Fic: Reunited (4/15)
Title: Reunited (4/15)
Author: aibhinn
Pairings: Jack/Rose, Jack/Ten, Jack/Ten/Rose, Ten/Rose, mentions of (past) Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG this chapter
Spoilers: Doctor Who through "Doomsday", Torchwood through "End of Days".
Summary: The Rift is much more active than it was, and has been disgorging aliens and out-of-time people at an alarming rate… including one person Jack never expected to see again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Auntie Beeb. I'm stuck here on the far side of the wrong continent, playing in her sandbox.
Author's note: Still ignoring the canon end of 1x13, "End of Days." Thanks to Rae, Gina, Ruth, and Jo for the beta!
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV
The cell door shut behind the two Weevils with a clang. "What the hell was all that about?" Owen demanded, engaging the safety lock on his weapon and shoving it into his coat pocket. It was a move that drove Jack nuts whenever he saw it; he kept trying to force Owen to wear a shoulder holster, or at least one that clipped to his belt.
"How the hell should we know?" Gwen retorted, sliding her gun into her rear jeans pocket-another move that made Jack crazy.
"Well, you spent more time with her than I did," he snapped. "You know more about her than I do."
"I don't have a clue why the Weevils are terrified of her. And from the look on her face, I don't think she does either."
"You don't know that," Owen reminded her, pointing his finger for emphasis.
"Thought you just said I knew more about her."
He rolled his eyes. "You don't know where she's been or what she's done or even where she's from. All we know is that she knew Jack before, and she showed up in a dead-end alley, near death from starvation and dehydration. She could be some sort of alien herself, or possessed by an alien like what's-her-name, fuck-'em-to-dust girl-"
"Carys," Gwen said with some asperity.
"Whatever. She could be like that, couldn't she?"
"Oh, for God's sake," Gwen began, but Tosh interrupted her.
"No. I think Owen's right." They both looked at her, startled, and she amended, "Well, sort of."
"Thanks for that," Owen said dryly.
"I mean-I just think we should keep an eye on her, that's all. Jack's not a fool, but if the two of them were close before, he might not be able to see what's going on before it's too late." Tosh looked at each of them in turn, her eyes serious. "We'll keep an eye on her," she repeated. "And I'll tell Ianto as well."
Owen sighed. "S'pose that's the best we can do," he grumbled. Shrugging, he led the two women back up toward the Hub.
***
Rose looked up from her half-finished eggs and bacon for the first time since the impeccably-tailored Ianto had set the food in front of her. She'd been afraid of what she'd see in Jack's face. A pair of aliens that had attacked Gwen and Owen had shrunk away from her as though she were some sort of terrifying enemy-as though she could actually hurt them. Even though all she'd been able to do was stand there, like one of those idiotic women in slasher movies, who stood and screamed while the killer came right at them. She laid down her cutlery and sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. Good job I'm not travelling with the Doctor now, she thought. I'm fairly useless, it seems.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack put his fork down as well and reach a hand out toward her, palm up, invitingly. She hesitated, then put her hand in his. The familiar warmth was reassuring, even now. "It's going to be all right, you know," he said.
"Is it?" she said before she could stop herself, and clamped her lips shut, looking away.
"Yeah. It is." He reached across the corner of the table with his free hand and put his fingers beneath her chin, gently encouraging her to turn her face back to him. "I've been through a lot, Rose. I've seen a lot. This-you scaring off a couple of Weevils-it's nothing my team and I can't handle. We'll figure out what's going on, and it'll all be fine." His eyes were deep, darker than usual. "But I need to know everything you can tell me about what's happened to you since I last saw you. Everything. Don't leave any of it out."
Her appetite faded, and she pushed her plate away, leaning back in her chair, though she didn't release his hand. Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor between her new trainers, then she sighed and looked up and around at the room. "I know that logo," she said quietly, and her eyes flickered back to him. "This is Torchwood, isn't it? You work for Torchwood."
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand gently. "This is Torchwood Three. Torchwood One was in London; Torchwood Two is a little man in Glasgow. We're based in Cardiff because of the Rift."
"Then you know what happened at the London Torchwood," she said. "The Daleks and the Cybermen."
"Last year." He nodded. "I know you and the Doctor were there. I saw the report. You and your mother were on the list of those who had died, but I never found out anything else." Her eyes filled with tears, and he scooted closer, hand tightening gently on hers. "Tell me," he urged.
