A/N: I'm usually all for a happily ever after but, err... :P

Chapter 16 - Aftermath

Immortal Jack woke up with a gasp, impulsively launching out a hand to grab the nearest object available in a desperate attempt to stop the falling-through-the-infinite-abyss feeling. His hand clamped on a thin leg as his eyes burst open, and he just about registered someone standing over him.

A face swam into a view, grinning down at him.

"Doctor?" he croaked, confused. "But you were…"

The Doctor heaved a sigh. "Time travel, Jack. Try and keep up. I'm from the future."

Jack struggled to his feet, using the Doctor as leverage who obligingly helped him upright. He was standing in the TARDIS console room, everything perfectly calm. "Where's Rose?" he asked.

"Which one?" the Doctor joked. "Sorry. Mine's in my Tardis, and your one is in the infirmary with your Doctor, secured."

"Secured," Jack repeated, already moving off down the corridor to the infirmary.

"Well, they haven't woken up yet, but when they do they're going to want a snack," the Doctor explained. "Best if they don't get it."

"What happened?"

"What do you remember about your latest death?"

"Some guy was pointing a gun at you so I took the bullet," Jack told him. "You're welcome, by the way."

They reached the infirmary, where Jack found his two friends secured down to tables. They both looked like death, pale as ghosts and splattered with bloodstains.

"Are you gonna tell me what the hell is wrong with them?" Jack wondered.

"Yeah, sorry," the Doctor said. "They're Exes."

"And what the hell's that?"

"You really don't remember?"

Jack shrugged. "Am I supposed to?"

"Do you remember the War of the Exes on Owatta, 6.2:3:5119 modern era?"

Jack frowned, thinking for a moment about that. "Yeah, some kinda war with this infection that cause people to mutate like zom…" He trailed off, staring at the two people in the infirmary for a moment before adding, "oh."

"It's a very aggressive strain of what I can only describe as something like zoophaga," the Doctor explained. "So aggressive even I couldn't hold out for long against it," he explained, indicated his own body in the infirmary. "What can you remember about the war?"

"There was something about getting Time Agents involved but we never did," Jack replied after a moments thought.

"Oh, you did," the Doctor assured him.

"I was there?"

The Doctor nodded. "In fact, he was the one that shot you."

Jack paused, staring at the Doctor in mild horror. "Wait, I shot myself?"

"Yep," the Doctor affirmed.

"I can't remember… That was it, wasn't it? My two years of missing memories."

The Doctor nodded. "Sorry," he said sincerely.

Jack thought about that for a moment. "Did I know I shot myself?"

"Yep," the Doctor confirmed.

"But I didn't know I'm immortal."

"Nope."

"So old me thinks I killed myself."

"Yep."

"Right," Jack muttered, frowning and looking back at his two friends.

"Me and Rose have been stuck for the past few months on the front lines with your pleasant Time Agent self," the Doctor told him. "We couldn't get out. When we we found out we were caught, and you and John Hart took a lot of pleasure in trying to get me to give you my Tardis."

Jack froze, his eyes widening. "I didn't… Tell me I didn't do anything to you."

The Doctor's lack of reply told him all he needed to know.

"What about Rose?" Jack almost croaked. "I didn't do anything to her, did I?"

The Doctor shook his head. "She was already infected by then."

"I'm sorry."

"Not your fault."

"Really," Jack insisted, taking his arms. "I'm sorry."

"Forget it," the Time Lord dismissed. "You need to concentrate on these two, now. The infection's powerful but my immune system's more powerful. It'll take a while, but they'll get there. They've also been shot quite a few times. Me, my Jack and my Rose have managed to get out the bullets but as soon as the infection goes they're going to start feeling it. You know where all the painkillers and dressings are, right?"

Jack nodded. "Cupboard, top shelf."

The Doctor nodded. "And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but the next bit isn't easy."

"What?"

"They need you now more than ever."

"What d'you mean?" Jack asked weakly, despite how little he wanted to know the answer.

"No one's ever recovered from this type of zoophaga before," the Doctor answered slowly. "And that's probably a blessing. Unfortunately, me and Rose remember what we did as Exes. All of it."

