Author's Note: This story takes place after Waters of Mars but before End of Time in Doctor Who and after Children of Earth in Torchwood. Yes, another one of those CoE aftermath fics. Sorry, but I just had to get the idea out of my head.

Anyway, there may be a few question marks for people as far as plot continuity, etc. are concerned, especially because I have UNIT digging through the remains of the Hub though we have already seen those government agents investigating it in CoE. My justification for this is that the government people were only looking for Jack's remains, and that UNIT took over in order to find every bit of technology, etc. that might have survived and prevent it from falling into the wrong hands.

WARNINGS: Copious amounts of angst as well as some slashy undertones between Jack and the Doctor, though it's mostly one-sided. The way it ends leaves things a bit AU as well, unless you just assume that they part ways at some point before EoT.

She found Jack sitting in a dark corner of one of the seediest bars in the city. She might have felt a little nervous walking into the trashy establishment if it weren't for the weapon tucked inside her jacket and the fact that she had been in worse places before. Nearly all of the bar's patrons were both foul-smelling and unkempt, and they watched her unanimously as she stepped through the door, their bloodshot eyes watering with a hunger she had no desire to feed.

Keeping her posture alert and wary, she ignored cat calls and dodged groping hands with as much dignity as possible, managing to reach his table without incident. She found her nerves finally asserting themselves when she saw his pale features up close, all the more striking for the week's growth of dark stubble along his jaw and the haunted shadow in his eyes that turned their denim blue to stormy gray. Settling uncomfortably on the chair across from him, she folded her hands on the table to stop herself from fidgeting. He didn't even look up from his glass of amber liquid.

"Hey, stranger," she said gently. "I've been looking for you."

He looked up at her, but didn't say a word. She had never been afraid of Jack before-his self-assurance had intimidated her at first, his bold method of flirtation had made her blush on more than one occasion, but he'd never once frightened her. The look in his eyes now, though, scared her more than the rest of the shady blokes in the bar combined.

"I heard what happened."

"And I suppose you're here to fix me then, Doctor Jones?" he said in a poor imitation of his own voice.

"Jack," she murmured before reminding herself that she didn't have time to mourn her friend if she was going to help the wreck in front of her remember who he used to be. "I can't fix it, but I'm here to help in any way I can."

He threw the rest of his drink back in a violent gesture. "Then you can help by leaving me alone."

"This isn't you, Jack," she protested. "This isn't how you deal with things. And I'm not going anywhere until you find yourself again, mister."

"You think you know me so well," he said with a bitter chuckle. "You don't know anything about me, Martha Jones. The man I have been around you...he's not the man I really am. He's the man the Doctor made me, the farce he inspired me to play. But I don't see the point anymore."

"I don't believe you," she insisted, lifting her chin high and refusing to bend.

Looking away sharply, he reached for the bottle on the table and poured the rest of the liquid into his glass. The smell of the stuff was strong enough to sting her eyes. "You shouldn't be here," he muttered. "This place is dangerous, even for UNIT Medical Officers."

"I'm not afraid."

"No," he agreed, lifting his glass at her in a mock salute, "and that's why you're the hero."

"You're a hero too, Jack." She leaned forward. "You saved them, the children of this world."

"I murdered my grandson." He enunciated the words with incredible clarity for someone who had already consumed at least one bottle of ninety-proof alcohol.

"You did what you had to do. The Doctor would have done the same thing."

Draining his glass, he growled, "No. He wouldn't have. He would have found a better way. He always does."

"He murdered his entire race," she reminded, "including his own children and grandchildren. You aren't the only one who has been forced to make a terrible decision."

Jack's hand trembled against his empty glass, and she reached out to cover it with one of her own, relieved when he didn't flinch away.

"Gwen is worried about you," she said gently. "She wants you to come home."

Voice unbelievably weary, he replied, "I don't have a home. And she is better off without me. She's going to have a child soon, and I don't think..." His voice broke and he bowed his head, his hand shaking more violently than before. "I can't be around her right now."

"You can't punish yourself forever."

A bitter chuckle rumbling from his chest, he said, "Actually, I can."

"Jack." She had meant it as a reprimand, but it came out more like a plea.

Eyes softening ever so slightly, he reached up with his other hand and cupped the side of her face tenderly as if she were made of glass. "Go home, Martha. You've done all you can, but I have to work through this on my own. Gwen will probably never understand, but I know you can. You called me at least twice a week after the year that never was, remember? We would talk through the night until the memories faded enough for you to finally sleep. You know better than anyone that these kind of wounds don't heal overnight. Give me some time."

