. He held his hand, caressing the long fingers.

"I wish you'd wake up, Doctor," he whispered. "You're usually so alive, talking so fast that no one but you can understand. I don't like it when you're silent. It's been quiet in my head for so long, I've been so alone. I missed you." He sighed, "This would be so much easier if you were awake. You could hold me, tell me it's alright, that I'm not that man any more. Because I'm not sure. I want to be better, you make me want to be a better man but I don't think I am." He brought their clasped hands to rest on his heart. "I don't know if I'm strong enough to see any more." He felt the Doctor's fingers tighten around his own before they relaxed again as he slipped back into sleep. "You're right. I have to know. I have no choice." He gently rested the Doctor's hand on his chest before he stood up and walked back to the box. Without giving himself time to think he lifted up the Tile with a purple centre and his vision went black.

The POW camp was housed in what had been a monastery once, but its inhabitants had gone to join their god long before the war. Above ground it was the perfect prison, captives held in small but clean cells, given appropriate rations and opportunities for exercise. But, like so many things, once you looked past the surface it was rotten to the core. The newly promoted Captain Jack Harkness swaggered down a steep flight of stone steps until he reached the torch lined crypt, deep underground. He moved swiftly past the old tombs until he reached a heavy wooden door. He took a breath and pushed it open. The room beyond was circular and low ceilinged, giving it a claustrophobic feel. In the centre of the room an enemy soldier was tied to a frame, facing away from the door, blood dripping down his bare back. A man stood on the other side of him, facing Jack, holding a cat-o-nine-tails like a lover.

"Where are the rebels getting their information?" He asked. The prisoner was silent save for his heavy, pained breathing. The soldier with the whip looked up and saluted as he caught sight of Jack.

"Captain Harkness, sir!"

"At ease. Is he talking?"

"Not yet sir, but he will soon."

"We need that information, at any cost. Do not go easy on him." The soldier grinned as an idea struck him.

"Perhaps you could show me how it's done, sir." Jack hesitated for a moment too long. A smug look crept across the soldiers face. Jack could almost hear what he would say to his friends in the mess hall that evening. "That Captain Harkness talks the talk but when it comes down to business he's too much of a girl to get his hands dirty." He hardened his resolve and reached his hand out for the whip. The soldier did his best to hide his surprise and gave it to him. Jack approached the prisoner who flinched at the sound of his footsteps. He raised the whip and…

"No!" Jack cried out, writhing on the floor, eyes shut against the memories. He felt arms restraining him, a voice murmuring soothing words, long hair ticking his cheek. He gradually relaxed, tears streaming down his face as he was rocked gently. Eventually his tears slowed and stopped. A hand brushed his cheek, wiping away the dampness. He opened his eyes to see the Doctor smiling down at him, on the verge of tears himself.

"Doctor," Jack breathed, reaching out to touch him, fearing it was a dream.

"Hush Jack," the Doctor whispered, "got to sleep. You look exhausted. I promise I'll be here when you wake up."

"Ok," Jack replied, eyes closing. "I missed you."

"I missed you too, Jack Harkness."

Jack awoke several hours later to the feeling of a hand stroking through his hair. He opened his eyes,

"Hey you." The Doctor had been staring at the wall but he looked down at the sound of Jack's voice,

"Hello Jack." Jack followed the Doctor's eye line to the wall. There was another black mark. "Pandora explained everything to me. She told me what you saw and what she offered. I believe she's telling the truth when she says she'll let us go. You don't have to do this anymore."

"Yes I do," Jack said, sitting up. "If I walked away now I would spend my life wondering what memories were in those last two Tiles, and that's a long time to be regretting that decision. I've seen so much already, backing out now is not an option."

"Alright, I understand," the Doctor stood and offered Jack his hand. "Are you ready?"

"As I'll ever be." Jack took the Doctor's hand and the Time Lord helped him up. Still grasping the Doctor's hand Jack walked to the box and lifted out a Tile with a black teardrop at its heart.