She looked away again-it was too painful to look at anyone when she told this story, even now-and reluctantly, began talking about everything that happened after the Game Station. She told him about the Doctor's regeneration, how it had gone wrong and left him unconscious. How she'd tried to bluff the Sycorax into leaving. The sword fight. The hand. The destruction of the Sycorax ship by Torchwood. "It was the first time I'd heard of you lot."
Jack was nodding. "I knew about some of that, but I wasn't there-I've never been part of Torchwood One." He hesitated as though about to add something else, but closed his mouth again.
She went on, describing some of their adventures over the next months. Cat nuns. Queen Victoria. Sarah Jane and Reinette. Falling into the parallel world, fighting the Cybermen for the first time, and leaving Mickey behind. The Wire. The black hole, and Toby. Elton. Chloe.
The tears spilled over as she talked about the Battle of Canary Wharf, and being pulled across the Void by her dad from the other universe. Realising she could never get back. Saying goodbye. The Doctor's unfinished sentence. Trying to build a life for herself by going to work for that Earth's Torchwood, and doing a brilliant job of it. Her sister, Violet. Her husband, Don, dead at thirty-one from a heart attack. Her second marriage to Mickey.
"But something was wrong," she said softly, still staring at the table, though what she was seeing was far away in space and time. "I never seemed to get any older. Don used to tease me that I was single-handedly supporting the moisturiser companies, but I never did anything like that. I just… didn't age. And once Mickey and I married, it was even more obvious-we were both in our thirties, and I still looked just like I do now. Just like I did before the Doctor regenerated. I can change my hair and my makeup and all that, but no matter how old I get, nothing else ever changes."
Now she looked up, and picked up the knife that she'd been using-a sharp knife, not a butter knife. "I can be injured," she said. "But I can't die. Not permanently, at least." And very deliberately, she drew the blade across her palm, slicing deep. Jack watched closely as blood welled up, spilled over her hand and onto the table-and then, before his eyes, the slice closed itself and healed over, leaving no trace, not even a scar.
He met her eyes, but she couldn't read his gaze. "I'm eighty-six years old," she said, so quietly she almost couldn't hear herself. "Or I was when I fell through the Rift, or whatever it was. I look like I'm twenty. And I'll look like I'm twenty forever."
Jack reached over and took the knife from her. She thought he would put it away, but to her shock, instead he drew it across his own palm exactly the way she'd done. Her jaw dropped open, and she reached for his hand. "Oh my God, Jack, no!" she protested, looking for something to staunch the blood with.
He caught her hand with his unbloodied one. "Wait," he said. "Take a look."
She glanced down and gasped. The cut was sealing itself just as hers had done, until it had completely healed. No scar, even. Only blood was left to show he'd ever been hurt. She stared at him, jaw hanging open. No, she thought. No. It couldn't be. It couldn't mean-
"I'm a hundred and forty-five years old," he said quite calmly. "And I can't die either."
Rose felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach; her diaphragm refused to move, her lungs could not fill. Her mind whirled. "You-" she stuttered, trying to make sense of what he'd said. "You can't die? Like me?"
Was it traitorous of her to be secretly glad, despite the tragedy of it? She'd fought so long to be able to let go of her life, to fade away like normal humans. How could she be grateful someone else was cursed with the same thing? But she was. And not just anyone: it was Jack.
For the first time in decades, she didn't feel alone.
He wiped his hand clean on his serviette, and then took her hand to wipe hers as well. "I died on the Game Station," he said as he worked, with what would have seemed to be utter calm if she hadn't learned to read him so well, so many years ago. "The Daleks exterminated me. And then I woke up, with golden light and singing in my head-and when I got back to the broadcast center where the Doctor had been, the TARDIS was dematerialising."
"Oh, Jack," Rose said softly. She couldn't imagine what that must have been like-not only to be left behind, but to watch her and the Doctor leaving without him. Maybe that was what had caused this-something on the Game Station. It was the last place they had been together, after all. Something to do with the Doctor's regeneration, maybe? Or the transmat that had hauled them into those horrible games?
And then the penny dropped. "Hold on," she said abruptly. "Golden light? Singing?"
He frowned, releasing her hand. "Yeah."
No. Oh, no. Horror began to curl in her chest, an icy fog wrapping its tendrils around her heart. "Like a choir in the back of your mind?" she pursued, praying the answer would be no. "And a light like sunlight, but it warmed you all through, not just on your skin?"
