When Rose arrived back at the Lethbridge-Stewart residence, she found that most of the lights in the house were out, meaning Doris and Alistair had already turned in the for the evening. Rose made her way around to the back garden and slipped into the TARDIS instead of going into the house.

"Hello, Beautiful," she murmured, running her hand along the wall as she walked through halls.

The TARDIS pulsed warmly back to her. Hello, Golden One. How is our Doctor?

"Complicated," Rose answered, sighing heavily and then sending a wave of thanks to the TARDIS as she recognized the door in front of her. She pushed it open and took a deep breath, observing the oddly familiar room around her.

He is always complicated, She answered. Is the room sufficient? I tried to match it to the one in your memory and what I have seen of our future.

"It's perfect," Rose breathed, walking in further to run her hands over the dark duvet. It was a near-perfect copy of their room, his ninth regeneration's and hers, although he had always insisted in that body that it was his room. Sharing rooms...terribly domestic. Never mind that there was a drawer of her knickers in his dresser and that the closet featured just as many hoodies as jumpers. She suspected it was mostly because he could then tell Jack that Rose was sleeping in his bed. He always had been very possessive in this form.

His tenth form, eager to win back her affection after the regeneration and to prove to her that he was willing to make them work again, had insisted on a wonderful new room that was theirs (he was much better at domestic the second time around - even if he was loath to admit it) but she had many fond memories of this room, of this bed.

The TARDIS had indeed matched the room quite well, but, as Rose settled onto the large bed, she realized that even the TARDIS couldn't match the smell of him that would permeate this room later. Engine grease, leather, Time and something exotic and spicy...just him. Rose laughed as a strange mixture of those things filled the air. The TARDIS was trying. "It's fine," she said, reaching up to pat the wall over the bed. "It'll smell like him eventually and that's what's important. Where has he been sleeping since the War?"

The TARDIS hummed at her sadly and, instead of words, sent her images of a clearly exhausted Doctor stumbling around the ship, clearly avoiding sleep at all costs, followed by an image of him uncomfortably cramped and passed out on the console room floor, clearly in the throes of a terrible nightmare. They were accompanied by the TARDIS' sense of helplessness and sorrow and Rose felt them as her own.

"I'm sorry," Rose said, quietly. He'd suffered from terrible nightmares even when they were together and she had always held him tightly through his terrors, calming him with her presence and warmth. She wondered if this human version of him suffered them as well.

Standing up and stripping off her suit to find a pair of soft cotton jimjams in one of the dresser drawers, Rose then let herself curl up under the duvet in the large bed and curl into the pillow as if it were the Time Lord. She sighed deeply at the familiar textures and sounds around her and let herself fall into a deep sleep, thoughts and memories of him in the forefront of her mind.

-

Several (depending on who you ask) years prior

Jack Harkness was frustrated. Well, merely frustrated didn't even seem to cover it. He was baffled, he was beaten and he was discouraged.

And, what's more, he was frustrated in more ways than he had ever been. He was physically frustrated because this was admittedly the longest dry spell he had ever had. Too much time running around saving the universe and not enough time shagging. He was also sexually frustrated because the tension flying about this frankly magnificent timeship (and the planets they visited, and the jails they were locked in and the restaurants they ate in, and, and...well everywhere his companions went) was operating a fever pitch almost continually and the two generating it (both of whom he wouldn't mind jumping himself) pretended as if it didn't exist at all. He was being driven bonkers by a 900 year old technically asexual Time Lord and a 19 year old stubborn-as-hell human.

So, Jack Harkness, being the problem-solver, lothario and closet romantic that he was, had set about to get the two of them together for some much-deserved tension release and then to very soon get himself off this ship and to a pleasure planet for AT LEAST a week.

AND...that was finally why he was so VERY frustrated. Despite his very best efforts to push his two idiot best friends to release said tension, at every turn he was stonewalled, stymied or stunned by one or both of them.

He'd nicked the sonic and locked them in a very small broom closet together ("accidentally") - and the Doctor had used a spare to get them out. He'd arranged for Rose to be harmlessly kidnapped and sold into a king's harem where she was forced to wear some very skimpy "clothes" and could only be reclaimed by her bondmate - and the Doctor had made Jack go rescue her while, as a thunderous (and very sexy) Storm overthrew the monarchy. And so it had been Jack to carry her back to the TARDIS in her non-existent clothes (which had not helped his libido) and she'd been in her sweats by the time the Doctor had returned. Not that she'd looked any less appealing like that, honestly...how the Doctor didn't just take hold of those baggy sweats and yank them down and damn, there he'd gotten distracted again. They'd visited a planet very concerned with sexual frustration (he thought the TARDIS had helped him out with that one) and the two of them had been locked in cell together with their only means of escape to FINALLY shag one another and the Doctor and Rose had managed to annoy the guards so much they'd finally been released with a royal pardon and an order to get themselves and their spoons and recorders the hell off the planet.

And so, Jack Harkness found himself pacing the floor of his room trying to avoid the hillbilly concert going on in the console room.

Seriously. Who carried a recorder and set of spoons around in his pocket? Nope, no need to answer that, really. Who knows what else that crazy alien had in there?

Fact #1: The Doctor and Rose belonged together.

Fact #2: The Doctor and Rose were not, for some unfathomable reason, together.

Fact #3: Jack Harkness needed to get off this ship and er...get off. Preferably multiple times with multiple partners in multiple positions...annnnndd he was getting distracted again.

Fact #4: It was apparently Jack's job to get them together. And when Jack Harkness put his mind to something, he made it happen.

Taking a deep breath, he bravely left the room to go find Rose (and to break her recorder, if necessary). He found her quickly (thanks to the TARDIS again, he suspected), unsurprisingly, in the Wardrobe Room. He and Rose often retreated in here when the Doctor was being a prat and had spent hours trying on the gorgeous outfits together. As an advanced society male completely comfortable with his sexuality, Jack enjoyed these sessions as much as Rose (and not just when she needed him to button her into or out of something). Today he found her in the 48th century evening wear, eyeing an absolutely delicious (and sinful) red dress and the accompanying black kitten heels. Jack sighed.

"She always gives you the best stuff," he whined, sidling up beside her to run his fingers appreciatively over the fabric of the dress. It flowed over his hands like water and, god, that would be gorgeous on Rose.

It would also be just as gorgeous off Rose. He sighed. Bad Jack.

