Chapter Sixty-Five

The light that spread under the surface of the Doctor's skin and swept around him like a storm gathering itself for its final fury was as bright as the sun, golden tendrils consuming him. His entire form was illuminated from within as he fell back onto the grating, arms stretched out to his sides; his fingers clenched in pain before snapping straight out as they changed. There was a moment where all anyone could hear was the burning rush of regeneration before the Doctor opened his mouth and screamed as the light flew out from every part of him. Unable to stare at it straight on, Zoe shied back from the brightness. She turned her face into Alistair's shoulder, and his hand came up to cover the back of her head, holding her to him as he pressed his face into her hair, shielding his own eyes from the fury of a Time Lord's death and rebirth.

The heat of his regeneration spilt over them and made their skin prickles as though they were standing too close to a fire that was spitting embers out at them. It was uncomfortable, and Zoe feared how painful it was for the Doctor. He kept screaming through the change, a death's roar through the fire, and the sheer noise of it was overwhelming. It was so loud, like the noise of a furnace that kept being stoked higher and higher, and laced underneath it all was his scream of pain as his body changed so completely that his cells shifted and burned and were made anew in a fresh image.

It went on and on and on, lasting forever but no time at all, until Zoe thought she could bear it no longer. She wanted to help him, but Alistair held her tightly against him, hand tightening on her hip when her muscles shifted in movement. It ended abruptly. The noise cut out without warning, leaving a ringing silence in its wake; harsh, ragged breaths from those gathered by the door of the TARDIS were the only thing she could hear. Slowly, Zoe lifted her head from Alistair's shoulders, cheeks wet, and she stared at the Doctor's prone form.

He wasn't moving.

"Is he...dead?" Major Blake asked, tripping on his hesitation.

"No," Alistair said quietly, and he let his arm fall from around Zoe, his hand resting on her back as she straightened up. "He may be unconscious though. This process...it's rather unpredictable. There may be side effects."

"Side effects?" Jack asked, the words sticking in his dry mouth. His heart hammered heavily in his chest, and he felt like he couldn't breathe. "Like what?"

"Amnesia, most likely," he said, watching as Zoe inched her way forwards, hesitant and afraid. "Or an extreme burst of manic energy. He'll be okay. He just needs time to...settle in his new body."

Rose whimpered.

Zoe approached the Doctor with caution. Their discussion on the topic of regeneration had touched upon a few issues – the pain he felt, the difficulties experienced afterwards – but never on the sheer, incomprehensible violence of the act itself. She didn't know why she was surprised. His body died, and he was made new again. She should have anticipated the violence of it, but seeing it happen in front of her was not something that she ever wanted to experience again. He had died before her eyes. It wasn't important that he still lived as the fact of the matter was that he died and there was nothing she had been able to do to save him.

Failure pulsed through her like a burning mark of shame seared upon her flesh. After everything – her sacrifices, her hard work, her lost years – she had failed to keep him safe.

"Doctor?" She asked, crouching at his side, reaching out to touch his arm. "Doctor, are you okay?"

Without any warning, he sat up.

Zoe startled and overbalanced. She fell back and stared up at him with wide eyes.

He wasn't wearing the face she expected.

"Hello. That was -" the Doctor said before stopping abruptly. His upper lip bulged as he ran his tongue ran across his teeth. He looked concerned. "New teeth. That's weird." He shook his head and met her eyes, a smiling stretching across his face. "Well, wasn't that exciting?"

The bow-tie wearing, floppy-haired Doctor she had been expecting wasn't the man she saw before her. Her big-eared Northern Doctor was gone and a face she hadn't seen before was in front of her. He grinned widely into the shocked silence around him, unperturbed by his friends' lack of reaction, and he started to catalogue the differences in his body. He stretched his arms out in front of him and waggled his fingers to text their dexterity. He bent at the waist to check that he had his knees, and he wriggled his hips against the ground.

"Two legs, two arms, two hands -" he narrated out loud. He tested his left wrist, rotating it thoughtfully, "slight weakness in the dorsal tubercle." His hands went to his hair, and a look of delight swept across his face. "Hair! I'm not bald. Oh, a lot of hair. I like it." He tried to look at it before he gave up and looked to Zoe. "Be honest. Am I ginger?"

Her eyes moved slowly to his hair. There really was a lot of it, and his hands had made it stick up in every direction. An urge to reach out and touch it filled her. Instead, she shook her head and tried to speak.

"No," she whispered before she cleared her throat and tried again. "No, sorry, you're kind of...brown, I guess."

"Oh!" He exclaimed in loud disappointment; they all jumped. "I wanted to be ginger! I've never been ginger before!"

A smile started to creep across her face against her will. It emerged from the depths of her grief, surprise, and exhaustion to pick across the blank canvas of her features and twitch itself into existence. There was no other option for her but to smile. He was as ridiculous as he ever was. There was no one else in her life who would die and then complain about the colour of their hair. It was such a Doctor thing to do, and the grief that she felt over the loss of the face and body she loved began to ebb. She knew that missing his strange face with its rugged plains, aquiline nose, and gorgeous blue eyes was in her future, something for her to do when things were calmer and quieter. It was the face that she had first met after all, and the face that she had fallen in love with. Yet it didn't matter. He could be two-foot tall and orange and it wouldn't make a difference to her.

Different face, different voice, different means of expressing himself but, at the end of it all, he was still the same man.

He was still the Doctor.

"It looks nice," Zoe offered, rallying her good humour to her and smiling. "If that helps."

His smile was different – wide and toothy – but it sent the same rush of warmth through her, and she felt her cheeks heating at having it directed at her. His fingers moved through his hair with ever increasing glee, thumbs catching on the sideburns that grew down the side of his face.

"What's this?" He asked, delighted. "A beard?" He rubbed his bare chin. "Nope. Sideburns! I have sideburns! Interesting choice, but that's all right. I like the sideburns."

His played with the hair, distracted by it.

"I think I need to sit down."

Jack dropped where he stood, sitting on the floor with a heavy thud, half-dragging Mickey down with him. His long legs splayed out crookedly around him, and he sat hunched over. It was a position that Jack rarely sat in as he was a proponent of proper posture and was constantly poking Rose in her back to make her stand straighter. He argued that a good posture meant good overall health. Rose simply replied that he was a bothering fusspot who needed to keep his fingers out of her back. He stared at the Doctor, unable to take his eyes off of him, and he looked more dishevelled than any of them had seen him before: hand wind blown, shirt missing, blood stained down one side of his legs. Though he still looked frustratingly handsome.

"That was – it was –"

"Insane," Mickey finished for him. His body slithered to the ground next to Jack, and they leaned against each other whilst he kept hold of Rose's hand. "You just...you exploded."

"Regenerated," the Doctor corrected cheerfully. "I always forget it's a bit dramatic from the outside. Although, kind of dramatic from the inside as well. All those cells changing and trying to decide how much hair there should be and what height's the best. Ooo, height!"

Jack stared. "What?"

He jumped to his feet in one smooth bound. Zoe fell back onto her elbows and looked up at him. "Not bad, not bad. Exactly two centimetres taller than before."

"Yep, this is completely insane," Jack said with a nod, almost as though he was talking to himself. "I mean, I'd heard the rumours about regeneration, but I didn't think – no one ever said it was anything like - I didn't actually think –" he struggled with completing his thoughts and settled for just gaping at the Doctor. "You've completely changed."

"Still me though," the Doctor said with a happy smile, tilting his face towards Rose who had yet to say anything, frozen as she was where she stood. "Same old Doctor. Right, Rose?"

Rose stared at him and opened her mouth to say something. All that came out was a strangled sound before she joined Jack and Mickey on the floor. Her face didn't seem to know what emotion to express first and so simply expressed them all simultaneously.

The Doctor, finally recognising that they weren't entirely on board with recent events, looked concerned. "Oh, dear. Are you all okay?"

"Perhaps," Alistair intervened smoothly, his voice sprinkled with amusement, "we should all consider having a nice cup of tea. Get something hot and strong into our stomachs to deal with the shock, hm? The kitchen still in the same place, Doctor?"

The Doctor nodded, distracted as he was by his bottom lip. He sank his teeth into it and gnawed upon it curiously.

"If someone would be kind enough to help me?" Alistair asked, counting how many people there were in the console room. "I'm afraid my mobility's somewhat limited these days and carrying ten cups of tea is going to prove difficult for me."

"Allow me, sir," Major Blake said, letting go of the railing that he had been gripping so tightly his fingers ached when he flexed them open.

"Yes, yes," Llewellyn said weakly, trembling as he lifted himself up onto his feet and shook where he stood. "A cup of tea...that sounds lovely. Just lovely. Exactly what I need."

Harriet glanced at him, concerned. "Mr Llewellyn, are you well?"

"Perfectly well, ma'am, absolutely fine," he said, sounding the exact opposite. His skin was pale, and his body seemed incapable of not shaking. "Aliens and men exploding and changing their faces – it's all fine. Perfectly, absolutely, 100% fine."

"You don't sound fine," the Doctor pointed out conversationally. "You sound like you're in shock."

"That, good sir, is a strong possibility."

"All right, love," Jackie said, snapping back to herself. She stepped around Harriet and approached the scientist who trembled violently. She put her arms around him and began to guide him in careful steps across the console room. "There, there. I know. It's all a bit mad, innit? Let's get some nice strong tea in you, plenty of sugar, an' you'll be back to yourself in no time at all. Come on now."

