Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

You sigh as you close the door to your room. Yet another day of feeling like no one knows you. Your friends aren't really having that much fun when you're not there, right? 

Actually, they probably are. 

You sit back down on the bed, your bag tumbling to the floor. Oh, wonderful. Something else to clean up. Shooting a glance at the clock, you groan. Already well past midnight. How on heart had that happened? Disassociation is a heck of a thing. Might as well get ready for bed instead of playing the 'do my friends hate me, or do I just need to go to sleep?' game.

You get up and head to the bathroom, grabbing your oversize Doctor Who shirt you use as pajamas. You pull it over your head, wishing you could just be a companion, or stay on the TARDIS, or even just see the TARDIS. Travel through all of time and space seeing things no one else would. Or have someone who could care about you. 

You shook your head. You were just dreaming again. Like everyone always said, "get back to reality, Y/N." Well, reality sucked. 

You make your way back to the bed, stifling a yawn. All this moping had made you tired. And the fact that you'd driven your friends around because "you're the best driver, Y/N!" You're exhausted. You turn off the lights, pulling the covers back. Of course, because the world hates you, you miss the bed and fall hard on your ankle, wincing when you hear a sharp crack. Great. Now you can hardly walk. 

Somehow, you manage to get into your bed. You try to pull up the covers, and, because the entire universe hates you, you let go of the covers and punch yourself smack in the face. You cradle your head in your hands and resolutely kick around until you're somewhat covered by the blankets. Grabbing one of the pillows, you cradle it tightly and bury your face in the cover. You just want to escape, get out of reality, leave it all behind for a little while. You fall asleep clutching the pillow, trying to forget. 

A faint humming sound makes you stir. Did your phone go off? Is the electricity on the fritz again? Doesn't matter. You just want to sleep. Groaning, you roll over in bed, opening your eyes slightly to glare at your phone. 

You bolt upright. This isn't your room. 

The walls are some kind of metal, and there isn't a light switch anywhere. But the light somehow brightens, just so you can peer around the room. There's a screen mounted on one wall and a couple chairs next to a chest of drawers. There's a door opposite your bed, or at least the bed you're in, and there's another light on the outside. The humming seems to be coming from the walls themselves and the screen flickers to life. It's glowing a faint bluish, with circles all over it. You squint, trying to make it out with what little percentage of your brain isn't consumed by static. It looks a little bit like —

No. It can't be. 

Can it?

You try and chalk it up to hopeful thinking from a delirious brain, but as you look around, your suspicions grow stronger. You throw back the covers and jump out of bed, wincing when you land on your feet and your ankle gives out. Cursing, you manage to hobble to the door, pushing it open. It reveals a long hallway that stretches in both directions, no end in sight. You pick a direction and start walking. Well, moving anyway. You leave your door open behind you, and the farther you go, the more familiar it looks. Your mind starts racing. There's no way. No way. No way this can be real. You turn the corner and —

You rub your eyes a few times. Nope, still there. The console room of the TARDIS stares back at you, all the switches, panels, dials, and round things included. The green lights and orange walls look exactly as they should and the humming in the background changes pitch slightly. You don't believe it. You reach over to pinch your arm, hissing when the pain shoots through your arm. Why is that supposed to work, anyway? If it was the pain, your ankle would've been enough to prove this isn't a dream. Although, as the whole you're-on-the-TARDIS thing is kinda dulling it out. So, this isn't a dream. But you can't stop your eyes from widening when he pops up from the other side of the console.

"Y/N?" 

The Doctor knows your name. 

"What're you doing up? It's the middle of the night? Or at least it is for you, you should be asleep!"

"Um..." You can't talk. You're still getting over the fact that The Doctor knows who you are. 

"Are you alright?" He walks around to where you are, and you try to step back because an intimidating person walking towards you makes you want to step back. Sharp pain in your ankle causes you to flinch. The Doctor catches you by the shoulders. "Hey, what've you done?"

"My..." Dammit, why can't you talk? "My ankle hurts."

"Guessed as much. Can you sit down for me?"

He guides you down to sit on the top step before crouching next to you and pulling his sonic screwdriver out of his pocket. Switching it on, he runs it over and around your ankle before looking up at you.

"You've just jarred it a bit. Should be fine by tomorrow. Now," he says, standing and helping you to your feet, "what're you doing up?"

"I...um..." You look over his shoulder. "I don't know."