"I dunno," Rose said, turning to him teasingly with her tongue in her teeth (and oh, he needed to get off this ship). "Take a look at these!" she giggled, handing him a pair of tight black leather trousers that he was fairly certain he'd have to be poured into.

"Oh, wow," Jack breathed, holding the trousers up to himself and then grabbing the skin-tight red shirt (made of the same fabric as Rose's dress) that went with it. "We would be absolutely gorgeous, sweetheart. No one would be able to look away," he said, confidently.

"Yeah," Rose replied, wistfully drawing her fingers over the dress again. No one except the one guy I actually want looking at me, she added in her head and Jack looked at her, understanding her unspoken wistfulness. "But you know he'd never take us anywhere we could wear 'em."

"Why not?" Jack asked absently, holding the clothes up to himself still and looking in the mirror.

"C'mon, Jack!" Rose said, rolling her eyes. "You know why. He'd never let me out of the TARDIS like that. He snarked at me for hours about that tank top I had one while we were trapped in that cell. At least when he wasn't banging those awful spoons."

Jack swallowed down his rather crude response to that and contemplated his next move. Rose was right, the Doctor had been a bit cruel about her top but she also had apparently missed the raw, needy looks that Doctor had spared her way, admiring the exposed curve of her neck and the low bust line, not to mention the sliver of skin that showed when she stretched. Jack hadn't missed any of that (or the Doctor's expressions, either). "You know what, Rose? Why don't you take that dress to your room and get dolled up and leave the convincing to me? I'll get us there. I promise."

"And how you going to do that, mister?" Rose asked, sauntering over to him and putting her hands behind his neck. "Your usual MO is not going to work on the Doctor."

He rested his hands lightly on her waist. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he said, kissing her on the forehead and then ducking out from her arms with his new wardrobe in hand.

His plan mainly consisted of sweet talking and begging the TARDIS who, for her part, seemed to be entirely on board with his strategy.

Sauntering into the console room, he found the Doctor under one of gratings, large booted feet sticking up in the air, swearing softly and banging on things. "Where're we headed, Doc?" Jack asked, jumping up on the bench usually occupied by Rose and admiring the Doctor's tight jeans since the Time Lord couldn't see him.

"None of your business," came the Doctor's muffled reply, grudgingly muffled by the grating. He'd been piloting the TARDIS to a delightful little ice planet he was sure Rose would enjoy (and where she would have to wear a heavy parka and snow trousers. Not much to leer at in snow trousers) when She'd suddenly veered off course toward somewhere else. "And don't call me 'Doc'," he snapped.

He'd just spent six hours, forty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds locked away in a cell trying desperately not to snog (oh, fine, shag) his gorgeous stupid-sexy-halter-top wearing completely-off-limits brilliant companion senseless. And THEN spent a hurried, panting sixteen minutes and twelve seconds in a sordid date with his shower and his traitorous right hand in a disturbingly human act he would never admit to indulging in at an alarming rate of late.

Jack just laughed. "You don't know where we're going, do you?" he said, grinning and silently thanking the TARDIS.

"Of course I know," The Doctor retorted, pushing himself up from the small hole he'd been in and then grabbing for the console as the TARDIS shuddered and bumped, landing them... somewhere. He turned from Jack to look at the viewscreen. "We're..." he started and then promptly dropped his screwdriver. Jack smirked at his thunderous expression. "You had something to do with this," he accused, scowling at Jack and eyeing the man's get-up.

"I don't even know where we are!" Jack exclaimed innocently, whooping inside.

"We're on Mentula in the middle of the 48th century and if you think for one moment that I'm letting Rose go out there..."

"Letting Rose go out where?" came her honeyed voice from the edge of the console room and both men turned to look at her.

And the Doctor promptly forgot how to speak.

In any language.

Jack couldn't blame him.

Thank Rassilon he hadn't picked the screwdriver up yet because it would currently be down on the floor again.

Along with his jaw.

"The Doctor, Rose, has just taken us to THE premiere nightlife planet in three solar systems and four centuries," Jack said, smugly. "Thanks, Doc!" he added, cheekily.

"Really? Wow!" Rose squeaked, bounding her way across the console room and throwing her arms around the still-shell shocked Time Lord's neck. He just managed to get his mouth closed before she flung herself at him (good thing too, wouldn't want to bite his tongue - no, he'd much rather bite her tongue. Or her neck, right there in front of him as she buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. He would bite it harshly then soothe it with his tongue, mark her as his and then travel his lips down to the considerable cleavage on display in that barely there dress and holy Omega, what is he thinking?)

He roughly pulled away from her embrace (and oh, the feeling of her breasts rubbing against his chest as she had been pressed against him. Had her nipples been hard? He thought maybe they had but perhaps it was just a bit cold in here...'course it didn't feel cold to him. Felt hot, hot, hot) and spun back to the console, fiddling with one of the levers there and missing her disappointed expression. The TARDIS was currently chastising him in his head for some reason (she did bring them here on purpose, cheeky woman). What was his Timeship playing at?

Jack, however, had not missed Rose's chastened look and jumped in, strolling over to put his arm around Rose's bare shoulders, making the Doctor want to growl in possessive anger. "Just you wait, Rosie! The lights, the drinks, the dancing," he emphasized, watching for the slight cringe in the Doctor's shoulders at the pair's favourite "secret" euphemism for sex. Jack was a bit sorry for putting him through this at the moment but he knew it was going to take a mighty push to the make the Time Lord finally cave and this raucous planet was his Hail Mary.

"Aren't you going to come, Doctor?" Rose asked softly, cocking her head the side and studying him closely. His shoulders were set and his back was full of tension. If she could see his face, she had no doubt his mouth would be a harsh line, his eyes blazing. Why was he angry?

"No," he said firmly, an angry tone coloring his Northern voice. "Why would I want to go out there? It's a rubbish planet full of stupid, horny apes intent on making wanton fools of themselves."

"Then why'd you bring us here?" Rose retorted, crossing her arms over her chest and turning from Jack to scowl at the back of his closely-shorn head.