Jack froze. "... All of it?"

"Every bit."

Jack paused. "Are you okay?" he eventually managed to ask.

The Doctor's eyes darkened slightly. "I'm always okay."

Jack swallowed, knowing him well enough to know that meant nothing positive. "Okay, god," he muttered and reached forward to hug him. The Doctor flinched slightly, causing Jack to pull back abruptly. "S-sorry," he stammered.

"It's okay," the Doctor muttered. "I need to go. I'm sorry."

Jack could only watch as he turned and left at a quicker pace than Jack was accustomed to.

He felt quite, quite sick.

The Doctor woke up.

He opened his eyes, and found himself lying in the infirmary, in amongst the covers of a bed. It was very low-lit. He tried to get up, but pain burst through his body and he collapsed again, helpless.

Finally the Doctor's thought processes caught up with his body and he groaned, weakly reaching up a hand to check his face. He hadn't regenerated. So why did he feel so weak?

Then it all came flooding back.

All the death and blood. All the pain and suffering. Being tortured by Jack. Shooting humans…

"Rose," he found himself saying, He grunted, and slowly turned onto his side to look at the next bed. There was Rose. For a while he just watched her, trying to ignore the hallucinations of the humans he'd shot stood behind her, staring at him. After about ten minutes she slowly rose to consciousness, shifting slightly and blinking until she focused on him, offered a brief smile and tried to get up. Just as he'd done, she cried out and dropped again.

"Don't," the Doctor muttered.

"Why… Oh god, I've been shot," she realised.

"Yeah," he said quietly.

"Wait…" She paused, her eyes wide and darting around. "Oh no. Oh god. I…"

"It's okay," he breathed.

"No," she blurted out, suddenly in tears. "I… oh god. I can't believe I… I bit you."

"Only because I made you."

"No," she insisted, "I wanted so much to eat you… I lapped up your blood…"

She immediately tried to get up again, but the pain and weakness prevented her once more.

"Don't, just relax," he told her. "You're recovering from a hugely aggressive zoophagous infection."

"Oh, shut up!" she snapped back rudely.

"Rose…"

"I need to clean my mouth, I can taste you."

"Rose."

"I can taste your blood!" Rose yelped out, crying profusely now.

The Doctor force out his hand to the gap between their beds. He struggled to keep it held up but he forced himself to, searching for her hand. "Rose, take my hand."

Rose stared at his arm, her eyes wide. He looked down. He hadn't realised the middle was heavily bandaged where she'd sunk her teeth straight in.

"No," he said. "It's okay. I made you. Take my hand."

She was shaking badly, but on his command she winced and forced out her hand to take his.

"It's not your fault. You were infected," he said slowly and carefully. "You had no control."

She continued to cry. "I did it," she moaned, let go of his hand and promptly turned and began to cough and retch over the other wide of the bed, away from him. He just let her. There wasn't much else he could do. Frankly, he expected nothing else from her.

He had to get up. He forced himself through pain and lethargy to sit up and push himself to stand up. He didn't of course, collapsing almost immediately onto the floor. He tried to ignore it, using Rose's bed rails to help himself get up again before finally collapsing down onto her bed. With energy he didn't even know he had left he shuffled up beside her and put his arms around her.

"No," Rose moaned, weakly trying to get him off. "Don't…"

"I'm not going anywhere," he told her gently, squeezing his eyes shut to block out the hallucinated, bloody humans now standing at the end of the bed. But somehow they even seemed to be ingrained inside his eyelids.

Rose gave in to his hug. But he was shirtless, and she could feel the skin of his shoulder pressing against her cheek. Impulsively she turned her head ever so slightly, and got a full whiff of his scent.

It smelt good enough to eat.

Cautiously she rested her lips on his skin, opened her mouth slightly…

"No!" she suddenly cried out, pulling away. "Get off!"

"What?" he asked.

"Your smell…" she gasped through a new set of tears. "I… don't want to eat you. Get off. Go away."

"No, it's fine, you're cured," he assured her.

"I'm not cured!" she snapped back. "Get off!"

"Rose, this is in your head, you're just…"

"GET OFF!" she screamed out and pushed him away with all the energy she could muster. It had enough force to send him off of the bed, sprawling out on the floor. "Lock me up," she begged. "Please!"