Jackie led the shocked scientist out of the console room, leading the way for Alistair and Blake, her voice growing fainter and fainter the further away she got. Zoe pushed herself up so that she was sitting. She bent over at the waist and let her hair fall down in between her knees, sinking her fingers into it to scrub vigorously at her scalp. A hand appeared before her eyes, long-fingered with dark hairs sporadically placed on the back of the pale skin, and she smiled to herself. She took hold of it, instantly noticing the differences – thinner, bonier, but just as lovely –, and the Doctor helped her to her feet. She bumped into him and looked up into his face. His eyes were brown now – a lovely mixture of dark browns and golds that flecked together within the narrow set of his face. His free hand went to her elbow, supporting her.

"Hello," the Doctor said.

"Hello," Zoe replied.

His new face was more classically handsome than his last. His cheekbones were high, and he had a narrow nose with a dusting of freckles across the bridge that crept into his cheeks. His eyes that watched her with a familiar fondness and care were warm and brown. She reached up and gently took his chin by the tips of her fingers, turning his head from one side to the other so that she could get a proper look at him. The smooth skin beneath her fingers told him she didn't need to shave, a change from a few hours ago when his stubble had rubbed against her as they kissed. She wasn't entirely sure about whether or not she liked the sideburns, and she traced the tip of a finger around the shell of his ear before she tugged on it playfully – much more normal sized. He scrunched his nose at her, and she smiled. She took both her hands and, on the balls of her feet, she ran her fingers through his brown hair that had the odd streak of sun-kissed lightness running through it. His eyelids fluttered and a blissful expression swept across his face. She fixed the damage his own hands had done and smoothed it into some semblance of order, surprised at how soft and full it was.

"So what do you think?" He asked her softly, an air of intimacy wrapped around them, making them forget they weren't alone. "Sexy or put a bag over my head?"

Her smile widened mischievously. "You really want me to answer that?"

"Blimey, how bad is it?" He asked, worried, but she just laughed.

"It's lovely," she promised him. "Very handsome. You're not Northern any more though."

"Yeah, I noticed that," he said. "Bit of a shame. Love a good accent me."

She removed her hands from his hair and pulled him into a hug. His arms wrapped around her, bending slightly so he could hug her without her straining into it. She closed her eyes, pressing her face into his shoulder, and held onto him tightly. His leather jacket creaked under her grip, and she breathed into him. A hand rubbed soothingly down the length of her back, and he turned his face into her head, closing his eyes in her riotous mass of curls that exploded everywhere. His body tingled and ached with the lingering regeneration energy that coursed through him, tweaking and altering as it went. He was still cooking, and it would be a few more hours before he was done, but having Zoe in his arms was worth the aches and pains that came with inhabiting a brand new body.

The sharp ring of a phone made them pull apart.

Zoe reached down to her pocket automatically but it was Alex who dipped his hand into his pocket and removed his mobile. He looked as shaken as Llewellyn had but was holding himself together admirably. Zoe supposed that working for Harriet he was used to all manner of high-pressure situations and aliens, whilst outside the normal realm of his day-to-day responsibilities, was probably quite similar. He answered his phone with an apologetic grimace, embarrassed for interrupting the moment. Zoe released the Doctor and stepped back from him. She became aware that she was drenched in his blood, and she picked at a dry spot on her jumper and pulled it away from her body.

"I'm going to have to throw this away," she said, annoyed. "Dammit. I liked this jumper. This was a comfortable jumper."

"He's just changed his face an' you're worried about your jumper?" Rose asked, finding her voice at last. She stared at her sister in disbelief. "Are you mad?"

"My therapist says no," Zoe replied, "but others say yes. Reinette thought I was missing a few screws, which is, y'know, a lovely thing to hear from your wife."

The Doctor rocked back on his heels, testing his balance. "Why did she think that?"

"Probably something to do with being from the future and travelling the stars," she said with a small shrug. "Hard to tell though."

"I think I need a drink," Jack said, interrupting them, and he used Mickey's body to help push himself to his feet. "Is it too early for a drink?"

"It's Christmas," Zoe told him. "It's pretty much the law to drink in the morning on Christmas."

"Perfect," he sighed gratefully, approaching the Doctor with more caution than he usually displayed. "And you...you're okay?"

"Never better," the Doctor grinned at him. "Go on then, captain. What do you think of the new body? You like it?"

"I don't know," Jack replied, and a gleam slipped into his eyes. "I've only seen the face."

"Oi!"

Jack laughed and he drew the Doctor into a tight, relief-filled embraced that was happily returned. Jack pulled back and held him by the shoulders. "What's the likelihood of that happening again any time soon?"

"Very unlikely," he replied. "Regenerations can last for centuries. I think the longest someone was in a body was two thousand years, but they were old by the end of it. The average tends to be five hundred odd years." He rubbed the back of his neck, a little embarrassed. "I've been a bit bad at that to be honest. Not always my fault, but there's always some sort of trouble and I do seem to have a propensity for it."

"You've also got a bit of a gob on you, as well," Mickey observed, standing.

"Apparently, yes I do," the Doctor said, surprised, and Zoe shook her head with a small laugh, glancing away to Harriet and Alex.

A pang of uncertainty echoed through her chest, and she stepped away from the Doctor and made her way towards them. Alex attempted to keep his voice low but Zoe heard it anyway – Torchwood.

"Harriet," she said, stepping over Rose. "Don't –"

"Stand them down," Harriet said, speaking across Zoe whose mouth froze around her protestations.

"Ma'am?"

"They're no longer needed," she said firmly, her decision made.

Unbeknownst to anyone, and missed by the Doctor, the timelines solidified around Harriet Jones as she stepped onto a road that would bring Britain into its Golden Age.

Zoe stared at Harriet as Alex turned to relay the message. She didn't know what she felt but surprise, relief, and confusion warred within her. Harriet moved to stand next to her, her arms folded across her chest, and her eyes drank in the sight of the Doctor who was suffering being poked and prodded by Jack and Mickey with good humour whilst Rose threw the occasional strained comment at him from the floor.

"He's a remarkable man, is he not?" Harriet commented.

"Yes," Zoe agreed automatically, turning so that they faced the same direction. "Completely mad though."

"Oh, absolutely."

They shared a fond laugh, and Zoe rocked her shoulder into Harriet's who unfolded her arms and placed one around the back of her shoulders.

"You didn't destroy the ship," she said quietly so that no one but Alex could hear them.

"No, I didn't," Harriet agreed with a heavy sigh. "I have no idea of what just happened here inside this miraculous ship but it seems that the Doctor died for us. It seemed...wrong to dishonour that sacrifice with destruction, regardless of how alive he is now."

"Thank you," she said, sliding her arm around Harriet's waist. "I mean it, thank you for not doing what many others would have done in your place."

Harriet drew her close and pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

"Right!" Jackie exclaimed, entering the console room with a tray of tea in front of her and three men trailing behind carrying more tea and some cake that she found in the fridge. "Tea and cake, you lot. Come an' get it."

Jack wanted to stay and enjoy the impromptu picnic that was taking place of the floor of the console room – an eclectic group of people thrown together in order to save the world from destruction – but his hip throbbed with pain, and it reached a point where even he could bear it no longer. He put down his fruit bowl that Zoe had quickly put together, pointing out that whilst cake was a perfectly acceptable choice in breakfast food some fruit might also be nice, and stood up. He grunted at the effort, all eyes falling onto him. The Doctor's eyes darted down to his side where the blood had stained the length of his trousers and was still wet even as the blood on Zoe began to dry.

"Are you hurt?" The Doctor asked, concerned.

"I'm fine," Jack lied. "But I am going to go and get this taken care of."

"I'll help," Zoe said, untangling herself from Harriet where the two women were leaning together, and she made to stand up.

He waved her back down. "Nah, don't worry about it. I know where everything is."

"Jack –"

"I've got him," Mickey interrupted, standing easily. He nearly tripped over Jackie who was cooing over pictures of Llewellyn's daughter Sian that he kept in his wallet. "We'll be back in a bit."

Zoe looked uncertain. "If you're sure?"

"The Doctor's stealing your cake," Jack said, knocking Zoe's attention away from him and onto the Doctor whom she attacked with a fork, attempting to stab at his hand to keep him from her half-eaten slice of chocolate cake.

"Traitor!" The Doctor called after him.

Jack just raised his middle finger behind his head and let the Doctor's new laugh follow him and Mickey from the room. Only when he was certain he could no longer be seen did he let the pain show. Mickey caught him when he stumbled and pulled his arm around his shoulders, supporting his weight. It wasn't the worst injury he had ever had – not even in the top twenty – but it did hurt. He also hadn't slept properly since returning from the Game Station, and he was beginning to feel the exhaustion creeping in around his edges. He wondered if persuading Mickey to join him in bed, solely so that he had someone warm to curl into, would work.

"You should've said somethin'," Mickey clucked his tongue in annoyance. "No sense in martyrin' yourself for cake."

"It was good cake though," Jack replied with an easy grin.

"You're an idiot."

He laughed lightly. "I've heard that before."

"C'mon, mate," Mickey said, easing him into the sickbay. "Tell me what you need."

