Composed of Nows

by Indiana_J

Summary:

Sometimes it takes someone else to point out that forever is simply composed of nows.

Chapter 1

Pain.

~~

He came back to life exactly like every other time he came back to life - frantically gasping in that first breath of air into his lungs, feeling his heart spasm back to life in a painful gallop, groaning as limbs jerked with sudden electrical impulses. It hurt like hell each time, making him regret again that life he can't seem to shake, like an unwanted relative that kept coming back to ask for money.

 

At the same time, he can't bring himself to hate being alive again. There's a siren song about it that he can't deny, no matter how hard he tried. And there are moments that make him glad to be alive; those teasing events that make him realize that was what it was all about. This, however, was not one of those moments.

 

Finally, Jack managed to rouse himself enough to try and take stock of his state and where he had ended up. He was in a fair state of undress - his shirt and jacket were slightly worse for wear, though still in mostly one piece, but his pants had clearly gone to their maker. One shoe was completely missing and that irritated him more than the lack of pants issue.

 

As for where he was...

 

He sat up and a wave of dizziness washed over him, so he quickly sank back down to the ground. He seemed to be in some kind of flower field that was in full, spring-like bloom. A clear, blue sky passed by over head when he looked up and in the distance he could hear the surf break against a beach of some kind.

 

Somewhere near the sea, in a field...not, he decided, very helpful in the least. Though the flowers were pretty and he couldn't help but think they smelled slightly of one Rose Tyler. Or maybe it had been that Rose smelled slightly of them. For all that she had liked her makeup caked on, she had picked her scents very carefully due to a previous incident that involved too much perfume, an alien, and a sensitive nose. That sneeze, he was told, nearly started a revolution.

 

His body, though alive once more, was still exhausted from the fall, dying (probably more than once) and coming back to life. Jack fought against it, but was unable to stay awake for very much longer, his systems forcing him into a deep sleep so they could re-energize.

~~

 

The sound of voices speaking a language that was clearly human, but not one Jack knew, woke him up. Cracking an eye open, he found himself surrounded by two men and a young woman, the latter who was pointing at him frantically. When they finally realized he was awake, he quickly decided that feigning greater injury than what he really had was the best course of action. It was either that or try to explain why he really wasn't wearing any pants and have them jump to the conclusion that he'd done something untoward with the young woman.

 

When she smiled brightly at him, her face crinkling in a truly delightful way as her family helped him to his feet, he made a mental note to do something untoward to her at a later date.

 

~~

 

It turned out that he was in Norway of all places.

 

Katrine, the young woman that first found him, spoke fairly decent English, as did her mother and brother. Her father spoke only a smattering of English, most of them bizarre catchphrases like "What up, doc?" and a few he'd never heard before. However, Jorge was content to have the rest of his family translate for him. They were a family of fairly prosperous farmers and fishermen, and it was their land that he had fallen upon.

 

Of course, he left that part out of his story and claimed that he had no idea how he came to be in the field with no money and very little in the way of pants. In reality, it wasn't all that far from the truth.

 

They had all glanced at each other and nodded solemnly, muttering "Dårlig ulv stranden" to themselves. Jack frowned at the term - it was familiar and yet utterly alien at the same time, like a forgotten memory that kept wiggling about in the back of his head. Katrine quickly explained that it was a beach near their house and that weird things were known to happen there. To them he was now firmly entrenched as one of those "weird" events that just seemed to happen, but they seemed more amused by it than frightened or concerned.

 

The mother, Nora, was openly pleased to have a guest over for dinner and once he charmed his way into a pair of pants (and Katrine out of hers), they enveloped him in the family life for the evening.

 

Assuming he was American - and with good reason; how could he explain that in the 51st century, accents had broadened and changed some? - they treated him to a traditional meal and he pleased Nora even more with his appetite. The process of coming back to life always made it seem like he had an empty cavern to fill instead of simply one stomach. And he used the friendly banter and chatter at the table to gather information.

 

As a former Time Agent, he knew enough about alternate realities to realize that was probably what he had fallen through to courtesy of the Rift. It felt off, slightly wrong, a feeling in the back of his head that he couldn't quite put his finger on. Combine that with the gossip he was hearing and it made sense, in its own time-warped way. At least he didn't have to worry about running into an alternative him, he thought, since he wouldn't be born until the 51st century.

 

If, of course, the time lines still worked roughly the way they did back home.

 

"Where will you go from here?" Katrine asked as her mother prepared the dessert. "Back to America?"

 

He shook his head. "First to London, I think, and then to Cardiff." No matter where or when he was, Cardiff was always a good stopping place though he had no idea if there was a version of the Doctor in this world or if Cardiff was still a hotspot of alien activity of any kind. But he knew he'd been in Cardiff when he had been spat out into this different Norway and if he played his cards right, he might be able to reverse it from there.

 

Nora giggled suddenly. "Maybe he catch good glance of the lovely, young heiress," she said, laughing.

 

This caught Jack's attention and he grinned. "Is there a lovely, young heiress in London?" he asked. "I can see that Norway has its share." Both women giggled and the men rolled their eyes good naturedly.

 

"They actually came to visit Darlig ulv stranden," Katrine explained after a moment, "a few years back. They have big companies all over, not just in London."

 

"Not to mention running Torchwood," the brother chimed in as he stole another slice of bread.

 

Jack was suddenly paying full attention.

 

"Ah, yes yes. I hear the daughter, the heir, is a bit of a handful and works with Torchwood as well." Nora frowned at Katrine. "Not proper behavior for such a young woman."

 

"Yes, mama," she sighed.

 

He was certainly going to have to take a look see at this other Torchwood, Jack decided, and make sure this place wasn't anything like how his used to be run. And where there was Torchwood, there was alien technology - which meant it might be easier to get himself home than he feared.

 

"Would our American friend like some more?" Nora offered and he happily handed over his plate.