"Yeah." He cocked his head. "Why? Did something like that happen to you?"
The horror was growing into something so massive, she felt her heart would burst with it. She stared at him as the immensity of it became clear. "Oh, God," she said in a small voice. "Oh, God, Jack. I know who did this. I know who made you-made us-immortal."
"What?" Jack's eyes lit up. "Really? Who?"
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, wishing she could tear her eyes away from his so she wouldn't see the look he'd give her when he finally understood. Wishing she could just not tell him. But she couldn't-he had to know. He had the right to know. "Me," she said in that same small voice. "I did."
His eyebrows came together. "You? Rose, no, honey, you couldn't have."
She shook her head fiercely. "I did, Jack. It was me. The Doctor sent me home in the TARDIS, told me to forget him and just live a normal life. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave him-or you-there alone. So Mum and Mickey and I used a tow truck to pull the console open, just like when Blon Fel Fotch turned back into an egg." She swallowed, remembering vaguely what she'd said to the Doctor at the time. "I looked into the TARDIS. And the TARDIS looked into me." He still seemed confused, so she clarified, "I took the Time Vortex into myself, Jack. I went back to the Game Station, destroyed the Daleks and the Dalek Emperor, scattered the words Bad Wolf around time and space so my past self would know to come back, and then…"
Her voice failed her. She forced herself to continue. "Then I brought you back to life. And the Doctor killed himself by taking the Vortex from me and giving it back to the TARDIS. That's why he regenerated. And when we left-he didn't know I'd brought you back, and I was unconscious, and he was dying." Finally, finally, she was able to tear her gaze away, vision blurring with tears. "I didn't know that I'd brought you back until about twenty years ago. The dreams were getting clearer, but it took that long to remember everything. And then I knew what we'd done, leaving you there. But I didn't know I'd made you immortal as well." The tears spilled over, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey," Jack said soothingly, reaching out to stroke her hair. She flinched, but he didn't back off, just caressed her, clearly trying to calm her. "Rose, it's all right. I don't blame you."
She swung sharply round, dropping her hands to stare at him again. "Don't blame me?" she repeated incredulously, tears still falling. "I made you immortal, Jack. Never changing, never aging, never dying. Never. Bad enough I did it to myself, but to you-!"
"You didn't know, sweetheart," he insisted. "You didn't know what it would do-and you probably didn't even know what you were doing. You weren't in control of yourself at that point, you couldn't have been. The Vortex was. Or the TARDIS. One of them."
"How do you know?" she demanded. "How do you know it wasn't all me?"
"Because you didn't remember it," he said logically. "It took time for you to realise what you'd done, time for your subconscious to dig out the memories. It's like being drugged-you're not in control of your actions because something else is interfering with your ability to make choices."
"But you're still responsible for what you do when you're drugged, if you chose to take it," Rose pointed out bitterly.
"Yeah, but what if it's medicine? If you're in hospital and they give you a medication and it causes you to flail about and punch someone, you won't be arrested for assault and battery, because you're not in control of yourself. Or," he added, forestalling her next argument even as she opened her mouth, "if you're defending someone else and the only way to keep them safe is to harm or kill their attacker, you'll not be called up on charges of murder." He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. His eyes were intensely blue. "You were saving the Doctor," he said quietly. "And, in your Vortex-drugged state, you thought you were saving me. You didn't know the consequences." He grinned. "Since I'd otherwise be dead with no hope of return, I really have to thank you."
This didn't make any sense at all. "How can you thank me?" she demanded, disbelieving, through her tears. "For this? For bringing you back, making you immortal, and then leaving you behind?"
His thumbs wiped tears from her cheeks. "Forget the past," he said. "It's done. It's over. What we've got now is the future."
"But-" she protested.
"It wasn't your fault," he repeated with emphasis. "You did what you thought was right. You couldn't have known what would happen afterward." His smile became soft, tender. "I forgive you," he said. "And there's no way I'm letting you go now, unless you insist. For the first time in well over a hundred years…I'm not alone."
It was an eerie echo of her earlier thoughts. The faintest traces of hope began to worm their way into her heart as she looked at him, read the truth in his face. She swallowed and managed a tremulous smile, but couldn't yet manage to speak. Instead, she pushed herself up out of her chair and wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. He pulled her into his lap and held her tightly as she wept the last few tears that were within her-tears of release now. She still hadn't completely forgiven herself, but Jack had forgiven her, and that meant more than she could say.