Pressing her hand against his before he pulled away, she sighed, "Okay. But you know my number. Any time you need to talk, or need anything at all, you better call me."

"I promise." Releasing the glass, he lifted her other hand and pressed his lips against her wrist. "And now, I'm going to escort you to the door. I don't trust these bums."

She didn't know if he walked her all the way back to her car out of some gallant urge from his previous life or if he had simply wanted to make sure she was gone, but he kissed her when he said goodbye. His lips tasted of alcohol and regret, but he still managed to make her blush. She believed him. He would be okay. Eventually. She just hoped he wouldn't take too long getting there.

The TARDIS was complaining at the Doctor when she limped back into the vortex, but he was still too overwhelmed by his own hubris to notice. When had he changed so much that he was willing to risk mucking about with a fixed point in time on nothing more than a whim? Had the helplessness of knowing he was going to die really made him that bold, or was something else affecting his judgment? He had lost so much in this regeneration-friends and companions-but he had never expected to lose himself. All of the loss had taken its toll, and he had grown tired of obeying his own rules, giving up what he deserved to have, and denying himself simply because he knew he should. Why should he? Who would punish him if he didn't do what was right? While the doubts had taken hold of him temporarily, a brave, selfless woman had woken him up with her death. The terrible knowledge that he had forced that decision on her by refusing to do the right thing himself made him grip at the edge of the console desperately as if it were his last hold on sanity.

He was glad for the grip a moment later when the TARDIS lurched violently. A twinge of panic brought him back to the present when he realized they were moving. She had been badly drained by all the nonsense on Mars, and he should have noticed she was running on empty. How irresponsible of him. Again, his actions had forced another to take matters into their own hands. If he didn't start correcting this pattern quickly, he was going to cause more damage than he could repair. Mentally kicking himself, he stared at the monitor with a mixture of relief and dread when he saw their destination: Cardiff, 21st century. Speaking of fixed points and poor choices. He had handled Jack badly over the years, but maybe this was a good place to start making amends.

He glanced back at the view screen in surprise when they landed and he realized that an essential burr in his senses was missing. He could not sense Jack anywhere nearby-within Cardiff, or a fifty kilometer radius of the city. Adjusting the view, his jaw dropped open in disbelief when he saw the enormous crater in the middle of the Plaza. UNIT operatives crawled over the chasm, retrieving various bits of detritus and tech from the pit that had once been Torchwood 3.

He burst out of the TARDIS before he realized he was in motion, the dread he had been feeling over an encounter with Jack turning into a different kind of dread: fear that the impossible man had somehow met an equally impossible end. He hadn't realized until that moment how accustomed he had become to the idea that Jack would live forever, or how unprepared he was for the possibility of never seeing him again.

Scanning the Plaza, he spotted a familiar face standing a bit apart from the UNIT commandos, a young woman with black hair and dark, expressive eyes. She looked haggard and worn, staring down at the ruin with an empty expression. Approaching her with no thought to the consequences, he sensed hormones emanating from her when he got closer and realized with a start that she was pregnant. The bulge was all too apparent once he made the connection, though she must have still been early in her second trimester.

She looked up at him in shock when he stepped up to the railing next to her. "You're him," she gasped. "Jack's Doctor."

Grimacing, the Doctor asked, "Is that how he talks about me? In the possessive sense?"

She shrugged. "Well, no. That's just how the rest of us refer to you, I guess. Gets confusing when you have real doctors around otherwise-not that you're not a real doctor. I just meant..." Rubbing at her forehead with a grimace, she said, "Sorry. Shall we start again? I'm Gwen Cooper."

"Yes, I remember. Great-great-whatever-relation of a nineteenth century clairvoyant named Gwyneth."

"Okay," she said, somewhat uncertainly, and he realized he must have said something rude. Again.

Nodding at the crater, he asked, "What blew up?"

She opened her mouth and then closed it, a pensive expression on her face. Trying again, she said simply, "Jack."

Balking at her, he wondered if she was speaking metaphorically or literally. While he supposed it was possible for Jack to survive an explosion that originated from inside of him, he wasn't entirely sure, and the thought of what such a death would do to Jack regardless made him squirm in discomfort.