After two years the war is over. The rebels have been crushed without mercy. A hasty parade is organised through the comparatively intact streets of the capital city. Jack marched with his company, listening to the muted cheers of a crowd that had been assembled by force. There was a commotion up ahead. A woman forced her way to the front of the crowd and threw herself into the path of the troops. She was dressed in black, hair cut short in the ancient mourning tradition of her people. She threw herself at the Colonel, screaming,

"My sons! You killed my sons! Seven sons I had, and you murdered them! My youngest was only 13" The Colonel shrugged her off, she stumbled and grabbed Jack's arm. "And my daughter. She was so beautiful, so happy, till you monsters arrived. You devils took her and raped her and she killed herself because of it! All my children, dead, gone forever. I am alone because of you!" Jack pushed her and she fell, hitting the ground hard. She began to weep uncontrollably, tearing at her dress, scratching her nails down her cheeks as two soldiers lifted her and carried her away, until all that remained was the sound of her sobs, echoing in Jacks ears.

Jack awoke on the floor, tears running silently down his face, a hand resting on his temple. The Doctor pulled him closer, resting his head on his chest until he could hear the double heartbeat.

"Oh Jack," he whispered. "Oh Jack."

"You saw?" Jack asked through his tears.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Amy always said my curiosity would be the death of me. And curiosity killed the cat, which I always thought was an odd saying as, in my experience, cat's aren't particularly curious. Unless they're cats dressed as nuns which, to an ordinary human is very curious indeed. In fact I …" Jack pressed his finger against the Doctor's lips.

"Hush, you're giving me a headache."

"Sorry," the Doctor looked contrite. Jack took a breath and said,

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Doctor. I don't think I'm strong enough. I'll close the box. The only memories in it are bad ones."

"But are they?" the Doctor asked.

"They have been up to now," Jack replied crossly.

"I know, Jack but think. In the myth, Pandora opens her box and out flies all the evils of the world, war, spite, crime, famine, cruelty, woe and so on. But what's the last thing in the box?"

"Hope," Jack replied, voice stronger.

"Exactly. And I think that's what's left in your box. I mean come on, there were two years' worth of memories in that thing, not all of them can be bad, it's just not possible. You've already gone through all the evils, why don't you give yourself a little hope?"

"All right," Jack said, standing up. The Doctor stayed seated and watched as he walked over to the box. The final Tile was clear except for one thin silver filament running diagonally across it, invisible unless you looked at it from the right angle. Jack caressed it gently, feeling voices rising in his head. He picked it up and surrendered to the darkness for the final time.

The bar was about as far from the war as Jack could possibly get. It was dark, the laser lights barely cutting through the smoky atmosphere. Jack tossed back his sixth hypervodka, gesturing at the bartender for another. It was slid over the bar towards him but a hand caught it before it reached him.

"Hey," Jack cried.

"Hush Jack," the man said, "I think you've had quite enough."

"Who are you to decide when I've had enough?" Jack said, slurring only slightly.

"A very old friend," Jack looked confused. "Or at least, I will be. Timelines can be so confusing. But you should know, you are a time agent."

"Not for much longer," Jack said bitterly. The Doctor tilted his head in confusion. "The Agency is out for my blood. I know too much."

"About what?" Jack raised his eyebrow. "Oh come on, I won't tell anyone, scouts honour. Of course I was never a scout, not big on youth organisations on Gallifrey, far too serious for camping. I always did love camp songs though…"His rambling was cut off by Jack pressing his lips against his. The kiss was chaste but not short, and when Jack pulled away the look of shock on the Doctor's face was almost comical. "Why did you do that?"

"I don't know. I just knew that if I didn't stop you you'd still be talking this time next year?" Jack paused, looking the Doctor up and down, taking in the eccentric clothes covering what looked to be a promising body. Jack turned up the charm and said,

"Would you like to take this somewhere private?"