 

~~

 

Zeppelins. Jack openly stared, neck craned back as far as it could go, in wonder. Back in his own world, the crafts had been almost forgotten outside of history lessons, but here they were the only way to fly, literally. There were no such things as planes, zeppelins being the only thing in the air space. A bit of an oddity in a world that was, apparently, so far advanced than the one he'd left behind.

 

Always a bit of a flyboy, Jack couldn't keep his eyes on the ground after that.

 

And if he happened to glance at the underside of the zeppelin for a line and a blond with a Union Jack, he just let the moment pass.

 

~~

 

London, Jack was happy to find out, was the same old, smelly, gorgeous London that he was used to. With a few changes, of course - President Harriet Jones, for one. And he was pretty stunned to hear that Torchwood was a name chatted about on street corners as if it was nothing out of the ordinary - just another arm of the police, as it were.

 

He shook his head and paid for his newspaper (the owner of the bookstall had been pleased to find someone who was interested in the old way of doing things. How he had said it made Jack decide to research that). The family he left back in Norway had pressed some money on him when he left and he had managed all right between there and England. Somehow, he'd even managed to charm his way into a flat.

 

Grinning at the memory, he flipped through the pages almost randomly as he walked along, scanning for mentions of Torchwood or anything else that was interesting.

 

And then he very nearly ran right into a trashbin.

 

The gossip section and not even buried, but the first article.

 

"Rose Tyler: Party Girl or Torchwood Obsessed?"

 

The smile was the same, the eyes - the rude gesture was familiar, too. The last time he seen her do that was when the Uriana Queen had demanded that Rose become one of her consorts - in the afterlife.

 

"Well, shit."

 

~~

 

The woman who had set him up in the nice, little flat in the heart of London had little desire for anything more than a handsome rogue paying her compliments and keeping her company. A widow with sons and daughters grown, she was amused to be seen in the company of a much younger man (oh, if she had only known) and Jack had been content enough.

 

It gave him a base of operations and an ability to start saving up the currency used in that world. It wasn't completely different from the pound back in the other England, but it was different enough that he couldn't use what little he'd had on him.

 

It had been a few months since he'd been tossed through, enough to get him settled and comfortable. He hadn't moved onto Cardiff yet because...

 

Well, he had a thousand different good reasons, but they all started with R and ended with osetyler.

 

He'd been pulling as many public records of her as he could, but it was only recently that he was finally getting past the gossip rags and into the interesting tidbits.

 

Current head of Torchwood, Pete Tyler, finds missing wife alive and well.

 

Pete Tyler's long lost daughter - believed to have originally died at birth - has returned to England.

 

Jack sat back from the vidscreen and crossed his arms, rolling things over in his mind. A never heard from before daughter to Pete Tyler suddenly appeared - he did the math quickly - right after the invasion of the Cybermen and Daleks that had invaded both worlds. After about three months back home, she started working with 'war heroes', Jake Simmons and one Rickey Smith (Jack had laughed himself sick at the first goofy picture he'd found of Rickey. Neither version, apparently, matured past goofball, war hero or no.).

 

And then suddenly he was remembering...

 

"Sir, the reports you wanted to see?" Ianto said, interrupting Jack's private musings. A thick - far too thick - folder was placed carefully on the desk alongside a steaming mug of tea.

"Thanks, Ianto."

"Is there..."

"No, nothing else." He waited until Ianto had left the room before picking it up and flipping through it. The names of the dead had been placed alphabetically by last name and he found himself quickly at the 'T' section.

Tyler, Jacqueline

Tyler, Rose

He sat for hours in the Hub and stared at nothing, trying to pretend he wasn't imagining her screams in his mind.

 

Jack's Rose, the vibrant young woman that he'd kissed on Satellite Five, was gone. This Rose wasn't his, couldn't be his, but what she was...

 

She was a mystery.

 

And simply put, Captain Jack Harkness had nothing better to do.

 

~~

 

The problem with the public information was that it was public and not very helpful. And with the exception of one Sarah Jane Smith - who he hoped from the bottom of his black heart was giving this Torchwood just as much grief - there was very little published about the Tyler family outside of the normal vein. The others wrote about Pete's business with Torchwood and public works; how Jackie had been seemingly changed for the better by the escape from the Cybermen; what Rose was wearing (and in one case, what she wasn't wearing. Jack firmly approved and added that to his growing folder. For scientific reasons, of course).

 

However, from the looks of it, Sarah Jane had managed to befriend Rose and become the unofficial family reporter. She was just as sharp with them if she hadn't been friends but she published a great deal more meaty works.

 

None of which was all that helpful, but Jack knew that for everything that was put to print, there was a great deal of information that would never see the light of day. Information that could prove valuable in finding out more about this Rose Tyler before he did anything rash.

 

~~

 

Well, doing something rash was relative, he thought from his perch in a tree as he watched Sarah Jane's house. This kind of rash was only likely to get him hurt physically.

 

After all, what was the point of never being able to die if you didn't live a little?

 

~~

 

One black eye, a pair of torn trousers and wounded pride later, the only thing Jack Harkness had managed to come away with was the knowledge to never, ever mess with Sarah Jane Smith. Especially in her own home.

 

Shaking his head wryly, he gazed at his reflection in the mirror. "Time to bite the bullet, Jack," he told himself and forced a grin on his face. The reflection looked sickly. "What's the worst that can happen? She turns out to be a bubble-headed blond, we have a little fun, I go back to Cardiff. No harm, no foul."

 

Right.

Chapter 2

A tousled head popped up over the banister and stared down with wide, frantic eyes. "You lot are late!" the head hissed. "Miss Jackie is in an uproar!" 

"Of course she is," Rose responded, taking the stairs two at a time, "wouldn't be my mum if she wasn't."  She gripped her boots tightly in one hand and concentrated on not slipping in her socks and cracking her head on the landing. Below her, Mickey, Jake and her dad were all struggling to take their shoes off as well.