A number of filthy remarks came to mind, but Jack kept them behind his teeth. He enjoyed flirting with Mickey, even if the other man barely seemed to notice it half the time. Men in the 21st century appeared to be conditioned not to recognise flirtation unless it was from a member of the opposite sex. In Jack's time, it was very rare to limit oneself to one gender when it came to sexual partners; it was a part of Rose and Zoe's culture that he found baffling. He had asked Rose once, after learning that Zoe had been lost to time and married to a woman, whether she was interested in women and Rose had laughed as though the idea was as strange to her as travelling in time was to most people. He didn't understand it himself. He didn't understand why people would choose to limit themselves when there was so much joy and adventure to be found through exploration.

"The dermal regenerator, some gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and some gloves." Jack listed off. "Also, I need the soluble staples."

"What do they look like?"

He described them as he unbuckled his belt and eased the top of his trousers down over his hips. He winced at the pull on his injured muscles. Using his fingers he wipe some of the blood away to view the damage. It was a deep cut that went down to the bone but nothing vital had been hit. It would hurt for a few days unless he remembered where the Doctor kept the good painkillers. Mickey tossed a packet of gauze over his shoulder, and it glanced off Jack's shoulder to land on the bed. He ripped it open and used a square to wipe away at the blood properly.

"Fuck," Mickey swore when he turned back, "that looks bad."

"It's fine," Jack said, "just a little deep. Can you pass me the gloves?"

"Just lean there," he said with a grimace. "I've got enough first aid trainin' to clean a wound."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"Then thanks," Jack said, easing back with a sigh.

He tugged the band of his trousers down a little further wishing to remove them but, conscious of Mickey's sensibilities, he kept them on.

Mickey grabbed a seat and pulled it across to sit in front of him. Jack's breath caught in his throat at how close they were to each other, and he looked up at the ceiling as deft hands cleaned away at the wound. The antiseptic rolled down and stained his already-ruined trousers as it stung the wound clean and thought about how nice it was to have someone else tend to his injuries.

The first time he was injured after he started travelling with the Doctor was in Berlin, after their encounter with the nesting Zygons and he had gone head first down a flight of stairs, he remembered lying on the floor with Rose screaming over him wondering how in the hell he was going to fix himself up. He had come aboard the TARDIS with nothing but the clothes on his back – no money, no food, no nothing –, and he wasn't sure the Doctor even liked him, certain he was going to be left at the nearest inhabitable outpost. The surge of panic nearly choked him when the Doctor came across them in that stairwell and sent them back to the TARDIS. He was cracking jokes and trying to cheer Rose up even as he stumbled through the sickbay, knowing that he needed medical treatment but uncertain how to pay the Doctor for it, when the Doctor swept in with a sticky Zoe on his heels and forced him onto the bed.

"Free medical care," the Doctor had said knowingly, and Jack remembered the hot flush of embarrassment that rolled through him at being so obvious. "One of the perks of TARDIS travel."

Zoe was right when she said that he wanted someone to take care of him.

"Where d'you learn how to use a sword anyway?" Mickey asked, picking up a new piece of gauze and wetting it with antiseptic. "They teach you that at that Time Agency of yours?"

"Actually, yes," Jack said, and Mickey looked up, startled. "I was trained in a number of different weapons. We never knew what situation we were going to end up in, and it was useful to be fully versed in a wide range of weaponry."

Mickey nodded as though that made sense. "So go on then, tell me...how did a Time Agent from the 51st century end up throwin' in his lot with the Doctor?"

"Rose and Zoe haven't told you?" He asked, surprised.

"I know you met in the 1940s," Mickey replied, "an' that the Doctor thought you were a conman, but that's about it."

"I was a conman," he said honestly, shrugging whilst Mickey looked up at him. "I left the Time Agency under unknown circumstances, and I needed a way to make a living. I had my Vortex Manipulator – stolen, of course – and my knowledge of history. Seemed like a natural fit."

"What do I do with this?" Mickey asked, holding up the dermal regenerator. Jack took it from his hands and programmed it to repair muscle fibres before showing him quickly how to use it. He held it over the wound. "Unknown circumstances? What does that mean?"

"It means I can't remember," he said. "There are two years of my life that are a complete blank to me. My memories are gone, erased. Stolen from me by the Time Agency."

"Why'd they do that?"

"No idea," Jack said with a frown, probing at the missing memories like one would a sore tooth. "So when I woke up and realised that my memories were gone, I got the hell out of there as quickly as I could. I ran into the Doctor and the girls about three years after that. Didn't exactly put my best foot forward, but I was invited on board anyway."

Mickey pulled the dermal regenerator away and carefully prodded the wound. "You think you'll ever get them back?"

"I don't know," he sighed, "maybe. Or maybe it's best that I don't. Maybe those memories were taken from me for a reason."

"The Doctor'll help you if you ask him," Mickey pointed out. "This seems to be the kind of thing that he actually does. An' if he doesn't then Zoe will."

"Yeah," Jack replied quietly. It wasn't as though he hadn't considered asking for help, but he had a good thing going with the Doctor and the girls. He didn't want to risk that for whatever those two years held. "Maybe one day."

Mickey frowned at the wound. "It's not healin' any more."

"That's fine," he said, reaching for the staple gun that used soluble staples. He held it out to Mickey. "Just staple the wound."

"Without any drugs?"

"Quick and easy," Jack winked, and Mickey shrugged.

Jack grit his teeth against the pain as Mickey held the wound closed with his fingers and stapled it shut so that it would heal into a scar. It took longer than it would have done if Jack did it himself as Mickey was careful to make sure that the staples were straight and later, when it scarred, Jack was grateful for his care and attention. He set the gun down and cleaned the remnants of blood from his purpling hip.

"You are goin' to have a wicked bruise," Mickey told him.

Jack laughed and picked up a waterproof covering – a thin sheet of sticky plastic that allowed the wound to breathe whilst also keeping it clean and dry –, and he smoothed it on over the staples so that he was able to shower later. He cleaned his hands on another piece of gauze as Mickey put everything away again.

"Thank you," Jack said sincerely, "for helping."

"No problem, mate," Mickey said, washing his hands in the sink. "Should probably get back. God knows what the Doctor's done to himself since we've been gone."

Jack grinned. "It was really weird, wasn't it? That wasn't just me."

"Craziest fuckin' thing I've ever seen," he said, shaking his head. "He exploded an' now he's got a different face. Like what the fuck is that?"

"I'll tell you what though," Jack said, and Mickey looked over at him, "I bet it keeps relationships really fresh. Not stuck with one face constantly, different bodies to explore – hey!"

He laughed when Mickey through a wad of tissue at him and then aimed a punch at his shoulder that Jack easily dodged, catching Mickey's wrist in his hand. He misjudged his own balance, and his eyes went wide as he lost his footing. Mickey caught him with his free hand, and Jack's breath hitched in his throat, excitement and anticipation thrumming through him at how close they were. Mickey seemed just as surprised, but he didn't tear himself away as he might have done with another man. He stood still, his hand gripping hold of Jack's upper arm and his wrist held loosely in Jack's grip, aware of how close they were but not inclined to move away.

"Mickey –" Jack said quietly, his name forming a question.

Against his will, Mickey's eyes dropped to Jack's mouth, which parted and his mind caught on the idea of kissing him, curious and terrified all at once. He wondered if it was like kissing a woman. Suddenly, he was desperate to find out. His head barely moved, signalling his intent, and Jack shifted a little closer and –

"Guys, Harriet and Alistair are –" Zoe stopped in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the sight before her. Mickey wrenched away from Jack quickly, leaving him to stagger and struggle to regain his balance. Her eyes darted between them, and her mind went blank over what to say. "Er – Harriet and Alistair are leaving. Thought you might want to say goodbye."

"Good idea," Mickey said, face dark red.

He avoided Jack's eyes as he hurried out of the sickbay. Zoe quickly stepped to one side to let him pass. She looked to Jack.

"Did I interrupt something?"

Jack swallowed. "Maybe."

"Stop it."

"Ow! I just want to look."

"No one here wants to see you naked, now stop it."

"But –"

"Keep – your – clothes – on."

Alistair approached Zoe and the Doctor with amusement in every step. Their squabble was light-hearted and representative of their relationship as a whole. Alistair found that he enjoyed watching them interact as both of them seemed lighter and happier in the other's company. He watched the Doctor's eyes narrow as he assessed the situation, attempting to judge how much he could get away with without Zoe's temper snapping in half. He decided against pushing her as her expression didn't flicker in the face of his displeasure. Her mouth remained set and a small muscle in her jaw twitched. Reluctantly, he let go of the hem of his jumper. Alistair was privately relieved. He had seen enough of the Doctor naked in a number of different bodies to last him a lifetime. He didn't need new memories of the stretches of pale flesh and appendages seared into his mind; at least not when he still had Christmas lunch to look forward to.

"Oh, hello, Alistair," Zoe said, catching sight of him. She gave him a warm smile. "Tell me, has he always been this stubbornly ridiculous?"

The Doctor made a sound of protest. "I'm right here."

"Absolutely," Alistair said, ignoring the Doctor. "Why, I remember one time when he was being his usual rude self –"

"I beg your pardon?"

"And he was calling me all manner of names," he continued. "'Pompous, self-opinionated idiot' I believe was your choice of words that day."

