Title: Time and Again

Summary: The Doctor and Zoe search for Jamie.

Disclaimer: Not mine, don't sue

The TARDIS door opened and Zoe stepped out, taking in the empty bed, the antique heart monitor, and the IV stand. "Doctor?" she called through the doorway, trying to keep her voice steady. "It's a hospital. Private room, I think."

The Doctor poked his tousled head out, looked around, and nodded. Then he saw her face, and his expression softened. "We'll find him, Zoe. The trace led directly here. This is it."

"You said that last time," she said miserably.

He pulled her close in a rough hug. The sleeves of her sparkly jumpsuit scritched against the back of his coat as she held him. She sobbed into his shoulder, "I - I just feel so mean - if I hadn't gotten cross at him he wouldn't've left."

The Doctor held her by the shoulders and peered into her eyes. "Zoe. We've gone over this. It's not your fault, my dear, the TARDIS hasn't been well lately. You and Jamie didn't know that the TARDIS would take off and erase its log so we couldn't just reverse. It's not your fault," he repeated.

Zoe wiped her eyes briskly, trying to yank her efficient scientist persona into place. "All right," she said, "so he's in the building?"

"He should be."

They walked out of the room. They were at the end of a long, badly lit corridor. Zoe hoped that it was because of disuse rather than yet another alien invasion. "People should run when they see us coming," she muttered.

The Doctor shot a glance at her. She shook her head.

After a few minutes they came to a better kept corridor intersecting theirs. The floors had been swept, and there was only one light bulb missing. The Doctor headed left arbitrarily, and soon they came to a reception desk. "Hello!" the Doctor beamed toothily at the receptionist; a bored little man in an immaculate white uniform, holding a tattered magazine.

"Yes?" the receptionist droned.

"We're looking for Jamie McCrimmon," Zoe said. "Is he here, please?"

"Room 502," the receptionist said, without bothering to look up from his magazine. He jerked a thumb over one shoulder.

The Doctor and Zoe exchanged glances. Zoe led the way. They passed another ten or so wards, but only saw five or six patients plus two nurses.

Room 502. The sign was bigger than the others. The door was shut. Zoe took a deep breath, and reached for the ornate gold doorknob. "Maybe we should knock first," she said uncertainly.

"Nonsense!" The Doctor pushed the door open and sailed through.

Jamie spun at the sound of the familiar voice. "Doctor? Zoe?" His jaw dropped, and he went to embrace them both - but he couldn't. He was frozen, stuck to the floor. "I've dreamed of this," he whispered. They were both perfect. Exactly as he'd remembered them.

Zoe was crying. "Ach, don't cry, Zoe," Jamie said, at a loss. He moved forward, finally, and took her in his arms, marvelling at the feel of her slight frame against his; the reality, the solidity of her. Patting her back came as naturally as breathing. He eased her into the low, plush seat by the window.

The Doctor gazed at him, sadness in his eyes. Jamie saw him take in the splendour of the room and the view.

And the medical equipment.

"It's mine," Jamie said. He stayed next to Zoe, with an arm around her. "That's why I get the best room, even though the company can't really afford it. We're losing money, but I don't care any more."

"Can, can we try again, Doctor?" Zoe said. She refused to look at Jamie.

"No, Zoe," the Doctor said sadly. "This is it. We can't go back again without compromising Jamie's timeline."

"It's so good to see you," Jamie said. He compared his wrinkled, gnarled hand with Zoe's smooth one. His mouth quirked. "I'd hoped to see you a little earlier, but it's still good to see you."

"How long do you have?" the Doctor said quietly.

"About a month, maybe a wee bit more. Cancer works fast."

Zoe looked at him finally. "Do you want to come with us?"

Jamie smiled. "I'd love to."