Ginny was one of the maids of the Tyler household and had been since even before Jackie and Rose had been stuck on the other side of the Void. She was intelligent enough that Rose knew the other woman understood that there was something very different between the Jackie that was thought dead and the one that reappeared after the Daleks and Cybermen.

But she, like the rest of the loyal staff, hadn't said anything. Rose's mom could be difficult, but in comparison to the one that had been killed in that factory...

The maid stepped back in horror as Rose made it to the top of the steps. "Miss Rose!" she gasped. "What happened?"

Rose didn't need to look and she gave Ginny a cheerful grin. "Business as usual, nothing to worry about!"

"Unless this stuff gets in the carpet," Mickey added as he joined them, Jake and Pete trailing not far behind. “Then you might have a problem.”

There'd been an escaped prisoner at Torchwood Headquarters, but between the four of them they'd managed to lock him into one of the storage rooms so that security could come and put him back where he belonged.

The problem being that Helipoas' tended to spew a gooey, sticky substance in defense. It wasn't deadly and it was mainly used to immobilize their attackers - or prey - which it did very well.  Far too well if Rose had anything to say about it.

By far, Pete had gotten off the lightest. He had gotten some on his trouser legs and shoes, while Rose had pretty much sacrificed one of her favorite shirts to the cause. At one point Mickey had gotten plastered to the wall, escaping by wiggling out of his jacket and Jake... 

Eyes wide as saucers, Ginny stared and Rose squashed the laughter bubbling up. Jake had been stuck to the ceiling in a hallway and they'd spent nearly half an hour getting him down, almost as long as they'd spent chasing that blasted alien around the compound.

When Jake looked like he was going to do something rash, like grab Rose in a bear hug, she quickly interjected, "Right! Mum! The party! Showers!" and took off down the hallway at a full run.

~~

Rose was still in the shower when she heard her mum barrel into the bedroom, shouting at the top of her voice. She rolled her eyes before climbing out, hurriedly wrapping a towel around herself.

"Hold your shirt on!" she yelled back in response, scooping up the TARDIS key from its normal bathroom resting spot. Shaking her head, she managed to get it on and not drop the towel right as Jackie came in.

"Oh, just look at you now," Jackie sighed, hands on her hips. "You're not ready!"

"I will be, mum, promise," Rose rushed to sooth, but she could see it wasn't working. The fact that she had managed a fifteen minute shower at all meant that her dad had probably gotten an earful before Jackie had come hunting her down.

"You will be if I have anythin' ta say about it," came the firm reply and off she vanished into the wardrobe.

Rose sighed and poked her head in after her mum. "Just not the pink one!" she ordered.

"Why not?"

"It's got a great big rip in it. Some sod stepped on it the last time I wore it."

"Some sod" had actually been Mickey but all had been forgiven considering that they'd been seeking cover from enemy fire at the time. Jake had split his trousers clear up the back that time.

For a moment, if Rose closed her eyes and just listened to the sounds of clothing being shuffled through, she was back in the TARDIS' wardrobe room (first left, second right, third on the left, go straight ahead, under the stairs, past the bins, it would the fifth door on her left). The wood pressing against her cheek morphed into a warm, living metal-like substance that purred and talked to her in its own way. And the voice muttering obscenities from deep within was male and slightly alien...

A pair of knickers hit her full on in the face and she stumbled back, startled out of her daydream.

Jackie's head followed. "Go on then, Rose, we haven't all night."

"Yes, mum."

Rose Tyler, Defender of Earth - but Jackie Tyler could kick her arse any day of the week. At least some things never changed.

~~

"Did you know that Rickey reeks?" Sarah Jane asked as she passed over a glass of wine to Rose.

"Ta," she said gratefully, disengaging herself from the obnoxious hanger-on that had wanted her dad's attention and, failing that, had tried to get hers. She wrinkled her nose at Sarah Jane over the merlot. "He what now?"

"Stinks." The older woman slid her arm through Rose's and gently led her from the center of the room. They came upon a door that opened to an empty balcony and slipped through. "Mickey smells a little like something went and died on him."

Rose giggled, nearly snorting wine as she leaned against the railing that ran along the house. She glanced at Sarah Jane out the side of her eye and wondered if it would have been like this back home.

After the news conference, Rose had managed to shake off the reporters, the Torchwood employees, and her family. The Doctor had taught her a lot of things, but Jack was the one who had taught her about redirection.

So she had redirected her way out of that mess and right into a nice cup of coffee (to her eternal disappointment, the national drink of England was no longer tea) in some small, out of the way cafe. The owner had been kind enough to give her a nearly hidden table in the back, away from the windows and the mob that was sure to follow.

With a groan, Rose kicked her shoes off and felt her ankles pop in irritated response. She was meant for trainers, not spiky monstrosities that made her legs wobble with every step. She'd been strapped into an almost severe business suit all morning and once she was certain she wouldn't be followed, she planned on heading right home and burning the bloody thing.

Rose was so fixated on her master plan that she failed to notice the shadow growing over her and her sanctuary as someone approached. A polite cough caused her to jump and curse under her breath as she tried not to spill her drink.

A woman stood a few feet away, a faint smiling playing across her face and Rose felt the world spin away for a moment.

"Sarah Jane Smith?" she breathed, frozen stiff. Her heart beat a strange tempo within her body, echoing sharply in her own ears.

Sarah Jane blinked in surprise and her smile widened. "It's good to see that my reputation proceeds me," she responded. "Especially to those missing heiresses that seem to belong to one Mr. Tyler."

At that, Rose remembered herself. She was no longer Rose Tyler, Doctor's companion who traveled the stars in a Police box. She was simply an errant daughter in a world that was no longer hers, with a good cup of coffee instead of a nice cuppa, and shoes that didn't quite fit.

"My father mentioned you to me," she recovered.