Finally she was wept out, and they sat together in comfortable silence, holding each other. Rose tried to let her mind drift, not think about anything in particular, but the image of those aliens-Weevils, he'd called them-kept slipping into her mind's eye. "Jack?" she said softly at last.
"Mm?"
"Those-Weevils-you said you don't know if they have a language?"
"No, we don't. Pretty primitive, as I said before." He leaned his head away, turning somewhat awkwardly to look at her. "You're not still worried about them, are you?"
"Not worried, no. I was just thinking…" She hesitated. "The TARDIS can translate alien languages. Could we, I don't know, contact the Doctor somehow? Maybe we could find out why they're scared of me. And if there's anything we can do about this…immortality thing. After all, it was the heart of the TARDIS in me that did it."
Jack shook his head, sighing. "I've no idea how to contact him, Rose," he said soberly. "I've been waiting a long time, hoping that I could find him. But I never have." He paused, then said in a low voice, "Maybe he does know I'm here… and just hasn't come back for reasons of his own."
There was pain in his voice-highly-controlled and doubtless as sharp now as it had been when he'd watched the TARDIS disappear so long ago. Silence fell again, not quite as comfortable as before, but after a few moments, he said in a more normal tone of voice, "We should find you a place to stay. Torchwood's got a hostel of sorts, and it's got actual rooms, with doors and private baths and everything, not like the student hostels on the Continent. More like a hotel than a hostel, really. It'll do until we work out something more permanent."
Relieved to be changing the subject, Rose said, "Yeah. That sounds good."
She clambered somewhat awkwardly off Jack's lap, and he stood beside her. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and some of the uncomfortable feeling subsided. "I'll just go back down to get the rest of your clothes, and we'll go on over there, find you a room you like."
She couldn't stop herself from asking, "And what then, Jack? Do I have to start all over again, in yet another strange city?"
He smiled, an expression of compassion and sympathy. "Yeah," he said. "But at least you're not alone."
Author: aibhinn
Pairings: Jack/Rose, Jack/Ten, Jack/Ten/Rose, Ten/Rose, mentions of (past) Jack/Ianto
Rating: PG this chapter
Spoilers: Doctor Who through "Doomsday", Torchwood through "End of Days".
Summary: The Rift is much more active than it was, and has been disgorging aliens and out-of-time people at an alarming rate… including one person Jack never expected to see again.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Everything belongs to Auntie Beeb. I'm stuck here on the far side of the wrong continent, playing in her sandbox.
Author's note: Still ignoring the canon end of 1x13, "End of Days." Thanks to Rae, Gina, Ruth, and Jo for the beta!
Part I | Part II | Part III | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII | Part XIV | Part XV
The cell door shut behind the two Weevils with a clang. "What the hell was all that about?" Owen demanded, engaging the safety lock on his weapon and shoving it into his coat pocket. It was a move that drove Jack nuts whenever he saw it; he kept trying to force Owen to wear a shoulder holster, or at least one that clipped to his belt.
"How the hell should we know?" Gwen retorted, sliding her gun into her rear jeans pocket-another move that made Jack crazy.
"Well, you spent more time with her than I did," he snapped. "You know more about her than I do."
"I don't have a clue why the Weevils are terrified of her. And from the look on her face, I don't think she does either."
"You don't know that," Owen reminded her, pointing his finger for emphasis.
"Thought you just said I knew more about her."
He rolled his eyes. "You don't know where she's been or what she's done or even where she's from. All we know is that she knew Jack before, and she showed up in a dead-end alley, near death from starvation and dehydration. She could be some sort of alien herself, or possessed by an alien like what's-her-name, fuck-'em-to-dust girl-"
"Carys," Gwen said with some asperity.
"Whatever. She could be like that, couldn't she?"
"Oh, for God's sake," Gwen began, but Tosh interrupted her.
"No. I think Owen's right." They both looked at her, startled, and she amended, "Well, sort of."
"Thanks for that," Owen said dryly.
"I mean-I just think we should keep an eye on her, that's all. Jack's not a fool, but if the two of them were close before, he might not be able to see what's going on before it's too late." Tosh looked at each of them in turn, her eyes serious. "We'll keep an eye on her," she repeated. "And I'll tell Ianto as well."
