Elizabeth couldn't help but smile when she spotted John leaning against his car, waiting for her. After he'd spent days pestering her, she had eventually given in and agreed to go to one of Langford's football games with him. It wasn't that she didn't support the team, she just wasn't particularly keen on football and was happy to just read the results in the school paper. John, of course, was an ardent fan. When she had asked him if this weekend's game was important he had told her in a slightly shocked tone, that they were all important.

So, in retrospect, it should not have come as a big surprise to see him dressed nearly entirely in burgundy and gold, including a Langford sweatshirt and Langford scarf. She was tempted to find out what color his socks were or ask him if he had the Langford boxers on.

Elizabeth, by contrast, had just dug out her Langford t-shirt from the back of her closet. She'd bought it on a whim one day, not long after she started working there, and never really had occasion to wear it since. However, it wasn't warm enough to wear on its own, so the effect was somewhat lost when she put a jacket over it.

"Hey," he greeted her, standing up as she approached. "Don't you at least have something in school colors?"

She sighed. "Just this t-shirt." Since she hadn't yet zipped her jacket up, she opened it to show him.

There was an expression on his face for a minute that she couldn't quite decipher, but then he pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around her. She shivered when his cold hands brushed her neck. He stepped back and smiled at the effect. "That's better. And it will keep you warm too."

"Thank you," she said, resisting the temptation to ask John what laundry detergent he used, because his scarf smelled wonderful.

"Come on." He turned in the direction of the football field. "I'll buy you a hot chocolate."

She followed him. "You're just trying to get me to take my coat off, aren't you?"

He turned to smirk at her. "It's not as if you're not wearing anything under it."

"Why do all men have one-track minds?" She asked rhetorically, but smiled back anyway.

"Two," he said, calling out to her as she trailed behind him, "don't forget football!"

She rolled her eyes. He was saved from her reply, though, because he was busy buying them a hot chocolate each and stopping to have a conversation about the game with the guy selling it. Elizabeth stood off to one side, cradling her hot chocolate and looked around. There weren't that many people about and none of them wanted hot drinks yet. When John had told her what time to meet him she thought it was early, but given that he knew more about the subject than she did, she assumed she'd got the kick-off time wrong. But perhaps not.

"Why are we so early?" she asked him, when other people came looking for drinks and he was forced to tear himself away.

"So we can get the best seats." His tone of voice suggested this was obvious.

She couldn't complain about that because she'd done the same thing herself in the past, just not for football. As she sipped her drink, she let him lead them up into the stands to where he assured her was the best place to sit, although she couldn't tell why it was an improvement over most of the other seats. Once there they found Jack and Teal'c had beat them to it. They were both in Langford colors, although Jack's consisted of the baseball team's cap and jersey, which Elizabeth had to stifle a laugh at.

They exchanged greetings and Elizabeth slid in next to Jack, with John on the other side of her.

"I didn't think you were that keen on football," she said to Jack.

"Hockey is better," he confirmed, "but Teal'c's a fan and I support the team."

"I hear the new quarterback is worth watching," Teal'c put in and before she knew it he and John had launched into a discussion over her and Jack about the merits of the members of the team.

"I didn't know you liked football," Jack said to her, also tuning out the other's football conversation.

"I don't. But I was persuaded to come. And I support the team too," she added.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "So the rumors are true."

She sighed. "Not you, too."

Jack just grinned at her and Elizabeth shook her head, refusing to answer.

Luckily for her, the smell of hot dogs intruded and she started to feel hungry, even though she had eaten before she left the house. The owner of the hot dog was a good few paces behind the scent and revealed himself to be Jonas, with Daniel in tow.

"Hey, guys," Daniel said, and another round of greetings were exchanged, except for Jonas who had his mouth full. His food disappeared quickly enough, though, and he sat down next to John, who had moved on to debate the merits of the opposing team. Today they were up against the Wraith. Daniel sat behind Jack, and he and Elizabeth turned round to talk to him.

Not that they had a chance to say much before Sam and Janet arrived. If Elizabeth didn't have a good sense of self-preservation she might have accused Janet of stalking Daniel - Elizabeth was sure her appearance so soon after Daniel's arrival was unlikely to be a coincidence. So she was unsurprised to watch Janet make a beeline for Daniel and sit next to him, although Sam was happy enough to join in the football talk. Despite being at the other end of the group, Teal'c had no problem making himself heard.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jonas's pants leg had moved up and exposed a strip of what looked suspiciously like a dark yellow sock. Not quite able to believe what she was seeing, and the possibility of what she was not, despite what she had thought about John's clothes earlier, she interrupted their conversation. "Jonas, please tell me your other sock isn't dark red."

Jonas flashed her a grin and a leg, and revealed that it was exactly as bad as she suspected.

Elizabeth groaned.

John leaned over to whisper in her ear, "I've got the school boxer shorts on."

She ignored the way his breath tickled her skin. "Why does that not surprise me?" she said in a low voice. "But how can they show how big a fan you are if no one can see them?"

"All you had to do was ask." He caught hold of the waistband of his pants on the side nearest to her.

"John!" she said, shocked, and grabbed his hand before he could do anything, not quite believing that he was willing to reveal his underwear in the football stadium.

There was the sound of giggling behind them, which stopped immediately when Elizabeth turned round. "I know exactly why you're here, Janet Fraiser," she said, to divert Janet's suspicions about what she thought she'd seen.

"And why would that be?" Janet asked, in an innocent tone.

Elizabeth noticed that not only were Sam and Janet staring at her - Sam looking interested, Janet her usual combination of innocent and murderous - but Daniel had also stopped his conversation with Jack to hear her answer. Despite her law background she found herself unable to mount her own defense and had to settle for, "You know."

Janet merely grinned and Elizabeth decided to turn her attention to the field, where the cheerleaders were gathering as the bleachers filled up. A shouting war was just starting up between the two teams' fans, led by the cheerleaders, and Elizabeth winced as John joined in. Oblivious to her discomfort he picked up one end of his scarf - that she was wearing - and waved it a bit.

"Would you like your scarf back?" she asked him.

"Huh?" he replied, before he focused on her and dropped the scarf in response. "Are you warm yet?"

"No." Although it had become something of a matter of pride that she was not going to take her jacket off regardless.

He grinned as he slid closer to her so they were almost touching at the leg and shoulder. She didn't move away. "When you are, let me know."

Fortunately for them both, the players started making their way onto the field and Elizabeth's ears were assaulted once more. It didn't stop once they started playing either, for John was quick to shout encouragement at the players and jeer at the opposition. Every time the Explorers scored he jumped up and Elizabeth thought she might as well have been invisible. Everyone else around them was getting into the spirit too.

Elizabeth couldn't help but be caught up in the excitement, but it might have been easier if she knew what was going on. It was difficult to concentrate on the game when people stood up in front of her every five minutes and all that told her was that she should have been watching beforehand, not trying to work out what she had just missed.

"Did you see that?" John asked, excitement in his eyes as he sat back down and noticed she was watching him.

"No, what just happened?"

"The Wraith fumbled and we scored from nowhere."

She nodded. "Okay."

"Never mind," he sighed. "It's half-time anyway."

He was right, she discovered, and she turned back to the field to watching the cheerleaders perform. She was sure she had seen at least one of them outside John's office door, which didn't surprise her. However, cheerleading routines were better appreciated by young men and Elizabeth looked for someone to to converse with. Preferably about a topic that wasn't football. But Janet and Daniel were having an earnest discussion about something Elizabeth couldn't quite hear and she didn't want to intrude. Everyone was talking about the Explorers' amazing playing in the first half of the game.

Fortunately Jack leaned over and asked, "Help me with this crossword?"

Elizabeth looked over to see he had a folded up newspaper in his lap, containing a half-completed crossword. It said something about her concentration on the game that she hadn't even noticed Jack wasn't paying attention. Or perhaps it was just that he wasn't paying attention to the cheerleaders. "Don't you have a bet with Sam about that?"

He shrugged. "She's not listening."

Elizabeth looked over and saw that he was right, so she took pity on him. "All right, what are you stuck on?"

"Up, down, charmed, something."

It wasn't her field of expertise but she had heard of that sequence. "Strange."

"Hmm, yes, it is." Jack's tone suggested that he hadn't understood the answer. "Never mind."

She didn't get a chance to explain it to him before the second half began and everyone turned their attention back to the game.

They weren't far into the second half when it became clear, even to Elizabeth, that both teams were playing completely differently than their earlier performances. The Explorers had been scoring, although not often, but when they had it had been spectacular, and the Wraith had consistently missed easy shots. Now, however, the Wraith seemed to have woken up and the Explorers were struggling to catch up. The Wraith beat their impressive score during the third quarter.

After berating the Explorers for a while, John had lapsed into silence along with most of the rest of the crowd. Elizabeth stifled a yawn and pretended not to notice John's fingers playing with his scarf.

The next thing she knew she was comfortably warm, even if her pillow was a little hard. The background noise of the football game grew and she pushed herself up from her position on John's shoulder.

"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," he said, smiling at her, but not moving his arm from around her waist.

"I'm not," she replied, rubbing her eyes. She had been comfortable, even though she was sitting on a hard seat with John's shoulder for a pillow.

His smile turned to a grin. "What, not sleeping or not beautiful?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth but couldn't find a good way to answer that without incriminating herself.

"If you were trying to stop any rumors," Janet said, leaning down to mutter in her ear, with a grin Elizabeth didn't like the look of, "falling asleep on his shoulder wasn't the way to do it."

"It was only because he was sitting next to me," she said, turning round to face Janet. "It could just as easily have been Jack."

"Except you're sitting a lot closer to John."

Elizabeth glared at her even though she and John had been shoulder to shoulder the whole time - or at least whenever John was sitting down. When she turned back round to face the field John removed his arm and she could see that the game was over. The score up on the board explained why the Explorers cheerleaders were leaning despondently against each other. The crowd and the cheerleaders on the opposite side of the field were much more animated.

"I guess we lost," she said.

"Yeah," John answered, without enthusiasm.

"I need a drink," Jack said, with feeling.

"Good idea," she heard from Daniel, behind her, followed by, "I concur," from Teal'c. Jonas was the only one who didn't appear to be affected by the result, but that was just because he was more excitable to begin with and sometimes it was hard to tell the difference.

The walk to Maybourne's bar was not a long one. They were soon seated around a table with drinks and still no one spoke.

"That was..." John trailed off, obviously unable to find a good word to describe the game.

"Pathetic," Sam finished.

"Yeah, pathetic, that's it," John agreed, and heaved a big sigh.

Elizabeth smiled. He was actually quite sweet like this - like he needed a hug to make it all better. Not that she was about to offer, and certainly not in front of other people, even if they were their friends. Especially if they were their friends.

The atmosphere was quickly dispelling the comfortable warmth she had felt upon waking. She also couldn't stop thinking of all the work she needed to get done. Normally she would have tried to get through it all during the week but John was a disruptive influence. Which, admittedly, was not always a bad thing, but she did get far less work done now she had him to interrupt her every day. And yet she rarely threw him out of her office.

"I have to go," she said, breaking the morose silence and finishing her drink as she stood. "I have work to do," she added, smiling at John who looked puzzled at her wanting to leave.

There was a chorus of farewells and promises from her to Sam and Janet to meet for lunch next week. Outside, the air felt refreshing after the atmosphere in the bar, but she had no time to enjoy it because John had followed her out and cornered her outside the bar.

"I'm sorry." He stuck his hands in his pants pockets and looked contrite.

"What for?"

"I should have listened when you said you didn't like football. I thought once you gave it a chance--"

"Don't worry about it, John. I enjoyed myself." She wasn't going to think about how much of that was due to his presence. Or his shoulder.

He frowned. "Really? But we lost and you fell asleep."

She smiled. John was so focused on the game and the outcome that he failed to see what she had: she'd spent an enjoyable morning with her friends. That they lost was probably the only reason it hadn't turned into a whole day - although given the work she needed to get through before Monday morning, that was probably just as well. "See you Monday," she said, not feeling the need to explain it to him. Not least because he might then ask her to future games and she suspected the novelty would soon wear off.

"Wait!" he called, jogging the few steps to catch her up. She turned round to find him standing very close behind her. She resisted the immediate impulse to step backwards.

He put out one hand to finger her scarf. She ignored the way her heart beat faster as the back of his hand brushed her shoulder. "Can I have my scarf back?"

Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from smiling and shook her head. "I'm warm now," she said. "I think I'll keep it."

She stepped backwards, out of his reach and headed towards her car, leaving him too stunned to do anything about it.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Part 2

"It's just a football game, how long can it take to get ready?" John called up to Elizabeth.

She didn't bother answering, just carried on going through her wardrobe. "Aha," she said, finding what she had been looking for hidden away at the back behind some uncomfortable shoes. Watching the Langford Explorers pick their new team was not her ideal way of spending Saturday morning, but John went religiously every year and now that they were living together she was trying to take more of an interest in his interests. Even if that included football. For one reason or another they hadn't seen each other much this week, so they would at least get to spend some time together, which was how Elizabeth had rationalized it when John asked her to go with him.

By the time she made it to the bottom of the stairs, John was already out of the door and on the way to the car. Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Any other time she had trouble getting him out of the door late, never mind on time. And even though she had held them up, they would still be early.

He was so focused on getting there in time that he had driven to Langford, parked the car and bought her a coffee (so she wouldn't fall asleep this time, he told her) and handed it to her before he noticed what she was wearing. Elizabeth had never gotten around to building up the selection of Langford clothing that others had. She'd had a t-shirt once but that had long since been turned into a rag. What she did have now was a scarf, even if she hadn't worn it since the last football game she'd been to.

"That's my scarf," John pointed out.

"Good eyes." Elizabeth sipped her coffee to remind him she was holding it, therefore would be a bad idea for him to tackle her to get his scarf back. Not that it was his scarf any more. He had given it to her to keep her warm the last time he had dragged her to the football field. Refusing to give it back when he asked had started off as a game but ended up as a point of principle. Elizabeth wasn't sure why she was doing it, but she was certainly not going to stop and let him win.

John settled for glaring at her but Elizabeth knew he was plotting for later. It didn't matter, she would be ready.

Neither of them said anything as they made their way to the front row of the bleachers. Various students were already warming up and Elizabeth was unsurprised that several of them waved at John, or greeted him with a "Hey, Shep". John returned all of their greetings and asked a few of them for the names of the new players - presumably these were freshmen or older students only just trying out this year.

Elizabeth was seriously wondering if she should just give up now and lie down for a nap until it was all over when she was rescued by the surprise appearance of Sam Carter.

"Sam!" Elizabeth greeted her friend. "I didn't think anyone else would be crazy enough to be here."

As the potential players lined up there were a few cheers from the stand nearby, filled with students both male and female.

"Except for the players' fans, of course," she added.