The Doctor's cheeks heated with embarrassment. "Now, I'm sure I didn't –"

"Those were your exact words, Doctor, unless you intend to call me a liar," Alistair said, both hands resting on the top of his cane, and there was a boyish look to his face that made the years fall away from him.

Zoe's eyes sparkled with laughter. "Are you calling him a liar, Doctor?"

His scowl was ruined by the fact that his mouth twitched up at the corners.

"Do go on, Alistair," she said, interested to hear the end of the story. "He was roundly insulting you and then what happened?"

"He went forward a few seconds in time using an infernal TARDIS console that had been causing us so much trouble, and he went a few hundred feet to the east of the warehouse," he explained.

Zoe glanced to the Doctor, curious as to why there was a spare TARDIS console lying around UNIT, but she found him busily examining a coral strut. "Well, that doesn't sound too bad."

"He materialised right into a rubbish tip," Alistair said, and she choked on her next breath. "He came back into the room absolutely covered in rubbish: a banana peel on his shoulder, something wet and slimy in his hair. He smelt awful too, and his temper was no better."

Zoe laughed. She pressed a hand against her stomach and rocked back on her feet, laughing hard at his past misfortune. The Doctor released a long, heavy sigh filled with grievance, and he turned his new eyes onto Alistair.

"Really?" He asked, resigned. "That's the story you tell her?"

"I've got plenty more in my back pocket if you'd like me to choose another?"

"Absolutely not," the Doctor said immediately. He glanced at Zoe. "It wasn't entirely my fault –"

"I'm sure it was," she said through her laughter. She wiped her fingers beneath her eyes. "I just like that you insulted him first and then karma kicked you roundly in the ass."

Alistair looked down at his feet and laughed at that.

"The two of you are horrible," the Doctor decided, "and I regret every introducing you."

"I'm afraid you're far too late to do anything about that now," Alistair said. "Zoe and I are good friends now."

"Absolutely," she agreed, flashing him a wide grin. "So you, dear Doctor, are shit out of luck."

"Don't you need to say goodbye to Harriet?" The Doctor asked, scrambling for a way to separate the two before any more of his past became public knowledge.

He didn't mind Zoe knowing those stories but he was suddenly aware of just how many Alistair actually had about him. The look in her eyes let him know that she knew exactly what he was doing, but she let him do it anyway. She turned to Alistair, and they embraced each other with the affection of friends. The Doctor watched as his old friend whispered something into Zoe's ear that made her nod her head before they released each other. She kissed his soft white bristles and left them alone as she slipped out of the TARDIS to say her farewells to Harriet Jones.

"What did you say to her?" He asked.

"Mind your own business," Alistair replied lightly, and the Doctor scowled. "I was thinking to invite you round for Christmas dinner since you're actually on Earth for it for a change, but it seems that you have a perfectly nice place to spend it this year."

The Doctor hummed his agreement. "As long as Jackie doesn't kill me with her cooking, I'll be fine."

Alistair rapped his knuckles against the Doctor's arm in a gentle chastisement. "You've got a rather lovely group of friends, but I've found you've always been particularly lucky in that regard."

The Doctor smiled, content. "I have, haven't I?"

"You should be careful though," he said quietly, his concern slipping through. "You're going through your regenerations a little quickly. How many are left now?"

He hesitated. "Two."

Alistair breathed in deeply. "Please be careful. I know you can't always be given your life, but they must last longer than your previous body. Two or three years isn't enough. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for Zoe."

He swallowed against the knot of emotion in his throat. "Careful, Brig. You're sounding as though you care."

"Don't be a fool," Alistair said. "Of course I care."

The Doctor felt awkward and uncomfortable in the face of Alistair's obvious concern. He cleared his throat and said the first honest thing that came to his mind. "I'm glad you were here. I think it helped the others having someone who's seen it happen...I know it helped me."

Alistair gave a small nod of acknowledgement. "Although, I don't recall it being that violent. What's changed?"

"Probably the effect of Gallifrey being gone," the Doctor said. He didn't remember much about his previous regeneration but that wasn't a surprise; there wasn't a lot he remembered of the immediate aftermath of using the Moment just a dark, aching stretch of pain and grief. "Who knows? Regeneration is a tricky beast at the best of times, and I had just been stabbed."

"Yes, enjoy that conversation with Ms Tyler later," Alistair laughed, and the Doctor's face pulled into a fresh scowl. He held out his hand. "Let's not leave it so long next time. I have a bottle of brandy that I wouldn't mind sharing with an old friend."

"That sounds like a plan," the Doctor promised, taking his hand and pulling him into a hug, patting him on the back. "Take care of yourself, Alistair. And give my love to Doris and the kids."

Alistair patted his arm fondly before adjusting his grip on his walking stick. The Doctor watched as he went off to speak with Major Blake who waited for the prime minister to finish her conversation with Zoe. His eyes swept over Harriet and Zoe, their conversation looking serious from a distance, before he stepped away from the door and back into the TARDIS properly. Jackie had disappeared to the flat to get the turkey going and to ensure that Llewellyn got home safely, something he appreciated her dealing with that. He wasn't sure where Jack had got to after tending to his wound but Mickey had rushed out of the TARDIS like he was on fire, disappearing with a mutter about helping Jackie.

The Doctor wasn't sure what that meant, and he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He walked back up the ramp and smiled when he saw Rose standing there, pulling the sleeves of her pink hoodie down over her hands, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders. He absently noted that she needed to dye her hair again as her dark roots were beginning to show. He kept meaning to take her to a salon on Wednesday – not the day, but the planet – as it had the best salons in the Milky Way and she could have her hair dyed there permanently or simply ensure that it last longer than the it took for her hair to grow and her roots started to show.

"Hello, hello," the Doctor smiled, bounding up the ramp. He was filled with energy, and he wondered when he was going to crash. He was pleased though as he was really handling his regeneration better than normal. "You weren't here just now. Where did you sneak off to?"

"I didn't sneak," she said, sounding off."You were too busy tryin' to get naked."

He grinned. "Got to check out the new body. There are all sorts of things I don't know about it yet. Like scars!" She jumped at his sudden rise in volume. "I might have a scar I don't know about. Ooo, I hope it's something interesting like Dumbledore with his scar of the London Underground."

"Dumbledore's not real."

"He might be," he said, teasing. "Hogwarts might be completely real."

She hesitated. "Is it?"

"Nah," he admitted, "but wouldn't it be great if it was?"

Rose rolled her eyes, and he noticed that she wasn't looking at him – not directly anyway. He shifted so that he was in front of her, and her eyes fell to a point just over his shoulder. He slipped his face into her eyeline but her eyes darted away again. He frowned, confused.

"What's going on?" The Doctor asked, trying to get her to look at her, making himself dizzy in the process. "Why aren't you looking at me?"

"I am."

"No you're not."

"Shut up, I am."

"Nuh-uh," he said, bouncing around in front of her. "You're looking anywhere but me. Look at me, Rose. Look at me. Look at me. Look at me. Look –"

"Oh my god!" Rose exclaimed, frustrated. Her eyes snapped to him and he stopped bouncing. "There! Happy now?"

"I'd be happier to know why you don't want to look at me," the Doctor said before a thought struck him. "Oh dear...just how ugly am I?"

Her cheeks filled with colour, and she looked away from him again, pulling on the ends of her sleeves, mumbling. "You're not."

"What was that?"

She sighed, aggrieved. "You're not ugly, okay?"

He grinned at her. "Little bit sexy?"

"I hate you so much right now," she told him "Why didn't you tell us you could go around changin' your face? Why d'you let us find out like that?"

"Oh," the Doctor said, mirth fading from him. "I – well – it's not something I thought about, to be honest. I mean, Zoe knew –"

"Zoe knew?" Rose asked, voice high and betrayed.

He winced. "Yeah, but only because she's met a future version of myself. That's all. Remember? That night we met Jack and she was there but from the future?" Rose nodded. "She was off with me from the future and that me had a different face."

Rose fell silent and just stared at him. Her eyes flicked over his face, and he saw the lack of recognition in her eyes. There was none of the usual warmth he was used to in her face; none of the easy affection and banter that formed the basis of their friendship. It hurt him that she looked right at him and didn't recognise him.

"I'm still me," he told her softly, "just in a different package, that's all." He patted his stomach. "Little thinner though, which is weird, but I'll get used to it."

"Can you – can you change back?" She asked, traces of hope coating her words and his hearts sank further.

"Do you want me to?"

"Yes."

He felt the pain of that. "Oh."

"Can you?"

"No," he said, disappointed, looking at the floor. He hadn't expected this, particularly not when everyone else had taken it in their stride. Even Jackie had accepted it easily, muttering something about alien nonsense before hugging him and giving his bum a squeeze, ignoring his horrified yelp. "Do you want to leave?"

Shock whipped across her face. "Do youwant me to leave?"

"No!" He exclaimed. "No, of course not, but...your choice...if you want to go home..."

He trailed off uselessly. He desperately didn't want her to leave. He knew that Zoe was going to stay no matter what, and Jack had nowhere else to go, but Rose had other options. He just hadn't thought regenerating would make her contemplate those options.

"Up to you," he said with a small shrug as though it didn't matter to him what she chose, "you know. You've already been here three months. Got a job and everything. Fish and chips, sausage and mash, beans on toast...Christmas dinner. Didn't Jackie say she was cooking a turkey? Although, knowing your mother, nut loaf would be more appropriate."