The Doctor groaned badly, curling up slightly. "Not… gonna lock… you up…" he managed to gasped.

"I don't wanna eat you," she cried, her head in her hands. "Please lock me up."

"You're… you're not going… to eat… anyone," he rasped, still on the floor. "Not… infected."

"I am!" she insisted. "I can smell you…"

"It's in… in your head," he said weakly.

"Fuck off or I'll eat you!" she swore, covered her ears and scrunched up her eyes, trying desperately to breathe through her mouth. But it felt like his smell was just pouring into her.

Then a new smell arrived. She opened her eyes again, and saw Jack standing in the doorway.

Jack had only just convinced himself to step back into the infirmary again when it had become clear that the Doctor and Rose were arguing. The moment he'd entered Rose started hurling abuse at him for getting her infected; putting them in this situation.

He tried to ignore it and instead concentrate on what the future Doctor had told him. He moved forward to the Doctor on the floor, steeled himself, and picked the Doctor up. The Time Lord badly flinched, but Jack tried to ignore it. Still with Rose belting out curses in his direction he turned and carried the Doctor out of the infirmary.

"Where are we going?" the Doctor asked weakly, perhaps even scared.

"To your room," Jack told him, trying not to cry.

When they got there Jack laid him down. The Doctor tried to get up again but the combination of weakness and pain meant he didn't get far.

"Don't try to get up," Jack said seriously. "You were shot in your Ex form way too many times."

The Doctor frowned. "Wait… you know?"

Jack nodded. "Your future self turned up to sort everything out. You got better a few days ago, he told me to extract some of your antibodies to give to Rose."

"Oh," the Doctor muttered. "But… I was about to… to eat your past self."

"He shot at you but I took the bullet," Jack answered. All the confidence and charisma he usually possessed was utterly gone. "Then your future self turned up, knocked you out and saved us. He told me everything. What I did to you. I'm sorry."

Jack reached forward to touch him, but the Doctor involuntarily flinched quite badly once again. Jack quickly pulled his hand away.

"I'm sorry," Jack muttered again. "I'll get some bandages," he said somewhat hollowly, and left.

"Jack!" the Doctor called, but he was already gone. "Jack," he repeated in a murmur, closing his eyes. "It's not your fault…"

He was feeling guilty over the torture, the Doctor knew. Though the Doctor wasn't exactly helping by flinching.

He could do nothing but lay there, feeling empty. The crowd of hallucinated dead humans had followed him from the infirmary to his room, and now he was alone and vulnerable, he suddenly felt a lot more scared.

"Go away," he begged the hallucinations. "Please go away."

They weren't listening. They didn't care. He closed his eyes briefly, before opening them again.

The dead humans had moved closer to him.

"You're not going away," the Doctor muttered, resigned. He inadvertently blinked again. The humans jumped forward to within reaching distance.

He suddenly felt terror like he'd never felt before. But he couldn't move for the pain. So he ended up lying there, staring up at the ceiling trying desperately not to blink as he could feel them standing right next to him…

The door opened. Jack was back.

"She hates me," Jack moaned, hovering near the door. Thankfully the humans had disappeared. "She really, really hates me."

"It wasn't you," the Doctor replied weakly. "It's not your fault."

"Everything's my fault," he muttered, gazing at the Doctor's wounds.

"Forget it," the Time Lord insisted. "You don't know what happened. You can't remember it."

"But I hurt you," Jack almost whispered.

"Jack, I don't mind," the Doctor said seriously. "I really, really don't mind."

"I do," Jack muttered.

There was an awkward pause.

"Jack, I'm bleeding," the Doctor reminded him.

"S-sorry," Jack muttered, and stepped forward with a bunch of new dressings in hand. He dared to sit down on the bed beside the Doctor, hesitating for a moment before reaching forward to touch him. Once again, he flinched. Jack quickly drew his hand back, panicked.

"Sorry, I can't help it," the Doctor said quietly. "Just ignore it."

"How can I?" Jack asked seriously.

The Doctor didn't answer that as the ex-Time Agent began to re-bandage him. He tried desperately not to flinch, but it happened.