"I could say the same for you," Sam replied. "Especially given what happened at the last game you went to."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. Was anyone ever going to let her forget that? She kept the subject on Sam's reasons for being here and not the last game when she'd fallen asleep on John's shoulder. "John might occasionally get accused of cradle-snatching with his groupies--"

"Hey!" he said, without taking his eyes off the field.

Elizabeth ignored him. "--but I didn't think you were into the same thing."

"Well, in a choice between one of these guys and Rodney McKay..."

"I see your point." Elizabeth couldn't imagine anyone willingly dating Rodney.

"No, you're right. I'm trying to get more students interested in physics and I thought a course on the physics of football might help."

Elizabeth nodded, acknowledging the brilliance of the idea. "Sounds good."

"Yeah. You can imagine what McKay thought of it, though."

Elizabeth grinned; she could. "So what is he offering in competition?"

"I don't know yet. Either he's keeping it very secret, even from Radek, or he hasn't thought of anything better yet. I'm hoping for the second, although I don't think for one minute I'm going to lose this one." She sounded fierce about it.

"Ouch," John interrupted from beside them.

Elizabeth turned to the field, intending to ask what happened, but since she could see two of the players lying on the floor, she could guess, even with her meager knowledge of football.

"So, how's it going?" she asked him instead. Out the corner of her eye she saw Sam pull out a notebook and pen and start taking notes.

"I don't know why some of them are here at all," he gestured at the field, at a guy who'd just let the ball slip through his fingers. "They obviously don't know how to play."

"Perhaps they're hoping everyone else is going to be worse than them and they're going to get all the girls attention simply by being on the squad," she said, genuinely trying to take an interest this time.

"Probably. Although I think some of them do it for a dare."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes.

"There's a bunch of freshmen who look really good, but some of the old players are going to be hard to replace."

Throughout the training session John continued to point out those players he thought were good and would make the squad for sure, and those he thought were useless and had no chance. Elizabeth was surprised that she found his commentary interesting. But it was probably because he didn't just tell her the names of the players, he also talked about the backgrounds of the ones he knew, so she felt as if she knew them too, and was routing for them just as much as John was.

By the time they'd finished Elizabeth could see Sam had taken plenty of notes. Elizabeth wished her luck with the course as they departed, but Sam was already deep in thought.

"I think they picked the right players in the end," John said, as they made their way home.

"Hmm," Elizabeth said, non-committally.

"So, did you enjoy yourself?"

She could tell that was a leading question from the smile on his face. "The company was all right, I guess." She was certainly not going to give himself the satisfaction of saying yes.

"Only all right? And you didn't answer my question."

"I didn't?" She grinned. "I think I need a nap after that early morning."

John's smile only grew as she evaded his questions and tried to think of reasons not to go to any more games, let alone practice sessions, which he would certainly drag her along to if he could.

In the end, she let him have this victory. "I had a not entirely pleasant morning spent with my boyfriend and my friend."

"So," John began, "the next game is--"

"Oh, no, you don't," she cut in, pointing a finger at him. "That was my one game for the year. You can get up early if you like, but my weekends are sacred and I intend to spend them sleeping."

He shrugged. "It was worth a try."

And not just one either. John would be sure to leave it a while until she thought he had forgotten, then spring it on her when she least expected it. Probably at such a time when she was powerless to say no. There was definitely some tactical thinking she needed to employ on this problem.

John never quite stopped grinning all the way home and Elizabeth could tell he was making plans already. It would be annoying if she didn't find it so cute. She was almost relieved when they arrived home and could turn their attention to different topics. John certainly had another one in mind because they were barely inside the door when all of a sudden Elizabeth found herself against the wall being thoroughly kissed. Not that she was going to complain, it was just a little unexpected.

It was only when she realized his hands had made their way to her neck while he distracted her with his mouth that she worked out what he was doing.

"Oh no you don't," she said, managing to pull away and extricate her scarf from his grip.

"You can't say you weren't enjoying it." He pouted a little, but didn't look surprised that she'd rumbled him.

"Let me just hide my scarf and I'll be happy to pick up where we left off." She took a step towards the stairs, but he grabbed her arm.

"Forget about the scarf and we can get on with this sooner."

She raised her eyebrows. "So, you'd quite like to do this with the scarf on?"

John opened his mouth to retort but closed it again as he looked her up and down with a lascivious look on his face. Elizabeth couldn't help but blush under his gaze. "Kinky," he said.

Elizabeth laughed, although not for long because she soon found herself back against the wall, but this time John's hands were trying to remove other pieces of her clothing. Elizabeth suspected she might have won the scarf argument for good.

The newsroom of the Junior Gazette was buzzing, just as it was every morning before school. The sound of typewriters clacking was interspersed with chatter and people were typing and talking at the same time. There was a deadline approaching, although there was always a deadline. But it was easy to tell how much time was left by the ratio of chatter to typing. Since there were more people discussing the latest gossip than working this morning it meant they were still a few days away yet.

Spike made his normal grand entrance, sweeping open the door and standing there for a moment, jacket over his shoulder, as he took in the gazes of those that had turned to see what all the fuss was about. Spike, however, only had eyes for one person, and having spotted she was at her desk, he went over there and leant against it.

"Hey, did somebody change the light bulbs? It's brighter in here than usual."

Lynda rolled her eyes and had to make an effort not to look up. She was busy editing an article she wasn't happy with, as usual. Sarah had a list of all the times someone had written something Lynda liked that didn't need any changes, and it wasn't a very long list. Lynda was keen to get all her work finished before school and Spike was just a distraction.

When he shifted closer, so she could see him out of the corner of her eye she gave in and looked up, but made it a brief glance so it wouldn't seem like too much of a concession. "You haven't got your sunglasses on."

"Oh, yeah." Spike reached into his jeans pocket, found his sunglasses and put them on. He looked around and grinned.

Lynda sighed and went back to her article.

Spike's response was to throw his jacket over Lynda's head. Once Lynda had extricated herself from it, she glared at him and threw it across the newsroom. Spike reached for it and missed. "Lynda," he complained, but she ignored him so he was forced to go over to Sarah's desk, where it had landed, and Lynda finally had some peace.
***

Despite Tiddler being fascinated, as always, by Spike and Lynda, she still turned round automatically when she heard the door shut. Especially when it was the sort of noise someone made when they were trying not to be heard, but didn't quite manage to catch the door in time.

Unsurprisingly, it was Colin sneaking in and carrying a large box as he did so. He looked guiltily over at Tiddler, put his fingers to his lips, then went straight into his office. Curious to see what Colin was up to this time, Tiddler followed.

She opened his door just enough to peer through the gap and saw Colin standing over the now open box, frowning. She took advantage of his inattention to open the door further and slip inside. "What have you got there?" she asked.

Colin whirled round. "Oh, Tiddler. You scared the life out of me." He put a hand to his chest.

She smiled at his dramatics then leaned over to see around him into the box, but all she could make out from here was that it contained something brightly coloured.

"Tell me, Tiddler, what would you do if you had a hula hoop?" he asked, going into his salesman mode.

Keen to know what he was doing, she went along with it. "I can keep it twirling around my waist for a minute."

"And do you have one?"

She shook her head. "Not at the moment, no."

"In that case, CM Enterprises is glad to supply you with your very own hula hoop." Colin pulled one out of the box and grinned at her.

Tiddler could immediately see the problem with it. "Colin, it's square."

He held it out in front of him and widened his eyes. "Square hoops, huh? Whatever will they think of next."

She said nothing, just gave him a look that reminded him she wasn't stupid and she'd known him long enough now not to be taken in by him.

He continued anyway. "I'm offering you the chance to be the first to buy at a greatly reduced rate."

She'd heard that line before. "And what do I get out of it? Apart from a hoop I can't do anything with."

"You'll be the first to own one, of course. You'll be the envy of all your friends." He grinned at her.

Although Tiddler was sceptical, she did remember the ping craze Colin had started. "How many have you got?"

"Five thousand."

He looked a bit scared about that, so she took pity on him and besides, they did look quite interesting. She sighed. "Go on, then."
***

"Sarah, how did the interview go?" Lynda stood up as the girl in question made it into the newsroom.

Sarah flung her notepad onto her desk and sat down heavily. "She won't do the interview."

"What?" Lynda frowned. Sarah could always get interviews, even from people who didn't want to give them. She perched on the edge of Sarah's desk to hear what happened.

Sarah shrugged. "She just doesn't care."

"Well, why not?" Coming from Lynda this sounded more like an order than a question, but it wasn't something she was worried about at the moment. "She has to care. We need Vanessa to talk about her experiences so no one else makes the same mistake she did." No wonder Sarah was upset about not getting the interview.

"That's just it, she doesn't think it is a mistake." Sarah met Lynda's eyes, an apologetic look on her face.

Lynda didn't blame Sarah, but she was annoyed and Vanessa wasn't here to take the rap. "She's sixteen, still at school and she's going to have a baby. Of course it's a mistake."

"I know." Sarah sounded annoyed. "I told her that, but she just said she likes babies and wasn't planning to stay on and do A levels anyway."

Lynda stood up and crossed her arms. "She always was a silly little cow. Why on earth would having kids be your only ambition in life?"

"Not everyone is academic," Frazz pointed out. Frazz was supposed to be working, but he did take a very relaxed attitude to the idea, no matter what time of day. Half the time Lynda was just grateful he was awake.

Lynda gave him a look and he suddenly found he was very busy with the horoscopes.

"Maybe it feels different once you're pregnant." Sarah was still trying to apologise for Vanessa and Lynda couldn't work out why.

Lynda sagged back against Sarah's desk and gave her a disbelieving look. Maybe that was true of adults, but she knew she wouldn't feel that way if she was pregnant at sixteen.

Sarah's only response was to shrug.

Lynda still wasn't happy with the situation, though, and something had to be done about it. Before she could voice her thoughts on the matter Sam came up to her, roughs in her hands.

"Lynda, what do you think of this?"

Lynda glanced at them, then thrust the pages back into Sam's hands. It didn't take that long to decide if she liked a layout or not. Especially since she always expected not to and was rarely disappointed on that front. "We are not sensationalising it, you don't need to make the headline half the height of the page."

"It's not that big." Sam was right, but Lynda didn't care as long as Sam changed it. "And it's the words that make it sensationalist, not the layout."

Sam was too protective of her work. Why couldn't they get a head of graphics who agreed with Lynda? "Just because it's all the gossip at school at the moment doesn't mean we're treating it as gossip. Unlike the stories you tell."

"They happen to be true."

Lynda folded her arms. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen you with a boyfriend."

Sam took a step closer. "I don't make them up. You're just jealous because you can't get a guy as handsome as I can."

"I happen to be going out with Spike!"

"I rest my case." Sam grinned.

Lynda was torn - on the one hand she wanted to dispute that, otherwise she might lose this argument, but on the other she didn't want to give Spike any more ammunition than he already had. She could already see him grinning out of the corner of her eye.

Fortunately for her, Kenny stepped in between them, his hands up, forcing them both to take a step backwards. "All right, now this is not helping the situation."

That Lynda could definitely dispute, whether she had the grounds to or not. But she only managed to get as far as opening her mouth when, for once, Kenny managed to get a word in first.

"Just because you're upset with Vanessa doesn't mean you have to take it out on Sam."

Lynda didn't quite close her mouth, she was too surprised at Kenny telling her what to do.

"And Sam," Kenny continued, turning towards Sam, "just because Lynda is nasty to you, doesn't mean you have to be nasty back."

"Yes, it does." Sam folded her arms and gave Lynda a look that dared her to disagree.

"If she got her layouts right the first time I wouldn't have to be," Lynda pointed out.

"You're the one with no taste," Sam said as Kenny sighed.

"Why don't you both try being nice for once?" Kenny pointed at Lynda. "I bet you can't be nice to everyone in the newsroom for ten minutes."

"I can," she answered, since it was a challenge, although she hadn't taken time to consider what it was she was saying she could do before she opened her mouth.

"Well, go on then."

Lynda did as she was told and went back to her desk. She was sure she could do it because she had more editing to do and she could do that without talking to anyone for ten minutes. She could feel Sam's gaze on her from here and she was grateful for Kenny for taking her into the graphics room to calm her down. Although she'd forgotten about the whole thing two minutes later when she caught Frazz pretending to sleep at his desk and told him in no uncertain terms just how much she wanted to fire him.
***

Although Czar's was busy, it wasn't so bad that Lynda didn't think she'd be able to get her and Spike a table to themselves. Even if there hadn't been some people finishing their drinks and looking like they were about to leave, she'd noticed Kenny in the corner, who was only here with Sam, and she knew she'd be able to convince him to go elsewhere if she needed to. However, since Spike wasn't here yet, she took advantage of Vanessa being there on her own and sat down opposite her.

As she was behind a table Vanessa looked just like any other sixteen year old in Czar's drinking coke. But Lynda had seen her around school and that bump was definitely noticeable. No one was able to agree how far pregnant she was, and Vanessa wasn't saying, but Lynda didn't really care. It was the fact that she was pregnant at all that Lynda was interested in, nothing else.

"Vanessa Maychurch." Lynda smiled. Anyone else might recognise that that smile wasn't particularly friendly, but Vanessa didn't know Lynda well enough to suspect.

"Lynda Day." Vanessa had a similar smile of her own. "I had a feeling I might see you."

"If you'd given Sarah an interview or not run away at school whenever you saw me coming, maybe it wouldn't have come to this. Waiting for your boyfriend are you?" Lynda was sure she was on top of this conversation.

Vanessa shook her head. "You can send the whole Junior Gazette after me if you like, it won't make any difference."

"I'm not sending anyone else, there's just me." Lynda smiled - properly this time - hoping Vanessa might open up. She had a notebook in her pocket, just in case, but she didn't want to get it out too soon and frighten her off.

"Just because everyone's talking about me doesn't mean I have to explain myself to you."

Although Vanessa sounded hurt Lynda ignored that. She never worried about people she didn't care about. "But you must regret some part of it," she said with a frown, trying to understand what was going on here. "The baby is going to change your whole life." Which, for Lynda, was a very good reason not to have one.

"Good." Vanessa finished her coke and pushed the glass to one side. "Is that all?"

"No, it isn't." Lynda was the one in charge of this conversation and it was over when she said it was, which would be when she got all she wanted. "What about the baby's father? He's been very quiet so far. Not to mention mysterious. Who is he?"

"Oh, don't worry, you know him." Vanessa had a wicked look on her face that worried Lynda. "But he doesn't want to have anything to do with the baby. Which is fine by me." She shrugged. "He's obsessed about another girl anyway." Her eyes flicked to one side to look over Lynda's shoulder at the counter.

Much as Lynda didn't want to take the bait she looked behind her. Spike was the only person there. Vanessa had to be winding her up. "Spike?" she asked Vanessa disbelievingly.

Vanessa grinned. "I can't think why he wouldn't tell you."