"They implanted a bomb inside of him," she continued, "and there was no time to disarm it by the time we realized it was there. All Jack could do was put the Hub in lock-down and, well..."

"Take one for the team?" he said lightly, refusing to believe that Jack hadn't survived the experience, though she had done nothing to assure him of that fact.

Studying him, she said thoughtfully, "He never mentioned you were so..."

"Rude? Yes, I've been told that before." Tapping his fingers against the metal rail, he asked, "But about this explosion...what's UNIT doing cleaning it up?"

She shrugged, though the look in her eyes was anything but casual. "With Torchwood out of commission, I guess they think they have jurisdiction."

Arching a brow, he repeated, "Out of commission?" While he couldn't help but feel a hint of victory at the thought of Torchwood being shut down, he had to begrudgingly admit that Jack's operation had managed to do more good than harm.

"Yes. Since the 456," she said as if he should have already known the answer. Something about the weight in her gaze made him feel as if he would be judged on his reaction.

"The 456..." Eyes widening, he put the pieces together. Another fixed point, one he had never been very inclined to investigate. He knew about the price humanity had almost paid, though the history books were vague about exactly how the disaster had been averted. A sacrifice of some kind. He should have known that Jack and his team would be at the center of it. "Blimey. That time already. I didn't look at the exact date when I landed." Focusing on her again, he asked, "And they shut down Torchwood? Why?"

"Because of Jack, I suppose. The government was trying to get rid of him because he knew about the first time the 456 visited Earth. He was there."

"Was he?" the Doctor's eyes narrowed, but he quickly looked away, not wanting her to see his disappointment in her boss.

"You really don't know all this already?"

"Why does everyone always expect me to know everything?" he muttered, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

She flashed him a grin that showed off the charming gap between her front teeth. "Maybe because you travel through space and time?"

"Well, I can't keep all of it in my head all the time, especially when all the little details keep changing. So, Jack was at the center of the whole thing with the 456. I assume he survived this." He gestured at the crater.

Grimacing, she replied, "Parts of him did, yeah. Enough for him to put himself back together-just in time to get encased in concrete, as it happened."

"Concrete?" The Doctor swallowed. "That sounds...unpleasant."

"I'm sure it was. He never talks about it. He just comes back and moves on."

"Where is he now?"

Her grin disappeared entirely, cracking at the edges and fading behind a wave of emotion. "Couldn't tell you. He took off afterward. Just ran away."

Though he was not exactly in a position to judge, the Doctor didn't like the idea of Jack following in his footsteps in this fashion. "He just left your team behind?"

"Only me left now." Gwen turned to look back at the crater, refraining from blinking as her eyes turned glassy with unshed tears. "Tosh and Owen died several months ago in that whole bloody mess with Jack's brother, and Ianto..." She paused to clear her throat when her voice broke. "The 456 poisoned him."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too." Wiping at her eyes, she pulled herself together and looked up at him boldly. "So, what are you doing here now, anyway? A little late to do any good, aren't you?"

Gazing sadly down at the ruin below, he repeated, "I'm so sorry."

"Well, I suppose there's one useful thing you could do while you're here."

"What's that?" he asked, wary of the determined glint in her eyes.

"Find Jack."

Sighing, he said gently, "It's been my experience that when people run away, they don't generally want to be found."

"But you could do it, couldn't you? You could find him?"

Rubbing absently at the back of his neck, he admitted. "Probably. Yeah." Wondering why she was so desperate to find Jack, he glanced down at her stomach with a sinking feeling. "Your baby...is it...?"

"It's not Jack's, if that's what you are asking." He saw the glimmer of a ring on her finger as her hand slid over her stomach. "But he's my friend, and I'm worried about him. I can't stand the thought of him all alone out there somewhere just hurting. He ran because he couldn't be strong anymore and wouldn't let himself be weak around me, and now he's just punishing himself for the things he had to do to stop the 456."

Working hard not to betray his lack of trust in Jack's ability to make decisions that resulted in something other than violence, the Doctor asked tentatively, "What exactly did he do?"

Expression darkening, she considered him for a moment before replying, "What he had to do." Taking a deep breath, she continued, "So, are you going to go look for him?"

"I really don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not? You're his friend, aren't you?"