"More like Torchwood mentioned me, complete with warning signs," Sarah Jane responded briskly. "May I?" She gestured at the seat in front of Rose but took it before an answer could come forth. A small recorder found a home next to Rose's forgotten cup of coffee. "Now then, Miss Tyler..."

Rose grimaced. "Please, s'just Rose," she muttered and, surprisingly, Sarah Jane gave her a sympathetic look.

"Not quite used to all of this, are you?"

"Somethin' like that, yeah. What can I do for you then? Suppose you'd like an interview?" She stared at the recorder like it was going to grow legs and run off.

"Something like that, yes." Sarah Jane clicked the on button and leaned further forward, the intense look on her face suddenly explaining exactly why this woman - her other self, anyway - had run alongside the Doctor. "I want the truth, Rose. Not that codswallop that your father spoon fed the others back there. I don't believe for a second that you're a child that was switched at birth and just found or whatever it was, not after Mrs. Tyler's disappearance and reappearance, then."

Rose stared. Sarah Jane stared back. This woman was just as sharp and intelligent as the one back on Rose's proper Earth, traveling through time and space or not. Well, then.

"I'm from another Earth, an alternate reality, yeah?" Rose said as calmly as she could, adopting her first Doctor's blank stare as she scooped up her cup. She'd wanted the truth. "I was travellin' with this man, alien actually, ya see, and got stuck here because a man who could have been my dad knew right when he was needed and, despite having no real ties to me, decided to save my life."

She took a sip.

Sarah Jane blinked and then reached out to shut off the recorder. They stared at each other and Rose was just thinking that the other woman was going to say she was barking mad when Sarah Jane finally responded. "Tell me more about this man?" she asked softly, and there was such longing in her eyes that something in Rose responded in kind.

"Off the record?"

"Off the record and I'll even buy you another coffee to sweeten the deal."

"Care to come back to us?" Sarah Jane asked gently, touching Rose on the shoulder. "You've that look about you again."

"What look?"

"The one that looks to the stars when you don't think anyone's watching." 

Rose shook herself. It was glorious having someone here, besides certain Torchwood staff, that knew the truth.  But it was now going on five years and, for the most part, she was living a fantastic life - she needed to stop watching those stars for someone who would never fall out of them again.

It didn't mean she didn't miss the Doctor, or Jack, or the TARDIS. She couldn't forget them even as she forged her own life in this brave, new world. She had to be careful; she had to cling to that with every shred of her being.

"So, what gives?" she asked, turning back. "Didn't just bring me out here ta talk about Mickey's scent, didja?"

Sarah Jane smirked and held up her hand to show off the knuckles. Rose gasped as she took in the bruising and cracked skin. "Someone tried to break into my house," came the calm explanation. "Got into the kitchen before I found him."

"You could have been hurt!"

Shrewd eyes flicked to Rose's knee and the younger woman blushed. "How's the wound? No limping and yet it's only been a few days..."

"The bullet just grazed me," Rose lied and they both dropped it.

Continuing now, Sarah Jane said, "He dropped something on his way out - an article of you."

Rose swallowed. It was probably another wannabe stalker or reporter who was jealous that Sarah Jane got all the good stories. Or it could be something much worse.

"I'll tell dad and he'll look into it," she promised and then smiled, trying to break the tension that had floated up. "Mickey doesn't really smell, does he?"

"Oh, you need to come and smell this..."

~~

The bullet had actually shattered her kneecap, going straight through the skin and bone. She'd felt various tendons snap and roll back, receding like a broken elastic band. It had bounced around, chewing everything up that it could find before exiting out the back.

She hadn't even been able to find the breath to scream as another bullet followed the first, this time aiming much higher.

When the others found her, she'd been pulling herself up a flight of stairs, covered in her own blood. She'd given them the line about being grazed as well and had avoided any helping hands.

No one bought it. Not that time, not the time before that and not the time after that. 

~~

Knocking on the office door, Rose didn't wait for an answer before slipping in. Pete glanced up from behind his desk and gave her a grin before he pointed to the phone and held up one finger.

Moving quietly, she headed over and dropped dinner - curry for him, fish and chips for her - on his desk. She settled in the comfortable chair across from him, kicked off her sensible shoes, and dug in.

She unabashedly watched him as he worked, handing him a chip when he was able to put the caller on mute. Five years was nothing compared to what her dad would have had if he hadn't died, but it was more than Rose and the other Pete Tyler had ever been given.  A few months before he died and then that ill fated day where she'd nearly ended the world. Precious memories, but ones that hadn't, surprisingly, gotten in the way of this Pete and her tentatively forging a relationship.

Him saving her life probably had a big thing to do with it - he hadn't torn her away from the Doctor, he'd saved her life. She'd be gone, completely, if it hadn't been for him, and after the Doctor had managed to contact her, she'd made her decision then to at least try. 

It hadn't been easy, even with Jackie (and sometimes especially) helping it, but it had grown in fits and starts. And Rose now could say she loved him without second guessing herself, and he could answer to dad without flinching.

It was a good, solid base and something else to cling to in this life of hers.

Setting down the phone, Pete sighed and rubbed his eyes. "If they ever offer you a desk job," he told her sternly, "run."

She giggled and shoved his curry towards him. "Here, before you nick all my chips." While he opened his dinner up, she tucked into hers and they ate in companionable silence for a little while. Quiet time was not something that was easily found in the Tyler house, not with Toby and his five year old self running around and causing trouble. A sign, Jackie had said, of a true Tyler.

After a while, she broke the silence. "Any luck?" Rose asked, tossing the empty container into the bin.

Pete grimaced, shaking his head. "Not on who he was, anyway. We know he was male but all of Sarah Jane's cameras had been turned off, probably by the man in question. We did get some readings, though, from the area after the fact." He brought out a slim folder and handed it over to Rose to read while he finished his curry, though he kept glancing up at her.