Lynda could, given what she'd done to some of his previous girlfriends and she had a sinking feeling that Vanessa could be telling the truth. Spike had gone out with enough girls that he could quite easily have gone out with Vanessa too. Lynda just hadn't thought he'd got anywhere with any of them, but maybe she was wrong.

By the time Spike came over to the table with two coffees and a slice of cake, all delicately balanced, Lynda looked horrified.

"What's wrong?" Spike asked softly, a worried expression on his face.

Lynda said nothing, just grabbed her bag and stormed out.
***

"What was that all about?" Sam asked as Lynda walked past them on her way out of Czar's.

Kenny shrugged. "I don't know." With Lynda it could be just about anything. He'd probably hear about it soon enough, though, and since Spike was already following her he wouldn't worry about it yet. "I don't think I want to know." He went back to his coke, which he'd drunk half of already - without a straw and without spilling any.

"So why did Jenny dump you?" Sam finished her drink and folded her arms on the table.

Kenny didn't blame her for changing the subject back again, but that didn't mean it was something he wanted to talk about. "What makes you think that asking me twelve times in an evening is going to get me to tell you?"

Sam smiled. "My natural good looks and charm." Then she frowned. "Is it really twelve times?"

Kenny couldn't help smiling at that. Sam did have good looks and charm and she knew how to use them too. He was just trying hard to resist and doing quite well so far. "I don't know," he admitted. "I lost count."

"So how about thirteen times lucky?" She leant over the table and Kenny had to try hard not to look at the cleavage he could now see clearly.

He sighed. "All right." It was easier to give in otherwise he'd never hear the end of it. He'd learnt that from being friends with Lynda. He leant forward himself, keeping his eyes on her face, and lowered his voice. "She said I was too understanding."

"So she thought you were boring?" Sam interpreted.

Kenny would have disputed that, but he had a feeling she was right. "I'm not boring." He frowned. "Am I?"

Sam giggled. "No. Just very nice."

He sighed and leant back in his seat. "And there I was thinking that was a good thing." Although it wasn't something he could really change about himself easily anyway.

"It is a good thing."

"So you'd go out with someone who was nice, would you?" He'd heard some of Sam's stories. He wasn't sure how many of them were true, but none of the guys in them sounded boringly nice.

"Maybe if you asked." She leant her cheek on one hand.

Kenny was so surprised it was a minute before he realised he ought to close his mouth. "So what are you doing tomorrow night?"

Sam thought for a moment. "Nothing I couldn't cancel."

"Great. I'll pick you up at seven." That was easier than he'd thought it would be - if he'd ever thought he had a chance with Sam.
***

"Lynda!"

Lynda was already halfway down the road from Czar's by the time Spike shouted after her. Although when two girls passed her, attempting to roll square hoops along in front of them she stopped and frowned, and that allowed him to catch up.

"Why don't you tell me what's wrong? Maybe I can help."

Lynda sighed. She knew he wasn't just going to leave her alone, so she turned to face him and put her hands on her hips. "Oh, yes, you can help all right."

Spike put his hands out. "Just tell me what I can do."

"Talk to Vanessa. Face up to your responsibilities." At least then he'd rise a little from the low opinion she now had of him.

He frowned. "Lynda, just tell me what you're talking about."

She wasn't sure if he was misunderstanding deliberately, but she was happy to spell it out for him. "You are the baby's father. She told me."

"She's lying."

"You would say that, wouldn't you?" Vanessa was right, Spike was obsessed with her, but that hadn't stopped him from flirting with other girls. Goodness knows what else he might have been doing when she wasn't there, especially to prove to them that he wasn't obsessed with her.

"I've never even gone out with Vanessa. And even if I had, she didn't get pregnant until after I joined the Junior Gazette."

"So? That was before I started going out with you."

Spike sighed. "I was only interested in you. All those other girlfriends I had were just to make you jealous. It was all about you. You should be happy about that." He added, "You do like the world to revolve around you."

"I do not." She folded her arms. "And I don't know what you did in your spare time. Maybe you had other girlfriends while you were waiting for me to break."

He smiled, but not a happy one. "I don't believe this. I know you're ashamed of me, I never thought you didn't trust me."

"I'm not ashamed of you." Although at this point Lynda was ready to deny anything he said about her. "Well, I wasn't before tonight."

Spike shook his head. "Whatever Vanessa told you was a lie and you know it. When you're ready to admit it, you call me." He turned round and stalked off.

Lynda frowned. "I'm not admitting to anything," she called after him, but he didn't even slow down.
***

Although it was getting dark it was nearly summer and not that cold yet. Kenny was walking Sam home after their trip to the cinema. Sam had chosen the film - it was a girly one, but Kenny hadn't minded. He even would have admitted it was quite good if he'd dared, but he still wasn't sure what Sam thought of him.

"So you aren't ashamed to be seen outside the newsroom with me?" he asked, remembering how many other people from school he'd recognised at the cinema.

Sam frowned. "Why should I be?"

"Well, it's just that all the other guys you've been out with have been, well, handsome." And Sam had commented on the men in the film and Kenny couldn't help but compare himself unfavourably to them.

"You are kind of cute."

"Really?" Kenny tried not to smile at that and failed badly.

"You've got that whole teddy bear thing going on."

His smile instantly vanished. "Oh, thanks."

"I do take my teddy bear to bed with me." She grinned at him and took his hand.

Kenny wasn't thinking quite that far ahead yet, but he did like the hand holding. "I'd tell you you're pretty but you already know that."

"Well, it is nice to hear it from someone else."

When she smiled at him again he laughed, and she laughed along with him. He could get used to this, he thought, but he wasn't going to get a chance to because they were already at her house.

"I had a good time tonight," Sam said, as she stopped and faced him.

"I did too." He just wished it didn't have to end.

"The date's not over yet."

He frowned, wondering how she could read his mind. "It's not?" Then he realised how bad that sounded. "I mean, that's great, but you are home now."

"I am expecting a good night kiss," she explained, grinning.

"Oh!" Kenny had been wondering before their date whether he should kiss her at all, although once he was with her he'd been able to stop worrying about it. Now he was glad she'd made the decision. He stepped forward and kissed her.
***

"I think I should get a cut of the profits," Tiddler said, entering Colin's office without knocking.

Colin started, but relaxed when he saw who it was. Tiddler wondered if Lynda was after the books again. "What on earth for?" he asked.

"I've made your square hoops into something everyone wants. Without me you wouldn't have sold many. In fact, I'd go as far as saying you wouldn't have sold any."

"Tiddler, what do you want?" He leaned back in his chair.

"I told you, a cut of the profits."

"Okay, what do you really want?"

She supposed she couldn't blame him. She'd never asked him for money before - asking Colin for money never tended to get any results. "All right then." She perched on the edge of his desk. "I'll settle for my money back."

"Your money back," he repeated sounding disbelieving.

"Yeah. I mean, there are lots of other things I could spend that money on."

He frowned. "So, you want a cut of the profits, but you'll settle for your money back."

"Yeah." She smiled at him in an attempt to win him round. "That sounds like a good deal to me. I mean, you'll make far more money out of it given how much you must be making on your square hoops."

She'd said the golden words and he dug into his trouser pocket. "Here you are." He slapped the coin onto the hand she held out. "But don't go telling anyone, or they'll all want a refund."

"Thanks, Colin." She smiled and left.

Back in the newsroom she went over to Frazz's desk and showed him the coin. He sighed, but pushed the two coins next to his typewriter over to her. She grinned back and skipped off happily to her own desk, having won the bet.
***

Kenny smiled at Sam as she came into the newsroom. Usually she would smile back, but today she ignored him and went straight into her graphics room. He frowned and looked around. No one else had noticed - they'd greeted Sam, then gone back to work.

Fortunately, the graphics room was empty, so when Kenny went in and shut the door they had the room to themselves.

"Hello, Sam."

Sam was sitting at her desk, pencil out, working on something. "Oh, hi, Kenny." But she only glanced up briefly.

Kenny had a feeling he knew what this was about. Sam was notorious for only going out with a guy for a day or two anyway, so he'd been half-expecting this since their date the other night. But he wanted her to tell him, though, not just ignore him, so he reached over and took the pencil from her grip.

"Well, Kenny." She turned round on her stool to face him. "I didn't know you had it in you."

He gave her a look. It was hardly the first time he'd done something that could be considered not that nice and this was hardly that mean. "I just want you to tell me you don't want to go out with me any more."

"Kenny, if you're too nice to dump me, just say so."

He frowned. "What? No, I mean I just wanted to know why you ignored me and I assumed that was why."

She smiled at him. "It's not."

He smiled back automatically, before realising he was just as confused. "So why did you ignore me?"

"I have a reputation to consider. If we're going to carry on going out together, no one must know." She took the pencil back from him and he let go easily.

"Oh, right." He couldn't help smiling at that. He liked Sam and he did want to continue going out with her. "Well, your reputation is important." He wasn't quite sure if it fitted in with people having seen them go out in the first place, but he'd been friends with Lynda long enough to learn not to worry about girls' logic. "We'd better do a better job of it than Spike and Lynda." He laughed and she laughed along with him.

"We just have to act the same as we did before."

"Yeah, that was their mistake."

The door opened before they could discuss it any more and Lynda poked her head in and said, "Kenny, come out here and do some work. Sam do you have those roughs yet?"

"I only just got here," Sam complained.

"You've got ten minutes." Lynda left, obviously expecting Kenny to follow her.

Kenny raised his eyebrows at Sam, who smiled back. It was usually easier to do what Lynda asked, so he went back out into the newsroom.

"What is it, boss?" he asked as he sat down at his desk opposite her.

"I've tried talking to Vanessa three times and I still don't have an interview. She runs away from me when she sees me in school."

Kenny couldn't blame her. Everyone was trying to run away from Lynda at the moment - she was being unusually grumpy and bossy. As far as Kenny could tell she and Spike had had an argument, but what it was about he didn't know and neither of them were telling "We're just going to have to go with the feature and forget the interview. Let people draw their own conclusions."

Lynda sighed. "Maybe Sarah can find something useful out of what Vanessa said to her."

Kenny smiled in encouragement, and Lynda got up to speak to Sarah. Kenny was still looking round when he saw Spike open the door and stand in the doorway, not making his usual grand entrance. Lynda was too busy talking to Sarah and hadn't seen him, so Kenny took the opportunity to have a word with him.

By the time Kenny got there Spike had backed out into the corridor and was leaning against the wall. "Spike, can you talk to Lynda? She's being worse than her normal self and I'm beginning to think she'll never be happy enough with this edition to get it out at all."

Spike shook his head. "I don't think I'm the best person for that job."

"Look, I know you two had an argument. Can't you just talk about it?"

"I don't know." Spike looked away towards the front door.

"Please? For me?" Kenny wasn't usually in the habit of pleading, especially with Spike, but he was getting desperate.

Spike sighed. "All right. But I'm not going in there."

Kenny smiled. "Don't worry, I'll get her to come out."

When Kenny went back inside he didn't know how he was going to do it, but decided the truth would be simplest. If that didn't work perhaps he'd try pushing her. There was always a first time for everything.

"Lynda." He caught her on the way to the graphics room and she stopped when he called her name. "Spike's out in the corridor. He wants to talk to you."

She hesitated.

"Just talk to him. What harm can it do?"

She sighed. "All right." At least she went, so Kenny was happy with that. He'd done all he could to help and there was work he needed to get done this evening.
***

Lynda hesitated as the door swung shut behind her and she saw Spike leaning against the wall in the corridor. He glanced over at her, then gazed back at the floor again. Since she couldn't stay where she was without getting hit by the door she leant against the wall opposite him.

"Why don't you trust me?" He raised his head to look in her direction, but he was wearing his sunglasses so she couldn't tell if he was looking at her or not. His tone sounded like he was just as hurt as she had been when Vanessa first made the accusation.

She shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because you haven't given me any reason to."

"So you don't believe a word a stranger says to you, except that one thing, but you believe everything I say, except that one thing." He sounded incredulous.

"I don't believe everything you say." Lynda regretted her words as soon as she said them because now really wasn't the time to be argumentative. And she could tell Spike had taken it the wrong way because he folded his arms and turned his head toward the front door. "It just sounded plausible," she said, although she knew it wasn't much of a defence.

"And everything else she said about getting pregnant sounded unlikely?" He turned back towards her again.

"Well, yes," she said in a tone that made it clear to him she thought that was obvious.

"You know, Lynda, I thought you might be able to trust me just a little. If I say there was never anything between me and Vanessa, you should believe me."

"But what if there was and you were lying?" That was always possible as far as she was concerned.

He sighed. "Why do you always have to do that?"

"I don't know. I'm not very good at this sort of thing." Although she must be improving because she admitted that to Spike. Not being able to look him in the eye made it easier, though.

He finally took his sunglasses off. "Tell me what you really think."

She took a deep breath. "I believe you. If you had got Vanessa pregnant you would have told me by now." He may have annoyed her at times, but he had always told the truth when it counted.

He gave her a small smile at that. "How about admitting you were wrong? I won't hold it against you."

Lynda shook her head, since they both knew that would never happen. "So who is Vanessa's baby's father?"

His smile widened and they were back to playing the game they always did. "You don't even have to apologise, all you have to do is admit it."

"I'm sorry. I'll never do it again."

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow, an apology from Lynda Day. I should note the date in my diary."

"You haven't got a diary."

"I must get a diary." He snapped his fingers. "How sorry are you?" he asked, pushing away from the wall.

She stepped forward to meet him in the middle of the corridor. "Very sorry."

"Sorry enough to give me the week off?"

She grinned and wrapped her arms round his neck. "As your girlfriend I would definitely give you the week off. But as your editor, I couldn't possibly."

"Well, I'll settle for a kiss."

He put his arms around her waist to pull her closer and Lynda kissed him long enough to make up for the time they'd spent apart.

"Do you know who the father is?" she couldn't help wondering afterwards.

Spike shook his head. "I wish I did. I'd tell him a thing or two about responsibility."

She grinned at him repeating her accusation, then took his hand and led him back into the newsroom. They were here to work after all and there was a deadline approaching.

Note: The square hoops idea is lovingly stolen from The Fall and Rise of Reginald Perrin.

"Stay down, old girl," a voice whispered in her ear.

Sarah rolled her eyes, conveniently forgetting that she'd come to the same conclusion only a moment ago.

"It's a cinema, Harry," she hissed back.

"Oh." Then his weight was off her, so she stood up and dusted herself down.

From behind her she heard a clunk that was the TARDIS door closing, then the Doctor's voice cut across a quiet moment in the film. "Well, now, didn't I say..." He didn't get to finish his sentence before he was shushed by the people in the seats closest to the police box.

"I don't think this is Scotland, Doctor," Harry pointed out before she could.

"Well, I must admit this wasn't exactly what I expected," the Doctor said, and at least he whispered it this time.

Sarah sighed. Why she'd thought the Doctor would get them to where they were meant to be she didn't know. "We're in a cinema," she told him, just in case he hadn't worked that out for himself.