Rose looked down quickly, hiding a smile. Hope flashed through the Doctor.

"Was that a smile?"

"No."

"You smiled," he teased her.

"No, I didn't!"

"Oh, come on!" He exclaimed, a little annoyed. "All I did was change! I didn't go anywhere. I'm still here. I'm still the Doctor."

"It's just..." Rose hesitated. "You're so...different."

"Only with this," he gestured his hand up and down his body before tapping his forefinger on his temple. "But in here, that's all the same."

"I don't know," she muttered, unconvinced. "You're just...it's so...alien."

"I am an alien, Rose."

"I know that!" She cried, exasperated with him and the entire morning. "But you exploded an' then you disappeared an' now there's this an' it's...I don't understand how you can be the same person. You have a completely different face! You don't even have an accent any more. An' I waited all this time for you to come back an' you've just gone an' left me again!"

Oh he thought, understanding flipping a switch in his mind.

"I was dying," the Doctor said seriously, dropping all notes of teasing from his voice. "You saw that. That knife in my chest was killing me, and to save my own life I changed my body. Every single cell changed so that I could keep living. It's something my people were able to do, a quirk of evolving near the Untempered Schism –"

"That thing that messed with Zoe's head?"

"That's the one," he nodded, and fresh worry appeared on Rose's face. He hurried to reassure her. "But don't worry. Your sister's as human as they come. She won't be changing her face."

"Good."

"And to prove to you that I'm the same man you met," he said, remembering that wonderful day when he first set eyes on Rose Tyler and colour filled his universe again. "The very first words I said to you, trapped in that basement at Henrik's, surrounded by shop window dummies all those months ago...I took your hand –" he reached for her and slipped his hand around hers; his thumb moved across her knuckles lightly, "and I said one word, just one...run."

Her eyes held his, and he saw the moment acceptance hit her.

"Doctor?" She whispered.

"Hello," he smiled at her.

Tears welled in her eyes and she launched herself at him, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders and his went around her waist, lifting her from the ground. Relief flooded his senses, and he buried his face in her shoulder and smiled.

Zoe left Alistair and the Doctor behind her as she stepped out of the TARDIS still smiling over the thought of the Doctor ending up in a rubbish pile. The wind was sharp and bracing, and she hunched in on herself as it slipped through the spaces of her jumper and made her aware that she was still covered in blood. She breathed in deeply and enjoyed the smell of London. She had taken a trip to London whilst studying at university just to see what it was like in the 32nd century, and it was as futuristic and wonderful as she hoped for when she was little. It simply didn't smell right though. The air was clean – purified from the various pollution controls that were dotted around the city – and whilst that was a benefit, it didn't smell like home. She liked the sharp tang of London in the 21st century. It was comforting in a way that only things from a safe and loving childhood could be.

She rolled her neck and felt it crack satisfyingly. Her body ached. Despite the sleep she had managed to snatch after delivering the Doctor and Jack safely back to Earth, she was still sore from her mission on Skaro. Sex with the Doctor hadn't helped either. She was sore in places that couldn't be traced back to Skaro because of him, and she was torn between wanting to crawl into bed and pull the covers over her head or sinking into a hot, deep bath so that her muscles could finally relax. Her shoulder felt sore, and she gave it an experimental roll, grimacing when it tugged at her nerve endings. She shook it off and walked over to Harriet where she stood standing close to the edge of the building, looking out over the view that Zoe had grown up with. She nodded to a seated Alex as she passed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his head resting back against the wall, looking as tired as Zoe felt. She stopped next to Harriet and folded her arms across her chest in an attempt to steal some warmth back into her.

"Is this your life now?" Harriet asked. "This wonderful, terrifying madness?"

Zoe thought about saying no, but the truth was that travelling with the Doctor was wonderful and terrifying and completely mad.

"It's not always this intense," she said diplomatically, and Harriet huffed out her laugh. Her eyes were amused but unconvinced. Zoe tilted her face up to the cloudy sky and enjoyed the wind across her skin. "Most days it's just like normal travel, you know? You visit markets and ancient ruins that aren't ancient when you visit them because we have time machine, but you try new food and you meet new people; you experience all sorts of things. Today and days like it are actually a rarity."

Harriet shook her head slowly, her diaphragm expanding with a deep breath. "Is this really the life you want for yourself?"

"For now, yes," Zoe said without hesitation. "You forget, I've had the quiet life. I had six years in France, four in Massachusetts, and seventeen years here in London. It's not the life I ever expected when I was seventeen, nor one I thought would last long, but it's my life now, and I like it."

"Do you worry that you're going to change?" Harriet asked, worrying a hangnail on her thumb, pressing down against it to feel a dull throb of pain. "That one day you'll look in the mirror and that you won't recognise yourself?"

Zoe considered her question seriously, though she half-suspected that Harriet was asking herself that same question.

"I think..." she began thoughtfully, choosing her words carefully, "that we all change. Life is about change, isn't it? It'd be properly boring if we all stayed who we were throughout the whole of our existence. Nothing new would ever happen; it would just be the same thing day in and day out. So no, I'm not worried I'm going to change because the person I see in the mirror...that's always going to be me. I'm going to be able to trace the thread of my life back from that day, to here, to Downing Street, to my birth. I'm always going to be Zoe Tyler."

Harriet looked away from her and out over the vista of London. Throughout her life she had gathered friends close and held them dear to her, making time for them even now that her life had changed beyond her wildest imaginations, but there were certain feelings that she found herself unable to discuss with them. Every time she attempted it, her concerns were brushed aside – not out of malice but simply because they didn't understand. Harriet didn't fault her friends their ignorance. Before becoming Prime Minister, the burdens of the job and how it changed a person were of no concern to her. Yet she was changing. Her decision to utilise Torchwood, even if she chose not to go through with it, was an example of that. She had never thought she was the type of person to choose violence over peace, but she had come close, and the only person she felt comfortable discussing it with was Zoe Tyler.

"Do you worry that there's a day coming when you won't recognise yourself?" Zoe asked, turning the question back onto her.

Harriet's lips twisted into a humourless smile. "Politics is a dirty game. The higher you rise, the dirtier you get."

"And you've just positioned yourself as world leader," Zoe observed. "Students for generations are going to be studying that speech you gave this morning. People are going to be looking to you to guide them now that they know we're not alone in the universe."

Harriet's face flickered with uncertainty and a hint of fear.

"I was only ever meant to be a backbencher," she admitted, letting her trust in Zoe lay her vulnerabilities between them. "I was never supposed to be in Downing Street that day. The prime minister had already cancelled our appointment when the ship crashed but I came in anyway. It was foolish, but I just wanted someone to listen."

"Now the whole world is listening," Zoe said with a wry smile. She turned and took Harriet's hands within hers. "Listen to me. I know that you're scared – of course you are, anyone with any sense would be. But you're a good woman, Harriet. This world needs good people in positions of power to effect change and to set us on a course for something better."

"And what gives me the right to be that person?" Harriet asked. "Who am I to decide the fate of an entire planet?"

Zoe considered her question, and Harriet was grateful for the fact that she didn't receive a glib response as her answer.

"I think the very fact that you're asking these questions of yourself," she said, "makes you the best person for the job."

"Prime Minister," Blake said from the side, and both Harriet and Zoe started in surprise. They hadn't heard him approach. He stood at a respectable distance from them so as not to overhear in to their conversation. Behind him Alistair was speaking to Alex, showing him pictures of his newest grandchild. "Your car is downstairs waiting for you."

"Ah, yes, thank you, major," Harriet replied, pulling her hand back from Zoe's. "I just need a few more minutes with Ms Tyler."

"Of course, ma'am," he said, and he made to leave before he stopped and turned back to Zoe. He snapped to attention and saluted her. Surprised delight climbed up through her. "An honour, ma'am."

She smiled at him. "The honour was mine, Major Blake. Thank you."

He inclined his head and left them alone to allow Alistair to angle the photograph and receive the proper adulation of his grandson who strongly resembled a reddened sack of flour.

"It's a shame that you're going to leave the planet," Harriet said, pulling their conversation back to more light-hearted territory. "I like having someone who isn't afraid to tell me the truth and to argue with me. You'd be surprised how quickly that stops when you become prime minister."

"I don't know," Zoe said. "I've seen prime minister questions."

"Of course you have," she laughed. "That doesn't count though. It's simply an exercise in bullying disguised as accountability." Zoe snorted. "I don't suppose I could tempt you into staying and joining my office, could you?"

"I think it's better for our friendship that we don't work together," she said honestly. "Besides, there's still so much I want to see out there. Planets to explore, people to meet, trouble to get into. I can't wait for it."

"I suspected you were somewhat mad when we met," Harriet said dryly, and Zoe laughed, unoffended. "It's been so good to see you again."

"It has," she agreed, eyes soft with tender affection. "And if you need a reminder that you're still the same person I met in Downing Street all those years ago – sorry, months ago for you – then remember that when you had the opportunity, you didn't destroy the ship."

Reminded of her decision, Harriet looked away from her and out over the horizon.