The Doctor tossed a derisive look over his shoulder at her and Rose got his message loud and clear. Because that's all we are to him, she thought. Stupid apes with no control over our impulses. He'd been trying to tell her that all along and she'd been studiously ignoring it, cradling the small flame of hope that he might see her for something more. Her joy started to fall and she suddenly felt silly in this ridiculous get-up. She'd so carefully applied her make-up (subtle, to make her look older - he seemed to gaze at her longer when she was fresh-faced, she thought. Or apparently had imagined), artfully done her hair (an updo that looked easy and casual but had actually taken her almost forty-five minutes to perfect) and donned this border-line obscene dress, all with the faint hope he might spare even one glance her way. She sighed. Oh how far she'd fallen from the confident young terror who used to light up the night clubs of London with Shireen, now desperately pining for even a smile from a man who was clearly not interested.

Trying to get the sparkle back in her eyes, Jack stepped back from Rose, letting his hands slide down her arms and then motioning for her to twirl. He noted that the Doctor turned his head ever so slightly to watch her circle, his hands clenched into fists. "You look absolutely stunning," Jack breathed and that wasn't part of the act. The red, slinky fabric clung to her, leaving practically nothing to the imagination (including the fact that she could not possibly be wearing any undergarments). It stopped mid thigh, just long enough to be decent, and the heels she sank to the pilot's bench to put on made her legs look impossibly long, calves flexed and toned from running, thighs slim but powerful. She practically made Jack's mouth water and, judging by the white knuckled man to his left, he wasn't the only one. The Doctor, for his part, had just been admiring those thighs as well, in addition to thinking some very un-Time Lord-like thoughts about better places they could be located than on his jumpseat. Like wrapped around his waist. Or up on his shoulders. Or pressed against his as he takes her from behind..."Don't you think so, Doctor?" Jack nudged.

All that came from the Doctor's turned back was a grudging 'hmpf' and Jack practically saw red as Rose's face fell once again before settling into a determined line as she stood up and stuck her hand out to him, ignoring the sullen Time Lord. "C'mon, Jack! Let's get out there! I'm thirsty and dying for some dancing! You've still got to show me your moves, Captain!" she laughed as Jack turned his attention from the foolish alien back to her with a full-toothed smile and if her joviality sounded a bit forced, he ignored it.

"Oh, you just wait! I'll show you moves that haven't even been invented yet!" he replied, waggling his eyebrows at her and hip-checking her out the doors.

With Rose safely outside, he stuck his head back into the console room, the happy smile fading away, replaced by a hard expression he turned on the Time Lord who was now staring despondently toward the door. The Doctor startled when Jack's angry face reappeared. "She looks gorgeous and you know it," Jack said, frowning at the much older man. "She's not going to wait forever you know. One of these days she'll find someone who is willing to appreciate her for all the miraculous things she is. And she wants it to be you but if you don't make a move, eventually she'll settle for someone else." The Doctor just gaped at him, dumbfounded. "And, just so you know, you're an idiot," Jack finished. With that, he shut the door and turned back to find Rose. If the Doctor wouldn't give her a spectacular evening out and appreciate how beautiful she was, he would. And then he'd bring her back safely to the TARDIS and go find someone to appreciate him.

When they arrived at the door to a club Jack knew, he wasn't surprised that the two of them were ushered in right away. He'd been right in the wardrobe room; they were the center of attention as they walked the streets and into the club. Jack had spent the short walk from the TARDIS coaching Rose on what to expect from 48th century men (and women), which drinks she should avoid and which cultural taboos to watch out for.

Once in the door, Jack stuck his wrist out and motioned for Rose to do the same. A bored looking hostess slapped a bracelet on each of them and Jack's immediately glowed a bright red while Rose's was a light white tinged just a bit pink. "What're these?" she asked, holding the bracelet up to study it.

"Intention bracelet," Jack responded, steering her with a hand on her exposed back toward the bar. He leaned in close to her and his lips brushed her ear to be heard over the loud music. "It's a way for other clubbers to know who to look for...helps avoid awkward situations." Jack motioned for the bartender and ordered two lime green drinks, handing one to Rose.

"Don't leave your drink anywhere," he lectured briefly.

"I've been to a club before, Jack," Rose said, rolling her eyes at his big brother attitude.

"Not like this you haven't," he responded. And Rose had to agree with that. All around her in this teeming multitude of life were humanoids all in various stages of dress (or undress) all intent on grinding away their cares and frustrations to the intoxicating pulse of the music here. She was certain at least half the people on the outskirts of the club were in the middle of having sex right on the floor and many of the rest seemed on the way there. "Anyway, the color of your bracelet indicates what your intentions are for the evening. Yours is white. Means that you just want to do some dancing and flirting. Nothing serious and no sex," he said, raising an eyebrow at her.

"And if I change my mind about that?" she asked, raising her chin defiantly at him.

"Then it'll change colors," Jack responded. "But...think about it before you do anything rash, Rosie. I know he's difficult but..."

"He doesn't own me, Jack," Rose retorted. "He doesn't even want me. He probably can't even want me. You heard him in the console room. I'm nothing but a stupid ape that can't control my body. Might as well act like it then," she said, tipping back the rest of her drink far too quickly and scanning the room for another white bracelet.

Jack watched her sadly. "I know, sweetheart. But come find me before you make any big decisions, ok? And don't leave without me. Promise?" he asked, sticking out his pinky to Rose in a charming little Earth gesture she'd taught him and the two of them had adopted together.

"I promise," she said, linking her pinky with his briefly. "Now get out there! Don't you worry about me!" she laughed. "That red bracelet of yours isn't going to satisfy itself!" She tapped him on the bum and watched as he sauntered away, quickly swallowed up by the writhing crowd of bodies. Rose turned back to the bar and ordered another of the lime green drinks before searching out another white bracelet. There didn't seem to be many in the club. Most of them were screaming fire-engine red. She sighed and leaned against the bar and then a moment later a tap came to her shoulder. Turning around, she was surprised to face a distinctly uncomfortable looking young man in a plaid shirt with a blue vest over the top.

"Would you, er...like to dance?" he asked shyly, shifting uncomfortably and looking at her shoes.

Rose looked him over and her gaze settled on his left wrist where a decidedly white bracelet shone at her. "Sure!" she said, grinning at him, making the young man blush and look away. Rose wondered what such a painfully shy, conservatively dressed young man was doing here. He looked distinctly out of place. Or perhaps out of time.

He moved as if to take her hand and then changed his mind, jamming it in his pocket. "Ah, shall we?" he stuttered.

