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Jed, photo album open in his lap, stares down at the grainy photograph of a man who isn't him.
Rose and the Doctor are waiting, he knows, for his response to the story they’ve told him.
“Sorry,” he says. “Give me a minute. It's not every day a man finds out his alternate self is immortal and living in Cardiff. I’m not sure which is weirder . . .”
The attempted humor falls flat, and he looks up, feeling guilty. During the telling of the long, convoluted and frankly bizarre tale, Rose had shifted from Jed’s side to sit next to the Doctor, and now the two of them have their arms tight around each other’s shoulders. Rose has been crying and the Doctor looks like he might be next.
Jed knows lying, given the life he’s led, and he’s seen all levels of acting from brilliant to dire. The two people sitting on the bed next to him don’t give off “lying” vibes. Not even if they could win every drama award in the galaxy did he think they could have told a story like that with such sincerity unless it was true.
He's getting better at taking the impossible in stride, it seems; acceptance comes easily. That doesn't help him out with reacting, though.
Because he can’t bear to work up to it, he starts with the worst thought first.
“So, is that what I’ve been?” he asks. “A substitute for someone else you knew before?”
“No!” That response is simultaneous. His partners glance at each other, then unwrap their arms from each other so the Doctor can lean forward, eyebrows raised, face filled with complete sincerity.
“We know what it’s like, crossing from one Universe to the other, all the gingerbread houses and such,” he tells Jed. “We understood that when we met you. We were a little faster to trust you than we might have been, but . . . you have to understand. Jack was our friend, and yes, we loved him in our ways. But he was never our lover, individually or together. We never lived with him like this, one family, settled. I honestly don’t think Jack would have wanted that, in the long run. He found what he really needed in Cardiff. This – all of this – has been about you and you alone.”
Jed wants to believe that – God, he does – but he’s walked a long, hard road, starting with the day his family was killed. Mother, father, brother, all among the dead, all identified by him alone, one of the only survivors. Lucky to have seen the bodies, they said, and he knew the bitter truth of it. He might have lost his whole world in one ugly stroke, but at least he hadn’t needed to wonder over the years, hadn’t needed to worry about the horrible, whispered stories of torture being made true for the ones he loved. All he’d had to worry about was looking after himself.
Ironic, then, that what he’d finally wanted, after all those solo years, was a family again. And he’d been handed it on a silver platter by these amazing people.
It was still his, if the looks on their faces could be trusted.
I do trust them. Always have, always will. Not logical, but true.
He looks back down again at his – Jack’s – photograph, and feels. . . sad, he realizes. Jack is, for all intents and purposes, his long-lost twin brother and here he, Jed, has ended up enjoying a life that passed Jack by.
Jed studies that smiling stranger’s face and wishes in total sincerity, I hope you’re happy. I hope the life you chose is even half as right for you as this one is for me. He runs a meditative finger down the length of the image's body, a millimeter above the surface of the paper. Then he glances at the bedside clock.
It's late. The restaurant where they'd reserved a table for the evening is long since closed, and he's hungry. Rose and the Doctor have to be, too. Jed closes the photo album gently and sets it aside.
"What say we go raid the kitchen?' he asks, making his voice light. "I'm starving, and it's easier to absorb the weirdness on a full stomach. After that, well, depending on how we're all feeling, we can follow up with the rest of our plans for the evening." They'd intended to take as much time as they liked together, since none of them has to be up early the next day.
"So . . . what does that mean?" Rose asks him, worried. "For us? Are you okay with this?"
"Seriously? I don't really know what the hell to make of Captain Jack Harkness and all the rest of it, much less whether I'm 'okay' with it. I'll have to give it time. But I do know I've never felt happier, or safer, than I do here with the two of you. I don't want that to stop, ever. After that . . ." he gives a half-shrug, "Everything else is just logistics."
A few seconds later, he has a double armful of Rose and Doctor, and they're holding on to each other the way they do after one of their skin-of-the-teeth adventures. It's awkward, balancing on the edge of the bed together, but none of them are about to let go. Rose sniffles, and Jed kisses her cheek, then her lips. The Doctor nuzzles the angle of Jed's jaw and it's starting to look like they'll be skipping directly ahead to their late-night plans until Jed's stomach rumbles very audibly.
Rose breaks up laughing. The Doctor huffs at the interruption. Jed joins Rose in laughing. "I told you I was hungry," he says in his own defense.
Then the Doctor's stomach growls, and Rose and Jed redouble their laughter while the Doctor looks sheepish.
"Right," he says, giving in. "Kitchen first." His face brightens. "I wonder if there's any of that banana pudding left . . .?"
"You and your two-track mind," Rose says affectionately, standing and giving both men a hand up. "Sex and bananas."
"They don't have to be separate subjects," Jed tells her with a lopsided smile. "I can think of a few ways to use pudding . . ."
"Not on the duvet! Housekeeping would kill us, after the time with the chocolate."
"There are more places than the bed," Jed points out in a reasonable voice, and Rose goes pink, no doubt thinking back to their first night together. He grins at her, and she goes pinker.
The Doctor's stomach growls again and he begins steering the others towards the door. "Let's continue this downstairs, shall we? We'll let inspiration strike where it may once we've all had a nibble."
"I like the sound of that, especially the nibbling," Rose agrees. "Now, shush, we don't want to wake Mum and Dad."
"Yes, ma'am," Jed says. "Engaging ninja mode . . . now!"
"That kitchen won't know what's hit it," the Doctor vows, eyes sparkling. "It'll be our most surgical strike yet!"
Rose rolls her eyes as both men begin making their way down the corridor with playfully exaggerated stealth. "I swear you two are Tony's age, sometimes," she tells them, but halfway to the kitchen she joins in and together Torchwood's crack commando team conducts their latest daring mission.