Rose frowned and read it twice through before peering at Pete. "The readings are sayin' this bloke isn't an alien, but ain't quite human either?" she asked, tone disbelieving. "But that's like..." She stopped herself when she noticed she'd crumpled the folder up in her hands.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know," Pete said softly, worry and concern radiating off of him.

"Oh, shit."

~~

It was a Saturday. It was seven in the morning. And Rose was at work.

She muttered crankily to herself as she stomped into her office, tossing purse and jacket onto one chair while she drained her coffee cup dry in one go. Her plans had been to sleep in, try to make a good cuppa (probably unsuccessfully but she'd sworn she'd keep trying until she did it), and then enjoy a lazy weekend with no obligations outside of visiting the family at the house.

Though she had a room and clothes at the house, she actually had her own flat - much to Jackie's eternal irritation. But after Toby was born, Rose had decided rather quickly that a nice, quiet flat was the perfect thing for her.

But her weekend plans had vanished when she'd been handed a project whose deadline had been pushed up to the following Monday. If she wanted to get it done, she had little choice but to come in on the weekend.

Sighing a sigh of the damned, she settled in at her desk and pulled out the paperwork. Rose grimaced.

"Might as well."

"Might as well what, Miss Tyler?"

Rose was out of her chair with her sidearm almost all the way out of the holster before she realized she knew the person hovering in the hallway outside her office. Ianto Jones looked apologetic as he stepped a little further in and she slumped back down, the chair squeaking in protest.

"I'm goin' ta put a bell on you," she warned fiercely, head lolling back against the headrest. "And a GPS system."

A faint smile played along his face. "My apologies, Miss Tyler.  I thought you heard me coming."

She grimaced at him. "When will you start callin' me Rose?"

"Perhaps when you finally get us firmly established down in Cardiff?" he responded, trying to sound helpful.

It had started out as a pipe dream - a team of her own in a new branch of Torchwood. But after a few years in the field and promotion after promotion, her father (and the rest of the high muckity mucks in Torchwood) had decided her request wasn't such a bad idea.

With some help from Sarah Jane, Rose had done her research into the history of Cardiff in this world and like everything else, there were small differences right next to the big ones. With no Doctor, or Rose, mucking about in the time line, a young servant girl working for Mr. Sneed, the local undertaker, had quietly suffered from her clairvoyant visions but had never had the chance to open the potential rift.

No Gelth, no walking dead, no Rift. But also no dead Gwyneth, either, and Rose decided she could take her victories where she could.

But it hadn't meant that Cardiff was completely in the clear. Instead of the Rift running through it, it seemed to have been the home to a Void tear. It had closed with the rest of the openings thanks to the Doctor, but weird things still happened around Cardiff and Torchwood had decided it would be a perfect place for another base of operations.

Ianto Jones was just one of the people Rose had been authorized to acquire in her staff-making decisions.

She waved Ianto off, laughing a little. "What is it, Ianto? I doubt this is a social call."

He nodded, any of the subtle teasing fading away from his face. "There, ah, seems to be an intruder in the building, Miss Tyler." Handing over a hand held video camera, he continued. "He managed to bypass all the normal security measures, ma’am, almost as if he knew they were going to be there. But he didn't get around all of them."

Rose nodded absently as she switched it on. After all the problems they'd gone through, Mickey had forced Torchwood to upgrade (up, up, upgrade) their security measures. Layers upon layers might have made it a bit of a pain in the arse to get in the building as an employee but it had saved their skins more than once.

The video recording she held now was one of the ones hidden around the building in various sectors and Ianto was one of the ones that had direct feed to it on his computer. It hadn't caught much, mostly a blur of movement, but it was enough. 

"That's no bloody employee," she sighed, tossing it underhanded back to Ianto. It vanished into a deep pocket and his hand was now cradling a firearm.

"Hardly not. He seems to have been heading towards the file room on level five."

"Remind me what's in there again?" Rose asked, unholstering her own weapon. Five years ago, a younger Rose who still had her Doctor would have frowned and balked.

No sonic screwdriver, no Doctor, different Rose.

Ianto shrugged one shoulder and let her go in front, an action that warmed her slightly. A man as skilled as Ianto didn't let just anyone take the lead.

"Various personnel folders, mostly. The personnel department has taken over most of that storage area."

Rose frowned and looked over her shoulder, jaw set. "That includes stuff on me, yeah?"

His eyes widened just a touch in response.

"Thought so." The cursing that followed caused poor Ianto's eyes to widen even further.

~~

They'd ended up splitting up - there were two ways of getting to that file room (if one didn't count the air duct and Rose had factored that in: the bloke they'd seen on camera looked far too big to squash himself up there) and two of them. Rose ran along the smooth wall of the Torchwood building, her shoulder just touching it, with her gun pointed out and down.

There was no doubt in her mind that this was the one that'd been at Sarah Jane's house, the one with the weird readings. She'd already alerted Pete who was scrambling not only Rose's team, but also the security that was in the building - the ones that weren't knocked out or locked in various rooms of the Torchwood Headquarters, that was.

Rose was sorely tempted to beat this man over the head with her gun, regardless of the ethics, just out of spite.

She stopped at a corner and cautiously peered around. "Ianto?" she breathed softly into her mouth piece.

"Miss Tyler?"

"The door to the folder room is open," she informed him, checking to make sure the safety on the gun was off. It was. "I'm goin' in - where are you at?"

There was a pause and then he said a word that she didn't know he knew. "I'm going to have to double back," came the terse reply.

Rose blinked and frowned in concern. "What's happened?"

"It appears our guest has sealed the door shut. The handle has been slagged."

She pinched the bridge of her nose hard. There was no way Ianto was going to get through that door unless he took it off the hinges - it had been designed to resist gun blasts.  It'd be faster if he ran around to the entrance on her side what with the whole lack of sonic screwdriver thing. "Be fast, Ianto, I'm still goin' in."

"Yes, ma'am."