"Alright," the Doctor smiled. Jack grinned back and stood before leading the way out of the bar. Once outside it felt perfectly natural for Jack to take the Doctors hand.

"I have to say, Jack" the Doctor smiled, "for a man who has spent the better part of this evening drinking you are amazingly sober." Jack laughed.

"I'm a time agent; we spend half our lives drinking. If we couldn't hold our liquor we'd never get anything done." The Doctor laughed, stopping in the street to pull Jack into a hug.

Sometime later they sat on the floor of Jack's tiny hotel room, backs against the bed, shoulders touching.

"So," the Doctor said, "what do you know that the Time Agency don't want you telling anyone?" Jack shook his head.

"I don't want to talk about it. All I'll say is the Agency stuck their nose into a war they shouldn't have. They tried to get the agents involved to sign confidentiality agreements but I refused."

"Why?" the Doctor asked gently.

"We did terrible things out there. Evil things. I did…evil things," the Doctor wrapped his arm around Jack and kissed his forehead. Jack sighed, resting his head back on the bed, "After I refused to sign I ran. They'll find me eventually but I'm not going to just submit to them. My pride won't allow it."

"What will they do to you if they find you?"

"If I'm unlucky they'll kill me." Jack said humourlessly, taking the Doctor's hand and stroking his long fingers gently.

"And if you're lucky?"

"They'll take my memories. The last two years of my life just gone. I don't know which would be worse."

"Surely it's better to live."

"I'm not so sure. I've changed so much, after all I've seen. I'd like to think I've become a better man and if they take my memories I'll lose that." He met the Doctor's eyes, "I don't want to go back to the man I was." The Doctor pulled him closer and he rested his head on his tweed-covered shoulder.

"Oh Jack, my Jack," he whispered, "They will take your memories and you will go back to being a con-artist with questionable morals," Jack laughed gently, shifting closer to the doctor. "The next time I meet you we will both be different men, and I'm sorry to say that I will take an instant if brief dislike to you. But I promise you, in time, you will become a better man, better even then you are today, and I will love you all the more because of it." Jack raised his head, saw the truth in the Doctor's eyes and kissed him, hard and hot and heavy, pouring all his fear and pain into it. He ran his fingers through the Doctors silky hair, pulling him closer still. The Doctor hummed into the kiss before pulling away slightly, resting his forehead against Jack's.

"No, sweetheart," he murmured, "not here, not now."

"Why not?" Jack moaned.

"Two reasons," the Doctor smiled. "One; this hotel is disgusting, and two," his fingers danced across Jack's cheek, "tomorrow the Time Agency will find you and steal your memories of everything that happened in these last two years, including tonight. When we finally spend the night together in…that way," Jack smiled at the Doctor's blush, "I want you to be able to remember it."

"I understand," Jack said, "and, oddly, I agree. Come on," He stood, pulled the Doctor to his feet and crawled onto the bed. He turned look at the Doctor where he hovered at the edge of the bed. "I'm not going to do anything, just cuddle." He smirked, "Scouts honour." The Doctor barked out a laugh before kicking off his shoes, stripping off his jacket and crawling to join Jack on the bed.

"Are you really going to sleep in this?" Jack tweaked the Doctor's bow-tie.

"Hey," the Doctor protested, "bow-ties are cool."

"Of course they are," Jack smiled, undoing the bow-tie and dropping it to the floor. "Come here." He pulled the Doctor close, covered them both with the duvet and curled up into his neck.

"Will you still be here when I wake up?" Jack asked, sleepily.

"I will, Jack, I promise," the Doctor kissed Jack's forehead as he slipped off to sleep.

Jack opened his eyes and smiled at the Doctor.

"I remember now," he said. "You stayed we me all night, kissed me awake the next morning. It was the best morning of my life, until those cowboys from the Time Agency showed up."

"And then I had to climb out of the window," the Doctor laughed.