"Well, then you should get back to bed." The Doctor rubs your shoulders. "Rest that ankle."

You nod, but you still don't move. The Doctor frowns. "Hey," he says, getting you to make eye contact again, "is there something else?" 

He looks worried. You bit your lip, not sure what to say. You don't know how you got here, but you can't just say that, can you? He keeps looking at you like you're someone he cares about. 

"You can tell me, Y/N. I'm not going to be cross."

What the hell. "I don't know how I got here."

The Doctor pulls back, frowning. "You mean on the TARDIS?" You nod. "Don't you remember?" 

You shake your head and look down at the ground guiltily. "I'm sorry, I just..." You look back up. "I don't know."

The Doctor nods. "It's alright. This kind of confusion is normal."

"It is?"

The Doctor grins. "Oh yes. Sometimes a lot happens and your little ape brains can't keep up." He taps the side of your head with a smile. For a minute you're torn between shame and indignation, like a 'we know, but hey!' kind of thing, but looking at him again lets you know he's just teasing. "There's a good way to get rid of it."

"Really?" You're doubtful. 

The Doctor's smile widens. "Sleep." He laughs as you roll your eyes. "Tell you what, if you still can't remember in the morning, I'll have the TARDIS look you over, alright?"

You nod and he turns you around, giving you a light push. "Go on, run back to bed."

It's actually more of a limp as you make your way back to your room. As you go, you look around and can't resist stroking the wall as you pass. The hum in the background changes again. You go back to your room and sit down on the bed, rotating your ankle slightly. 

"Y/N?"

Not the Doctor, but then who else—?

You look up. No, that was definitely not the Doctor. 

"Captain Jack?"

He waves. "Haven't been called that in a while." He looks down at you and grins. "So that's where my shirt went."

You look down, and sure enough, instead of your Doctor Who shirt, you're wearing an oversized grey T-shirt. You feel your face burning up. You mumble an apology and start hobbling towards the bathroom to pull it off. 

"No, keep it." He crosses to you and smoothes the fabric over your shoulders. "It suits you."

"Thanks," you mumble, still slightly embarrassed.

"Sure." Jack winks, then takes a step back so he's not right in your face. "I saw your door was open. You okay?"

You can't help but smile slightly. Jack frowns. "Something I said?"

"No, it's just..." You sit back down on the bed. "It's nothing."

"Pull the other one."

You glance up and he winks again, but now he actively looks concerned. 

"I'm not used to people asking if I'm okay this often," you confess.

"Really?" Jack sits down next to you. "Why not?"

"I don't know," you say, wringing your hands in your lap, "I don't know."

"Hey, it's okay," Jack shushes, curling an arm around your waist, "you don't need to know." The pressure makes you sag against him, dropping your head onto his shoulder. His other hand runs through your hair. "You can just let us look after you, Y/N. You don't have to be fine all the time."

"Thanks." 

Jack smiles and presses his forehead to yours. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

You sit up and stare at him. This not-a-dream dream is just a lot of you being surprised by things tonight, apparently. Captain Jack Harkness is offering to stay with you because he wants to look after you. Heck yeah, you're taking advantage of that. "Would you?"

Jack gives your shoulder a squeeze. "Of course."

He nudges you as he stands up, pulling the covers back so you can lie down. He climbs in beside you as the TARDIS turns the lights down. In the dark, you can't see anything, but you can feel Jack wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You reach out tentatively, hugging him back. Is he going to pull away? 

You feel him hold you closer. You breathe a sigh of relief and clutch him tighter. Resting your head near his chest, taking comfort in the steady rhythm of his heart, he shifts slightly so he can tuck your head under his chin. 

"Sleep well, Y/N." His voice is barely a whisper. As you close your eyes, you feel a hand twist itself into your hair and press you more firmly into the warmth of Jack's body. 

You wake up slowly, expecting to see the walls of the TARDIS staring back at you. Instead, you see a limp pillowcase hanging from the pillow you're gripping. Your heart sinks as you look around, and you can't help but sniffle. This is your boring, normal bedroom. No TARDIS, no Doctor, no Jack. 

Back to reality. 

Wiping your eyes, you stumble to the bathroom, looking in the mirror. You frown. Didn't you put on your Doctor Who shirt last night? Instead, you're wearing a faded grey shirt that's way too big. It's definitely not yours, but there's no one else in this house who it could reasonably belong to, so it must've been one of those shirts you were given that 'could just be a sleep shirt!' You pull it over your head. It smells familiar, but you can't place it. 