"On a ship," Harry put in.

Sarah looked over at him. It made sense of the way the floor moved, but why hadn't he said something sooner? "I think we should find the exit," she whispered to them both.

"Good idea, old girl."

Sarah rolled her eyes again, not that it did her much good in here. "Don't call me old girl."

"Ah, there's the exit." The Doctor pointed towards the green illuminated sign on the other side of the cinema from where they stood. He was shushed again, but ignored them to stride across the room, apologising to people on the way. Sarah and Harry hurried in his wake, Harry with a muffled "Ow" as he walked into a row of seats. Sarah decided that was only fair. All the same, she was relived to get through the cinema without doing it herself.

"Now, where do you suppose we are, Harry?" the Doctor asked.

Harry frowned and looked round. From here they could see out of the windows on one side at a sea that looked more brown than Sarah had ever seen on Earth. Or it could have been that the windows were dirty. The only other thing to give them any clues to their location was the corridor they were in and that looked like any old ship as far as Sarah could tell, from her limited experience.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "It's rather hard to say. All oceans look the same when you can't see any land. Don't you know?"

"Of course I do." He slung his scarf over his shoulder and started off down the corridor in a huff.

"Don't antagonise him," Sarah said to Harry as they struggled to keep up with the Doctor.

"Don't antagonise him, I like that. What about him antagonising me?"

Sarah thought that it was quite reasonable asking a sailor where they were when they were clearly at sea, but decided it was probably best to drop the subject. Harry was prevented from saying more when the Doctor stopped suddenly.

"Oh, look, they have a shop! I do like a good gift shop." And then the Doctor was off again, poking at the racks of keyrings, pens and various other tat.

"It would be nice to at least know what planet we're on, at least." Sarah sighed as she leant back against the wall. She hoped they were on Earth as she was worried at the idea that other planets had the sort of tat you got in gift shops. She'd long outgrown the need for brightly-coloured rubbers and oversized pencils, so this one held no charm for her.

"Somewhere in the English Channel, I'd say." Harry had a suspicious-looking glint in his eye.

Sarah frowned. "How do you know that?" He sounded very smug for someone who had professed to know nothing a few minutes ago.

He pointed at a sign. "Cross-channel ferry. All the signs are in English and French."

"Very good, Sherlock." It explained why it looked a little familiar at least - she remembered going from Dover to Calais once when she was younger. "How about the date?"

"A little way into your future," the Doctor put in, passing her a newspaper.

She had a quick look at the date at the top and then realised a short, balding man nearby looked upset, so she smiled and handed the newspaper back. He snatched it off her and stalked off without saying a word. So far it was going typically not well.

"Please don't antagonise the natives, Doctor." Even if the natives were English or French.

"Why don't we go up on deck and get some fresh air?" Harry suggested before the Doctor could answer that and antagonise Sarah.

"Good idea, Harry." The Doctor smiled broadly and Sarah gave a sigh of relief.

~*~*~

Out on deck the Doctor took his yo-yo out. Harry took a deep breath and smiled. "Smell that sea air."

Sarah wasn't convinced about that; it smelt a little like a sewage plant to her. She decided to ignore the Doctor as he probably wanted someone to ask him what he was doing, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. He'd tell them eventually. She smiled at Harry instead. "Do you miss it?"

"Now and then." He wondered over to the side to lean against the barrier and peer down at the sea.

"Only now and then," she teased as she followed him, hoping he might admit to more than that, given the expression she'd briefly seen on his face before he'd spoken. However, she forgot all about that when she looked over the side. "What's that?" She pointed at what looked like a few white tentacles appearing out of the water.

"I don't know. I can't think of anything that looks like that that lives in the English Channel." He sounded worried. Sarah couldn't blame him. They never could go anywhere nice without something bad happening.

They both turned to ask the Doctor, who was still playing with his yo-yo with a hurt expression on his face and didn't look up at all. Before they could say anything the ferry gave a sudden lurch. Sarah and Harry were thrown against the railing. Sarah grimaced as the breath was knocked out of her. Harry grabbed her arm, although as he had also lost his footing that wasn't very helpful and it was only her instinctive hold on the railing that prevented them both from falling.

The Doctor slid over to them and peered over the side. "Oh dear," he said, in a masterful understatement.

Sarah turned to look back at the sea and noticed the thing with tentacles had an awful lot of tentacles and it was climbing up the side of the ferry. "What is it, Doctor?" She couldn't tell whether it was something he'd come across before, or he was just as confused as they were.

The ferry tilted even further, as if it were determined never to let the Doctor answer their question, regardless of whether they'd had the chance to ask it. Harry had a worried expression on this face as people who had just picked themselves up were thrown to the floor again. One man screamed as he fell over the side. The scream abruptly cut off as he fell into the tentacled beast. The only noise that came after was a glugging sound.

Sarah put her hand over her mouth and looked away. Harry let go of her and put his arm loosely round her shoulders. She wanted to tell him she was all right, but she couldn't help thinking of just how close the creature was and how she and Harry might have gone the same way, had the railing been less secure where they were standing.

The Doctor's eyes were boggling. "It looks like a Lepas anatifera. They usually eat plankton, though."

By this time it was well out of the water, and it was safe to say there were no plankton on the side of the ferry. Besides, that man had definitely been far bigger than plankton and the creature hadn't even paused. She had another quick look and discovered it was moving up the side of the ferry faster than she thought something that size could move. It was all the tentacles, she supposed. "Um, Doctor. Unless you have a way of sending it back into the sea, I think we'd better get further away from it."

"What, do nothing and let it attack another ship after it's finished with this one?"

He had a point, which meant it would be harder to stop than she thought, but now really wasn't the time or place to debate it. Since the Doctor showed no signs of moving, she grabbed his hand and forced him to run with her, down the stairs and back inside. Not that she thought it would hold the creature off for long, but it was a start.

Once inside and a little safer, Sarah looked around and frowned at what she saw - or rather what shedidn't see. "Where's Harry?" She had been so sure he wanted to be away from it just as much as she did that she'd just assumed he was following.

"Oh, he found someone who'd been knocked out. He was putting them in the recovery position. Although he really needs to be more up-to-date with that," the Doctor replied, idly.

Sarah, feeling guilty for not paying enough attention, just shook her head and started back towards the stairs.

"Where are you going?" the Doctor called after her.

She didn't slow down as she called back, "To get Harry." Rescue might well be a better word, although she hoped that wouldn't be necessary.

"No, you're not, it's far too dangerous." He caught up with her and took hold of her arm.

She was forced to stop and tug her arm out of his grasp. At least he let her, and in return she stayed where she was for the time being. "We can't just leave him there."

"No, of course not," he said as if it had been his idea in the first place. "I'll go."

"What difference does it make?" She was frustrated now at the Doctor treating her like, well, like a girl. She expected this from Harry, not him.

"Because I have a way of stopping it." He grinned at her. She sighed and let him go past her and back out on deck. After he was gone she looked around the room and frowned. The sign on the door had said 'Family Lounge', but now it was full of frightened people cowering in their seats. A baby was crying somewhere near the back. As much as she wanted to reassure them everything would be all right, she didn't have anything concrete, beyond knowing that with the Doctor around, it usually was. Besides, she didn't want to miss out on all the action.

~*~*~

The Doctor turned out to be easy to find, since the deck was empty of people except for him. Sarah hoped that meant Harry was somewhere safer, along with whatever casualties he'd found. The Doctor was leaning over the rail at the creature, holding one arm out and looking pensive.

"Doctor," Sarah called out, and he turned to face her.

He frowned at her. "I thought I told you to stay inside."

She shook her head. "No, you didn't." He might have implied it, but he didn't actually say it. Not that she would have listened anyway. "Do you know how to stop it?"

He straightened his hat on his head with one hand. "I think I can hold it off for a while with the sonic screwdriver."

That explained why his arm was still over the side. Sarah cautiously went closer to find he had the sonic screwdriver in his hand and, although the creature wobbled slightly, it wasn't coming any closer. Which explained why the ferry had stopped tilting so violently. "And then what?" She tried not to sound too worried, since this was all in a day's work these days, but she didn't succeed.

The Doctor smiled at her. "Phosphoric acid."

She frowned. "What?"

"Phosphoric acid is well known for poisoning goose barnacles."

Was that what the Latin term meant? She supposed that now he mentioned it, the tentacles did look a bit like the necks of geese.

"Quickly, Sarah," he added, when she didn't say anything.

Sarah went back downstairs, trying to think of where on a ferry there might be a source of phosphoric acid. The Doctor sounded confident that there would be, but surely there wasn't a science lab on board. The name sounded familiar for some reason, but she couldn't say why. There wasn't time to be delving into the depths of the TARDIS to find the library. She should have asked the Doctor really, but she didn't want to appear ignorant by going back now.

When she ran through the Family Lounge she ignored the shouts in her direction. She had more important things to do and they'd be safe soon enough anyway. She hoped. A few corridors along and somewhere in the vicinity of the shop the Doctor had been so enamoured she ran into Harry. Literally.

"Careful, old girl," he said, offering her a hand up even as he stood himself.

She took it. "The Doctor's holding it off, but it's nearly on him and I need your help."

"Well, I have rather a lot to do here." He waved a hand to indicate the injured people around him that he had somehow managed to collect in one place. Sarah didn't know how he'd done it in the time. He'd even found a first aid box and a stretcher.

"If we don't stop it you'll have more to do," she pointed out. "And you can't be the only doctor on board."

Harry looked torn and Sarah decided the Doctor could wait a little longer. "I'll find one." She went off back the way she came.

She opened the door to the room full of people and seats and shouted, "Is anyone a doctor?"

A young blonde woman stood up. "Me." Sarah wondered at that because she didn't even look old enough to be out of medical school yet. Some of that must have shown on her face because the woman added, "Well, I'm in my final year."

"You'll do," Sarah decided. Besides, she was curious to see what reaction Harry would have to a female doctor. She was pretty enough that he'd probably be flustered, but he was busy enough that he might not notice. "We really need you outside."

The woman nodded. "I'm Catherine," she said, as she followed Sarah's fast walk.

"Sarah," she replied, although now wasn't the best time for introductions.

"Harry," she called, once they were there. "Here's your doctor." She decided not to mention the final year medical student bit.

Sarah didn't have a chance to introduce her, though, because as soon as Harry stood back up the woman dropped to her knees, pulling out a pen light and looking into one of the patients' eyes.

"Um," Harry said.

Sarah bit back a smile. "We're in the future, remember?" she whispered, wondering if he was complaining about Catherine's technique and hoping it wasn't about her gender because otherwise he'd have Sarah to answer to.

Harry sighed. "All right. What do you need?"

"Phosphoric acid," Sarah said, triumphantly.

"Why on earth didn't you say before?"

She gave him a look because she couldn't see any way she was in the wrong here. "Where are we going to get that from on a ferry?"

"It's in soft drinks."

Sarah's mouth fell open. Then she realised Harry had already run off, probably towards the bar. She hadn't known that, but she wondered if the Doctor did and had assumed she had too. Or just hoped she'd magic a source of it out of thin air. Now she came to think of it, she'd seen a variety of drinks in the TARDIS kitchen, but it was hard to think clearly when your best friend looked as if he was about to be eaten.

Fortunately, there was no one behind the bar to explain themselves to. The crew probably had more important things to do than serve drinks and no one was asking for any. Harry was already pulling cans out of one of the fridges and he passed her a load, saying, "Here." They were cold and slippery, but she had them up to her chin before he gathered some in his arms, emptying the small fridge.

It was difficult to run with their loads, so a few cans escaped from each of them and Sarah nearly tripped over Harry's spills. They got confused looks from everyone they passed, which helped when Harry shouted for them to open the door. Although they'd probably have done it anyway - it wasn't a tone of voice she'd heard on Harry before and she almost itched to follow his orders too.

Once they made it back onto the deck, the Doctor wasn't where Sarah had left him. She could only think the worst when she saw the ripped railing where he had been standing. "Oh, no!" She nearly dropped her armful of cans. "The Doctor was standing right there." She stared at the spot where he had been.

"I'm sure he's fine. He always is."

Sarah swallowed and nodded, but she was less sure about that than Harry sounded.

"First we need to deal with the creature. Then we can worry about the Doctor."

Knowing he was right, Sarah pulled herself together. The goose barnacle wasn't hard to track, given the trail of destruction it had left in its wake. Along with the sea water, which was definitely brown. It had gone across the deck, going higher all the time, which didn't make sense to Sarah, but at least it meant the people she'd left were still safe, at least for now.

"Sarah! Harry!" They looked up to find the Doctor perched on the top of the driver's cabin. It probably wasn't called that, Sarah thought, but she'd never really needed to look at a ferry this closely before. The goose barnacle wasn't far below him and a few of the tentacles nearly made contact with the end of his scarf.

"Doctor," Harry called back. "Do you need any of these?"

"Yes, please, Harry."

He must have been worried, Sarah thought, given that his answer to such an obvious question hadn't been sarcastic at all. Harry dropped most of his armful of cans, but when he threw a couple to the Doctor he did at least have perfect aim, so Sarah wasn't going to fault him for the cans rolling around their feet.

The Doctor opened one of the cans and threw one onto the goose barnacle. It immediately writhed and let go of the wall with most of its tentacles. The second can made it fall to the deck with a squelch. It wasn't dead, though, because it still slithered and Sarah took an involuntary step backwards when it headed towards her. Harry plucked a can from her arms, opened it and threw it at the goose barnacle. She took a deep breath and held her ground. Although that turned out to be difficult once a couple more cans hit it and it waved its tentacles even more. The ferry tilted further and Sarah fell over with an "Oof," and dropped the rest of her cans as she put her hands out to break her fall.

From here, however, she could easily pick up the cans rolling around. Harry had managed to keep his feet, so she kept passing him cans and he kept throwing them like a production line. Behind the goose barnacle she could see the Doctor making his way down from his perch, but the creature was between them and he had no cans.

The writhing gradually slowed down and stopped, then the goose barnacle started frothing. Sarah, worried that it might explode, quickly got up, but the Doctor seemed unconcerned and inspected it.

"Don't get too close, Doctor," Harry warned him. He seemed just as happy as Sarah to keep his distance.

"Oh, it's perfectly safe. Just a common or garden goose barnacle, mutated by the pollution in the sea."

Sarah frowned. She'd heard of mutations caused by radiation and such like, but turning a harmless creature into a cold-blooded monster sounded more like something that belonged in a book like Frankenstein. "There's not that much, surely?"

"We're in the future, Sarah, remember?" he called back.

She had remembered, especially given that the sea wasn't a normal colour, as much as its proximity made Harry happy. She worried a little about what had been going on in the world and said nothing.

"How about a drink?" The Doctor grinned at them.

"Shouldn't we do something about the goose barnacle?" Sarah pointed to it.