"I'm not convinced that was the right decision to make," she admitted. "I imagine it's something I'm going to wrestle with for some time. Though please don't mistake me; my decision today was based solely in this context. Torchwood is here to stay. There may be a day when we're not fortunate enough to have the Doctor here to save the day and we may need them."

"Since I still don't know exactly what Torchwood is," Zoe said with the smallest hint of an edge to her words, "I'll just say this: if you have a weapon like what Torchwood appears to be to hand, then you'll always be tempted to use it. The best thing to do is to get rid of it for good and remove the temptation before you do something that can't be reversed."

"Perhaps," Harriet began, "we're going to have to agree to disagree on this point."

Zoe, worn thin by the last three days and not wanting to argue a point she didn't fully understand, let the conversation come to an end. "For now at least."

"Come here, my precious girl," Harriet said, opening her arms. Zoe willingly stepped into them, hugging her with a fierce affection that wasn't dimmed by their disagreements. Her breath warmed Zoe's ear as they hugged, and it was exactly what she needed in that moment. "Please be safe out there."

"I will," Zoe promised, swallowing against the knot of emotion in her throat. "And you be amazing here."

Harriet pulled back at wiped away the wetness from her eyes. "Don't be a stranger."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

Harriet pressed a kiss to her cheek before she left her standing on the edge of the building. She turned and waved goodbye to Blake, Alex, and Alistair. She remained standing there, the wind buffeting her from behind, and she sat on the edge of the building. She bent in half and rested her forehead on her knees, sleep pulling at her from all angles. She might have fallen asleep had it not been for –

"I have a mole."

Zoe raised her head and looked up at the Doctor. It took her a moment to realise that in the time he had been left unsupervised, he had partially undressed himself. His bare chest was the first thing she saw: pale and streaked with dried blood. She blinked at him, half-offended by how pale he was. Despite the overcast day and promise of drizzle later, his paleness was close to blinding. A quip about needing sunglasses rose to her lips before she looked up into his face, and it fell away. He looked happy about his discovery and eager to share it with her. She was reminded of Reinette discovering something new – a new flower or a new dessert – and how her first thought had always been to seek Zoe out and share it with her. When she had started to feel the same, when her first thought was to hunt down Reinette and tell her about the new weird thing that she had discovered about the 18th century that day, she realised she was in love. The fact that she was the Doctor's port of call for such things caused a huge surge of affection to crash through her for this strange man who changed everything for her. She found it difficult to speak for a few seconds, struggling to wrestle her emotions under control.

"A mole?" She asked when she was able to speak normally once more.

"Between my shoulder blades," he said, turning in a circle so that she could see his back. He was much thinner than he had been; she was certain it wouldn't be difficult to wrap her arms around him. "I have a mole."

Zoe rose to her feet, a little unsteady, and she found the mole with her eyes. It was small, brown, and settled directly between his shoulder blades. She reached out and pressed the tip of her finger against it. Fine goosebumps erupted across his skin at her touch.

"Do you like the mole?" She asked curiously, letting it rest beneath her fingertip.

"I love the mole."

She fought against her smile.

"You're a strange, strange man," Zoe informed him fondly, stroking her finger down the length of his spine to watch a shiver roll through him. She poked him in the hip, and he turned. "Have I told you that?"

"Once or twice," he grinned down at her. "More frequently when we first met than of late."

"Perhaps I should start again," she said before pressing the back of her hand to her mouth to cover her yawn. He watched her. "Where's Rose?"

"She's gone to have a nap," the Doctor answered. "Jack too. They're both tired. As are you by the looks of it."

"I have had three very busy days," Zoe reminded him. "And it didn't help that my best mate kept me up late the other night."

His mouth dropped open. "Zoe Tyler, you were a willing participant to those shenanigans!"

"Is that what we're calling it?"

"I don't know," he said, attempting to get closer to her but he was clumsy with his new limbs and ended up stumbling into her. She was strong and stable and kept them both from falling over the side of the building. He blinked down at her. "What do the cool kids call it?"

"I was never a cool kid," she reminded him, amused by the faint hair sprinkled across his chest. "I know what Jack would call it though."

"Please don't," the Doctor requested, face pinched.

She laughed before she took the tip of her finger and pressed it into his sternum, pushing him away from her. "You need to have a shower and wash that blood off. Then you need to put some clothes on to cover up all this naked alien flesh."

"You like this naked alien flesh." He waggled his eyebrows just to see he could. He was delighted with the result.

"That's neither here nor there," Zoe replied, keeping her eyes determinedly on his face. His smile turned sly and knowing. Aware that he liked to choose a different outfit for each body, she used the opportunity to change the subject. "What are you going to wear anyway? Please say something sensible."

"Hey, all my clothes are sensible."

"Sure thing," she said, covering her mouth with her hand and coughing the word celery into it.

He raised his eyebrows. "I would like to point out that I've never started a riot based on what I was wearing."

"That was one time!" She protested, cheeks flushing with colour at the memory. "And how was I to know short denim skirts weren't appropriate. It's not like they were any signs."

"I seem to recall Jack very politely suggesting that you change," the Doctor remembered with a grin, "and you giving him a long and very detailed lecture on feminism in return. You made the poor boy look like someone had kicked a puppy in front of him."

"And I recall someone –" she eyeballed him pointedly, "telling Jack that it was perfectly fine for me to walk around half-naked on a planet that has very draconian views about female modesty." She dropped the timbre of her voice and picked up a Northern accent. "'Leave her alone, captain; there's nothing dangerous about this place unless you count the low doorways.'"

"I don't sound like that."

"Well, not any more," she said, speaking normally. "Give me a few weeks though to get this new voice of yours down, and then you'll be sorry."

"I'm terrified," he teased, and she pressed her tongue into her cheek to avoid laughing.

"Come on," she said, taking him by the hand and leading him back into the TARDIS. "No sense you freezing to death because you want to make me all weak-kneed at the sight of your chest."

"Is it working?" He asked curiously.

Zoe laughed. "I need at least a week of sleep and a gallon of coffee before I even think about going weak-kneed over you again."

"You and your coffee," the Doctor said, not the least bit offended by her lack of interest. "You have a problem."

"I agree: many, many problems," she said. "And most them of can be traced be to you."

"Hey!" He protested, swinging their hands between them as they walked out of the console room in the direction of her bedroom. "I resemble that remark."

She shoved him gently with her shoulder, and he only swayed under it. He opened her bedroom door for her and gestured grandly inside. Her bedroom was exactly how they had left it the previous morning and some tension that she had been unknowingly carrying in her shoulders left her at the easy familiarity of it. She dropped his hand and reached for the hem of her jumper that was stuck to her skin, struggling to get it off. She managed to get it over her head when she got it tangled up in her hair. The Doctor's hands moved to help strip it from her. He shook it out and looked at it.

"I might be able to save this," he said, but his voice was filled with doubt.

"Just toss it," she said, pushing her hair back from her face. "I've got other jumpers."

She walked into her bathroom, her counters cluttered with various lotions and toothpaste and hair serum that she used to wrestle her hair into some semblance of order, and she wet her face towel. As she wiped the blood from her skin, choosing her bed over a bath, she raised her voice so she could continue speaking with the Doctor.

"How do you decide on what to wear anyway?" She asked him. "Got a rack full of model-ready outfits to flick through?"

"No," he said, voice much closer than expected. She looked around and saw him standing in the doorway watching her. He held out his hand. "Here, let me do that." She passed the wet cloth to him and stood patiently as he cleaned the blood from her skin. "I just have a browse through the wardrobe normally and see what feels right."

"But why do you only wear one thing?" She asked. "Why not shake it up a little? You've got a whole wardrobe full of pretty amazing clothes but you stick with one outfit. Why?"

"Who wants to be bothered with deciding what to wear every morning?" He scoffed. "It's boring – even Jack doesn't mess with what works. Trousers, shirt, jacket, and he's good to go."

"Yeah, but Jack dresses, y'know, normally."

"What are you trying to imply?" He asked, rubbing at a patch of dried blood by her bellybutton.

"You've worn velvet coats, checked trousers, a rainbow coat, used an umbrella as a fashion accessory, looked like someone from down the docks, and donned bow tie without irony," Zoe told him. "You don't exactly pass as a normal bloke here on Earth."

"I'm sorry," he paused, "a bow tie?"

Zoe realised she had accidentally said something she shouldn't have. "Er – spoilers?"

He blinked but let it pass. "I don't want to look like a normal bloke. I'm not a normal bloke. I'm a Time Lord."

"You practice that in a mirror, do you? - hey!" She jerked away from where he tickled her side. "Not fair!"

"You could always help me choose," he offered as she took the cloth from him and ran it under the tap, squeezing out a stream of pinkish water before applying it vigorously to his own stained skin. "Keep me away from the vegetables."

"With how exhausted I am, I might sign off on something worse than you'd choose if you were alone," Zoe said. "I'm going to sleep, then I'm going to wake up and eat Christmas dinner and open presents, and then I'm going to sleep some more. And no alien – no matter how much I like him – is going to distract me from that."

"Have I told you," he began with a brush of heat in his voice that made her skin tingle, "how much I like it when you get all firm and teacher-y? Put your glasses on and say it again."

He surprised a laugh out of her. "My glasses? Really?"

"I didn't get the chance to appreciate them properly earlier," the Doctor told her. "Give 'em another whirl for me?"

She tossed the bloodied cloth into the sink to deal with later and gave him a little push away from her.