Grumbling under her breath, she slipped down the hall and then cautiously through the door. Gripping the gun in both hands, she paused at the sound of a muffled noise - someone quietly shutting file drawers from the sound of it.

Righteous anger bloomed in her chest. They weren't stupid enough to leave her real background in some personnel file but it was the principal of the matter. Someone was going to great lengths to dig up dirt on her background and she wanted to know why and who.

Two rows down and she found herself pointing the gun at the back of a man rifling through various records. Glancing over, she noted he'd gotten to the 'S' portion - Mickey, she thought with a mental snarl and aimed the gun. With the Webley being double action, it not only saved her time but there was no give away sound of the hammer being cocked back

"Hands where I can see 'em," she snapped, her irritation spilling into her words unchecked. Rose watched as the intruder raised his hands slowly above his head and she eyed his jacket from a distance. It was thick enough that she had no idea if he was carrying or not, but she was going to keep on acting like he was.

When she was satisfied, Rose continued, "Now, turn around - slowly - and no fast moves."

There was a chuckle – warm, liquid and searingly familiar - as he turned. "Sweetheart, that's really all I have." He finished and eyed her, an eyebrow raised. "More than the empty-headed debutante, then," he murmured to himself.

Rose's world dropped away from her with a roaring noise. "Jack?" she whispered and her own voice sounded a million miles away from her.

It wasn't possible. The Jack Harkness she'd known had been born in the 51st century and his 'double' should not be in this timeline. It had been disconcerting enough to run into alternate versions of the people from the correct time:  Sarah Jane, Rickey before he'd died, even Sharren from the old Estates. She blinked but he was still standing there, looking just as disconcerted now as she felt.

"How do you know my name, Rose?" he asked slowly, hands still hovering in the air.

She tightened her grip on the gun as her palms started to get slick, stopping the tiniest of tremors from affecting her aim.

This man was not her Jack Harkness. He wasn't the one who'd rescued her in the middle of the blitz; not the one that had turned 'better with two' into 'better with three'; not the one that had taught her that outrageous dance that had resulted in them all getting arrested on the planet of Hoath.

Rose gave him a smirk and shrugged, deciding to tell the truth. He wouldn't believe it anyway and the faster she got this over with, the faster they could figure out who this man really was. "So there I was, yeah? Miles above London, durin' the blitz, Union Flag all over my chest, hangin'..."

"From a barrage balloon," the man across from her cut in suddenly, arms dropping limply to his side. He was staring openly at her now. "I had a tractor beam and an invisible Chula ship, some champagne..."

The gun wavered in her hand and she slowly lowered it. "Where did you keep your TARDIS key?" she whispered urgently, and he instantly grinned despite the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

"Used to keep it on a chain until it got caught around a tree limb once. After that, well, it's better you don't know."  Tears of her own were streaking down her face as he winked at her.

It could be a trap but Rose's instincts were telling her it wasn't. She remembered the time Jack had fallen out of the tree and the chain around his neck had gotten caught, nearly choking him before it had finally given way. After that, well, it was better that no one really wanted to know where it'd been kept - the Doctor had insisted on getting him some sanitizer.

Jack didn't start moving until the safety was clicked back on. And then he was only a foot away, arms reaching to draw her in close, when Rose heard footsteps behind her.

Twisting around, she saw Ianto slide around the corner and her heart skipped a beat because in an instant she knew what he must be seeing:  Jack stepping closer; Rose's face tear streaked and her gun lowered.

Ianto wasn't just a crack shot, he was fast. And deadly and he was currently assuming he was facing down a threat to his supervisor.   

And friend.

The shot echoed off the walls of the room around them, the heavy scent of gunpowder filtering in the air, and then there was cursing - loud, panicked cursing.

The gun Rose was carrying hit the ground with a loud thud, her hands spasming with pain. It had only taken one half step to the right to get in between Jack and the bullet meant for his heart. Half a step, no thinking involved.

She found herself being gently lowered to the ground and stared up into Jack's disbelieving eyes. He was murmuring words to her, his voice breaking, "I can't die, you little idiot" over and over again until it faded, replaced by a white noise that blanketed everything.

And then...nothing.

Chapter 3

She was dead. The bullet had passed straight through her heart and clear out of her back. Jack knew that because he'd spent several harrowing minutes trying to breath life back into her, refusing to give up until the blood from under her had soaked into the knees of his trousers.

When he finally had to admit to himself that she was gone, he'd done the next best thing:  he'd started to beat the crap out of this world's Ianto Jones. The man hadn't tried to fight back, just settled on defending himself, and was now being held by the throat against the wall, Rose's blood running down Jack's hands and staining Ianto's crisp, white shirt in a violent color.  If Jack had his way, soon enough there'd be more than just her blood on that shirt.

Someone was screaming, and it took Jack a moment to realize that it was him.  Ianto's head bounced against the wall as Jack shook him. "I swear to God by the time I'm done, you'll wish you were dead..."

Ianto's forehead made contact with his nose and he stumbled back, slightly stunned. The Ianto that had been at Torchwood One in his time wouldn't have fought that dirty - Rose'd been teaching him. The Welshman grabbed the lapels of the overcoat and shook him hard in return, hard enough that Jack's teeth rattled sharply.

"Give it a couple of minutes, you bloody American," Ianto snapped, face pale with guilt and soaked with sweat, but when he went to continue, Jack's knee suddenly became uncomfortably familiar with certain bits of anatomy.

Dirty fighter or not, this Ianto crumpled just the same as the other one. Jack gazed grimly down at the curled up figure and went to put his foot in the other man's gut...

And nearly jumped clear out of his skin when a cold hand clamped around his ankle from behind, effectively stopping the movement that would have had Ianto emptying the contents of his stomach.

Spinning around, Jack stared down at Rose as she rolled over onto her side. "S'okay," she muttered, spitting out a mouthful of blood as she responded to his previously murmured words, "seems neither can I."