Shaking your head, you put it aside and continue getting ready for school. You can't seem to shake your disappointed mood, even as you start walking to school. You narrowly avoid bumping into two men as you go up the stairs to the front door. Sighing, you shoulder your backpack more firmly. You're not getting away from reality anytime soon. 

As soon as the door closes behind you, the two stop and turn around, staring at the door. The taller one runs a hand through his hair. 

"I don't know how much longer I'll be able to hold out, Doc." He straightens his coat. "It's just getting harder."

"I know, Jack." The other man stares at the door. "But we have to wait a little longer."

"But it's Y/N!"

"I know, believe me I know. But we have to make sure it's safe first." When Jack sighs, he reaches over and claps him on the shoulder. "Don't worry. We'll bring them home soon."

He looks back at the door where you'd gone in. 

"Just not soon enough."

Chapter Text

The door to the TARDIS slams shut. 

“Sorry, gorgeous,” Jack mumbles in apology, stroking one of the struts, “didn’t mean to close it that hard.”

The hum of the console changes its pitch slightly. Jack leans against the console and curses in Galactic Standard. The Doctor flips a few switches and pulls the lever. The familiar wheezing sound pushes them into the Vortex. 

“How much longer?”

“The energy signatures won’t fade until the Dulaxians give up their pursuit,” the Doctor explains quietly, “which means at least another few weeks.”

“But we got a lapse in energy less than twelve hours ago and nothing happened,” Jack argues, “surely we’ve passed the worst of it. If they were going to find y/n by now they would’ve.”

“We can’t take that chance, Jack, and you know that.”

“But — “

“I know you want y/n to come home, Jack,” the Doctor interrupts, a hint of steel starting to enter his voice, “I do too. But I don’t want them to come back only to die.”

Jack’s arm trembles. He’s not going to punch the console or the Doctor. He’s not. But god he wants y/n back. 

“We promised y/n we would keep them safe. We promised we would take care of them. And now we’re letting them get worse.” He glares at the green knob in front of him. “You saw their mental readings yesterday, they’re dangerously low.”

“We did promise to keep them safe. And the safest place for them is not with us right now.”

“We’re letting an alien race pursue them for having ‘overly large deposits of negative energy’ which just means they’re human.”

“We can’t alter an entire race’s belief system just like that, Jack, and it’s not safe for y/n to be here until they calm down.”

“They shouldn’t be punished for things they can’t control!”

“No,” the Doctor mutters, watching Jack leave the console room, “no they shouldn’t.”

His hearts twinge painfully in his chest. He hates arguing with his companions. Especially when they’re both right. He knows Jack knows this is the safest thing for y/n. Jack knows he knows this isn’t what he wants. More than anything he wants the Dulaxians back in their system and y/n here, safe and sound. Humans don’t get along with themselves all the time, especially not when they’ve never had people to help them. And he’s never been very good at resisting the urge to help people. 

He remembers a time awhile ago, back with an older face and much larger ears. 

“Honestly,” he says, pulling one of the levers on the console, “the education on your planet’s absolute rubbish. Sanatorians on Spronax IV know more about your biology than you do.”

Y/n looks up from where they’re sitting next to the console. “Isn’t that to be expected?”

“Considering they’ve barely invented so much as their equivalent of the wheel yet, no, not really.”

If it had been anyone else, there would’ve been some kind of reaction. Humans tend to get defensive when you compare them to some other species. Not with y/n. 

“Well, guess that’s another thing for the list of why humans are inadequate.”

This regeneration’s not very good at comfort. He knows that. But he also knows the TARDIS isn’t going to let him get away with not saying anything. Not that he’d want to. 

“You’re not so bad, you know,” he says, smiling slightly at y/n’s head pricking up. “Best sense of pack instincts I’ve ever seen. Always good to keep a human with you when you go traveling.”

The TARDIS hums in agreement. 

The Doctor smiles at the memory. Y/n’s pack instincts are a credit to their species. Less than a few hours on board and they were prodding at the Doctor’s carefully constructed walls to get him to acknowledge the good he’s done. Prodding at Jack’s too, if he’s being honest. 