Rose took pity on him and led him out on the the dance floor. Once she'd turned away from him, he seemed a bit more comfortable and placed his hands stiffly on her hips but didn't really move. Rose wanted to snort to herself. Best nightlife spot in three galaxies and four centuries and she'd managed to find the most awkward bloke in the bar. She turned around and placed her arms on his shoulders, careful to keep a friendly distance between their bodies, not easy to do on this crowded, sweaty floor. He noticeably gulped and looked even more uncomfortable. "So what brings you here?" Rose asked, trying to put him a little more at ease. Clearly something was bothering him and, even if she wasn't going to settle any of her problems tonight, perhaps she could help someone else with his.

The man looked a bit panicked and glanced down before his face promptly became a bright red and he swung his gaze back up very quickly. Rose wanted to snicker again...he'd clearly just gotten an eyeful and didn't quite know what to do with it. "I, er, well...my wife and our, umm, friends told me I had to," he admitted, looking over her right shoulder at something (someone?).

"Your wife and your friends, huh?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Well, it was the 48th century.

"Not like that!" he squeaked.

"Seems like an odd thing for your wife to want you to do," she said, letting her other eyebrow join the first and smiling at his still blushed face. "Go out dancing with another woman?"

"Tell me about it," he grumbled.

"Makes this simple though," she said, smiling gently at him and trying to dispel some of his nerves.

"How is this in any way simple?" he asked, sighing heavily as if he had expected her to be difficult. She wasn't trying to be difficult, however.

"You're married and clearly not looking for anything and I'm hung up on a bloke who doesn't even know I'm a woman so, you know, white bracelets. Nothing serious. Simple," she explained, shrugging and trailing off.

His eyes had softened at her when she'd mentioned her 'bloke', she thought. "I'm sure he knows. Anyway, he's probably just being an idiot," the man said quietly, in an fondly exasperated voice.

Rose heaved a sigh and adjusted her arms around his neck slightly. "How do you know?" she asked.

"Oh, trust me. I know," he responded, smirking slightly and looking the most at ease than she'd seen him. He began to move a little bit with her...still not really dancing but not such an awkward, stiff stance either. He smiled at her again, an almost secret smile Rose didn't quite understand. "I bet he already looks at you every moment of every day like you're the most important woman in the entire universe...he probably just does it when he thinks you're not looking," the man answered, his voice making her think that he was a man who loved very deeply, very honestly. His wife was a lucky lady, she imagined. Suddenly looking as though he were remembering a story of some kind, he continued, "Anyway...your bloke, one day he'll wake up and realize just what he's been missing and what an absolute prat he's been and he'll make his move. You just wait."

"Maybe," she said, grudgingly. If only that were true...She turned her head away from him slightly and then squeaked in surprise as he suddenly leaned in close to her.

"It might even be today," the man whispered into her ear, throwing his arms around her and grabbing her into a tight, friendly hug. Rose squeaked in surprise again and then watched, open mouthed, as the mysterious stranger disappeared off into the crowd. She shook her head and let her suddenly empty arms fall to her sides. Well, that had certainly been strange.

Wondering how long she had to stay here in this club before she could go back to the TARDIS without wounded pride, she had just been turning to go back and have a seat at the bar when an arm snaked around her waist and pulled her tightly up against a very solid body. She looked down to see a muscular forearm locked around her waist and was about to use her pointed heel on the toe of the man holding her to him when a gravelly, wonderfully Northern voice purred in her ear, "May I have this dance?"

"Doctor?" she breathed, incredulously. It sounded like the Doctor, smelled like the Doctor...but there was no leather jacket and there was obvious intent in his grip on her hips and those last two unfamiliar characteristics seemed to override the first few.

She heard a low chuckle, unlike any sound she'd ever heard him make before and then felt him smile against her neck. Instead of answering, he reached down and pulled one of her hands up to place it gently on the delicate shell of an over-large ear.

"Convinced?" he asked in the same low, growly voice but holding a tinge of amusement as well.

"Um, yeah," Rose stammered and he moved his hand back to her hip while she left hers up high, twining it back so it held his neck to hers.

"Good," he answered. With that, he began moving against her in a way she never would have expected him to know how to do. She could count on one hand the times he'd danced with her. Twice in the console room to a little Glenn Miller in a show of masculinity to Jack and once at an intergalactic ball where waltzing with someone was tantamount to a proposal and a buxom, four-armed queen had tried to convince the Doctor to dance with her. Rose moved her hips with his automatically, barely daring to breathe and certainly not daring to turn around in case it broke the fragile moment and his curious mood.

"Wouldn't want you dancin' with any more pretty boys," he eventually said, as hands started to get bolder. Ah, so he'd seen her dancing with her mysterious stranger. Perhaps it was a little bit more green-eyed jealousy than blue-eyed intent that prompted him to dance with her like this. But something had drug him out of the TARDIS to come after her. Probably just thinking couldn't handle herself out here without doing something stupid. She felt a sharp tug of disappointment and then felt another sharp tug, this time him pulling her back against his hard, lean body into something else decidedly hard and not-lean feeling at all.

She gasped and felt him smirk once more and with that, his left arm came up from her hip to wrap around her waist and she glanced down for the first time to see his bracelet. It was bright red, like Jack's had been. That flash of red affected her even more than the sight of his bare forearm and then a flash of worry shot through her body, quickly flooding out the arousal there. Something was wrong, something had to be wrong. The Doctor didn't act like this, as much as she desperately wanted him to.

He seemed to feel her tense in his arms and whispered, "Rose?" in a voice much closer to his natural timbre. She spun around quickly, careful to keep a distance between their hips. His hands fell loosely back to her hips, then down to his sides as he studied her with concern.

"Are you all right?" Rose asked, moving to press a sweaty palm against his forehead before reminding herself that she didn't really know what temperature he was supposed to feel like so that test really didn't do much good. His cheeks were flushed and she thought he felt a bit warmer than usual, but then this club was hot.

The Doctor was so keyed into Rose at the moment, that simple press of more of her skin against his caused him to inhale sharply. The scent of her arousal was in the air, overwhelming the myriad of pheromones being dumped into the air by the multitudes of turned-on species around them. Hers were the only ones he cared about sensing and they were distracting him beyond coherent thought. "I'm fine, Rose," the Doctor answered, his hands nervously clenching at his sides. What was she doing? Why had they stopped? Wasn't this what she wanted? Isn't that what Jack had said? He'd decided it was certainly what he wanted and he was done playing their silly games. He knew what he wanted and it was her. He tilted his head to the side, watching her confusedly and Rose noted his dilated pupils and then traced her eyes down his body.