"Oh yes. Of course you'd have been able to use the door if you hadn't wasted time messing with your bow-tie."

"It's my favourite one," the Doctor protested indignantly. "I was so proud of you. You walked to your fate with your head held high."

"Because you gave me hope," Jack reached out and gripped the Doctor's hand. "Hope that I could become the kind of man that could deserve the love of someone like you."

"Oh Jack," the Doctor said, standing and raising Jack to his feet, lacing their fingers together, "you are most certainly that man." He pulled Jack to him, tilted his head back and kissed him, a gentle press of lips which contained so much promise. Jack rested his hands on the Doctor's hips, tentatively probing with his tongue and groaning as his Doctor's mouth opened to let him in. The Doctor tasted delicious, like mint tea and spices, and Jack explored his mouth thoroughly, eager for more. He shivered as the Doctor brushed his thumb across the sensitive skin on the inside of Jack's wrist, sending a spike of arousal through his body.

"I love you," the Doctor murmured against Jacks lips.

"I remember," Jack smiled, "I love you too." He leaned up to whisper into the Doctor's ear, "As much as I love a good bit of exhibitionism I'd much rather our first time was a little more, private." The Doctor blushed prettily, coughed twice and then said,

"Yes, I completely agree."

"Good," Jack laughed. He turned back to look at the room that had begun as a version of hell and morphed into something much more beautiful. Regretfully, he stepped out of the Doctor's arms and walked over the pile of Morpheus Tiles abandoned on the floor. He scooped them up. They were all clear now, the coloured memories they had held now returned to their rightful place in Jack's mind. He replaced them carefully in the box then turned as he felt the Doctor come to stand next to him, a hand placed gently on his hip. Jack closed the lid of the box and the world went white.

Pandora stood in the empty room, hand resting gently on the silver box. She heard movement behind her but didn't turn.

"I was successful," she said. "Captain Harkness regained all his memories, the Doctor kissed him and now, if I'm not very much mistaken, they have returned to the TARDIS to enjoy the culmination of decades of unresolved sexual tension. Admit it, I did well didn't I."

"You did brilliantly, my dear," River Song smiled. "I am very proud of you."

"Thank you," Pandora smiled and went to embrace the woman who had loved her like a daughter since her own mother had died in the Stormcage, imprisoned along with her six year old daughter for murdering a tyrannical king. "But there is one thing I don't understand. You told me you love the Doctor, why would you go to all this effort to set him up with another man?"

"I do love the Doctor, and he loves me. But he is a Time Lord, he will live for centuries after I am gone, and I cannot bear to think of him being lonely. So I decided to show him that there is one man he can love without fear." She said this with resignation but no bitterness.

"But surely he already knows that, after all he went back in time to find him."

"He went because he knew he would be safe. He could confess his feeling with impunity because Captain Harkness wouldn't remember. He would rather have carried on alone than risk his heart."

"Don't we all, at one point or another?" Pandora said. "Come on, River, cheer up. They are together now; your interference has paid off. Now can we please get out of this dreadful place?"

"Yes," River smiled, "This room has served its purpose. Let's go." Pandora followed River out of the room, pausing in the doorway to take one final look at the simple box that had trapped and changed so much. She hoped that she may see the Doctor and his Captain again one day and ask them to forgive her for the pain she had been forced to cause them in order to ensure their pleasure. But, as the wise know, the greatest happiness comes after the hardest battle, as only by experiencing pain can a man truly appreciate and deserve the pleasure he has won.

Author's Notes: This ran away from me somewhat. My prompt was Silver, 55, Hope, Mint, and this idea was born when I remembered that hope was the last thing left in Pandora 's Box after she had succumbed to her curiosity and opened it, letting out all the evils of the world. The title itself comes from the final verse of 1 Corinthians 13 'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.' I would like to thank my wonderful Beta Alvita who helped me smooth out some of the rougher transitions, but any mistakes that remain are entirely my own. Thanks for reading, Fireheart93