On the other hand, he does remember having to work a little harder to get them to ask for help. Only a little while ago, while Jack was out being Jack and they were waiting back on the TARDIS. Something about seeing 21st Century Earth representation again. 

“Ingenious, really,” he remarks while they’re looking at the lights on the TARDIS’ console, “well, I say ingenious, Basing an entire infrastructure on the insecurities of your species, easy way to turn a profit.”

“If it works, it’s not stupid.”

“Mm. Well, technically it is stupid given there’s nothing wrong with you.”

Y/n looks up at him, disbelief scrawled across their features. “And you’re a reliable authority on this?”

He lets his goofy smile spread across his face. “I’m the Doctor. Of course I am.”

It kind of works, they smile a little bit. But they don’t sound or look convinced. He reaches forward to take their shoulder, smiling reassuringly as he turns them to face him. 

“See, it’s just biology. There’s a perfectly acceptable reason why it’s very unhealthy and very difficult for humans to have completely flat stomachs or so-called perfect shapes. Firstly because human standards of perfection are absolute nonsense — “ he pauses when they let out a little giggle — “but second…may I?”

They nod hesitantly. He reaches out to gently place his hands on their stomach. 

“Just under here, you see? You’ve got all sorts of organs and important things under here that need to be protected. You need to have a layer of protective fat over these to make sure they stay safe and healthy. Perfectly normal, nothing to worry about. Alright?”

“Okay.”

“That’s my y/n,” he murmurs, giving their stomach a little pat. 

He waits until they give him a smile to continue. 

“Another good thing about humans is you’re very soft. Very cuddly. You’re like living teddy bears, absolutely perfect.” 

That does make them laugh. “You think the rest of the alien races would say that?”

“Undoubtedly.” 

Rassillon, he loves their little laugh. It’s brilliant. At least until their face contorts in pain and they pull away from him. 

“Hey now, what’s wrong?” They shake their head as he tries to hold them close. “Sore? Cramps?”

They nod, mumbling something about being sorry, He’s having none of it. 

“Here,” he says, resting one of his hands on their stomach and the other on their forehead, “come here.”

Humans are not telepathic species, but there are some ways he can project without entering someone’s mind. This is something he learned how to do a long time ago to help heal people and make them relax. 

“There,” he murmurs, finding the right frequency and rubbing a little, “better?”

Y/n nods. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Much better for you than those pitiful excuses for painkillers. And it’s free.”

“One time only, though, right?”

He frowns. “Of course not. Any time you need something like this, you can have it. Just ask.”

“For how long? The next week or so?”

This he’s not having. He’s not having a companion be so suspicious of asking him for help. He’s not having them think they’re a burden for asking for help. He’s not. 

“Listen to me, y/n. Don’t you ever be uncomfortable about asking for something from me. Especially if it makes you feel more comfortable. Promise.”

Their eyes widen. He doesn’t use that word very often. It takes a few seconds for them to nod and shyly push a little closer to him. 

“Much better.”

He sighs. Jack’s right. It’s going to take a long time to coax them back into the habit of asking for help. 

Damn the Dulaxians for having such persistent search crews. 

Jack loses track of where he’s going pretty quickly after leaving the console room. Luckily the TARDIS seems to understand he just needs to pace. The corridor keeps stretching longer and longer in front of him, the sound of his boots echoing angrily off the walls. Arguing with the Doctor never fails to have him wandering the halls like this. Only this time he doesn’t have anyone else on board to turn to. The TARDIS is brilliant, no doubt about it, but sometimes he really needs another human. 

Of course, instantly proving her brilliance, the TARDIS pops open a door. Jack wanders inside. It’s y/n’s room. 

“Do you miss them too, gorgeous?”

The TARDIS whines. Jack flops down onto their bed and closes his eyes. If he tries, really tries, he can imagine y/n’s just in the bathroom or about to walk in the door. 

Don’t get him wrong, he loves the Doctor, loves traveling, but sometimes it’s hard. Through no fault of his own, the Doctor’s too removed sometimes, too Time Lord-y, too different from what Jack needs. There are a few things Jack just can’t get from the Doctor. 

Human intimacy is very hard to duplicate. Not sex, god no, but just being able to exist around someone else and not have to feel like everything has to be perfect. The Doctor tries, he does, but Jack can’t just ask the Doctor to hold him when he’s upset, can’t ask to just lay around like a 21st Century cat, to just listen without any expectation or masks. They’ve been getting better, but they’re both rubbish without y/n. 