"I..." Hesitating, he thought of the way he had treated Jack over the years. Between abandoning him, avoiding him, and calling his entire existence wrong, the Doctor couldn't say that he had ever really treated Jack like a friend. Despite all of that, he knew that Jack would be willing at any moment to step between him and danger, and just thinking about the disparity between what he had done for Jack and what Jack had done for him made him feel slightly ill. "I don't think I'm what Jack needs right now," he said finally, hands clenching on the railing. "I've caused more of his problems than I've fixed."

"Well, maybe this is a good time to start changing that."

Looking into her kind eyes, he wondered why she was being so insistent on this. It was obvious that she only wanted Jack to be happy, and for whatever reason, she thought that he was the key to Jack's happiness. While he didn't like to think about it, he couldn't deny that she might have been at least partially right. He had always known how Jack felt about him, but it was a subject he had gotten good at avoiding over the years, a trap he inevitably fell into with at least half of his companions. How could he explain something like that to her, a woman who clearly had much more in common with Jack in this area than she did with him. She was the sort of person who loved deeply and gave freely of herself to others; her compassion was vast enough for her to share a little bit with everyone and make them each feel special without losing herself. The Doctor had never been good at that sort of thing. In fact, he was downright terrible at it.

"You have to try," she pleaded. "Not even Martha could get through to him."

"Martha," he echoed in surprise.

She nodded. "She was on her honeymoon when the 456 came, but she went looking for Jack as soon as she found out what had happened. She wouldn't say if she ever found him, but I think she did. And he scared her off. All she would say after she got back was that we can't do anything to help him right now."

Expression softening, he said with a wry smile, "But you think I can?"

"Excuse me," an authoritative voice said suddenly, interrupting them before Gwen could respond. "Doctor?"

Shifting his attention to the man in uniform, the Doctor tried not to sigh when he saw the man's stiff salute. "Hallo," he said with a little wave of his hand.

"I apologize, sir," the UNIT officer said without relaxing his rigid posture. "We didn't see you arrive. Is there anything we can do to assist you? Would you like to take a tour of the site?"

"Ah, well..." The Doctor glanced at Gwen and realized that this would be the perfect opportunity to slip out of this awkward conversation without making things worse. It would also give him a chance to find out more about the 456 and exactly what Jack had done that was terrible enough to make him want to run. Tugging at his earlobe, he said, "Sure. I'd like to look around, yeah."

"Right this way, sir." The officer turned crisply and began leading the Doctor toward the crater.

Pausing beside Gwen, the Doctor rested a hand lightly on her shoulder as he passed and said, "I'll keep an eye out for him."

Jack should have felt the cold standing on the dock in nothing but shirtsleeves, but he was too numb to feel anything at all. He had left his coat and braces back in the cheap hotel room along with his gun and vest. Today he didn't want to be Jack Harkness. He didn't want to be anyone but a stranger, a ghost passing through the lives around him without touching a single one.

So he had wandered down to the sea in nothing but a pair of blue jeans and a white button down shirt despite the nearly arctic temperature. The slate gray sky hanging over the ocean reminded him of Cardiff, but the unfamiliar surroundings of the deserted docks reassured him that he was no where near the city he had once called home. A gust of wind cut through him, scented with brine from the ocean and cold enough to make him shiver. He embraced it, closing his eyes and letting it chill him with the wish that he could just freeze to death and have it be over. But that wouldn't fix anything. He would just wake up again with frostbite, and he wasn't in the mood to deal with the inconvenience.

At first he thought the scraping sound was the noise of some equipment elsewhere on the docks. Then he convinced himself that it was his imagination. But when he heard the soft crunch of footsteps over the rocky path and then the damp wood of the docks behind him, he grimaced and closed his eyes, wondering if the Doctor would go away if he just pretended not to notice him. But the Doctor continued to approach until he was standing at the edge of the wooden dock, hands tucked in his pockets and tan coat whipping around his legs as he stared out at the sea.

Despite his numbness, Jack found that he wanted the Doctor no less now than he ever had, and one glance at that slender back and the mop of unruly hair cavorting around his head made desire clench in Jack's chest. Looking away quickly, Jack shoved his hands into his own pockets, his shivers turning into shudders as he tried to get himself under control. He had gotten rather good at ignoring the Doctor's presence when he needed to, but the months of time alone made the technique harder to employ. No matter how much he believed that he deserved to be alone, Jack was a social creature at heart, and loneliness was far from natural for him.

"Grey, dreary and cold," the Doctor noted, consonants popping off his tongue. "What a perfect place for brooding."

"If you don't like the setting, go find yourself someplace sunny and warm and leave me alone."

