Author's Note: this started in response to a challenge on tumblr as part of the I Bring Life Project, and it just kinda took on a life of its own. I hope you give this story a chance, and I hope you'll let me know what you think of it!

Spoilers: none really. Set sometime in season one.

Disclaimer: Doctor Who is not mine - but wouldn't it be fantastic if it was?!


Rose swung her feet back and forth through the air, careful not to let them bang against the cupboards under the counter on which she sat.

"I'm just saying," Jack intoned, handing her a cup of hot coffee.

"And I'm jus' saying, you're wrong."

"But how can you be sure?"

He came to stand next to where she was perched, tucking one hip into the counter top to brace himself. The TARDIS was quiet around them, letting them know in that strangely intuitive way that it was still early morning. Rose had stumbled blearily to the kitchen upon waking, intent on making a pot of coffee, only to find when she arrived that Jack had beat her to it. He hadn't been awake long himself, if appearances were to be believed: they were both still in their pajamas.

The Doctor, of course, was nowhere to be found.

Rose wasn't sure how they had come to their current topic – she was fairly certain Jack had started the conversation and it had deteriorated from there, as their conversations were wont to do.

She hadn't expected to like Jack as much as she did, really, and she didn't mean in a romantic way – although he was devilishly handsome. They had formed quite the friendship in the last few weeks traveling together; she reveled in the ease of that relationship, especially in light of her relationship with the Doctor. Whatever that was.

"I dunno, s'just a feeling I get sometimes." She shrugged noncommittally and took a drink of her coffee.

"You mean, you aren't … you and him haven't …?"

"Nah," she answered, more calm than she expected. "What made you think we were?"

"You kiddin'? Look at you – you're a looker, even in your pajamas. Especially in your pajamas!"

"Shut up," she admonished, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He'd made her blush, but that was nothing new for them.

"So you don't want to?" Jack's expression was open, honest; he wasn't being coy and digging for answers he already knew. That was another facet of their relationship that she loved: they were honest with each other.

"Didn't say that, did I? What about you, Captain? You saying you wouldn't jump on a chance like that?"

"Do I look stupid? But that's just it, see! We've been traveling together for weeks now – nothing! Not one pass, at either of us. No accountin' for it, if you ask me."

"But I ain't askin' you, am I?" Rose retorted, grinning, which only earned her a glare. "He's not asexual, Jack. I don't know how to explain it; I just know."

She didn't mention the way she'd catch him looking at her sometimes, as if his thoughts were traveling down paths of their own making; the way his blue eyes would take on a faraway look and his movements would still, like he was seeing something that was lost to her. She tried not to think about the way his hands would occasionally linger on her hips for a moment longer than necessary, or the way his voice would drop ever so slightly for no apparent reason.

"So you think he's just not interested? In either of us, I mean."

"Could be, I guess."

Did she really believe that though? She wasn't sure; if he didn't fancy her, at least a little, then what was she to make of those looks, the lingering touches?

"I think it's more than that though. I mean, just think about it for a second: the Doctor is nine hundred years old. We must seem so … little, to him, so unimportant. Our lives must go by in a blink of an eye for him. Getting involved with one of us … I suppose it'd be something like knowing you'll drown at high tide, and building your house on the beach anyway."

Jack looked at her for a long, quiet moment, mulling over her words. She was most likely right; he couldn't imagine the pain of investing time in a relationship with someone, knowing that they would perish long before you would. Why would the Doctor submit himself to such heartache – why should he?

Still …

"What about you?"

"What about me?" She queried.

"You saying you wouldn't build your house on that beach?"

"Course not. I'd build my dream house, close to the water as I could, put all the best materials into it – and maybe some of the worst. I'd give it everything I had; and when the tide came in, I'd walk out with open arms, and greet the waves as old friends. But I suppose that's what makes me a silly human."

Rose found herself swept quite suddenly into a warm embrace, Jack's (admittedly wonderful) biceps almost crushing her against his chest. He smelled of soap and sleep and the faintest hint of citrus, and a wild part of her mind yearned suddenly to know what the Doctor smelled of.

"Oi, wha's this for?" she managed to mumble.

"You're a remarkable woman, Rose Tyler; just felt you should know."

Rose laughed and hugged him back with one arm, the other holding her coffee mug carefully off to one side. She may never understand the Doctor, may never know what made those blue eyes darken or that sharp jaw clench, but she did know one thing: she really enjoyed having Captain Jack Harkness as a travel companion.


Just outside the kitchen, secreted in amongst the shadows and silence, the Doctor stood rooted to his spot. He was dumbfounded; flabbergasted; a million other words that he couldn't think of. He had meant to join them, he really had, but something had stayed his footsteps; he'd hidden himself away instead, and this was the result.

Rose Tyler had, however unwittingly, rendered the Doctor completely speechless.