Y/n got them talking, got them asking, got them more used to acknowledging that wanting comfort from people you care about isn’t a problem, isn’t a weakness. He wants that familiarity back. 

He wants the rest of his TARDIS family back. 

He jumps. There are footsteps clattering along the corridor. The Doctor bursts into the room. His face is white. 

“There’s been another energy lapse.”

Jack shoots to his feet. The energy shielding must be fading. 

Y/n. 

Chapter Text

The night is cool. You sit outside, looking up at the sky. It’s not quite dark enough — thanks, light pollution — for you to see the stars, but you’ve got the spirit. 

That must count for something, right?

Right?

Probably not. 

Listen, you could spend the rest of the night wallowing in self-pity and have your absolutely fantastic brain list literally everything wrong with you, or you could zone out and just think about the stars. 

You were going to do your damnedest to do the second one. 

Seriously, doesn’t that punk ass little shit in your brain have anything else to do other than talk shit about you? You weren’t that interesting. One of you is hopeless and it sure as hell wasn’t you if it was gonna sit there being annoying. 

Self-care is roasting the stupid mean voice in your head. 

Pushing as much of the annoying things to the back of your head as you can, you lean back and look up. The universe is so large. So large. And you felt…so small. Nothing really matters, does it? The universe doesn’t care. 

You know, existentialist dread wasn’t on your bucket list earlier, but oh well. 

You want another hug. Your friends aren’t really great about giving you the support you need. Not that they’d care about what you need, oh no, you were there for them, not the other way around. 

You aren’t their best friends, but they are yours. Isn’t friendship supposed to be a two-way thing?

Welp. Guess it really is gonna be self-pity tonight. 

You think back to that dream you had a couple days ago. Where you were on the TARDIS. Where the Doctor cared about making you feel safe and Captain Jack gave you a cuddle. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. 

You cringe. As if delighting in your submission, your head starts splitting open, jackhammers pounding against your skull. Everything hurts. Everything hurts. 

Your eyes water and faintly you realize you’re curled up into a ball with your fists pressed against your temples. But you can’t feel anything other than the absolute ache in your head. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts it hurts it hurtsithurtsithurtshurtshurtshurtshurts — 

Jeez, your head must really hurt because faintly you think you can hear the TARDIS. Auditory hallucinations. Your pain tolerance must be much lower than you think. 

Your gut rebels violently, causing you to lean forward and retch. Static clouds your vision. 

Your last thought before the black cloud completely obscures your vision is that you hope you didn’t pass out into your own vomit. 

“—ou mean you don’t know?”

“I mean this — n’t happened before, Jack.”

“So y/n is still in danger?”

“— don’t know.”

Danger? This night is just getting better and better. As are your auditory hallucinations, apparently, because you swear it sounds like the Doctor is talking to Captain Jack and they both sound worried about you. 

Bless your brain for trying. 

“They’re waking up!”

“Y/n? Y/n, can you hear me?”

“Come on, sweetheart, open those pretty eyes for us.”

Captain Jack thinks your eyes are pretty? 

“Stop it.”

“Can’t I just be happy y/n’s back?”

You really don’t want to open your eyes and have your hallucination disappear, but you also really want to know — in the incredibly low chance that this isn’t a hallucination — if he really thinks you have pretty eyes. 

The first thing you do is slam you eyes back shut because dear god that light is bright. You hear someone swearing and the bright red behind you eyelids dims a little. 

“Sorry about that, now come on, open those eyes.”

You blink open once more and…

Hello, Blurry Images No. 1 and 2. 

“Y/n? Y/n, can you hear us?”

You nod, wincing when the blur intensifies. 

“Easy, try not to move so much. TARDIS says you’re still experiencing an energy drainage.”

One of the blurs that sounds an awful lot like the Doctor moves away a little bit, looking at some sort of glowing square. 

The other blurry image reaches for your arm. Its touch is warm but unfortunately no less blurry. You blink a few times, hoping it clears up. 

“Doc, what’s going on?”

“Hold on, their vision should clear up any second now.”

Sure enough, a few blinks later, and the fuzzy thing on your arm finally looks like a hand. You look up. But that means…

The Doctor grins at you from behind the glowing screen. You glance next to you. Jack’s beaming at you. 

“You’re not too fragile for a hug, are you?” 

Hell no. 