The Doctor glanced back over his shoulder, and one glimpse of those sad, chocolate eyes cut through Jack with more force than the icy wind. "Can't do that."

"Okay." Jack turned on his boot heel and started walking. "Then I'll leave."

A fine-boned hand caught his shoulder in a surprisingly strong grip, and Jack stopped. "I didn't plan to come here, you know," the Doctor said conversationally. "I put the TARDIS on random and she brought me here...to you. She wanted me to find you."

"Meddling women," Jack sighed, suddenly so tired of pushing people away that he didn't feel like arguing anymore. That didn't mean he was giving in or anything. Just that he wasn't in the mood for a fight.

"Tell me about it," the Doctor agreed sarcastically, his hand sliding across Jack's shoulders to the opposite arm and tugging him close against his side. Jack knew that with the Doctor's cooler body temperature he should have felt like an ice cube, but Jack must have been standing out in the frigid air long enough that even a Time Lord felt like a furnace to him. "First your friend, Gwen, and now the TARDIS."

"Gwen." The name sounded foreign on his tongue, as if it belonged to someone he had known in a different life.

"A chance meeting. We ran into each other while I was refueling in Cardiff." Turning Jack toward him and attempting to pull him into a hug, the Doctor muttered, "Blimey, Jack. You're like a block of ice. How long have you been standing out here?"

The Doctor's body heat was starting to thaw the cold Jack had deliberately wrapped around himself, and he didn't like it. Pushing him away, Jack muttered, "Not long enough."

Eyes swimming with too many emotions to be easily described, the Doctor simply stood there with his arms awkwardly spread and watched Jack back away. Letting his arms drop to his sides, he sighed. "When I arrived in Cardiff, I thought you were dead. Permanently."

A sour smirk slipped past Jack's defenses. "Well, that was pretty stupid of you."

Ignoring the jibe, the Doctor continued, "I couldn't sense you anywhere nearby. And there was this huge crater where your home used to be. I thought you might have finally found a way to die."

"You make it sound as if you would miss having a twisted anomaly in time and space around." Jack turned back to face the ocean, closing his eyes when another freezing gust of wind blew his hair out of his face.

"Jack."

"Don't." Without malice Jack elaborated, "You're not here to fuss over me. You're here because a couple of concerned ladies nudged you in my direction, and you can't refuse a beautiful woman. So why don't you save us both the trouble of an uncomfortable conversation and deliver a couple messages for me? Reassure the TARDIS that I'm not in danger of ceasing to exist any time soon, and tell Gwen that she needs to let me go. Her baby should be her main concern right now. I will be fine."

The Doctor didn't make a move to walk away, and the out-of-character reluctance he was displaying was infuriating enough to make Jack want to scream. Usually the Doctor would be running by this point. Jack didn't know how much bigger of an out he could give the guy without physically forcing him back into the TARDIS and shutting the door. He knew how the Doctor felt about him. Theirs was a friendship of convenience that worked best when innocent lives were in the balance and their goals happened to be in alignment. The rest of the time, Jack was an irritant to the Doctor's sensibilities and time senses, a handy companion to have along, but not someone to confide in or ask for advice. Jack wasn't bitter about any of this. He had learned to accept it. In many ways it made things easier. He knew exactly where he stood and didn't have to worry about establishing boundaries.

"I made a mistake, Jack," the Doctor said suddenly, anguish hiding behind his casual tone. "A terrible mistake."

"What?"

The Doctor wasn't looking at him, brown gaze focused on the ocean and expressive brows drawn low over his eyes. "Maybe I need to be here as much as you do. I have over nine hundred years of regrets ripe for wallowing. We could brood together."

In a few short sentences, the Doctor had dismantled every scrap of understanding Jack had ever managed to construct about their relationship. "What about your current companion? Won't she feel left out?" he asked impatiently.

Angular shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Don't have one. Not since Donna. It's better that way."

Jack took a step closer so that he could get a better look at the Doctor's face. "You're traveling alone," he said in disbelief.

"Is that so strange?"

"For you? Yes. And dangerous."

A wistful smile twisted his lips. "Now you sound like Donna. She said I need someone to stop me." Jack was unprepared for the headiness of the Doctor's gaze when he shifted to meet his eyes. Voice low and strangely intimate, he asked, "What do you think?"

Uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation, Jack backed away again. "I think I'm not the person to ask about knowing when to stop."