Oh, dear Lord, that was one hell of a tight tshirt. It left about as much up to the imagination as her dress did. And her imagination had apparently not been creative enough when it came to the Doctor. He was GORGEOUS. Then she settled her gaze on his ubiquitous black jeans and the final, bulging proof that he obviously was not 'fine' (and, apparently was also well-endowed and dressed to the right). "C'mon, Doctor," she said, trying to repress her sigh and reaching down to entwine their fingers. Be mature about this, Rose, she scolded herself.

The Doctor inhaled sharply again, flooding his senses with the intoxicating smell of her, as her fingers wrapped so intimately with his, a normal, comforting gesture between the two of them meaning so much more in this moment. How could the slide of her fingers against his be so incredibly erotic? Her hand was so warm in his and he couldn't help but imagine how it might feel intimately wrapped around a few other parts of him.

But the rational (and pessimistic) side of him was starting to sense her doubt and confusion. He'd intended to come here, flirt with her, dance with her and then for them to leave together for the TARDIS and finally take their relationship to the level it had been barrelling toward the whole time they'd known one another, but this didn't feel quite like it had in his fantasies. His fantasy Rose grabbed him by the hand (or the belt-loops or the lapels of his jacket - really he wasn't picky) and drug him back the TARDIS with unmitigated haste and a whole lot of very messy snogging. Real-life Rose was not dragging him from this club like a woman intent on experiencing the single greatest night of pleasure she'd ever had.

Which is what he intended tonight to be. And every night hereafter.

As they left, he felt a few sets of eyes on them and turned slightly to meet the gaze of Rose's pretty boy and the attractive red-head he was dancing, both of whom smiled at him warmly and then Jack who gave him a thumbs up and another gesture which he interpreted as quite obscene and decided to overlook. Rose tugged him out of the club and down the street until they had reached enough of a suitable distance from the bustling city center that booming music didn't cover their words. He had grown increasingly nervous as they'd continued closer and closer to the TARDIS and Rose hadn't moved with much haste, hadn't snogged him (messily or otherwise) and, indeed, hadn't even spoken to him. Something was wrong. Somehow he'd managed to mess this up and he wasn't sure how. Maybe he should have offered her another drink? Should have taken his time more? Shouldn't have let himself get so aroused? He realized rather distractedly that his arm had made its way around Rose's waist and his thumb had quite adeptly found the fascinating, by chance, bare skin her back.

Then they stopped quite suddenly and Rose pulled him into an alley and, well, perhaps he'd been misjudging his second-guess. One small part of his brain was contemplating what she was going to say, but the rest had very quickly started arranging scenarios involving this alley. Up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her gripping those bricks roughly as he dropped to his knees and pushed up her skirt to reveal her knicker-less as he knew she was. Her on her knees and him running his fingers through her hair as his jeans came down...

Hmm...it appeared once he'd made his mind up, he was quite fixated on the whole 'shagging Rose senseless' idea. And he really wasn't sure where some of those very intricate fantasies were coming from. He'd certainly never experienced any of that in his Time Lord lifetime before.

"All right, Doctor, what's wrong?" Rose asked, dropping his hand and crossing her arms in front of her (oh, and pushing up her breasts. That was a spectacular dress. He was going to have to find the maker and shake the man or woman or alien's hand). it accentuated her delicate curves, dipped just low enough to be tantalizing but not low enough for his girl to come across as lewd, and all-in-all, just made them look, well, wonderful. And fuckable. And, interestingly enough, had he ever been this distracted by her breasts before? He didn't think so. Aroused was a very curious state. And a rather fantastic one, he might add.

"What?" he managed, too busy with thoughts of her magnificent breasts and her blonde head bobbing to manage much more than that.

"You're all flushed and hot and your eyes are funny," Rose said, matter-of-factly, looking at him with concern-tinged annoyance. "Did you have one of those red drinks in the club? Jack told me not to drink those. Didn't think it would affect you, Mr. Superior Biology, but that's gotta be it, to make you all -" she trailed off and blushed after gesturing vaguely below his belt.

"Make me all what, Rose Tyler?" the Doctor asked, pressing a bit closer to her even as Rose took a step back. He was really out of his depth here in human seduction and more than a bit confused and this wasn't exactly going as he had planned.

Rose didn't answer for a moment, just looked pointedly over his shoulder and he decided to try one last time to salvage this line of conversation and he finished "aroused?" for her at the same time she blurted out "hard".

He blinked at her language and then grinned wolfishly, moving forward once again and placing his hands on either side of her head against the wall. "Right in one, Rose Tyler. A descriptive, if a bit crude, phrase, but you're right. I am. An' why d'you think that might be?"

To his surprise, Rose simply sighed again. "I dunno. You're the genius and I'm the horny ape, remember? Best guess is you must have had some kind of aphrodisiac, Doctor. C'mon. We'll get you back the TARDIS and get you sorted. I promise not to jump you. Don't think I'm not going to tease you about this tomorrow, though," she answered, ducking under his arm and walking out toward the mouth of the alley, turning back to the gobsmacked Doctor staring after her, only after she realized that he seemed to be unmoving.

Rose started to move back to him when his hand reached out and took a hold of her wrist, tugging slightly so she came back right in front of him. His other hand reached up and cupped her cheek and Rose tried to control the involuntary shiver that shot through her at his touch. The universe really could be a bitch, she decided. One thumb gently traced her cheekbone and the other drew designs on the sensitive inside of her wrist. The Doctor used his hand on her cheek to tilt her face up to meet his gaze and this time Rose couldn't control her shiver. He was looking at her with such deep affection she thought she might melt into a puddle right there in front of him. Maybe there wasn't anything wrong with him. Maybe he simply wanted her after all.

"Precious girl," he murmured, leaning down and brushing his lips against her forehead. "I am so sorry," he whispered, pulling back to watch her closely with those deep blue eyes again.

Rose's heart fell. So it was some sort of drug or something in his system or something. Why else would he apologize? "What for?" she asked, her hands moving to absently fiddle with the bottom of his t-shirt nervously. She should really thank the maker of this thin, stretchy shirt for giving fodder to her next few decades of unrequited Doctor-fantasies.