Jack makes a noise of surprise he’s probably going to deny later when you pull him into a very tight hug, quickly followed by a chuckle when you bury your face in his neck. 

“Aww, we missed you too, sweetheart.” 

He tightens his hold on you and bends close to your ear. “Welcome home, y/n.” 

It’s the quiet vulnerable shake in Jack’s voice that solidifies it for you. This is real. This is actually happening. You’re actually here, hugging Jack while the Doctor smiles at you. 

“Alright, Harkness, move back, let me have a look. Then you can have your cuddle friend back.”

Jack whines indignantly — something else he’s probably going to deny later — but pulls back a little bit to allow the Doctor to get close enough to start scanning you with his sonic screwdriver. 

“Stop pouting, Jack.” 

“I’m not!” You glance over the Doctor’s shoulder. Jack winks. 

“Y/n?” You look back. The Doctor looks concerned. “What do you remember?”

“Uh…”

“Take your time,” he says softly. 

“Uh…” you close your eyes and try but everything in your head that wasn’t this morning and that dream a few days ago. “I…I had a dream a few days ago where I was, um, here.”

“Anything before that? About being here?”

You shake your head. 

“Alright. Here’s what happened. We were traveling in the Dulaxians’ system when we got stopped by a patrol ship. TARDIS needed a small part replaced so they helped us out. Offered to give us an energy scan for free. Thought it was just radiation they were talking about.”

“Turns out they were talking about psychic energy,” Jack chimes in. He motions between him and the Doctor. “We have some psychic training so their scan didn’t penetrate too far.”

“But…I don’t have psychic training.”

The Doctor looks at you sadly. “No. Which means you showed up on their scans as a large unhealthy energy deposit.”

“Which you aren’t!” 

“No, you most certainly are not,” the Doctor agrees. “But it was difficult to explain that to a crew of angry Dulaxians. So we had to leave to keep you safe.”

“How…how did I end up back on Earth? Why didn’t I remember anything?”

“We gave you a small amount of psychic shielding to hide you from the scans. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, only until the Dulaxians gave up their search. They’ve got this weird bureaucracy thing that means they can’t search for energy deposits for longer than a few months. So the shield was only made to hold until then.”

“Did…did it work?”

“Well, it did fail a little earlier than expected, which is probably why you had that dream. But nothing happened, no sign of angry Dulaxians, so…” 

The Doctor smiles his big grin right in your face. 

“Yes. It worked.”

“C-can I…” you’re not really sure if you’re ready to ask this, lest the answer be ‘no,’ but… “can I stay?”

The Doctor frowns. “Of course you can, y/n. Why wouldn’t you be able to stay?”

“You still don’t remember everything, do you?” Jack asks quietly. 

You shake your head. 

“When the shielding wears off completely, they should come back,” the Doctor reassures. 

“But what if they don’t?”

“Then we’ll tell you what happened if you have questions,” Jack says, “and we’ll love you either way.”

Well shit, you were not ready for him to say that. 

“L-love me?” You frown when the Doctor and Jack smile at each other. “What? What’s funny?”

“One of the first things you said to us when you came on board,” Jack explains, “was that there is more than one type of love, and that there shouldn’t be a hierarchy between them.”

“Said it quite insistently too,” the Doctor mutters. 

“It was great,” Jack stage-whispers, “you were amazing.”

“And you were right.”

“Of course they were right.” Jack comes up and pulls you into another hug. 

“He’s been missing his cuddle friend since you left,” the Doctor laughs, “so be prepared for an onslaught of hugs for a while.”

You had exactly zero problems with this situation. Jack doesn’t seem to either, given how his chest rumbles with a laugh as he tucks your head against his shoulder. 

“I have a feeling that we may have to work a little harder to get you used to asking for help again, hmm?” He pushes your hair away from your face. 

“I think so,” the Doctor agrees, “but that’s alright. We’ve got time.”

You make eye contact with the Doctor over Jack’s shoulder. “We’re in a time machine, aren’t we?”

“Exactly!”

You snort. 

Jack pulls back, mouth open in a mock gasp. “Did you just snort?”

“No!”

“I think you did!”

You can’t help it. You burst out laughing, leaning into Jack. A second later you feel him start laughing too. Even the Doctor starts laughing, even though it’s a lot more contained. 

The TARDIS rumbles happily. 

You’re back. And you’re not going anywhere.