"You would have stopped me if you had been there."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Let's find out." Turning to face him and rocking onto the balls of his feet, he tilted his head back and looked down his nose at Jack. "Do you want me to undo what happened with the 456? We could do it. We could go back to the beginning, the first time they came to Earth, and stop them from ever taking a single child. What do you think?"

Pain wrenched at Jack's insides and he stumbled back against the railing along the water's edge with a grimace. Anger warring with temptation inside of him, he wanted so badly to say yes even though he knew that he couldn't. He absolutely couldn't. He remembered enough of his history lessons from the Time Agency to recognize a fixed point when he saw one. He hadn't remembered the 456 specifically, but it wasn't hard to recognize that the incident had sent ripples throughout all of human history. Slowly regaining a measure of control over his reaction and connecting the dots between the this and the Doctor's previous statements, he glared up at the Doctor. "You tried to change a fixed point?"

"I didn't just try. I did it. I saved three of the astronauts on Bowie Base One and brought them back to Earth. And it wasn't even hard! I'm a Time Lord. If I wanted to, I could change the history of the entire universe."

Disgusted by the familiar, arrogant tone in the Doctor's voice, Jack shook his head. Dryly, he asked, "Are you going to change your name to Master now?"

To his surprise, the Doctor smiled, though the expression was more vindication than amusement. "I told you that you would stop me."

"I didn't tell you to stop," Jack retorted stubbornly. "So you changed a fixed point. So what? I guess it didn't break too many things because I'm still here, and as far as I know my memories of history haven't changed. Maybe it's not such a bad idea."

Eyes narrowing, the Doctor looked down at his red chucks with a frown. "There's a reason things worked out. Captain Adelaide Brooke committed suicide as soon as I walked away. She knew what I had done, and while she couldn't stop me, she found a way to prevent my mistake from unraveling history." Without looking up, he continued in a less enthusiastic voice than before, "But it's up to you. What do you want to do? Shall we go back and fix the 456?"

"No." Jack was relieved to find that he didn't hesitate to answer.

"What about something smaller, then? We could try to save your friend. Ianto, is it?"

"Stop." The word came out half-sob and Jack clutched at the railing as another bitter wind buffeted at them, staring out at the gray, choppy ocean without really seeing it. "I want you to stop," he added in a murmur.

To his relief, the Doctor didn't say, "I told you so." Instead, he leaned back against the railing beside him, looking every bit as lost as Jack felt. Scrubbing a hand through his unruly hair, the Doctor left it standing up in an adorable mess that begged to be touched. Somehow, Jack managed to restrain himself. "This," the Doctor said so softly that Jack had to strain to hear him over the wind. "This is the point of me. Absolutely nothing. What am I good for if I can't even do this?"

Jack found his hand and clutched at it, entwining their fingers. "I said, stop." Suddenly feeling the strange urge to smile at the absurdity of it all, he nudged the Doctor with his elbow. "Some grief counselor you've turned out to be," he said affectionately.

"I tried to warn Gwen." Swallowing, the Doctor shifted his gaze back to Jack, and Jack didn't like the look in his eyes one bit. He knew what was coming next and he didn't want to hear it. "Jack, I'm-"

Twisting their hands and yanking the Doctor toward him, Jack pressed his lips against the Doctor's mouth before he could say another word. The kiss was mostly chaste, but Jack didn't pull back right away. Looking into the Doctor's wide, uncertain eyes, he said, "You need to stop apologizing for things that aren't your fault."

"But this is my fault," the Doctor insisted. "I lied to you."

Releasing the Doctor's hand when he sensed that he wasn't going to like where this was going, he took a step back and instantly mourned the warmth when a gust of wind cut between them. "About what?"

"Why I left you on the Game Station. Your presence doesn't physically cause me pain-not in the way I made it sound. What I really feel when I look at you is guilt. If my people were still alive, they wouldn't hesitate to unravel the vortex energy inside of you and undo what you've become. It would kill you instantly. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do that to you. So I ran away. And I keep running even when you're standing right beside me, as if I can ignore the guilt as long as I don't quite notice you're there."

"So, you can fix me," Jack said to clarify, drawing out what seemed to be the most important part of the Doctor's statement.

Dread contorting his features, the Doctor shook his head like a child refusing to take his medicine. "Don't. Don't ask me. If I fix you, you'll die. And you won't come back."

Strangely calm about the proposition, Jack said, "I'm tired, Doctor."