She was torn from her musings on the brilliance of fabric when he began to speak again. "Rose, I'm sorry that my behaviour over the past few weeks has led you to believe that the only way I could ever want you is with involuntary chemical assistance," he said, matter-of-factly and Rose was fairly certain big words had never sounded quite so sexy to her.

Was he saying what she thought he was saying?

Her eyes shot up to meet his and she watched as the corners of his eyes crinkled a bit in amusement. "Oh," she replied. "And...and it's not? The only way, I mean?"

"It's not the way at all," he responded, shivering slightly as her thumb inadvertently slipped under the edge of his thin gray t-shirt and hit a sliver of skin above his waistband. "I don't need any assistance to want you, Rose Tyler. I want you. In every way you can think of and probably a sight more you haven't. I want you in my life, in my TARDIS and in my bed. I want you beside me eating chips and running for our lives and saving the universe. And have done so since the moment I first took your hand. And before that, it feels like. I don't know how, I don't know why and I certainly don't know what I've done to deserve you."

Rose blinked up at him, silent for a moment. "Then why haven't you.." she began and then trailed off, barely daring to believe what he was saying.

"I'm an old man, Rose. I've done a lot of terrible things and I've seen even more. Everything I've ever cared about has crumbled around me...most often destroyed by me own hand. An' I've been terrified that one day I'll lose you like I've lost everything else...but when you walked out of the TARDIS tonight without me, I realized I could lose you before I'd ever even had you, before you ever even knew. I realized just what I've been missing...and what an idiot I've been about it. Rickey's not nothing on me"

And it was true. As soon as she'd left the console room, he'd felt a terrible weight come crashing down around him. The Timelines around this planet, around the two of them, wove together in a complex and integral pattern and he could feel how much rested on this, on them. He might lose her one day, whether by Time or violence or distance but if he lost her today it was going to be through his own stupidity. He needed her. And he was going to have her. It was as if he'd woken up with a breath of fresh air, with a puff of hope and he wasn't going to let her go now.

Or ever.

Out of words except for the three most important ones that seemed to have been dancing on the cusp of his mind since 'There's me', three words he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to truly offer her, he bent his head and kissed her on the lips instead, light and chaste, testing the waters, seeing how she would respond. At first she didn't respond at all, still too shocked by his revelation and his cool, soft lips on hers and, just as the Doctor began to pull back, horrified that he might have somehow read everything wrong, her hands flew up to the back of his head to hold him there and her lips fervently attacked his own.

Rose had still been processing his surprising confession when he'd thrown her another loop with his gentle kiss. Shocked, it had taken her a moment to adjust to this new, wonderful development and, just as she'd caught up with him, he started to pull back so she'd responded as strong as she could, trying to pour her months of restraint into this first passionate kiss. Their kiss went from light and innocent to desperate and needy so fast it made both of their heads spin.

Rose broke from him after a few long and increasingly breathless moments, pulling back to gulp down deep lungfuls of air before he dove back in and pressed his mouth to hers once again. This time his tongue joined the forward press and Rose whimpered under him as his clever tongue seemed to expertly know just where to stroke to make her knees go weak. Running his hand down her back, the Doctor lingered a minute on her soft bum before continuing his path down to hike her leg up over his hip, pressing between her legs so they both had a thigh working to ease the other's building pressure. One of his hands had shoved aside the top of her dress to caress her breasts and the other had worked up underneath her skirt to cling to her, his wide palm spanning her entire thigh.

Rose would have been embarrassed at the damp patch she was sure she was leaving on his jeans if he hadn't seemed equally entranced by the feeling of her thigh rubbing against his denim-clad erection. A deep guttural moan came from one of them and Rose's hand worked its way between them to palm him and then a clatter and giggle from the mouth of the alley made them both whip their heads to the side, months of preparation priming them to run if needed.

"Sorry, mate!" a clearly very intoxicated man laughed, his hand up the skirt of the equally intoxicated woman with him. "Didn't know this alley was occupied. We'll just be on our way, have fun! Unless you'd like company?" he asked, peering blearily at the two of them, this hot random May-December couple looking deliciously tousled and about thirty seconds from shagging each other rotten.

"I don't think so," the Doctor growled, shifting his body to cover Rose's, shielding her chest from the other couple and smoothing her skirt back down over her thigh, although not detangling it from his hip.

Thoroughly chastened by his scathing expression, the two cleared off and the Doctor turned apologetic eyes on Rose, who quite suddenly giggled. One look at his affronted expression and the giggles turned into full out laughter and her leg fell from his hip as she doubled over, holding onto his shoulder for balance. After a moment, the Doctor's deep baritone boom joined hers and soon the two of them were back in each other's arms, holding to each other desperately, but for an entirely different purpose.

The Doctor gained control of himself first, pulling back to watch Rose's unencumbered mirth with a smirk. He crossed his arms and mock-frowned down at her but couldn't keep the mirth from his dancing blue eyes. "An' what, exactly, d'you think is so funny, Ms. Tyler?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"S'just," Rose gasped, making an effort to stand up straight, "s'just so...us!"

His expression changed to something, on anyone else, might have been a pout. Rose laughed harder. Her dear Doctor could skulk with the best of him but sulking seemed to be beyond his range of emotions. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rose snorted. "It means 'I'm so glad I met you...whoops, let's get turned into zombies!' Or...'I could save the world but lose you...oh, nevermind. Let's blow up 10 Downing!.' Or...let's see... 'of course I'm a manly man, Rose, complete with dancing. Now here, watch me resonate this concrete!'," she said in a poor approximation of what he presumed was his own Manchester brogue and then sticking her tongue in her teeth.

"Ok, ok," he huffed. "No need to poke fun. Here I am, finally having gotten up me nerve to make love to you and you're having a go at me."

Her head shot up to look him directly in the eyes and the Doctor fought the urge to glance down at his boots. Instead he held her wide-eyed gaze and took a step closer. "You...you want to make love to me?" Rose asked, looking up at him with something he thought was hope and he knew was a bit of fear. He knew because he was feeling exactly the same way

"Yeah," he answered, reaching down to entwine their fingers together, a normal comforting gesture in this new and terrifying maelstrom of their relationship. "That all right?" he asked, echoing one of his first questions to her and desperately hoping the answer would be the same.

"Yeah," she responded in the overwhelmed, breathless quality he remembered from that tense moment in the console room, oh, such a long time ago.