The Doctor shook his head. "Nothing we can do until we reach land."

"And how long's that?"

It was Harry who answered. "I don't think it'll be very long at all."

Sarah turned to see where he was looking and saw the coast of France. Or was it England? It all looked the same from this distance.

"Right, then, Harry, off you go."

Harry frowned at the Doctor. "Where?"

"Well, to drive the boat, of course," he said, as if everyone should automatically know what he was talking about, which was quite often untrue.

He shook his head. "I don't know how to steer a ferry. Why can't the captain do it?"

"He's dead. The goose barnacle ate him."

Sarah bit her lip wondering how close the Doctor had come to being eaten and just how many other people had been.

"And you're a sailor, aren't you?" the Doctor continued.

"Yes, but I'm a doctor, not a ferry captain. I wouldn't know where to start."

"Neither do I. So perhaps we'll just crash instead." The Doctor grinned.

Harry sighed.

"Maybe you should have a look and see if there's anything you can do," Sarah suggested, trying to appease both of them since they did need someone to drive and the Doctor seemed unlikely to back down.

"All right," Harry said. He didn't sound happy about it, but he headed up there anyway.

"Right, well, let's go and have that drink, shall we?" The Doctor smiled at Sarah.

"Actually, I think I might see if I can help Harry," she said apologetically. She was feeling a bit guilty about leaving him alone up there if he really didn't know what to do. To say nothing of how she'd treated him the whole time since they landed here.

The Doctor gave her a look and then shrugged. "Off you go then."

She did, and when she got up into the cabin she found Harry frowning at the controls. There were so many buttons and switches and dials and read-outs that she wasn't surprised.

"Any ideas?" she asked him.

"Just one. I don't dare touch any of these in case it doesn't do what I think it will. But the radio I can operate." He smiled at her and reached for the radio. The conversation that followed involved a lot of jargon and an explanation of what had happened that the person on the other end couldn't make sense of, which didn't surprise Sarah. If she hadn't seen it with her own eyes she might not have believed it. At last Harry signed off and smiled at her again.

"So what's happening?" It had almost been like they'd been speaking a different language and she hadn't been able to make head or tail of most of the conversation.

"They're sending a pilot out to guide the ferry into port."

"Oh, that's clever." Sarah did feel much better that someone who knew what they were doing would be in charge of not crashing into the coast.

He looked a little hurt. "Try not to sound too surprised."

"Sorry." For all she knew Harry would be a perfectly good driver, she just wouldn't want to bet her life on it.

"He knows how to operate the controls and where to go. Which is a lot more than I know," he pointed out.

"The Doctor wouldn't have thought of that," she said, trying to atone for her earlier reaction. "He'd have just touched everything and ended up getting us into trouble. Again."

Harry smiled. "He does have a tendency to do that."

Sarah smiled back. "And then blame us." The coastline loomed nearer and Sarah tried not to show Harry how worried she was about that. Presumably the pilot would show up in time, but there was no way to guarantee that. What if Harry had called him too late?

She clearly hadn't been doing well at hiding her feelings, or else Harry was thinking the same thing, because he pointed at a small boat coming towards them. "There's the pilot."

"Oh, good," she breathed. And then realised how that sounded. "I wasn't worried."

"No, of course not," he said in mock agreement.

She punched him in the arm. He pretended it had hurt.

The pilot, when he arrived, spoke French very fast, which neither Sarah nor Harry understood. But it did at least tell Sarah roughly where they were. In the grand scheme of the things, the French coastline on Earth was really quite specific.

Fortunately, the pilot didn't seem to care that neither of them answered him and went about doing his job, guiding the ferry into port. Sarah wondered if they should leave him to it, but Harry made no move to go - he was too busy watching the pilot work - and as much as she worried what the Doctor was doing she knew he wouldn't leave without them, so she didn't leave Harry, in a show of support. Especially as she'd been particularly unsupportive up until now.

When they arrived, the pilot told them something in French that Sarah didn't have a hope of catching, then left.

"I did French at school," Sarah said, "but all I can tell you about what he said was that it was French. Probably."

"School was a long time ago," Harry agreed.

"We might not know the language but I think we've earned ourselves a trip to France. What do you think?" Sarah smiled, hoping he'd agree. It would be nice to do something pleasant and non-life threatening while they were here. Besides, it had been a while since she'd last been to France.

"I think you might be right, old girl."

"Don't call me old girl."

Even so, she was happy enough to follow all the other people leaving the ferry for the terminal and dry land at last. Even if the ferry had evened out at the end she was glad to be on solid ground that wouldn't move beneath her feet. Everyone was chattering about what had happened, although none of them really knew. Sarah took Harry's arm and grinned up at him. Harry grinned back, both of them sharing the secret now they were safe and it was all over.

Their grins disappeared quickly, though, when they reached the front of the queue and a man at a desk who asked for their passports. Harry looked at Sarah in horror, but she couldn't think of anything. There wasn't going to be a good excuse for being on a ferry where people had been injured and died and not having a passport. As much as she wanted to see some of France, she'd much rather it wasn't from a jail cell.

At their hesitation the man at passport control sat up straighter and said something into a walkie-talkie. Sarah turned round, wondering if they'd be able to make a run for it, back to the ferry, but the gates were shut. She was starting to feel slightly panicky when she heard the welcome noise of the TARDIS landing.

The Doctor popped his head out of the door and said, "Would anyone like a lift?" with a big grin on his face.

"Doctor!" Relieved, Sarah ran over to him, Harry right behind her. "Where have you been?"

"Oh, just had a mutated Lepas anatifera to deal with. You know how it is."

"Oh, I do," she agreed and they stepped inside to welcome safety, free from the wrath of the French border officials.

Note: Goose barnacles eat plankton and attach themselves to ships in the ocean. Not normally found around England or France, but one washed up recently on a beach in Wales.

Remus had once pointed out that mentally he'd never quite made it past sixteen when it came to sex, although Sirius thought he hadn't been that bad when Remus had updated him on current contraceptive methods so he could pass the information onto Harry. However, he could that tell the red colour of Harry's face was only based on his memories and not the humour of the situation, given that he didn't smile at all. It was one thing to laugh about the event with your contemporaries, but another to do so with your godfather. In an attempt to rescue the situation as quickly as possible once Harry had finished, Sirius pointed out, "There is more to contraception than condoms."

Harry instantly put the packet down and crossed his legs. For a moment Sirius fancied himself a bit of a teacher after all and sat up straighter on the bed. "There are potions girls can take to prevent them from getting pregnant and charms that do the same thing. Except they're not quite as reliable. So I hear." It's not as if he had any reliable evidence to back that up with, apart from Remus's say so. Not that Remus's word was unreliable, but if Harry asked him for proof of that statement, he couldn't rely on Remus's say so, what with Remus not being a girl.

"Oh, so there's nothing I have to do." Harry relaxed and breathed out a relieved sigh.

Sirius frowned. Harry was always so studious that he hadn't expected him to treat this like his father had. Although once Lily actually agreed to go out with James, he had suddenly found a pressing need to impress her with his contraceptive knowledge. "This is a serious business. What would you do if you found out you'd got a girl pregnant? Or caught an STD?"

"I know that." He squirmed anyway. "I just thought that would the the end of the Talk."

Frankly, Sirius felt the same way, but Remus had gone to so much trouble to make sure the others were out of the way - again - so he wasn't going to stop now. Besides, Remus would only ask how it went and he was rubbish at lying to Remus. So then he'd be forced to go back and finish the job and that would be even worse, despite it being his idea in the first place.

In the interests of making sure Sirius was thorough, Remus had left his visual aids in the top drawer of the bedside table. Sirius leaned back, reached over to open it and then fished around inside. When he pulled out a piece of parchment he was careful to make sure Harry didn't see the bottle filled with white liquid he and Remus had left at the front. "This charm's just as effective whoever casts it. I'd learn that one if I were you."

Harry took it from him and read it. "Can I take this away?"

Sirius nodded. He couldn't expect anyone to learn it that fast. Especially not with someone else watching what they were doing. "Of course. It's Remus's anyway, but I don't think he needs it back."

Although Harry frowned he said nothing, just rolled the parchment up and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans.

When Sirius rummaged in the drawer again he nearly came to grief. For all he knew Harry would one day need lube, but there was no way he was going to discuss that now. He was still coming to terms with the idea of little Harry having sex at all. He managed to distract Harry from what he was hiding by laying down the two bottles on the bed between them. "These are for men to take. One's spermicide, the other prevents STDs."

Harry nodded, understanding, and picked the purple one up and studied it. "Which one's which?"

Sirius opened his mouth to answer but closed it again when he realised he wasn't sure. He looked between them but there was no brilliant flash of inspiration and he wouldn't be able to get away with calling Remus up to ask him. He was torn between guessing and telling Harry the truth, but he didn't want Harry to think he knew nothing. In the end he didn't have to make a choice because he was silent long enough for Harry to guess the reason why.

"It's alright. McGonagall told us condoms are always best because they prevent STDs and pregnancy at the same time." He smiled and Sirius wondered for a moment at Harry making him feel better. Not that it worked.

"I'm sorry, I'm a terrible godfather. These are the sort of things I should know." Even if Remus had never wanted the job Sirius wished James had given it to him anyway.

Harry shook his head and scooted closer to pat Sirius on the shoulder. "I don't mind. I mean, I'd rather you hadn't." Sirius smiled as Harry's blush reddened. "But it's the thought that counts."

At that Sirius pulled Harry into a hug. He was determined to be the best godfather anyone had ever had. Even if that meant knowing his own shortcomings. "I should still get Remus to fill you in on the bits I missed."

"That's probably a good idea," Harry agreed. "I reckon he'd be a lot less embarrassed than you were."

Sirius might have been inclined to agree had he not been able to vividly remember the events of a few days ago and how Remus's Sex Education lesson had ended.

~*~*~

Sirius has already forgotten the visual aids still laid out on the bed beside them. Potions and charms have certainly moved on since he was in Azkaban, so there's no doubt he needed Remus to catch him up on it all. He needs to understand this lot if he's going to be able to explain it all to Harry, even if not for any practical purpose. But he suspects that once upon a time, Remus had needed to know all about how to make sure not to get a girl pregnant.

He doesn't mind because Remus is here now, his head on Sirius's knee, enjoying the feel of Sirius's hands in his hair. After doing most of the talking Remus is quiet now and though that doesn't usually worry Sirius, it does make him think.

"Remus, if you're worried that I care if you-"

Remus shakes his head suddenly, Sirius's fingers bumping into his head as he does so. "I'm not."

"Because I don't." He had, for maybe a minute, before the first time they made love, that summer after they were reunited. But since then he's hated the thought of Remus being lonely all those years he thought Sirius was a traitor and never coming back.

"I know." Remus's voice is confident as he replies, but he closes his eyes and gives a happy sigh.

Sirius doesn't stop what he's doing but can't help testing. "I was gone for a long time."

"I know." This time Remus's voice is wistful and it reminds Sirius how much he missed him.

Since his other hand's been doing nothing up till now, Sirius uses it to brush his fingers along Remus's jaw and cheek. Remus turns his hand into Sirius's touch and brings his own arm up to slip his palm under Sirius's trousers to rub against his ankle and Sirius shivers at the touch. The moment threatens to turn nostalgic and they've had enough of those times, so Sirius returns to teasing. "You know, maybe if I had some practical experience with those charms..."

When he doesn't finish the sentence, Remus opens his eyes and looks up at Sirius with laughter in his eyes. Sirius loves that he knows Remus will know exactly what he's hinting at. Although given their recent discussion, it's hardly much of a change of topic. "The contraceptive ones?"

Remus knows what Sirius thinks about girls - has always thought about girls - and although he doesn't share those opinions, he never minds. "I'm quite sure those aren't necessary."

"Then again, some people prefer the old-fashioned method." Remus looks away, down the bed.

Sirius follows his gaze to where there are three discarded potion bottles: one purple, one clear, one white. He wonders where Remus gets the latter one from since he's always been embarrassed about that sort of thing when it's for himself. He frowned. "That lube..."

Remus smiles. "I may be pants at potions, but I make those fairly well."

Remus did always manage to come up with the goods when it came to exams, but that's not what Sirius is thinking of now. He knows Remus just needs a good reason and Sirius has always been an incentive. Sirius laughs and says, "I think they may need some product testing."

When he leans down it makes the angle awkward, but Remus puts an effort into the kiss that's only there when he hasn't seen Sirius for a while, and Sirius's toes curl, glad they have the house to themselves for a good while yet.

That's not the only surprise Remus has in store for him today and when he rolls his head off Sirius's knee and onto the bed he pulls Sirius down on top of him. Sirius is sort of sideways across him, but that doesn't stop Remus from kissing him fiercely and pulling Sirius's clothes all askew to rub his fingers along Sirius's skin. It's rare that Remus is so alpha male like this and Sirius likes it, so he lets him.

"I always liked you best," Remus whispers, relocating his mouth to Sirius's jaw and down his neck.

Sirius smiles because as much as he says he doesn't care - and he really doesn't - knowing that helps.

~*~*~

When the lesson started, Sirius had no idea what was in store for them. They'd all been expecting an ordinary Transfiguration lesson, but even Professor McGonagall handing out bananas gave them no clues. James had suggested what they might be changing it into, which they'd all laughed at, and Sirius had frowned at his small, straight and above all, slightly green banana. It was unlikely to be true because that was too simple for Fourth Years to be learning.

All became clear when she handed round little packets that at least some of the class recognised given from the titters the packets induced in some of the boys. The girls gave them looks that said they were above that sort of thing. Sirius was perfectly happy never to have anything to do with them. Remus, however, turned red on his cheeks and chin and, although he didn't mean it cruelly, Sirius laughed.

"Mr Black."

At McGonagall's voice Sirius's head snapped up and he was immediately silent.

"Perhaps you would like to explain these to the class instead?" McGongall stared at him, as she held up one of the still unopened packets.

Sirius shook his head, which for once McGonagall took as an answer and stepped backwards to address the whole class. "This," she explained," is the best way of preventing the spread of STDs and preventing unwanted pregnancy. Mr Black, can you name an STD for me?"

Horrified by this point, Sirius couldn't have told her his own name if she'd asked. Fortunately, Remus whispered, "Syphilis," and Sirius repeated it gratefully, not caring how Remus knew that.

"Thank you Mr Lupin." Sirius sighed - she never did miss a trick. "But you should have picked one without any 's' sounds, they always carry further when you whisper."

That explained a lot and Sirius was glad at least Padfoot and Mooney had no 's's in them. But Remus sank lower in his chair and Sirius was too busy envying Peter for being entirely 's' free to pay any attention to the names of any other STDs that lesson. It wasn't likely to be on their OWLs, so he wasn't going to worry about it.

"Now, it's very important that you put it on properly, otherwise you might as well not bother at all." McGonagall opened the packet and took out the colourless round shape inside. Sirius sat up straighter, having a sudden, horrifying, vision of what was going to be happening next. "A banana is a particularly good representation of the human penis."