"You'll get over it. I know it's hard now, but it will get better." The Doctor didn't sound as if he entirely believed the words, but it was clear that he was determined to make Jack believe them even if he had forgotten how.

Jaw tensing, Jack regarded him with narrowed eyes. "How old are you, Doctor? Still in your nine hundreds, or are you older now?"

Brows arching in surprise, the Doctor replied, "Well, I'm not entirely certain. Difficult to keep track with all the time travel. Maybe close to a thousand by now."

Jack nodded. "I spent nearly two thousand years buried in the dirt beneath Cardiff. Unless you're really off in your reckoning, that makes me about twice as old as you now. I think that gives me the right to ask for this if I want it."

"Oh, Jack..." The Doctor's expression was pained. "I had no idea."

"Yeah. I know," Jack replied crisply. "So, are you going to help me, or not?"

Hands clenching into fists at his sides, the Doctor squeezed his eyes shut and took a slow, shaky breath. Opening his eyes again, he stepped forward and pressed slender fingertips against Jack's temples. "You're absolutely certain this is what you want?" he asked in a mournful voice, eyes pleading with Jack from only inches away; Jack chose to believe it was the cold wind and not tears that had caused the Doctor's eyes to turn moist.

Throat tight, Jack said, "You've said it yourself. I shouldn't exist."

"No." Leaning forward until their foreheads touched, he protested, "That's not a good enough reason."

Suddenly angry, Jack demanded, "Why are you fighting me on this? You've already said that my life is weighing on your conscience. I know you don't want to have to kill anyone, but my death should be a relief. And I'm asking for it!"

"Do I have to spell it out? I want you to live. I've always wanted you to live." Hands sliding along Jack's jaw until they were cupping his face, the Doctor whispered, "Don't you understand, Jack? You are the only person in the universe who has a chance of truly understanding me, the only one I can depend on to live long enough."

"So you're too selfish to let me go? Is that it?"

"Basically. Yes."

Trying to swallow the conflicting emotions welling up inside of him, Jack looked into the Doctor's eyes and demanded, "What do you want from me?"

Straightening without pulling his hands away, the Doctor visibly gathered himself for his response before saying with gravity, "I want you to buy me a drink."

The absurdity of the words belied the meaning beneath. It represented a conclusion to the little game of flirtation they had played since they met-a game that Jack had never thought meant a thing to the Doctor. "That's not funny," he stated, too emotionally strung out to interpret the Doctor's words.

Still utterly serious, though the spark in his eyes looked suspiciously like hope, the Doctor protested, "I've been waiting a long time for that drink. You would think someone with your experience would be quicker to follow through."

Rolling his eyes and shrugging away from the Doctor's touch, Jack growled, "You can't just get out of this by offering me charity sex. I'm not that desperate."

Eyes going dark with that Oncoming Storm kind of intensity that Jack had only seen in him on a handful of occasions, the Doctor whispered, "I am." Shaking his head, he continued in a slightly stronger voice, "I told you the truth because you deserve to know why I have treated you the way I have. I never expected you to ask me to go through with it."

Jack couldn't refuse the pleading look in those expressive eyes. Relenting with a deep sigh, he said, "Fine. You're off the hook. For now. But as far as I know, you're the only one who can fix me, and I have no desire to outlive the universe."

Nodding, the Doctor's shoulders relaxed marginally. "What about that drink, then?"

Jack laughed for what felt like the first time in years, seeing how uncertain the Doctor was despite the bravado in his voice and knowing he could never take advantage of him. "I appreciate the gesture, and you have no idea just how tempted I am, but we both know you don't really want that."

"I want to feel alive."

"And I want to die. Quite the pair, aren't we?"

A smile flirted with the Doctor's lips before he turned serious again. "Come with me."

Jack sighed.

"Just for a trip or two. As long as you need."

"Doctor..." Jack said wearily, though the protest sounded weak even to his ears.

"What's keeping you here?" the Doctor countered, expression set with stubbornness. " I can find you other stormy coastlines to brood on, you know-ones a lot farther away from Cardiff than here."

Shaking his head in amazement, Jack couldn't fight the smile tugging at his lips. "You aren't going to give up, are you?"

"Nope," the Doctor said, popping the 'p' with a measure of his usual spirit. "Not on you."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. This is my first Doctor Who fic, so I'm curious how you think I captured the characters (or if I did at all), so please review if you have any feedback to offer.