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Jack woke, rested and warm, to the Doctor pressed up against his back, hand on Jack's hip. He murmured wordlessly and slid his fingers through the Doctor's own, pulling his hand over to press against his chest, like a child hugging a favorite comfort toy. The Doctor chuckled softly and pressed his lips to the back of Jack's head. "Feeling better?"
"A bit," Jack said. "That was a tough one." That plague was no joke, his sore and exhausted body told him, but all things considered, Jack was just glad he'd been able to help stop it. If it was enough to flatten him, he shuddered to think what it would have done to the populace. "Glad to be here now, though," he added, snuggling back against surprising warmth - the Doctor was many things, but warm wasn't one of them, not by human standards. A bit of wriggling revealed that the Doctor had thoughtfully wedged a heating pad between them.
"And you won't be going anywhere until you're well again," the Doctor said. "Now, what do you need? Water? Food? Painkillers?"
"Yes," Jack said. He was still terribly thirsty, despite having drunk at least a couple pints of water when he'd woken before, he hadn't eaten anything since well before the Doctor had picked him up, and a throbbing headache lingered at the base of his skull.
"Right," the Doctor said, and rolled out of bed. He tucked the blankets back around Jack and brushed his hair out of his eyes as he left. Jack closed his eyes, reveling in being fever-free and comfortable. These moments of peace were rare; whether with Torchwood or with the Doctor, there was always some crisis brewing, and Jack had to be on his toes at all times. But not now. Here, in this room, he could let the Doctor care for him.
Jack had nearly dozed off again by the time the Doctor returned with tea, soup and sandwiches, and a bottle of painkillers. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tired, and he was glad there was no reason for him to rush back to Torchwood. He'd have only been a danger to himself and others if he'd tried. As it was, he had to let the Doctor help him sit up against the pillows. He swallowed a dose of painkillers with water and let the Doctor nudge him into eating some soup. "Orange-ginger carrot," the Doctor said, pulling the heat-containing lid off the bowl. "Perfect for healing humans."
Jack glanced at him speculatively. The Doctor had cleaned up, but he still looked hollowed-out, as though his skin were stretched too tightly over the bones of his face. "What about Time Lords?"
The Doctor waved his hand dismissively. "I'm all right."
Jack raised his eyebrows. "How long has it been since you ate? Or slept?"
"I slept while you did," the Doctor said, a trifle defensively. "But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to eat something." He picked up a sandwich and bit into it. Satisfied, Jack returned to his soup, and for several minutes the only sound was contented munching and slurping.
By the time his spoon was scraping the bottom of his bowl, Jack felt worlds better; his headache was nearly gone, and he felt much less like he was on the verge of passing out just from sitting up. He pushed his bowl away with a sigh and leaned back against the pillows. The Doctor's appetite had apparently been awakened, because he was devouring his second - or possibly his third - sandwich.
"Hungrier than you thought?" Jack asked at last, when the Doctor popped the last bite of sandwich in his mouth and then looked down at the empty plate in surprise.
"Reckon so," the Doctor said, stretching out across the foot of the bed. "You know how it is - three or four worlds in a row, and they all have different day cycles, and since I don't have anyone traveling with me right now there's no need to stop and make sure they're fed and watered, so suddenly I haven't eaten in three days and I can't figure out why my head aches."
Jack sighed. "You should have someone with you, Doc."
The Doctor shook his head. "Nah, I do all right on my own."
"No," Jack said flatly. "You don't."
The Doctor sighed, tilting his head back. "No, I really don't, do I? Of course . . ." He hesitated, drawing patterns on the duvet, and Jack knew with a sudden sinking sensation what he was about to say. "You could come with me. For a while, not forever."
Jack shook his head. "I told my team I'd be back in ten minutes."
"How many times do I have to remind people? We have a time machine."
"I know, Doc," Jack said, sliding his hand across the bed to grasp the Doctor's, "and I appreciate the offer."
"But?"
Jack smiled ruefully. "Ianto. He has a lot less time than either of us will." Jack squeezed the Doctor's hand. "He deserves the best I can give him for as long as we have."
"And what about us?" the Doctor asked, so quietly Jack thought he might have misheard. "It's not the same without you."
"We'll get our chance, Doc," Jack said, certain it was true. "And in the meantime, I'll love Ianto. And you should find someone to travel with. Seriously," he added, when the Doctor scoffed. "Find someone who'll slow you down a bit, remind you to eat. Hold your hand when I'm not here."
"Well . . ." the Doctor said, drawing it out, "maybe."
It was the best he was going to do, Jack decided, especially as tired as he was. "Good," he said, and yawned. "Sorry, I know you probably don't want to lie around anymore, but I feel a nap coming on."
The Doctor shook his head. "Sleep as much as you want. You've more than earned it. I'll be nearby."
Jack lifted the Doctor's hand and kissed the palm. "With any luck, when I wake up, I'll feel well enough for a Holy Grail session."
The Doctor smiled and turned their hands over to brush his lips against the inside of Jack's wrist. There was nothing sexual about it, not without the Holy Grail, but it made Jack feel warm and loved all the same. "I look forward to it," he said. He climbed off the bed and gathered up the remains of the food and tea to carry out with him.
The lights dimmed and Jack slid down beneath the duvet. Someday, he thought, the stars would align and he and the Doctor would have their time. In the meantime, he'd enjoy being here, now.
Fin.