There were a few giggles around the room at that, but McGonagll ignored them. Sirius looked disconsolately at his banana and then over to Remus's, which was long and bent in a nice banana-y curve. "Now watch as you carefully roll it onto the banana making sure not to stretch it too much or you'll make holes in it." She almost looked like she was caressing the banana.

"There's no way she learnt how to do that on the real thing," Peter whispered.

Sirius hoped not. Teachers having a sex life was a horrible thought.

James groaned. "I don't want to know."

"I'm never going to get that image out of my head." The whole lesson was going to be seared on his brain for life, particularly McGonagall bending over a condom-covered banana.

Once finished, she turned back to class to show off her banana. "Now it's your turn."

None of them dared move at first and Sirius, for one, was paralysed in fear. But McGonagall giving him the evil eye was enough to replace one fear with another and he tore open his packet. As he delicately put the condom on his own banana he looked of the corner of his eye at what Remus was doing and that gave him thoughts that weren't a good idea to dwell on in a public place, even if he was sat behind a desk. Worse was to come when McGonagall went round the class commenting on their technique and dispensing advice. Sirius wasn't sure he was all that pleased to receive only praise for his efforts.

After that, when Sirius thought he might die of embarrassment about the whole thing, she made it worse by going on to talk about male masturbation. In front of a class of girls and boys, if it hadn't been bad enough already. "It's a perfectly natural thing to do," she said and Sirius wondered how she could possibly know, since she'd never been a boy. Even the rumours didn't go that far.

And then, using the banana in a way that put Sirius off eating them for the rest of the term, she went on to use hers to demonstrate how it worked. Sirius didn't dare look away. It was like he was trapped, even though he didn't think for a minute his technique needed work given the number of times he practised it.

When at last, after what seemed like a week, the lesson ended she all too cheerfully said, "Throw those condoms away, they're no use now. But you can eat the bananas if you like."

None of them could leave the classroom quickly enough.

"I'm never eating a banana again," James said.

Nods and murmurs indicated everyone else agreed and Sirius thought he might be sick if he ever saw one again.

The worst of it was that after that, it completely put Sirius off wanking for a month: whenever he started he had an image of McGonagall in his mind and she was the biggest mood killer he'd ever known. It made him wonder for a while after that if it wasn't normal to do it that often after all, and the whole point of the lesson had been not to educate them about sex, but rather put them off the idea completely. If so, it had worked. Sirius made it all the way to seventeen before he cornered Remus and discovered just how good his masturbation technique was on someone else.

When she'd recovered enough to tell him she'd have to think about it, he had looked disappointed. She suspected that his romantic idea had ended with her saying 'yes', but she wasn't going to jump into it. The evening had gone slightly downhill after that and she'd ended up at home, unable to sleep for thinking about it.

In order to help her decide, she'd attempted to write down any reasons she could find to marry Harry and reasons not to marry him. Under the former she had 'Great sex'. Under the latter she had nothing. One reason - especially that one - wasn't enough of a good motivation to marry someone, however.

After a moment's thought she added 'He understands about the Doctor and aliens' and then crossed it out. She couldn't imagine marrying someone who didn't know about the existence of aliens, even if she'd have to convince them. But there were plenty of other people who also knew and she had no intention of marrying them.

Harry's proposal hadn't been any sort of arrangement on his part either, because he did love her. He'd told her that once, although not again since that first time. More out of curiosity than uncertainty she'd once asked if that was still the case. He'd given her a funny look and said, "Of course I do, old girl," as if saying it once meant it was obvious after that. She supposed it was obvious to Harry, but he didn't seem to have considered the idea that it was nice to hear it from time to time, or that it was possible to fall out of love.

Even so, she didn't want him to do that because she loved him too. It had taken her a while to realise that he wasn't just convenient, but he was sweet and thoughtful and treated her far better than any other man had. Oh, he frustrated her, sometimes to the point where she was ready to walk out, but somehow, in comparison, anyone else was too tame. She could no longer imagine herself in a relationship with someone who wasn't Harry.

She supposed she should have written this down in the 'Reasons to marry Harry' column, but it seemed too obvious. The trouble was, she decided, was she was trying to think about this logically and love wasn't logical. If when she first met Harry someone had told her she would be in this position she would have laughed at them.

She sighed, screwed up the sheet of paper and threw it at the bin. It missed. She decided not to take that as a sign and called Harry. She knew he wouldn't be upset at being woken in the middle of the night once she gave him her answer.

~*~*~

Sarah stretched lazily and smiled when she encountered a still-naked Harry. She'd had a job the night before to convince him not to put his pyjamas on and she only won because neither of them were sure where anything was. They'd made the bed the previous evening, then fallen into it, but apart from that everything in their new flat was in boxes. If they'd just been able to agree whose flat to live in there wouldn't have been such a problem, but the only way they'd been able to compromise was if they both moved. Even if it was a compromise that negated both their arguments on the subject. At least they'd been able to agree on that.

"Good morning, Mrs Sullivan."

Sarah opened her eyes and looked over at Harry. She hadn't realised he was awake. "I told you, I'm keeping my name."

"I thought you might have changed your mind." Her fingers drew patterns on his chest as he pulled her closer.

"Tomorrow I'm going to America, where I'm going to be Felicity Barnes. It's enough to remember which alias I'm using, I don't want to have to think about my own name too." She suspected that for him it was a point of pride for his wife to take his name, for Sarah the opposite was true. But her excuse was also true: it was never a good idea to forget to answer to your alias and she didn't want another that she would have to remember all the time.

He sighed. They both knew she had the winning hand in this particular argument because there was nothing he could do to force her. Not that he would ever force her to do anything, just be very persuasive from time to time.

"Let's not discuss that now." She reached over to kiss him.

Although he kissed her back just as enthusiastically, he didn't let it go on very long before he pulled back and said, "We really should unpack."

"We should," she agreed, and moved her mouth down to his shoulder. "But we're both leaving tomorrow and I want to make the most of our honeymoon, even if it's just one day."

"Maybe I shouldn't leave."

At that she stopped what she was doing and raised herself up with a hand on his chest. "What?"

"Well, it's not much of a marriage with both of us never here, is it?"

She didn't think the Navy was that easy to leave, from what he'd said in the past, but he hadn't been very specific, so she didn't really know. "But you like being in the Navy. And we both knew what we were getting into."

"What about when we have kids?"

She bit her lip and flopped back onto the bed. They probably should have had that discussion much sooner, if they'd been sensible about it. Maybe one day in the future she might change her mind, but right now she didn't want children and couldn't see being any different in the near future. Which probably had rather a lot to do with why she had never brought it up in the first place.

When she didn't reply he propped himself up on one elbow to look over at her. "Sarah?"

"I bet you think all women are domestic goddesses who live to have children, don't you?"

He had been reaching his hand over to her waist, but now he brought it back to the bed, moving away from her a little.

She wasn't angry with him, so much as herself for being too scared to discuss anything that might mean the end of their relationship, but she hadn't meant to take it out on him. "I'm sorry." She reached out to stroke his arm. "But I can hardly go off after a story if I had a baby to worry about."

"You could just stay at home and look after it." She gave him a look and he added, "No, of course you couldn't."

"I'd go mad."

He smiled at that "So you don't have names picked out then?"

She really wanted to tell him that it really was just a cliché, except that somewhere along the line there were some names that had somehow stuck. "Luke and Maria. But I never told you that."

"What was that, old girl? Terribly sorry, but I wasn't listening," he said with a grin.

She laughed. "We're wasting our honeymoon with talking when we can do that over the phone."

"But the unpacking..."

She cut him off with a kiss and then made him forget the unpacking completely by pushing him back onto the bed and straddling his hips.

~*~*~

They didn't have what most people would think of as a normal relationship, but it worked for them. Although Harry didn't go away at sea for months at a time, the Navy seemed to be determined to send him to the most remote places in Britain: bases in the middle of nowhere with no big newspapers or magazines for Sarah to work for. Since she was often off around the world after a story, it made sense for them to live apart and just see each other when they could. At least it led to fewer arguments, although Sarah would never admit that she liked arguing with Harry. She suspected he felt the same way, given that their marriage had lasted this long.

But at some point it had to crack and at least they'd made it past what was surely a mythical seven year itch.

"I'm sorry I can't make dinner next week," Sarah said, over the crackly phone line. "There's a story in Africa and--"

He cut her off before she could explain. "It's our anniversary. What can possibly be more important than that?"

She bit her lip. Whatever else happened, they always made sure to be together once a year on their anniversary. Without fail, they'd both be in the same restaurant at the same time for dinner. Until now, when it was just too inconvenient. "We'll just have to postpone it for a week or two, that's all."

"Sarah, I can't pick and choose when I get leave, not with that short notice. You know that."

She did know that, she just chose to forget, that's all. She had thought he wouldn't mind too much, that he'd be able to swing it some way if he really wanted to see her. "Let's just forget it this year, then."

"Let's forget about our marriage you mean."

It wasn't that she didn't want to see him and it was just an arbitrary date in the end, but she'd known he wouldn't see it her way, which is why she'd agonised over it in advance. It was a hard decision, but this story was important and there would be plenty of other opportunities to see her husband. However, she knew he didn't see it that way, especially given the threatening tone of his voice. "Harry, I love you." But she was talking to thin air. She decided it was because they had been cut off, not because he put the phone down on her.

~*~*~

In the end it was nearly a month later when they next saw each other at their home in London. Sarah hadn't been entirely looking forward to the meeting, expecting Harry to be cross or upset, but in the end he wasn't either of those things.

"Things have to change," he begun, once they were both seated in the living room. "I'm taking a job at MI5, so I'll be living here permanently."

For what was possibly only the second time in her life, Sarah was speechless.

"I've been doing some intelligence work, so it's a logical move."

He looked at her with a worried expression on his face and Sarah couldn't help but smile. Aside from it being quite sweet the way he worried about her, she was sure she had surprised him just as much by not acting in the way he'd expected. "That's a good idea," she said, and he gave her a relieved smile. "I do miss you when you're away, you know."

When he held out his arms she happily hugged him back. "I thought you'd be angry with me for missing our anniversary." Although now she could see that was illogical because Harry never got angry.

"No." He shook his head. "I'm glad you did. I don't know if we could have carried on the way we had been." He smiled down at her when she lifted her head, and brushed his thumb against her cheek. "There's just one other thing." She frowned as he calmly removed his wedding ring.

"Harry, what are you doing?" Why was he contradicting himself?

He put the ring down on the coffee table before he answered. "You don't wear yours because you don't want your enemies to come after me. It's only fair that I do the same for you, since I'm likely to make a few enemies in this job."

She looked down at her left hand guiltily because she hadn't remembered to put hers back on and it was still on her bedside table. "I don't need to be protected," she said, not because she ever won this argument, but more because of how it felt to see Harry take that ring off. She finally understood the look he'd given her the first time he discovered she did it.

"I know you can look after yourself, old girl, but it's far better if you're not in danger in the first place."

"Don't call me old girl," she retorted, rather more harshly than she intended and then soothed his wounded expression with a kiss.

~*~*~

In the end, Harry being around more didn't change their relationship as much as she thought it might. For a start, Sarah was away just as much as she was before and when she was around Harry worked all hours. Sometimes she thought they spoke less than they had before he joined MI5.

She suspected he still had visions of domestic bliss with 2.4 children and a dog, even if she thought they were too old for that sort of thing now. But the dog had been calling Harry 'Master' for years. That neither of their lives suited it was still the case and nothing was going to change now that they both properly lived in the same house.

"Your feet are cold," she complained one night when he slid into bed.

He'd stopped apologising for waking her by now, knowing she was too alert for any sounds in the house. He didn't even apologise for his feet being cold, but purposely touched them to her ankles instead.

"Harry!" Now she was definitely awake and looked over at the clock. Then wished she hadn't found out what time of night, or morning, it was.

"I thought you might warm them up for me." It was just enough light in the bedroom for her to see his grin, but she wasn't in the mood for this just now.

"Get a hot water bottle." She turned over and out of his reach.

"You're the one complaining, you get one." He put a hand on her arm and demonstrated how cold that was too.

She shook her head. "I'm nice and warm."

"You are," he agreed, shifting over to cuddle up behind her.

The shock of his cold body against hers woke her up enough that she decided she might as well give up on going back to sleep. She had to be up soon anyway. So she turned in his grip to face him and press a kiss to his mouth. "Go to sleep. I'll be gone by the time you wake up." She hated that she couldn't tell him where she was going, but he'd find out tomorrow - later today - why when he met her younger self.

~*~*~

"You had an unfair advantage," he accused her afterwards, over dinner at Jardine's. "You already knew what I'd be like in the future."

She smiled enigmatically. Although it had been at the back of her mind, not least because she hadn't been able to remember him wearing a ring, but she hadn't considered it at all when deciding whether to marry him. However, she was perfectly happy to maintain the fiction that she did, if he wanted to believe it. "You aged quite well, I thought. And you haven't changed a bit."

He frowned. "I haven't?"

She shook her head. "Not in the important aspects. You're the still the same old Harry I know and love."

"With emphasis on the old." He sighed.

When she was younger and had met this older Harry, she hadn't remembered him feeling like this. But then she hadn't known him as well back then and she was sure whatever he had been feeling he'd kept to himself, as usual. "You're not that much older than I am."

"No, not any more." He smiled and ordered them some coffee.

Not wanting to revive the subject, she picked a new one. "And you never said what it was like meeting the Doctor again."

"It was..." He swilled the remains of his wine around in the glass as he thought, while she waited patiently. "Different," was all he managed in the end.

She rolled her eyes, wondering why she'd expected something deep and eloquent from Harry. "Different?"

He nodded. "I've changed more than he has." He slid his arm over the table to take her hand. "I know you still miss him."

She swallowed. He knew her too well. "You didn't say anything to him, did you?"

He shook his head. "I thought about it, but in the end I didn't. It was selfish of me really. If he'd come back for you, you'd never have married me."

It had always been in the back of her mind and she'd assumed she would probably leave with the Doctor until Harry had proposed. Yet now, she couldn't imagine leaving Harry. "I'm glad he didn't come back." She smiled and squeezed his hand.

~*~*~

For a while they were happy. Until Harry announced he was going on a secret mission with NATO and then vanished off the face of the Earth. Of course Sarah did everything she could to find him, but no one seemed to know a thing about where he was and eventually she was forced to give up.

She feared that he'd been captured by aliens to get at her, but no one contacted her and there was no evidence to suggest it apart from her own paranoia. She half-wished he'd stayed in MI5 because at least his enemies there were in this country and there would be far smaller to space to look for him. But all she could do was carry on living and going to their anniversary dinners in the hopes that he would show up at one.