Owen sighed. "S'pose that's the best we can do," he grumbled. Shrugging, he led the two women back up toward the Hub.
***
Rose looked up from her half-finished eggs and bacon for the first time since the impeccably-tailored Ianto had set the food in front of her. She'd been afraid of what she'd see in Jack's face. A pair of aliens that had attacked Gwen and Owen had shrunk away from her as though she were some sort of terrifying enemy-as though she could actually hurt them. Even though all she'd been able to do was stand there, like one of those idiotic women in slasher movies, who stood and screamed while the killer came right at them. She laid down her cutlery and sighed, rubbing her hands over her face. Good job I'm not travelling with the Doctor now, she thought. I'm fairly useless, it seems.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack put his fork down as well and reach a hand out toward her, palm up, invitingly. She hesitated, then put her hand in his. The familiar warmth was reassuring, even now. "It's going to be all right, you know," he said.
"Is it?" she said before she could stop herself, and clamped her lips shut, looking away.
"Yeah. It is." He reached across the corner of the table with his free hand and put his fingers beneath her chin, gently encouraging her to turn her face back to him. "I've been through a lot, Rose. I've seen a lot. This-you scaring off a couple of Weevils-it's nothing my team and I can't handle. We'll figure out what's going on, and it'll all be fine." His eyes were deep, darker than usual. "But I need to know everything you can tell me about what's happened to you since I last saw you. Everything. Don't leave any of it out."
Her appetite faded, and she pushed her plate away, leaning back in her chair, though she didn't release his hand. Her gaze dropped briefly to the floor between her new trainers, then she sighed and looked up and around at the room. "I know that logo," she said quietly, and her eyes flickered back to him. "This is Torchwood, isn't it? You work for Torchwood."
"Yeah." He squeezed her hand gently. "This is Torchwood Three. Torchwood One was in London; Torchwood Two is a little man in Glasgow. We're based in Cardiff because of the Rift."
"Then you know what happened at the London Torchwood," she said. "The Daleks and the Cybermen."
"Last year." He nodded. "I know you and the Doctor were there. I saw the report. You and your mother were on the list of those who had died, but I never found out anything else." Her eyes filled with tears, and he scooted closer, hand tightening gently on hers. "Tell me," he urged.
She looked away again-it was too painful to look at anyone when she told this story, even now-and reluctantly, began talking about everything that happened after the Game Station. She told him about the Doctor's regeneration, how it had gone wrong and left him unconscious. How she'd tried to bluff the Sycorax into leaving. The sword fight. The hand. The destruction of the Sycorax ship by Torchwood. "It was the first time I'd heard of you lot."
Jack was nodding. "I knew about some of that, but I wasn't there-I've never been part of Torchwood One." He hesitated as though about to add something else, but closed his mouth again.
She went on, describing some of their adventures over the next months. Cat nuns. Queen Victoria. Sarah Jane and Reinette. Falling into the parallel world, fighting the Cybermen for the first time, and leaving Mickey behind. The Wire. The black hole, and Toby. Elton. Chloe.
The tears spilled over as she talked about the Battle of Canary Wharf, and being pulled across the Void by her dad from the other universe. Realising she could never get back. Saying goodbye. The Doctor's unfinished sentence. Trying to build a life for herself by going to work for that Earth's Torchwood, and doing a brilliant job of it. Her sister, Violet. Her husband, Don, dead at thirty-one from a heart attack. Her second marriage to Mickey.
"But something was wrong," she said softly, still staring at the table, though what she was seeing was far away in space and time. "I never seemed to get any older. Don used to tease me that I was single-handedly supporting the moisturiser companies, but I never did anything like that. I just… didn't age. And once Mickey and I married, it was even more obvious-we were both in our thirties, and I still looked just like I do now. Just like I did before the Doctor regenerated. I can change my hair and my makeup and all that, but no matter how old I get, nothing else ever changes."
Now she looked up, and picked up the knife that she'd been using-a sharp knife, not a butter knife. "I can be injured," she said. "But I can't die. Not permanently, at least." And very deliberately, she drew the blade across her palm, slicing deep. Jack watched closely as blood welled up, spilled over her hand and onto the table-and then, before his eyes, the slice closed itself and healed over, leaving no trace, not even a scar.
He met her eyes, but she couldn't read his gaze. "I'm eighty-six years old," she said, so quietly she almost couldn't hear herself. "Or I was when I fell through the Rift, or whatever it was. I look like I'm twenty. And I'll look like I'm twenty forever."