"Go and put some clothes on, you degenerate," Zoe told him. "You'll see me wearing them soon enough."

"Promise?" He asked cheekily, stealing a kiss from her – brief and fleeting – before he ducked when she tossed a dry sponge at his head.

He disappeared from her bedroom laughing. Only when he was gone did she let herself laugh as well. He really was the most ridiculous man she had ever met, but she did love him.

She pulled off the rest of her clothes and found one of Jack's T-shirts in her chest of drawers, pulling it on so that it fell down her thighs, and she climbed into her bed. She lay down beneath the covers and groaned in contentment. Her muscles twitched as she finally relaxed, secure in the knowledge that everything was taken care of and everyone she loved was safe and well. She slowly turned her head to the side and imagined the Doctor there – his big ears and bright blue eyes and gorgeous face. Faint grief pressed against her as she mourned the loss of his face, and she closed her eyes to keep it within her mind's eye as she fell asleep.

The dull pulse of music pumped out of the wardrobe and filled into the corridors catching Jack's attention hours later. He was on his way to the kitchen to make a cup of tea, but he changed direction and followed the music. After sleeping the whole day away, he felt much better. His wound throbbed whenever he moved too quickly and his leg felt stiff down one side, but it was clean and already beginning to heal thanks to his 51st century biology. He didn't know how Zoe and Rose put up with healing at a glacial pace: bruises lasting for days before they disappeared and cuts slowly fading over time. Sometimes the two girls struck him as incredibly fragile and their mortality frightened him. He was no less impervious to death and injury as they were, but he, like the Doctor, was less breakable.

With those morbid thoughts in his mind, he stepped through the door into the huge wardrobe that stretched up and up towards the ceiling in a tight spiral staircase with clothes of every type, fashion, era, and pattern filling every inch of the space. The first time he saw the wardrobe he had been struck dumb by it, and he was happy to spend hours and hours exploring the different clothes and trying them on even though he generally settled for the same type of outfit time and again. He let his fingers trail over a soft feather dress that was tossed carelessly over a railing, and he moved up to where the pulsating beats of music came from. Though he didn't know it, the Doctor had AC/DC blaring through the room, his off-key voice joining the chorus whenever it came about.

Jack found himself humming along with the unfamiliar rhythm as he made his way up the winding staircase before catching sight of Zoe and Rose amidst a pile of clothes. On top of Zoe's head was an elegant top hat, and Rose was laughing as she watched her sister attempt to keep a monocle in place. The glass eye kept falling from her face into her waiting hand as she was unable to keep it where it was supposed to be. Jack smiled at the sight, remembering the young girl she had been when he came aboard the TARDIS for the first time – some of her joy had been swept away by various events so he was pleased to see her happy and carefree, acting a little bit silly with her sister.

"Have you tried superglue?" Jack suggested, pitching his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music when he stepped across an unseen border and the noise was suddenly at a more reasonable level – one ear popped. "Oh."

"For some reason there was an external sound suppressor in a fur coat," Zoe told him as Jack dug his little finger into his ear to try and balance out his hearing. "Thought I'd use it since the Doctor is trying to deafen himself."

"Is he still deciding on what to wear?" He asked, stretching his jaw, and his other ear gave a satisfying pop. He shook his head. "It's been hours."

"I found him asleep in the monolithic era," Rose said. She was sat on top of a coat that was as thick as Jack was tall, her legs folded beneath her, looking perfectly comfortable. "I had to poke him awake an' make sure he didn't end up wearin' a dress."

"He promises he'll be done soon, but that was about thirty minutes ago," Zoe picked up the thread of conversation, scrunching her nose up before tossing the monocle over her shoulder. She looked up at him, her damp hair twisted around her head in two tight braids. "You look better. How's your side?"

"Little sore, but fine," he said. "Did you both get some sleep?"

"I did," Rose said, flopping back and laughing to herself when she bounced back up: the material of the coat acting as a semi-trampoline. "Not as much as Zoe though. She was snorin'."

"I was not!"

"Yes you were," she laughed, wrapping the coat around her and mimicking how she had found her sister with deep, loud snores. "Like a bear!"

Zoe grabbed a slipper in the shape of a two-headed armadillo and hurled it at her sister. "Stop your slander!"

"Ladies, ladies," Jack said with amused calm, sliding his body to sit between them. "Violence will solve nothing."

"Satisfying though," Zoe replied, leaning in to playfully headbutt his arm. He put it around her and pulled her against his side. She shifted and, to get comfortable, draped her legs over his thighs. "Anyone want to place bets on what he's going to choose? I think I saw a flash of a pink kaftan when I had a nose earlier. I say ten-to-one he chooses that."

"Don't be mean," Rose chastised, unwrapping herself from her cocoon.

"Rosie, you haven't seen pictures of him in the past," Zoe argued. "Trust me when I say that a pink kaftan will be a significant improvement over what he's worn before. I really think we lucked out with the leather and jeans."

Jack snorted, and he wanted to see those pictures as soon as possible. "What are the odds he wears something with bananas?"

"Oh god," Zoe groaned, horrified. "I hadn't even thought of that. I know for a fact there's a silk shirt in there with bananas on it because I bought it for him."

Rose sat up. "Why'd you do that?"

"It was a moment of weakness!" She protested. "He'd been really nice to me and helping me through Reinette's death, and I saw the shirt and I just bought it without thinking about the consequences. I didn't think he'd actually wear it because he only wore jumpers."

"If he chooses that shirt, I'm burnin' it an' then I'm burnin' you," Rose threatened.

Zoe's mouth dropped open. "You'll burn me?"

"Like Mickey's attempt a birthday cake," she assured her.

"You are really mean when you're hungry," Zoe said but there were crinkles of laughter in the corners of her eyes.

The three of them chatted easily together. Despite the time that they had spent apart, they fell back into the patterns of who they were to each other seamlessly. Light teasing filled their conversation and laughter dominated the air around them. Zoe felt alert and light-hearted: sleep, shower, and coffee had been exactly what she needed in order to feel like herself again. That morning felt like a lifetime ago, the memory lightly dulled by a sleep so deep that she was surprised Jackie's call to tell her that dinner was on the table within the hour was enough to wake her. Everything felt different, lighter and happier. It felt as though she was experiencing a brand new day with the griefs and troubles of the past behind her. She doubted that the feeling was going to last long so she was determined to enjoy it as much as she could before it faded from her.

"Do either of you have any idea where we're going to go after Christmas?" Jack asked, speaking through a mouthful of bobby pins as he fixed one of Zoe's wonky braids that was annoying him, trapping her between his thighs as she settled on the floor in front of him. "Has he said anything?"

"I've asked to go somewhere hot and relaxing," Zoe told them, trying not to fidget as Jack's fingers worked through her hair. "A resort where I can lie on a beach, drink cocktails, and just relax. No fate of the universe on my shoulders, no worrying about my idiot friends –"

Jack gave a gentle tug on her hair, and she grunted.

"Just sun, beach, fruity drinks, and the people I love," she continued. "I also need to go back and take my final exams, but that'll only take two weeks. And Massachusetts is lovely in the summer. There'll be plenty to do there if you decide to stick around for all of it. Can't say I'll be much company though. I'm imagining there'll be a lot of stress in my immediate future."

"I like the idea of a resort," Jack said, sliding a bobby pin into place. "Toss in some sex and it's perfect."

"With me?" She asked, momentarily concerned.

"I mean, I won't say no," he said, and Rose groaned, disgusted at the image. "But I meant with other people. Although, if you're offering –"

"I'm not," she quickly assured him, cheeks hot. She looked at her sister desperate to move the conversation on. "What about you? Fancy a holiday at a resort?"

"Let me think." Rose rolled her eyes. "Spendin' time at a resort or spendin' time on the estate with Mum and Mickey. What a hard decision to make."

"I also want to drag Mickey and Mum with us," Zoe said, blithely ignoring her sister's sarcasm and delighting in the horror that flashed across her face. "Don't look like that. I've barely spent any time with them the last few years. I want everyone I love in one place having fun and relaxing. I want eyes on you all at all times. Consider it your Christmas gift to me."

"I've already got you a present," she groused.

Zoe looked interested. "What did you get me?"

"You have to wait like one hour to find out," Rose said with a shake of her head. "An' what is takin' the Doctor so long? Honestly, he's worse than Shareen on a night out."

Jack tied off the end of Zoe's braid and gave her shoulder a pat. "Have I met Shareen?"

"Not yet," she said, reaching her fingers up to test the braid, and she smiled gratefully at him. "But I'm sure you'll see her whilst we're here. Her and Rose always get disgracefully drunk on New Year's."

Rose grinned. "Nothin' disgraceful about it."

"So I figure if we're here for New Year's Eve then you can go and experience a 21st century London celebration," she said. "We can make it as tacky as hell for you and take you down to the London Eye."

"That's goin' to be awful!" Rose laughed, making herself bounce. "Let's do it! A proper tourist New Year's Eve so you get the crap experience before we give you the native one."

Jack looked thrilled. "I'm – what's the expression? In for that?"

"Down for that," they said in unison.