When she met the Doctor while investigating Deffrey Vale School she decided now was the time to move on and stop clinging to the past. Living in hope was killing her a piece at a time and the only way to save herself was to admit that Harry was most probably dead, act as if he was, and grieve. She moved into a bigger house with the insurance money and filled it with clutter in a way that Harry would have complained about, but let her keep in the end.

The built-in wardrobe in the spare room had enough space for all of Harry's things. He never had been very good at having many possessions - too much time spent moving around, he claimed, but it still looked like such a small memory of his life. At least here they were mostly out of her sight, so she could choose when to remember, but they were also safe, just in case. Adopting Luke helped, especially without K-9 around and in time she found she was happy again.

At least until one night when she woke with the sound of the TARDIS ringing in her ears. It had to be a dream or a memory, but she couldn't just dismiss it. So she put on her slippers and dressing gown, and tip-toed downstairs to have a look. She didn't find the familiar police box shape, but there was a familiar sort of person shape in her living room.

"Doctor?" He didn't look like any of the ones she'd met, but she couldn't rule out him regenerating since they'd last met.

"Sarah?"

Unless the Doctor had developed a voice that sounded very like Harry, there was only one person it could be. She switched the light on to be sure and found that her hand shook.

She closed her eyes against the bright light and when she cracked them open she found it was indeed her formerly-dead husband standing in her living room, a hand up to ward off the light.

"Harry," she breathed, not quite able to speak properly, and not caring where he'd been, only that he was here now, she raced over and hugged him tight. With her face buried in his shoulder she could feel the familiar rough texture of his blazer beneath her cheek and her eyes filled with tears. She was determined not to cry, though, so she let go enough to reach up and kiss him. His stubble grazed her skin and irrationally, she wanted to tell him off for not shaving before he saw her.

"Where have you been?" She looked him over more closely and tried to decide whether it was her faulty memory or if he hadn't changed at all since she last saw him, when he left on a mission he couldn't tell her anything about.

"Gallifrey."

"They don't allow humans there," she said, without thinking and then realised if Harry was serious, and he looked it, that was the TARDIS she heard. He wouldn't joke about this sort of thing, she knew, but in that case why didn't the Doctor stay? But that wasn't the most important question at the moment. "Why?"

"There was a terrible war and the Doctor needed a doctor."

Once she would have made a joke about that, but this time she bit her lip. She could see now the pain written in Harry's eyes and wondered what he'd seen. "Gallifrey's gone."

"Yes, it is," he whispered.

He wasn't going to talk about it, she could tell that much, but she didn't quite care, now that he was really here. She took his hand and pulled him down to the sofa to sit next to her.

"Where are we?" he asked, looking around the room.

"Home," she said, and then amended it to, "My house."

He looked over at her. "Yours?" She could hear the implied, "Not mine?".

It wasn't that unreasonable that she'd moved, was it? Except that she remembered something important about what the TARDIS could do - and how the Doctor sometimes got that part wrong. "How long has it been for you?"

"A few months. I don't know exactly, I lost track." He frowned. "Why?"

She bit her lip. From his perspective it was no longer than they were usually apart, although they usually managed to communicate during that time. "Harry, it's been more like a few years," she said, softly.

"Oh." She could see comprehension dawning on him. He pressed his palm to her cheek. "You haven't aged a bit."

She smiled at the flattery. "I thought you were dead." She put her hand up to her mouth to keep herself from crying.

"Oh, Sarah." He pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry."

It was easier not to cry when faced with his familiar, comforting warmth for the second time tonight and she let herself relax, just a little.

"Tell me." He stroked her hair as she caught him up on the events in her life since he'd gone. There was rather a lot to tell.

~*~*~

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have at some point because she woke up on the sofa with a blanket covering her. For a moment she wondered if she had dreamt the previous night's events, but she could hear voices in the kitchen. She was glad Harry hadn't put her to bed and he was still close by since she wasn't at all sure about letting him too far out of her sight just yet. After running her fingers through her hair to make herself presentable, she went to join them.

Once at the door she smiled at the picture in front of her. Luke sat at the table and, in between bites of his toast, was telling Harry all about his first encounter with a Sontaran. With his back to Sarah, Harry sat opposite him, his hands wrapped around a mug, gazing intently at Luke and occasionally putting in his own observations. Sarah leant against the door frame and watched them until Luke noticed her.

"Mum!" he called, excitedly. "Did you know Harry once blew up a Sontaran spaceship?"

Sarah wouldn't have said that was quite what happened, but since Harry got up and put the kettle back on without being asked, she decided not to contradict him. She was just glad she'd told Luke about Harry because he was enough of a shock as it was, not being dead, never mind if Luke hadn't known she had a husband in the first place.

"I was there," she pointed out as she sat in the seat Harry had vacated. "But Harry's a much better storyteller than I am." Rather prone to exaggeration, but he always told stories well enough that she didn't mind. Luke would certainly appreciate them.

She smiled at Harry as he put a cup of tea on the table in front of her. "But you'll have plenty of time to hear them. He's not going anywhere."

"I'm not?" he asked amiably.

"We have enough work dealing with aliens here, you don't need to go anywhere else." She reached out to take his hand. "I don't want you to go away," she added, softly.

"Then of course I'll stay." He squeezed her hand. "After all, I have a lot of catching up to do."

Ed frowned. The last thing they'd been discussing was Roland and there was nothing Ros didn't know about what had happened to him. She'd been there when Cyberax made him commit suicide, and when they found him in Technopolis Tower and arranged for him to be brought home to sleep out his coma in comfort. She also had the full story about Cyberax and how he and Beckett had really been protecting her, as much as it looked otherwise. So there was nothing Ed could think of that Beckett was referring to. "Tell her what?"

Beckett glanced back behind them, at the closed door that Roland's hospital room lay beyond. He still looked worried when he turned round again, but that was an expression Ed had got used to seeing the past few days, both on his friend and in the mirror. Beckett lowered his voice. "About her old tutor."

"Oh, that." He hadn't meant to make it sound like he was dismissing it out of hand, but that didn't stop Beckett from giving him a look. They'd been working together for long enough that Ed could easily interpret it as telling him he'd said something stupid. Again. But they had both been there when Talbot had put his own life in danger to save Ros and Ed didn't forget anyone's sacrifices in a hurry.

"Sorry, mate," he said in a whisper. "How are you going to tell her?"

"Me?" Beckett said, in a voice he'd clearly not meant to be that loud.

He couldn't follow that statement up, though, because they heard footsteps from the room behind them that told them Ros was on her way. They'd already spent enough time recently whispering between themselves and stopping whenever she came near that they didn't want to carry it on now. Ed wondered if they couldn't have found a better way of ensuring Ros didn't find out the truth about the Cyberax virus in her brain, but hindsight was a wonderful thing. For now, they settled for pointing at each other and stopping very quickly when the door opened.

"Ready to go, guys?" Ros asked, and Ed could see her smile was put on for their benefit. While Beckett answered for them, Ed gave her a concerned look, which she ignored, heading for the exit.

Beckett didn't immediately follow, though, and instead leaned towards Ed and whispered, "You know, she's still upset about Roland. Perhaps she's better off not knowing yet."

Ed was just relieved at having a get-out clause and whispered back, "Good call," and narrowly missed getting caught by Ros turning round to check they were following. He put on a smile for her benefit, jogged up to her and joked easily with her as if nothing had happened. It was enough to make her smile properly, so he'd keep doing it if he had to.

~*~*~

Just like that, everything went back to normal. Or rather something approaching it - it wasn't as if the job they all did was that normal to begin with. In the days that passed since Ros's death and recovery, Beckett worried over the accounts, Ros obsessed about Cyberax and Ed failed to put Ros's death out of his mind, as temporary as it had been.

What they really needed was another job, but the best they'd managed so far was when Ed managed to distract them both by unearthing an old gizmo of Ros's. She demonstrated it to both of them on the local pub's fruit machines and it looked like she'd temporarily solved Beckett's accounting problem before it turned out she had a deal with the landlord and gave all the money back. And fixed his machines so no one else with a similar gadget would be able to do the same thing in the future.

Despite all this activity, Beckett and Ed had so far failed to solve the more pressing problem of how to tell Ros her friend was dead. Every scenario Ed thought of just made the situation worse, although it was hard to see how it was possible to make it better. It just left him feeling more of a coward as the days went on and if he could be accused of anything it certainly wasn't cowardice. By the time the morning of the funeral came around she still didn't know and he couldn't let it go on any longer. He was just surprised she hadn't found out any other way, but she probably hadn't thought to look and perhaps no one else had thought to tell her either. So Ed sat gingerly on a computer chair next to Ros and tried not to look like she was going to bite him.

"Ros," he began, and then nearly backed out when she smiled at him. He knew she was going to be upset and she had been doing so well recently he hated to do this to her. But not telling her would only make things worse - for all of them. "Ros," he repeated, "I don't quite know how to tell you this."

On the other side of the room, Beckett's head moved just enough that Ed could tell he wasn't quite so absorbed in reading his emails any more, even if he didn't look up from the screen. Only Ros had no idea of what he was intending to tell her.

She gave him a quizzical look, but no looked no less unhappy for it. "Just spit it out, Ed. It can't be anything that bad."

Oh, if only she knew. But he took a deep breath and did as she said. "Your old tutor, he used a Cyberax headset." He could tell she still didn't get it, so he softened his voice and added, "I'm sorry Ros." Just like the others that had got Cyberax in their heads, Talbot died once he knew its secrets. But unlike Roland and Ros, he hadn't been revived in time.

Her immediate reaction was to turn to the computer and check the details for herself. Ed tried not to feel stung by that as she established that his funeral was in a few hours. He knew he hadn't given her much reason to trust him lately, but he thought she knew him better than that.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She didn't look up, but Ed could see her hand shaking as it rested on the computer mouse.

"We wanted to protect you." Now was absolutely not to the time to lie to her and besides, Ed couldn't think of any good ways of explaining it, other than the truth. Beckett might have done, but he wasn't the one telling Ros a good friend of hers was dead. Ed reached out a hand to her, but she must have been looking at him out of the corner of her eye and she shrank away from it. Ed closed his eyes for a moment, but Beckett was already on his feet and on his way over to them, so he decide to let him talk to her.

Crouched down on the other side of her, Beckett gave it his best shot. "Ros, you were already upset. We just wanted everything to go back to normal again."

Some chance of that. Ed still woke up in a cold sweat in the middle of night, telling himself not to call Ros to check she really was still alive and he hadn't really killed her.

Ros shook her head, but at least looked down at Beckett. Ed tried not to feel jealous about that. "I can forgive you for going behind my back to save my life, but not this."

Ed wondered whether she blamed Beckett for all that they'd done, but just as Ros didn't always do as he said, neither did Ed. He was his own man.

"But I thought I could trust you guys." She didn't give them a chance to explain, just stood up, sending her chair flying backwards and smacking into the wall behind. They were both speechless as she gave them each a look that told them exactly what she thought of them before she stormed out of the room.

Beckett sighed, but Ed was more practical and made to follow her. He didn't know what he was going to say, but that wasn't going to stop him. Beckett was, though, with a hand on his arm.

"Leave her," he said. He looked almost as upset as Ros had been, Ed thought, and decided to do as Beckett suggested.

"What do we do to fix this?" he asked, but Beckett had no answers.

~*~*~

Ed was sure Ros would return once she calmed down, so he and Beckett quietly stayed out of the way, working. Well, Beckett was working, although Ed didn't really know exactly what he was doing the moment. He was bringing down the government for all Ed cared. Well, perhaps not, but then he didn't really think Beckett would do that, much as he wasn't always terribly fond of authority.

Ed, on the other hand, was trying to beat Ros's Tetris high score. Two months into their bet and he had worked his way into second place. The trouble was that Ros always played when he wasn't looking and always managed to have a score that was an unreachable distance beyond him. He wasn't planning to give up, however, but his heart just wasn't in it today and he didn't even make the top ten. Even Beckett could manage that and he didn't practise nearly as often.

They did eventually see Ros again, but only when she was on her way out of the front door, during which time she refused to acknowledge either of them, even though they called out to her. Given the time and the fact that she was wearing black it wasn't hard to guess where she was going. The information about the funeral was still up on her computer screen.

When Beckett nodded at him, Ed knew exactly what he was thinking because they were of the same mind when it came to Ros. She might want some time to herself and they'd give her that, if it was what she really needed. It didn't mean they were going to leave her on her own, though. Especially given the mood she was in was more than likely to lead to her car ending up wrapped round a lamppost.

A short while later and they were both in black, Ed tugging at his uncomfortable suit. He could manage to wear a tie when he was undercover, but then he had more important things on his mind, like their survival. Now he was just struggling to see why he had to.

They didn't go too close, since they'd only met the man once after all. They kept Ros in their sights, though, as they hung back just too far away to hear any of the words. It felt like hours they'd stood there waiting, while Ed ran through every possible thing he could say to Ros, but he knew a simple apology wouldn't be enough. He just hoped she had calmed down a little.

Even after the rest of the mourners had left and there was a cold chill in the air, Ros didn't move. Without needing to discuss it, Beckett and Ed took up positions on either side of her, not saying anything until she spoke first. But she didn't even acknowledge them and just kept staring down at the casket beneath, with its handfuls of dirt barely covering it.

As much as he tired of waiting, Ed was prepared to put the time in on this one. In the end Beckett was the one to break the silence when he put a hand on her shoulder and said, softly, "He did it for you, you know. He found out what Cyberax really was so we could use that knowledge to save you."

Ros nodded, but didn't lift her head.

It was a good sign, so Ed put his hand carefully on her other shoulder and relaxed when she allowed it. "We honestly thought we were protecting you." Was it his imagination or was there a smile there, just for a moment? Given her skills in getting herself out of danger Ros often didn't seem to need them. It was just situations like this that none of her gizmos or computer programs could help her with that Ed realised how good a team they were.

"You were so worried about Roland we didn't want to add to your burdens," Beckett continued.

When Beckett paused and Ros still said nothing Ed took up the slack. If they couldn't get to her between them, then they had no hope. "It can't have been easy thinking you'd lost all your friends."

At last, she looked up and Ed knew she wasn't angry at them any more. Her tear-stained face turned to him and he wished she'd let him be there to comfort her.

"You don't get rid of us that easily," Beckett joked. He even managed a quick smile, although Ed was sure Beckett was thinking the same thing as he was.

"We're your friends. We're not going anywhere."

"I know," Ros said, so quietly Ed almost didn't hear it. "I'm just glad I have you guys." With her arms round the shoulders of each of them, she pulled them closer into a hug.

"We're a team," Beckett said, and that was something Ed could agree with, wholeheartedly.

Sarah had slept for most of the time since then and when she awoke, feeling more refreshed and up for adventure, she had gone in search of the Doctor. Unfortunately, he had disappeared. She worried for a moment that he had gone on without them, but the TARDIS was still in flight. She had amused herself in the wardrobe room for a while, before putting on something that would be most appropriate for Scotland. After that she was still bored and wanted some activity, even if it was something she'd later regret wishing for.