~~

The white noise wasn't white noise any longer. It was a song within the bone-shuddering noise of the TARDIS' landing.  It was a million stars exploding at once.  It was beautiful and painful and it wouldn't let her go. 

Not now, not ever.

She was screaming into the void as golden light formed around her, searing everything closed. There was no white light for her, no tunnel; just a golden speck that had burrowed its way so far into her DNA that when the rest of it had been forced out, it had stayed behind, forgotten and overlooked. 

Hidding and sleeping, so small that it hadn't had a chance to change or do anything - until the shock of the first death had woken it.  It was an act of self-preservation that forced it into the open, changing and rewriting DNA code like a virus.  Now, the process took only minutes; then, oh so much longer.

It was a painful process and somewhere in the back of Rose's mind, one that was cracking and reforming under the weight of life, Bad Wolf howled.

The noise was half pain and half triumph.

~~

"I liked that shirt."

If she joked and laughed it off, Rose was fairly positive she was less likely to end up in a ball on the roof of the Torchwood complex. It was tempting, though. As a ball, it would be awfully easy to ignore the past hour, all the pain and confusion.

"I thought you were dead," Jack said, staring out into the skies of London above their head. "Twice, I might add."

She joined him on the edge and followed his gaze. "So did I. You, I mean, and not twice. Jus' the once." That was one too many times for her liking. She'd lost two of the most important people in her life in one day,  her first Doctor and Jack. And in some weird twist of fate, she'd gotten them both back, just at different times.

Her hand stole to the spot where the bullet had passed through her and rubbed at the healed flesh through the borrowed clothes. Ianto had lent her his not quite as white shirt (he'd been rather horrified at the mess, but she hadn't let him wander off to find a cleaner one) and when she and Jack had hit the roof, she'd found the great coat being placed around her shoulders. 

“Does it hurt?”

She shook her head. It never hurt after the fact – the actual act did but not the original spot of the injury.

They'd barely talked and Rose squared her jaw. Ianto was downstairs for two reasons. He was reporting to Pete everything that had happened, but he was also stalling any worried person from bursting through the roof door. They had about an hour before anyone interrupted.

Ianto was nothing if not fantastic at his job.

Spinning on her heel, Rose faced Jack and opened her mouth, only to be interrupted.

“Are you my Rose Tyler?” he asked simply, ducking his head so he could see into her eyes.

She countered with, “Are you my Jack Harkness?”

They stared at each other for a moment and she saw something dark and lonely pass through his eyes. Then he was taking the three steps that seperated them, scooping her up in his arms and her face was buried in the crook of his shoulder and neck. This was how she'd always imagined a reunion to be (this one's broader, more human, slightly more grope-y than the one she'd imagined, but she wouldn't give this up for the world) and not how it went earlier; spinning hugs and laughter that echoed off the roof, not death and seeing her blood dripping down his fingers as he stared at her with pain filled eyes.

Jack's arms tightened to the point that she felt her spine pop, and then he drew her back far enough to grin in her face before he kissed her.

At times, she still dreamt about that first, and at the time, only kiss upon the Gamestation. Mostly because it was the last time she'd seen him, touched him before she believed him to have died – but also because it had warmed her from the tip of her head to her toes.

This one blew the last one out of the water.

It said everything that he couldn't find the words for. Missed you; so many years alone; why, hello there; lovelovelove, always. She responded by pouring her own grief, fears, and rejoicing to find him alive, all of it back into him.

They parted again and she rested her forehead on his as she realized he'd picked her up, her feet dangling inches above the rooftop. “Thought we lost you at the Gamestation,” she said, her voice ragged and rough even to her own ears.

“Thought the same with you, babe, after Canary Wharf,” he responded. “Haven't seen the Doctor since the Gamestation...” Worry suddenly bloomed in his eyes. “He does know you're safe, right?”

She nodded, gently knocking their heads together. “Yeah, long story, that. Jack, there's no way back. The Doctor had ta shut the Void. That was the end of the battle.”  They were going to have to investigate how he managed to get through at all but that was later.  They had time.

Jack gently set her back down on her feet but kept her close. “And you managed to get stuck on the wrong side?”

“There was an accident--” Years ago she'd stopped blaming herself for not holding on tighter. No force on earth could have held her without the lock being in place. “--nearly ended up in the Void before dad popped in an' saved me. Mum's here, same with Mickey.”

The look on his face made her laugh. “You mean Mickey the Idiot is this war hero?” he demanded, shaking his head as Rose smacked him lightly in the chest. “What is the world coming to?” He sobered up. “When did you discover that you couldn't die?” Jack trailed fingers down the side of her face as if he were still trying to convince himself that she was there.  Real, solid and fantastically alive.

Her eyes shifted away. “Seems the universe likes tryin' ta even things out,” Rose said softly. “There was this car when dad and I were out shoppin' this once. He had this vase, the driver hadn't seen him, yeah? I shoved him clear out of the way...” She'd 'woken' back up in Pete's arms as he waited for an ambulance, nearly twenty minutes later, screaming loud enough to hear for blocks around as her body knitted its broken and shattered self back together.

She hadn't been able to keep it from her family and she'd opted to let a select few at Torchwood know as well - the ones who weren't likely to try and lock her in a room and run nasty experiments on her. Though she'd like to see them make the attempt if only to watch Pete in action – the look on his face when he thought she'd died had spoken volumes of his growing attachment.

“Hey, hey...” A hand cupped her jaw and she found her face drawn up to look into Jack's. For the first time in years, she let the walls drop and he could see her fears clear as day.

What would she do when her family and friends passed away around her? When she buried her little brother at the ripe old age of ninety? Would it last so long that she would watch England change and morph into something not even she would recognize?  Would she change into someone she didn't even recognize anymore?

Up until then, Rose hadn't been able to face those questions because the answer always ended badly for her. Alone and the only constant thing in the world.  The Valiant Child that would never die.