"TARDIS?" he asked quietly, leaning in close to her and brushing his lips gently against hers again.

"Yeah," she answered again and he released one of her hands, keeping the other held tightly as they walked back to the TARDIS. Neither of them spoke, both afraid once again to break the tenuous moment, terrified that the other might back out or away, both of their minds on what would happen on the other side of their beloved blue door.

Once they got inside, the Doctor let go of Rose's hand and turned to absently fiddle with a dial on the console, suddenly unsure of what exactly he was supposed to do next and feeling very vulnerable without his usual armor. He should probably offer her one last chance to decide whether or not this was truly what she wanted. Rotating back to her, he opened his mouth trying to come up with words when Rose solved his problem for him with her mouth on his.

He grunted in surprise as she surged forward, dragging his head down to meet his and pressing his body back against the center console. His massive brain was so busy calculating and memorizing the feel of her mouth and tongue and body against him and the miraculous needy, whimpering sounds she was making at him, he didn't even notice when her leg came up over his hip again until she rocked against him sharply, causing him to tear his mouth from hers as his head shot back with a deep, guttural groan.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," Rose panted at him, her tongue coming playfully to the corner of her mouth when he finally raised his eyes back to hers again.

He bent forward to nuzzle her neck, his teeth lingering on her ear before replying, "Probably about as long as I've wanted to haul up up onto the jumpseat, tear off that day's flimsy excuse for a skirt and pound into you until the only thing you can remember is my name."

Rose's breath hitched over his shoulder and he took the opportunity to reach down and hike her other leg up over his hip before pushing off the console with her wrapped around him to walk purposefully down the corridor.

"Where're we going?" Rose asked in surprise, but taking full advantage of running her tongue along his tempting collarbone into the slight dip of his clavicle she had so often lusted after.

"Plenty of time for that later," he grunted, almost stumbling as her teeth grazed his bobbing Adam's apple. They reached an unfamiliar door to Rose and he gently moved to set her down, leaning his forehead against hers and breathing heavily. "Tonight, I want to make love to you. In my bed. Repeatedly," he added, with a smirk.

Rose's heart had lit up at the mention of later, confirming her deep hope that this wasn't just a one-off for him. "Then what are we waiting for?" she asked, leaning up to kiss him gently once more.

"Nothing," he answered. "I'm not waiting any more." With that, the door behind her swung open and Rose found herself swept up into his arms once more. She didn't stay there for very long, just as quickly finding herself in the middle of a large, luxurious bed with rich navy sheets and a gorgeous dark duvet. She wanted to look around and memorize every little aspect of this place, this private space he trusted her enough to let her into but she couldn't seem to pull her gaze off the completely riveting man in front of her.

Having kicked off his boots, he was now standing at the foot of the bed watching her, his only movement the slight heave of his chest. The moment she started to feel self-conscious under his intense gaze, he moved to her so quickly she wondered if Time had flickered ahead a moment. The Doctor's hands were on her once again, tracing delicate lines up her sides, just grazing her breasts before tracing back down again. "Rose..." he panted a moment later and, at her nod, he moved back to run his hands up her thighs and grasp the bottom of the dress. She obediently raised her hands above her head and her hips from the bed and he swiftly the fabric from her body, leaving her naked and shivering under his blazing expression.

The Doctor resumed his reverent and expert touches, lingering on spots that made her cry out with pleasure, some of which she wasn't even certain she'd ever known about before. He poured everything he could into his kisses and caresses, desperate to prove to her that he could satisfy her as any human male would, desperate to show her he could make her happy. For his part, the Doctor was shocked at the familiarity of his caresses. Never one for false modesty (or modesty of any kind, really) he'd always assessed himself as a genius. He was clever, observant and a quick study at, well, practically everything, but even he had to admit it was difficult to be an expert at something one had never experienced before. Despite his boasts to Rose, he'd never actually danced in this foreign, messy, brilliant fashion, yet he was playing Rose Tyler's body with all the skill of a well-studied virtuoso.

In fact, he seemed to instinctively know from the pattern of her breathing and the clenching of her muscles, that one final press of his lips against hers and his thumb against the small button (clitoris, his brain helpfully supplied) in her slick folds (labia, the enthusiastic scientist in him lectured) would send her over the edge into breath-snatching bliss. So in tune with her now, he could see and feel her mind on the outskirts of his, reaching for him, pleading for him. He tried to ignore it for the moment; she hadn't like the TARDIS in her head after all, but they craved each other so desperately she was almost an open book to him. Maybe it was this connection with her that was allowing him to pleasure her so intensely..

He kept one hand on the back of her head, holding her to him and swallowing her moans as his own, and the other drawing out the miraculous supernova of her release. When Rose finally stopped shuddering underneath him, he released her lips gently and rolled over onto his side to smile at her.

"Wow," she said, eventually, finally willing herself to look over at him. That had been...incredible. She'd always imagined the sex with the Doctor would be fantastic (and they hadn't even had sex yet!). While she was stillrRelaxing in the bliss of her release and his gentle smile, a niggling, nervous thought appeared at the edge of her consciousness. He was over nine hundred years old and had admitted to her that he'd danced...and one didn't get that good at anything without a significant amount of practice. Unwelcome thoughts drifted in further...how many had come before her? Was she just another in a long line of sexual conquests for him? That didn't seem like him, didn't seem like her Doctor, but with her first hand experience and his admission to her together...it seemed like the only conclusion.

And, oh god, how was she ever going to match up? He could have (and maybe had) anyone in the entire galaxy, trained, experienced lovers...she was just a 21st century chav. Mickey'd never complained but Jimmy, especially if he'd been drinking, would occasionally backhand her and tell her (sometimes in front of his friends) how lousy she was in the sack.

"What's wrong, love?" the Doctor asked, infinitely worried as the sated, happy expression on her face slowly crumbled and she moved a hand up to cover her breasts. He caught the hand entwined their fingers once again, bringing the joined digits up to his mouth for a sweet kiss.

What's wrong?, Rose thought. She felt exposed, naive and very, very nervous, laying in bed with a fully-clothed alien sex god with whom she was absolutely head-over-heels in love.

Oh, no. She'd said that out loud.

The Doctor's mouth dropped open and his bright blue eyes widened in shock. His magnificent brain was tripping over an awful lot of parts of that statement. "Alien sex god?" he eked out, feeling his Time Lord superiority was going to come into question here momentarily if, respiratory bypass or no, he managed to choke to death on oxygen and shock.