Yes, he was a little scared of Jack. But he was trying desperately to remind himself that Jack was someone he trusted.

Time Agent Captain Jack Harkness strolled into the Time Agent Headquarters, a man on a mission.

The visions of the death of his future self had been circling around his head like a most horrific film on repeat. He'd been reliving the moment since he'd experienced it, constantly trying to judge how old he'd been when he'd died; anticipating meeting the Doctor and Rose; just what the hell he was going to do about it when he got there. But it wasn't like it mattered either way. He knew how he was going to die.

There was only one solution, he knew.

He barged straight into his superior's office and slammed his palms onto the table.

"Wipe my memory," he demanded.

"What?" his boss asked stunned.

"I can't cope with this," Jack insisted. "I want my memory wiped. All the time I was in the war. Get rid of it."

"Jack, you can't be serious."

"I am," Jack grated. "Either you consent to me wiping my memory or I'll sue the hell out of you."

His boss stared at him. "Why? You know the shit that comes with wiping your memory, can't you sort this out?"

"No," Jack said straight. "Just wipe my memory."

His boss sighed. "All right."

When Jack was done he made to go, but the Doctor stopped him.

"Please don't leave me alone," the Doctor suddenly said. He sounded so quiet and pathetic.

Jack sighed, carefully and slowly sitting down on the bed beside him so as not to upset him with sudden movements. The Doctor grunted and turned over to look at him as Jack carefully put the bed covers over him and brushed the Time Lord's fringe away from his eyes. It was strange. They were lying on the same bed, the Doctor half undressed, but Jack felt no compulsion to make a dirty joke.

"It's funny," Jack suddenly said. "It was me all along, wasn't it?"

The Doctor nodded. "I think so."

"I couldn't handle thinking I'd know when I'd die. So I wiped my own memory."

The Doctor nodded again. "I'm sorry."

"I spent all that time trying to find out why the Time Agency stole my memory but it was me all along. Now I wish I never found out. I'd give anything for you two not to have gone through that."

"It's done," the Doctor said seriously. "We can't change it."

There was a hanging silence between them.

"It'll be okay," Jack eventually said. "I saw your future self. He seemed a lot better."

The Doctor just nodded.

"Maybe we should wipe our memories," Jack suddenly said, somewhat hesitantly.

"We can't, else I won't come back from the future," the Doctor pointed out.

"Oh. Yeah."

Another long pause. Jack did wonder how long it would be until the awkward silences stopped.

"Go to sleep. I'll keep checking in on Rose," he finished weakly.

Rose Tyler was still in the infirmary, clutching the bedsheets to her chest. She could smell him. The Time Lord. He was nearby.

It was like his smell was all over her.

Part of her screamed to go and find him and eat him, but the other part was desperately trying to hold the first part back.

She might never be able to travel with the Doctor again.

And what about other people? She was still infected, she was sure of it. What about her mum? Would she try to eat her mum?

His smell came wafting up her nose again, and her stomach rumbled.

She hated the feeling. But not as much as she hated Jack for his part in doing it to her.

"So you used to be a Time Agent, and now you're tryin' to con 'em?"

"If it makes me sound any better, I'm not in it for the money."

"For what?"

"Woke up one morning when I was still working for them, found they'd stolen two years of my memories. I'd like 'em back."

"They stole your memories?"

"Two years of my life, no idea what I did. Your friend over there doesn't trust me, and for all I know, he's right not to."

The End(?)

A/N: That's the most depressing story ending I've ever done, but oh my god it was fun. I got my broken Doctor! :D Well, I think I broke all of them to be honest. Whoops.

I've sort of left this halfway between a real ending and a sequel ending as I think I could do some real psychological angst here and I'm not sure whether I want to do it or not. So if I don't come back to this again, please assume a happily ever after :P Or a not happily ever after, whichever you like best... :o

Thanks to the-writer1988 for the proofreading on the first half of the story. Sort of explains why all the spelling and grammar collapsed in the second half, right? :D

I've got no idea what's coming next. Basically. Watch this space! (well, not exactly THIS space... you know what I mean ;) )

Laura