She wouldn't wish this eternal life on anyone, but it seemed as if Jack hadn't had a choice either. Something like hope shook itself off in the back of her mind as she buried her face in his shoulder.

“What're we gonna do?” she asked.

She felt him shrug. “Don't quite know, babe, but we've certainly got the time to accomplish whatever our grand scheme is going to be.”

Despite herself, Rose broke out laughing and he soon joined her. And if it had a touch of hysteria and shock from everything that'd gone through, it still felt good to laugh.

~~

Mickey had been the first through the door – only, he later said, because he'd purposely tripped Pete to get up the stairs – and he had damn near passed out at the sight of “Jumpin' Jack Flash” in the flesh.

Rose had about died at the expression on her oldest friend's face when Jack gleefully planted one on the other man. Jake had promptly demanded an introduction and it hadn't taken much for either of them to fall into a cycle of flirting.  Pete had taken one look at the scene and simply brought the mobile over to Rose so she could give Jackie a call. He had planted a kiss on the top of her head and cuddled her close to his side while she did so.

~~

When Rose had introduced Jack to her the Torchwood team she was going to move to Cardiff with her, she couldn't figure out why he was laughing so hard. But she gladly took his tip about where to go fetch one Gwen Williams.

And then she later had to explain to Jack exactly why she'd accidentally shot him in the foot when she first saw Gwen up close.

It seemed that not opening and closing the rift in 1869 had unexpected results in heritage. Rose had stolen Gwen away from the local police force – but she'd checked before sending her to Cardiff for any psychic abilities, latent or otherwise.

It didn't take long to figure out that they were slotting Jack in that team (Pete had figured it was either that or press charges for breaking in and how do you press charges against someone who doesn't exist yet in the world?), as well, which suited both Jack and Rose just fine.

~~

“Do you remember hopping for our lives?”

“Why does everyone always ask me that?”

Chapter 4

A month after Jack had broken into Torchwood, the pair found themselves in Norway. He'd taken her to meet the family that had found him that day he'd come tumbling from the sky; she'd taken him to Dårlig ulv stranden to see where the Doctor had gotten the message through to her. They'd spent some time on the beach but had ended up back in that field of flowers.

She laid sprawled on top of his jacket and he stretched out next to her as she used one of his arms to pillow her head.

When she suddenly began to laugh hysterically, he'd rolled on top of her, one arm planted above her head to brace his body, the other one ghosting over her hip. “What's so funny?” he asked, tilting his head at her.

“I just figured it out!” Rose gasped, grabbing hold of his silly and endearing suspenders. He was hard and firm above her in more ways than one and she grinned up at him, tongue peeking out.

“Care to share with the rest of the class, Miss Tyler?” he asked, bending his head just enough so that his lips brushed hers when he talked.

“The Doctor, our first one, what did he always call Mickey?”

Jack stopped short and thought back, eyebrows scrunching together as he flipped through his memories. “Kept winding good old Mickey up,” he responded, “kept calling him the wrong name. Rickey, wasn't it?”

Rose nodded. “No real reason, yeah? Just windin' Mickey up?”

He slipped between her legs and grinned when she gasped softly. “Yes?”

“No. Well, yeah, he was. Always was a bit of a cranky bastard and--” She smacked him on the shoulder and he gave her an innocent look. “I'm tryin' ta concentrate!”

“Then I'm not doing a good enough job.”

Her hands reached up to cradle his face and suddenly everything around them was crisp and new. The smell of the fresh flowers nearly overwhelming, the sun a little too bright, the sound of the ocean a little too raw, the feel of his skin a little too rough under her fingers.

“Before Mickey stayed here for good, there was another him, a Rickey Smith that ran with the Preachers, Jake's old group.” A shadow fell across her face briefly. “He died, Mickey stayed in his place, ages before I ended up here.”

Jack went very, very still.

“I stopped belivin' in coincidences a long time ago, Jack,” Rose said softly. “I think that at some point, our first Doctor is gonna make his way through the Void, closed off or no, and we got ourselves a ride home.” Her thumbs brushed his cheekbones softly and he leaned into the touch. "Someone started this self-fulfillin' whatever it is, yeah?  Seems only right that we close the circle when we find him again.  Start this whole thin' all over again."

“Our first Doctor was, as you're so fond of saying, rubbish with the exact when,” he warned, “even if this theory is correct.”

The shrug of her shoulders forced her body to move against his slightly and they both murmured in pleasure. She cleared her throat and tried to think. “Does it matter? We got all the time in the world, yeah?  So it seems, anyway.  Might as well make the most of it an' I'd rather have a little hope, a little bit of a plan, than sittin' around with nothin'.”

The kiss nearly made her forget about her thin thread of hope, nearly made her forget her own name, and the smile he gave her when he pulled back was nearly blinding. “Well, pipe dream or not, better with two, right?”

One small hand slipped into the bigger one and they intertwined fingers. “Yup!” Rose said, popping her 'p' slightly.

Jack lowered his head once more. “Now, let's see what I can do about making you lose some of that concentration...”

~~

 

The circle has ended or maybe the circle has only just begun?

Across the reach of space, a solitary howl penetrates barriers and time alike; a battered and war-beaten blue police box lands on ground that is familiar and yet not as two people stand waiting, hands clasped together, as zeppelins pass overhead; a man with a stolen spacecraft sets a course for London, January 1941; a young woman breathes in the very essence of Time as a physical door slams shut while another opens, letting in the golden light.

"And so it begins again."

"I'm the Doctor, by the way, what's your name?"

She looks familiar, almost, but some of his memories are foggy, others just...gone.  He chalks it up to another casualty, one of many from the Time War, though he can't fault his instincts that led him to Earth this time 'round.  Handy, that.

"Rose."

"Nice to meet you, Rose -"

A door closes.

"- now run for your life!"

Another one opens.

Run.