Jack reached over and took the knife from her. She thought he would put it away, but to her shock, instead he drew it across his own palm exactly the way she'd done. Her jaw dropped open, and she reached for his hand. "Oh my God, Jack, no!" she protested, looking for something to staunch the blood with.
He caught her hand with his unbloodied one. "Wait," he said. "Take a look."
She glanced down and gasped. The cut was sealing itself just as hers had done, until it had completely healed. No scar, even. Only blood was left to show he'd ever been hurt. She stared at him, jaw hanging open. No, she thought. No. It couldn't be. It couldn't mean-
"I'm a hundred and forty-five years old," he said quite calmly. "And I can't die either."
Rose felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach; her diaphragm refused to move, her lungs could not fill. Her mind whirled. "You-" she stuttered, trying to make sense of what he'd said. "You can't die? Like me?"
Was it traitorous of her to be secretly glad, despite the tragedy of it? She'd fought so long to be able to let go of her life, to fade away like normal humans. How could she be grateful someone else was cursed with the same thing? But she was. And not just anyone: it was Jack.
For the first time in decades, she didn't feel alone.
He wiped his hand clean on his serviette, and then took her hand to wipe hers as well. "I died on the Game Station," he said as he worked, with what would have seemed to be utter calm if she hadn't learned to read him so well, so many years ago. "The Daleks exterminated me. And then I woke up, with golden light and singing in my head-and when I got back to the broadcast center where the Doctor had been, the TARDIS was dematerialising."
"Oh, Jack," Rose said softly. She couldn't imagine what that must have been like-not only to be left behind, but to watch her and the Doctor leaving without him. Maybe that was what had caused this-something on the Game Station. It was the last place they had been together, after all. Something to do with the Doctor's regeneration, maybe? Or the transmat that had hauled them into those horrible games?
And then the penny dropped. "Hold on," she said abruptly. "Golden light? Singing?"
He frowned, releasing her hand. "Yeah."
No. Oh, no. Horror began to curl in her chest, an icy fog wrapping its tendrils around her heart. "Like a choir in the back of your mind?" she pursued, praying the answer would be no. "And a light like sunlight, but it warmed you all through, not just on your skin?"
"Yeah." He cocked his head. "Why? Did something like that happen to you?"
The horror was growing into something so massive, she felt her heart would burst with it. She stared at him as the immensity of it became clear. "Oh, God," she said in a small voice. "Oh, God, Jack. I know who did this. I know who made you-made us-immortal."
"What?" Jack's eyes lit up. "Really? Who?"
She swallowed past the lump in her throat, wishing she could tear her eyes away from his so she wouldn't see the look he'd give her when he finally understood. Wishing she could just not tell him. But she couldn't-he had to know. He had the right to know. "Me," she said in that same small voice. "I did."
His eyebrows came together. "You? Rose, no, honey, you couldn't have."
She shook her head fiercely. "I did, Jack. It was me. The Doctor sent me home in the TARDIS, told me to forget him and just live a normal life. But I couldn't. I couldn't leave him-or you-there alone. So Mum and Mickey and I used a tow truck to pull the console open, just like when Blon Fel Fotch turned back into an egg." She swallowed, remembering vaguely what she'd said to the Doctor at the time. "I looked into the TARDIS. And the TARDIS looked into me." He still seemed confused, so she clarified, "I took the Time Vortex into myself, Jack. I went back to the Game Station, destroyed the Daleks and the Dalek Emperor, scattered the words Bad Wolf around time and space so my past self would know to come back, and then…"
Her voice failed her. She forced herself to continue. "Then I brought you back to life. And the Doctor killed himself by taking the Vortex from me and giving it back to the TARDIS. That's why he regenerated. And when we left-he didn't know I'd brought you back, and I was unconscious, and he was dying." Finally, finally, she was able to tear her gaze away, vision blurring with tears. "I didn't know that I'd brought you back until about twenty years ago. The dreams were getting clearer, but it took that long to remember everything. And then I knew what we'd done, leaving you there. But I didn't know I'd made you immortal as well." The tears spilled over, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she choked. "I'm so sorry."
"Hey," Jack said soothingly, reaching out to stroke her hair. She flinched, but he didn't back off, just caressed her, clearly trying to calm her. "Rose, it's all right. I don't blame you."