Zoe returned to her seat next to him and crossed her legs beneath her as she looked at Rose and Jack. The change in her relationship with the Doctor had made her more conscious of how much she loved and appreciated Rose and Jack. As children, she and Rose were always close but since they started travelling with the Doctor, they had become even closer. It was something she was deeply grateful for it. The years that Zoe had lived and Rose hadn't echoed between them, needing something to fill the gap so that they didn't drift apart, but Zoe wasn't overly worried about that. She and Rose were bound together by love and a shared history; they would eventually be able to find a new normal that took into account Zoe's changes. Whilst Jack was relatively new in the grand scheme of things, she adored him with a fierceness that surprised her. He fit in the dynamic of the TARDIS with such natural ease that it was like he had always been there and, sometimes, Zoe forgot that he hadn't.

Four years of grating loneliness and an appreciation for telling people what she felt when she had the chance made her open her mouth.

"Can I just say," Zoe said, feeling oddly vulnerable as she usually shared her serious emotions with the Doctor, "that I really love travelling with you two. Travelling with the Doctor's great and completely amazing, but getting to share it with both of you just makes it so much better."

Rose's entire body softened at her sister's honest and earnest statement. It was something that she herself had been feeling for some time. She thought back to her first trips with the Doctor – Platform One and Cardiff in 1869 – and they were thrilling adventures that made her blood race and her heart pound. She would have been happy to continue in that same vein, and they had done for a little after the events of Downing Street, but when Zoe came onboard to travel everything became so much better because it was something she could share with her sister. And then Jack's arrival filled the empty slot that no one knew had been waiting for him. She glanced at Jack, whose face momentarily shone with more emotion than he was comfortable with, and watched as he smiled softly at Zoe. Her heart fluttered in her chest, aware of how easy it was to fall in love with him.

"I love travelling with you both too," Jack said. "Meeting you lot? Best thing that's ever happened to me."

Tears pressed into the backs of Rose's eyes. Never particularly good at dealing with strong emotions, she unfolded herself from the thick coat and launched herself at Zoe and Jack, pulling them into a tight hug as she knocked them back into a rail of evening wear best suited for dancing on the planet Fesra and which came tumbling down around them. Jack landed on the ground with a dull thud, and Zoe managed to avoid landing on his sore hip at the last moment by twisting herself onto her side. Jack laughed under the assault, wrapping his arms around both of them as they all became a confused tangle of limbs and laughter. Moments later, finally ready, that was how the Doctor found them when he stepped out of the forest of clothes and spread his arms wide.

"Ta-da!" He exclaimed like a magician performing his best magic trick. He looked down at them in surprise. "Have I missed something?"

Zoe's attempts at muffling her laughter in Jack's chest were for nought as her shoulders shook and the Doctor, always attuned to her varying moods, watched her with a look of bemusement. She gave it up for lost and struggled to sit up, requiring Jack to plant hand on her back and gave her a shove so that she was able to right herself. She pulled herself forwards and looked at up the Doctor, pleasantly surprised.

"Look at you!" She grinned, her eyes sweeping over him. He held himself open for her inspection. "That's not half-bad actually."

He wore a fitted, dark brown, pinstriped suit with a pale blue dress shirt that he kept unbuttoned at the top, offsetting it with a maroon tie underneath a long, light brown coat that hung a mere inch from the floor. It was a complete change from his previous outfit, and Zoe found herself liking it.

"Give us a whirl," Jack requested, sitting up with Rose in his lap, his arms around her waist.

The Doctor put his hands in the pockets of his coat to pull it out to his sides, and he spun in a circle for them.

"How tight is that suit?" Rose asked, peering at him with cheeky interest. "Can you even bend over in it?"

"Course I can," the Doctor scoffed, pulling one of his long legs to his chest to demonstrate and also reveal that he wasn't wearing any socks. "The material's nice and flexible, not like your Earth stuff. How you move about in those jeans of yours I'll never know." Rose rolled her eyes at the familiar complaint. "So, do I get your approval?"

"Yeah," Rose said, her tongue curling behind her teeth as she smiled, eyes bright. "You look very handsome, Doctor. Different, but handsome."

He raised his eyebrows. "Good different?"

"Just...different."

"Well, I like it," Jack said, chin on Rose's shoulder and a smile aimed at the Doctor. "It's very professor-chic."

"Oh, speaking of professor-chic, check it out," the Doctor said, digging his hand into his pocket. He removed a pair of glasses and slipped them onto his face, pleased with himself. "Now Zoe and I match!"

Zoe sat back on her elbows and laughed at him. "You don't even need glasses."

"Nope," he said, popping the p, "but I like the way they make me look, and I think it adds some gravitas to an otherwise youthful appearance. Can't be having people doubting me in the middle of a crisis. The glasses say – ooo, look at this handsome man, he clearly knows what he's talking about, let's listen to him."

Jack didn't attempt to smother his laughter. "Is that what you think they'll say?"

"You're ridiculous," Rose told him, her cheeks aching from smiling and laughing so much. "Completely barmy."

He rocked on his feet, happy with the assessment. "Yep."

"Well, I think you look very nice," Zoe told him honestly. She was pleased, and more than a little relieved, by how decent his chosen outfit was. Both of them knew that she wouldn't have minded if he had chosen to wear a pink kaftan with sparkling boots, but she would have teased him mercilessly for it. He was happy with his new clothes as well; they felt comfortable and right. "I'm going to miss the leather though. I really loved the smell of that leather jacket."

Jack groaned happily, rubbing his forehead against the side of Rose's neck. "God, it smelt amazing, didn't it?"

"It really, really did," Rose agreed, and the Doctor recognised the look on her face as the one she got when ate a really good packet of chips. "When it was all mixed in with his cologne as well an' you'd hug him, an' it was just...yeah."

The Doctor observed them, openly baffled at their shared reminiscences. "There's something undeniably strange about you three."

Zoe snorted and rose to her feet. "Probably the company we keep."

It took him a second to hear the insult, and his face – so much more expressive than the last – twisted with understanding. "Hey!"

"Come on," she encouraged them, brushing the front of her dress down to get rid of the lint and dust that clung to it from rolling amongst the clothes. "Mum's putting dinner on the table, and I am so hungry right now I might eat Jack."

The man in question looked up with a curious expression. "Why me?"

"You look like you're the tastiest."

"Well, I've had no complaints before," he said lasciviously, and they all groaned.

Rose gave him a small shove that toppled him over again, and the Doctor reached for Zoe's hand. She gave it to him and leaned in so she could rest her forehead against his upper arm briefly. His suit didn't smell like him yet, but she knew it was only a matter of time before he absorbed his cologne and the faint scent of chalk dust and lime that clung to him no matter what. She let herself enjoy the warmth of him as they left the wardrobe and made their way out of the TARDIS. When they stepped outside, she was surprised to find that night had fallen in their absence. Above their head, a few stars were visible through the light pollution, and her hand squeezed the Doctor's in quiet surprise when a firework exploded overhead and shimmers of green glittering light rained down over the city.

"Fireworks," Jack breathed in delighted surprise, his face tilted up towards the sky and a soft expression settled on his entranced features. "I love fireworks. When I was a kid there used to be some for special occasions like colonial anniversaries or whenever something was completed in the shipyards. My brother and I used to climb to the top of the sand dunes to try and touch them. Our mother told us that if we were able to bottle the light then she'd make us our favourite cake."

"That's really sweet," Rose said softly, arm looped through his. "You don't talk about your family much. I just realised that."

"Not much to talk about," he lied quietly. "Dad and brother are dead; Mum and I don't really talk much any more. I've just got my memories."

A warm, solid hand came to rest on his shoulder, and the Doctor spoke with understanding. "I know that feeling. It's a nice memory though. I can see you trying to do that – the impossible."

"Not impossible," Jack said with an knowing glance at Zoe, "just improbable."

She smiled at him and took his hand within her free one, looking up at the sky with him. The four of them stood there and watched as the fireworks exploded above them. They knew they needed to go down into the flat where Jackie and Mickey were waiting, but not one of them wanted to move before they were ready. Standing there, the four of them, who had been through so much together, felt at peace.

"Once all Zoe's loose ends are tied up, holiday included," the Doctor said into the comfortable silence, "does anyone have somewhere they'd like to go next?"

"I'm easy," Jack said, leaning back against the Doctor's chest, softly happy with the fireworks in the sky and his friends around him. "I'm sure it'll be great no matter where we go."

"As long as we're together," Zoe said honestly, "I'm fine with whatever our destination is."

"Rose?" The Doctor asked, lifting his arm to give her space against his side. "Any requests?"

Rose looked up at the night's sky, and she imagined it filled with hundreds of thousands of stars that spread like glittering gems across the black canvas. The bright, colourful lights of the fireworks spread across her vision and were reflected in her eyes. It didn't matter where they went. She didn't care about their destination. All Rose cared about was that the four of them got to explore the universe together. The Doctor, her sister, Jack, and herself – nothing else mattered to her. Lifting her arm, she pointed in a direction away from the fireworks and wondered what was out there. Three sets of eyes followed her finger, and she looked at the Doctor.

"There."

"There?" He asked with a gentle tease, pointing in the same direction.

A shy, pleased smile stretched across her face, and she nodded. "Right there."

"All right then," the Doctor said, drawing them closer to him so that he had all three of them within his arms. "There it is."

And they stood there in the cold air of a Christmas night and let themselves dream of adventures still yet to come.

The End

Team TARDIS will return

on

in 2020