Rose blushed a fierce red and he nearly forgot how to breathe again as he traced the red tinge down her body. "Well, yeah," she said, lamely. "That was...I mean...no one's ever..." Rose could tell the moment he gained his equilibrium back if the extremely self-satisfied smirk that worked its way back across his face was any indication. Oh, he was going to be insufferable now for WEEKS.

"Told you I had the moves," he boasted, puffing up with previously unknown male pride. This however, seemed to not be the correct thing to say because Rose's arm edged up her chest again and looked nervous once more. "Rose?" he asked softly once more feeling out of his depth.

"I don't want to disappoint you," she said softly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

The Doctor moved in close to her and nudged her nose with his own. "You could never disappoint me, Rose. All of this," he said, pulling back and gesturing at their bodies, "is still us. Better with two, yeah?"

With that, she giggled and relaxed under him as he thought through exactly what he'd just said. "Dunno," Rose said, mischievously and he raised an eyebrow at her. Rose was sure that if his arms hadn't been occupied holding her close to him, he'd have just crossed them over his chest. "We haven't tried that bit yet."

"Wanna give it a go?" he asked, moving his lips down to her neck, biting and sucking and Rose gasped at the intense wave of arousal that shot through her at his possessive action.

Determined to level the playing field a bit, she leaned forward and took his earlobe into her teeth and felt his moan vibrate through her body. "There's a bit of a problem with that," she murmured into her captured prize.

His head came up off her neck comically fast, fabulous brow furrowed in concern and bright blue eyes tinged with worry. "What?" he asked.

"You still have your kit on," she laughed and after a moment he joined with her.

"Not for long," he growled, shifting off her. Rose moved to kneel on the edge of the bed, no longer feeling so self-conscious. There were more important matters at hand. Like unwrapping her alien sex-god. "Undress me," he said, the sharp, orderly tone conflicting with the plead in his eyes.

Rose reached out, using his shoulders to steady herself as she stood beside him on the floor. Tentatively, she reached out a palm and laid it flat across his solid chest, her fingers spanning out to feel the thrum of both his hearts there. He watched her with dark eyes but Rose's focus was solely on that hand as it traced down his torso and then up under the soft, gray shirt to hit skin. Taking a moment to explore what she couldn't yet see, Rose moved her other hand under the shirt as well, tracing up until her thumbs each hit a hipple, which made the Doctor hiss darkly. "Off," he commanded, reaching up and dragging her wrists down until her fingers were at the hem of his shirt. She obliged, tugging it up over his head and tossing it carelessly onto the ground, her fingers quickly working back up to the hardened peaks of his pectoral muscles once again. Unable to restrain herself, Rose leaned forward and took one in her mouth, gently laving her tongue over it. "Teeth," he growled, his hand coming up to the back of her head momentarily and Rose obliged, grasping it tightly and nipping sharply. He moaned loudly and she once again felt as though Time skipped as she suddenly ended up back on the bed, this time straddling his (sadly still-clothed) hips.

She shifted down to crouch over his thighs and let her palm press against him, then tracing the outline of him through his jeans. The Doctor thrashed underneath her and uttered a string of melodious words to her. She gently worked the button on his fly and he shouted once again as she reached into his trousers to protect him from the lowering zip. Once his trousers were undone, he lifted his hips from the bed briefly to help her get them off his narrow hips. Once she had him naked and panting underneath her, Rose was struck again with a wave of uncertainty, closing her eyes for a moment. She didn't want to seem like a fumbling adolescent to him.

Feeling a hand close around hers, Rose opened her eyes to see the Doctor watching her with an expression so filled with lust and love she thought he might catch her on fire. Keeping her gaze on his, he gently moved her hand to the proud, stiff length she'd been avoiding with her tentative caresses. The moment her warm hand connected with his steel erection, his hips shot off the bed, nearly dislodging her and he made a loud sound of approval. Squeezing him a little with a slightly firmer hand made him growl and when her tight fist began to move up and down, guided by his own, he began to swear in Gallifreyan again. After several tortuous, wonderful strokes, he let go of her hand, moving to fist the sheet beside him instead.

The Doctor was practically reeling with the sensations Rose was providing him, as her hand got braver and more adventurous, twisting and pressing. After a particularly brilliant stroke of hers that came accompanied by a twist of his nipple with her other hand, unable to take any more, he flipped them over quite suddenly so he loomed above her, his throbbing erection pressing heavily into her thigh. His hands reached out once more, one caressing her breast and the other clutching her hip, making her mewl underneath him. With one last look deep into her eyes, he thrust into her, deeply and surely, as it it was his rightful place, as if he were simply coming home once again. He moved his body expertly in hers, bringing her to the peak of satisfaction again and again, tilting his hips against hers for maximum depth and friction. Still a bit stunned by the amazing natural sexual proclivity of this body, he moved in and out of Rose like a man seeking salvation. Which, he supposed, he was. She was his Goddess, his muse, his saviour and, with one more deep stroke he would bring her to ecstasy.

And he did. Rose keened and tensed underneath him, her powerful wave of release pulling him with her as he gave a shout and followed, his arms going around to the back of her shoulders, pressing their upper bodies as close as he possibly could while their lower bodies clenched and juddered together until they both collapsed, completely spent and completely sated together.

-

Rose slowly drug herself back into consciousness, reaching out a drowsy arm for the cool body she fully expected to find in the soft, familiar sheets. When her questing hand didn't connect with a drowsy, smirking, sex-tousled Time Lord, she awoke fully with a start, remembering where and when exactly she was.

Stretching and sighing, Rose took stock of herself. Four hours of sleep. Not bad for recent developments. She hadn't been willing to admit it to Jack but her recent regeneration into this rather familiar form hadn't been an easy one, nor had transversing the Void to get here in the first place. And it had been a long time since she'd had a fully-immersed dreamscape like that, reliving a moment from her past in such vivid detail while she slept. The first few times it had happened after her initial regeneration had been so surprising she thought she might be going mad. After a while, she'd just chalked it up to her newly-superior (but occasionally infuriating) Time Lord brain.

She remembered being completely shocked (and not entirely convinced) when he had confessed to her that experience had been his first sexual encounter. He'd known exactly how to satisfy her and exactly what he wanted as well. And now she knew why.

She was just going to have to make sure that John Noble got a very thorough education.