She swung sharply round, dropping her hands to stare at him again. "Don't blame me?" she repeated incredulously, tears still falling. "I made you immortal, Jack. Never changing, never aging, never dying. Never. Bad enough I did it to myself, but to you-!"
"You didn't know, sweetheart," he insisted. "You didn't know what it would do-and you probably didn't even know what you were doing. You weren't in control of yourself at that point, you couldn't have been. The Vortex was. Or the TARDIS. One of them."
"How do you know?" she demanded. "How do you know it wasn't all me?"
"Because you didn't remember it," he said logically. "It took time for you to realise what you'd done, time for your subconscious to dig out the memories. It's like being drugged-you're not in control of your actions because something else is interfering with your ability to make choices."
"But you're still responsible for what you do when you're drugged, if you chose to take it," Rose pointed out bitterly.
"Yeah, but what if it's medicine? If you're in hospital and they give you a medication and it causes you to flail about and punch someone, you won't be arrested for assault and battery, because you're not in control of yourself. Or," he added, forestalling her next argument even as she opened her mouth, "if you're defending someone else and the only way to keep them safe is to harm or kill their attacker, you'll not be called up on charges of murder." He put his hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. His eyes were intensely blue. "You were saving the Doctor," he said quietly. "And, in your Vortex-drugged state, you thought you were saving me. You didn't know the consequences." He grinned. "Since I'd otherwise be dead with no hope of return, I really have to thank you."
This didn't make any sense at all. "How can you thank me?" she demanded, disbelieving, through her tears. "For this? For bringing you back, making you immortal, and then leaving you behind?"
His thumbs wiped tears from her cheeks. "Forget the past," he said. "It's done. It's over. What we've got now is the future."
"But-" she protested.
"It wasn't your fault," he repeated with emphasis. "You did what you thought was right. You couldn't have known what would happen afterward." His smile became soft, tender. "I forgive you," he said. "And there's no way I'm letting you go now, unless you insist. For the first time in well over a hundred years…I'm not alone."
It was an eerie echo of her earlier thoughts. The faintest traces of hope began to worm their way into her heart as she looked at him, read the truth in his face. She swallowed and managed a tremulous smile, but couldn't yet manage to speak. Instead, she pushed herself up out of her chair and wrapped her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. He pulled her into his lap and held her tightly as she wept the last few tears that were within her-tears of release now. She still hadn't completely forgiven herself, but Jack had forgiven her, and that meant more than she could say.
Finally she was wept out, and they sat together in comfortable silence, holding each other. Rose tried to let her mind drift, not think about anything in particular, but the image of those aliens-Weevils, he'd called them-kept slipping into her mind's eye. "Jack?" she said softly at last.
"Mm?"
"Those-Weevils-you said you don't know if they have a language?"
"No, we don't. Pretty primitive, as I said before." He leaned his head away, turning somewhat awkwardly to look at her. "You're not still worried about them, are you?"
"Not worried, no. I was just thinking…" She hesitated. "The TARDIS can translate alien languages. Could we, I don't know, contact the Doctor somehow? Maybe we could find out why they're scared of me. And if there's anything we can do about this…immortality thing. After all, it was the heart of the TARDIS in me that did it."
Jack shook his head, sighing. "I've no idea how to contact him, Rose," he said soberly. "I've been waiting a long time, hoping that I could find him. But I never have." He paused, then said in a low voice, "Maybe he does know I'm here… and just hasn't come back for reasons of his own."
There was pain in his voice-highly-controlled and doubtless as sharp now as it had been when he'd watched the TARDIS disappear so long ago. Silence fell again, not quite as comfortable as before, but after a few moments, he said in a more normal tone of voice, "We should find you a place to stay. Torchwood's got a hostel of sorts, and it's got actual rooms, with doors and private baths and everything, not like the student hostels on the Continent. More like a hotel than a hostel, really. It'll do until we work out something more permanent."
Relieved to be changing the subject, Rose said, "Yeah. That sounds good."
She clambered somewhat awkwardly off Jack's lap, and he stood beside her. A hand came to rest on her shoulder, and some of the uncomfortable feeling subsided. "I'll just go back down to get the rest of your clothes, and we'll go on over there, find you a room you like."
She couldn't stop herself from asking, "And what then, Jack? Do I have to start all over again, in yet another strange city?"
He smiled, an expression of compassion and sympathy. "Yeah," he said. "But at least you're not alone."