So she went in search of Harry. Since she hadn't seen him in any of the obvious places she'd looked for the Doctor in, she had decided it was about time he was up, and went to his room. Although at first she wondered if she was going to have to search all over again, she eventually heard movement inside.

When he answered the door he was clearly not ready to go out, being as he was wearing only a dressing gown. There couldn't have been that much under it either, since his legs were bare and she could see a triangle of his chest. Apart from the lamp on the bedside table, his room was quite dark and he blinked in the light that flooded in from the corridor. When he ran his hands through his hair, messing it up more, she found it quite endearing on him, and bit her lip to hide her smile as she considered a perfect cure for her restlessness.

"Did I wake you up?" she asked, peering past him but his bed was perfectly made and gave her no clues.

"No, I was just reading."

When she looked she could see there was a big, thick book on his bedside table. She slipped past him to pick it up. She was unsurprised to see that it was a medical textbook. "A little light bedtime reading?" she teased.

"I should get dressed," Harry said with a smile on his face, as he watched her from where he still stood by the door. He made no move to do anything of the sort.

Sarah said nothing, just smiled at him. She headed back for the door, but instead of leaving she came up close to him, standing face to face although not quite touching. He gave her a quizzical look that she ignored - he'd work it out soon enough. When she untied the belt of his dressing gown it fell loose to reveal that he only wore a pair of pants under it. Her heart skipped a beat at the sight, as unfashionable as they were, but she hesitated. They'd never discussed this, so she wasn't sure what he wanted.

He answered her by shutting the door, taking her hand and leading her over to the bed. She sat down and took her boots off - his bed didn't look like one that should have shoes on it, even though it was just the same as every other one on the TARDIS, at least as far as she knew. He sat down next to her and even though they were no longer touching, she could feel his eyes on her. She wondered if he wanted to be doing this instead, but she carried on and waited to see if he would ask.

She took her time, but he never said or did anything, so once she was done she turned and pushed him down, so he lay flat. Although he was certainly stronger than her, he let her have her way, which resolved any uncertainty she had about what she was doing. As she moved to sit on him, her knees by his waist, his eyes never left her and she blushed at the intensity of it. He was so busy watching her that his hands hovered by his side, as if he'd forgotten he could use them to touch her.

Her own hands rested on her thighs and the two of them stayed like that, gazes locked. They still had plenty of time before they landed and Sarah felt that if she moved it could all be over quite quickly. She broke the spell at last by pulling off her jumper and throwing it behind her. She didn't check to see where it landed because Harry smiled appreciatively, most probably because she'd decided not wear a blouse under it, and his hands finally landed on her hips.

It didn't immediately compel her to action, though, because that wasn't enough - her trousers were in the way. She considered the urge to strip there and then, and resisted it because it was clear neither of them were ready to go quite that quickly. She unconsciously licked her lips as she thought, and only realised she'd done it as Harry's eyes flicked to her mouth. Deciding what she was really missing, she bent over to kiss him instead.

She kept it light to begin with, just brushing his lips with her own. His warm hands ran slowly up her bare back and she shivered, but he captured her mouth and made the kiss more passionate. She gave a soft moan, having forgotten how good this was already, and leant down further so she was lying on him. His skin was hot next to hers and she could tell he had just taken a shower, since the soap he'd used was one she remembered smelling in her bathroom, although she had chosen a different scent. She tried to smell him more closely, but he just turned his head to follow hers and nibble on her lower lip before she could escape again.

The mood was broken as he fumbled with her bra, and she laughed into his mouth. Although she pulled away, she was still laughing as she brought one hand back to help him. He gave her a puppy dog look but that didn't do anything to stop her. She could forgive him being terrible at this one thing because he kissed so well. Which was certainly not something she'd have expected from him when they first met.

He took advantage of her inattention to flip them over once her bra was undone.

"Hey!" she said, as he pulled it off, although that was not what she was complaining about.

His only response was to go straight for her breasts. She rolled her eyes, thinking what a typical man he was until he revealed he had a good memory and his tongue found the right spot. Her hands grabbed the sheets as his fingers grazed over her breast and she arched up so that he touched her more firmly. Or at least that was the plan. He had other ideas and just moved with her. However, she didn't really have any complaints and would certainly rather he didn't stop doing what he was doing any time soon. So of course the minute she thought it he lifted his head. His hand didn't stop but that wasn't quite the same.

"What was that you were saying?"

She didn't want him to know exactly what he did to her, although she was sure her body did that all on its own without the intervention of her brain. So she just stuck her tongue out at him. He took that as an invitation and she soon forgot what they were talking about, as she was too busy exploring his mouth again. Just about retaining some ability to think, however hard that was at the moment, she hooked a leg round his waist, pulling him closer to her. Her breath hitched at the contact and from here she could feel that it had the same effect on him. However, she had another plan, and used her leverage to push him back into their previous position.

As she applied her mouth to his chest, creating goosebumps, he slipped his hand into the small gap between her back and the waistband of her trousers. She gasped at the touch of his hand on her skin and wriggled appreciatively, grazing her teeth along his collarbone. As she did so, he moaned. Because he was always so quiet, in contrast to her, that felt like a small victory and she repeated the movement, getting the same response in return.

She smiled and broke off what she was doing long enough to ask, "Isn't this better?"

"I prefer being on... ah." He stopped talking when she nipped at his earlobe.

Grinning, she pushed her hands against his chest to help her sit up. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very." He rolled them back over and she giggled as she landed.

He kissed her hard and she was pressed against the bed by his body, unable to make a sound because he had taken her breath away with the intensity of it. Although he couldn't be any closer, she wrapped her legs round him and ran a hand through his hair, finding it damp. As she ran her wet hand down his back she cooled the flesh there, and she moaned as he moved against her. She groaned when he pulled back to focus on undoing the zip on her trousers. His fingers fumbled with the button in his haste to undo it and she just grinned at him, refusing to help him this time, despite the glare he gave her.

She studied him, mostly naked and looking flushed, and picked up the thread of their conversation. "I think you liked it really."

When he said nothing, she decided to take that as a yes and watched him take off the rest of her clothes. She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling as he folded everything up and draped it across the end of the bed. Afterwards he spent his time tracing his hands up her legs, stopping just short of where she really wanted him to touch. No amount of movement on her part got his fingers to go in the direction she thought he should. She groaned in frustration and looked daggers at him, which he ignored.

"You were saying?" he asked with a grin.

Revenge was sweet. She pushed him onto his back to take his pants off, then paused, holding them in one hand, before dropping them onto the floor. He gave her a look but made no effort to pick them up. Not that he could move much with her sitting on him again. In the end he sighed dramatically and opened a drawer in the bedside table to pull out a condom. She smiled in victory and absently wondered if its presence meant all the bedrooms on the TARDIS were exactly the same, including the contents.

"Let me," she said, reaching out to take it from him.

"Ah," he stretched his arm out above his head, towards the wall to hold it as far away from her as he could.

She put her hands on her hips and pouted but it didn't seem to have any discernible effect on him.

"You can have it your way," he said, "only if I put this on."

She held his gaze steadily for a minute, before giving in. You had to take your victories where you could find them with Harry. "I promise you you'll like it," she said, as she sat back down on him.

He said nothing, but took hold of her hips to guide her onto him. She sighed at the feeling of him inside her, but he didn't let her savour it, thrusting up into her and digging his fingers into her hips. Once he'd done that she couldn't remember why she thought it would be a good idea not to move. As much as she tried to fight back, he didn't let her set a rhythm and she had to do something about that.

The angle changed as she leant down to kiss him and she gasped into his mouth. It was enough to put him off his stroke and her back in charge, which she much preferred. Having reminded herself of the taste of his toothpaste, she sat back up slowly trying to establish the best angle. Once there, she slowed her speed and reached down to touch his balls and the part of his cock not inside her at the time.

He retaliated by trying to get his hand in there too. When she realised he was going for somewhere else and not just trying to stop her, she took hold of his hands to stop him. If he wanted to wait for her to come first he was going to have to suffer for it. She quickly discovered she could use him for leverage, and when he tugged at her hands she sped up.

She was just getting close when he squeezed her hands and came. She grinned at him and let go.

"I told you you would like it," she said, hoarsely.

"Maybe," he whispered, and reached out to tickle her.

She couldn't help but laugh and squirm, but was disappointed he had forgotten her.

"Now will you stay on your back?"

She rolled her eyes but got off him and lay down. He kissed her, but if he didn't get on and do something better than that soon she was going to have to do it herself. When he moved his lips to her throat she arched her neck so he could reach more of it, but also tried to push him down. He wouldn't be moved, though, except at his own pace.

It was maddening how slowly he kissed and licked his way down her body, as good as it felt, but there were far more important things she wanted him to do now. It was all worth it, though, because after he dipped his tongue in her belly button he moved his mouth to the place she wanted him to touch most. She writhed under him, moaning, and he put his hands back on her hips to try and keep her still.

It had the opposite effect, though, as she raised her hips so he would just touch her more there. She reached out a hand to push his head to exactly where she wanted it and he complied. When his tongue hit just the right spot she screamed and pulled at his hair as she came.

He lay back down next to her but it was all she could do to lie there limply and pant. He raised himself up on one elbow and smiled at her. She managed to move enough to reach up and kiss him.

"You can definitely do that again," she said, still a little breathless.

His expression turned serious. "We'll be back on Earth soon. In the right time."

She looked at her watch. "We have a little time, yet."

He grinned at her and shook his head.

"What?" She pulled at his chest hair, and he caught her hand in his.

"We already landed. And you thought the Earth moved."

Since he showed no signs of letting her go, she hit him on the shoulder with his own hand. "I suppose we should get up." It would be nice to spend some time just lying in bed with Harry, or on it as they technically were, but it wasn't to be this time either.

"I was going to get dressed before you took off what I was already wearing."

He let her hand go and she ran it down his torso. "You're not wearing that much less than you were before."

He shook his head at her before sitting up. She followed suit, stretching out an arm for her clothes. He beat her to it, though, and brushed them off onto the floor.

"Hey!" She stood, picked up the nearest thing, which happened to be her knickers, and threw them at him.

He caught them with one hand. "Perhaps I'll just keep these."

She tried putting her hands on her hips and glaring at him, even though neither trick had worked so far. "You threw them on the floor."

"You put threw on the floor." He calmly picked up his pants and put them on, not letting go of his prize.

"Can I have my knickers back, please?" Asking nicely had to count for something, after all.

He grinned. "Maybe."

She sighed at him and he threw them back before turning to the rest of his clothes, which were draped over a chair. After she had dressed she realised what was missing. "Oh, I had a coat."

"A coat?" He was just doing up the buttons on his jacket. She was tempted to undo them and make him think she wanted to start again - although that was not a bad idea - but they really should go before the Doctor got suspicious.

He followed her dutifully to the wardrobe room where she picked up her coat and they found the Doctor wearing tartan.

"What do you think?" he asked, posing for their benefit.

Sarah put a hand up to her mouth but couldn't hide her laugh.

He didn't wait to see their their reaction, as he picked up his scarf sadly and said, "I don't think this matches the rest of the outfit."

She shook her head at the Doctor actually making a decision like that. He usually thought every piece of clothing went with every other piece of clothing. She took it from him and draped it round Harry before he could work out what she was doing.

"Hey!" he said.

She smiled at him. "Looks good on you."

In return he picked up the Doctor's hat from the hat stand beside him and plonked it on her head. "It suits you, old girl."

"Let's go and see what the Brigadier wants, shall we?" The Doctor grinned at them.

Sarah adjusted the hat so she could see. "Lead on MacDuff."

The Doctor led the way out of the room, but before Sarah could go Harry grabbed her for a kiss that dislodged the hat, so it nearly fell backwards off her head.

"What was that for?" She adjusted the hat again.

"Come on," the Doctor called from the corridor, "we haven't got all day."

Harry just grinned at her and she rolled her eyes at both men, even if neither of them saw it. She had to run to catch the Doctor up, with Harry just behind her, on their way to find out what Scotland, and the Brigadier, had in store for them.

"It's just the way the TARDIS is, I told you." She felt justified in feeling superior, and not only because she'd already had ample opportunity to explore. She was getting annoyed at him continually pointing out just how amazing the TARDIS was. Wasn't it obvious already?

"I know, but it's so much bigger on the inside."

Sarah rolled her eyes. She'd far rather be in the console room with the Doctor, but he'd got upset at Harry touching the controls and shooed them both out, telling Sarah to make sure she kept an eye on Harry. So she was doing as she was told, hoping they would come across an interesting room she hadn't seen yet.

"I wonder what's in here" He opened a door and they were both disappointed to find it was another bathroom, this one just as colourless as all the rest. "I know this is commonplace to you, old girl, but it's all pretty exciting to me."

She frowned. "Don't call me old girl. I don't think the TARDIS likes you, she showed me much more exciting locations, all you're getting is bathrooms."

He shut the door. "It's a ship the size of a police box. I don't think its opinions matter."

"Of course, they do." She opened the door on the other side of the corridor to reveal the sickbay. "See?"

"Now, this is more like it."

Typical. They could have got the mountain room she had once happily traipsed around for a whole day, but no, they ended up in the one place where Harry could carry on boring her. He picked up various pieces of equipment, exclaiming over them.

Sarah sighed. "It's just a sickbay, there's nothing interesting in here."

"I beg to differ." He pointed what must have been some sort of scanner at her.

She put her hands on her hips and gave him a look.

He gave her a brief smile. "You could always be a nurse."

"Typical. Of course women can only be nurses. Why don't you be a nurse and I'll be a doctor?"

"Or you could be a patient." He wasn't paying attention to her, though, he was too busy examining a monitor above a bed.

"It looks like I already am." For lack of anything better to do she lay down on the bed. "What does it say about me?"

"It must be broken - it says you're normal."

"Hmph." But she grinned anyway. The bed was quite comfortable, so she settled down while she watched him wander around the room. She knew the Doctor had only invited him on a trip to the moon because he liked the idea of winding Harry up. Which hadn't exactly been difficult to do, so she had agreed with him. Much as he had an old fashioned idea of men and women, he was quick to argue back with her, and it was nice to spend some time with someone who was more her equal than the Doctor.

Right now, though, he was far more interested in this room and its contents than her. She knew she could get his attention easily enough if she wanted to, but the bed was comfortable, and she closed her eyes, enjoying the chance to relax. She was just drifting off when she was awoken - quite rudely too, she thought - by Harry's fingers under her arms, tickling her.

"Hey!" He just grinned, so she reached out and grabbed his hands. He pulled away, but only lightly. She scowled at that, wondering if she should rethink her opinion of him, and pulled hard.

There wasn't any where for him to go but on top of her, or at least the top half of him was half across her. He didn't move at first, just lay there practically nose to nose with her and she was suddenly aware of there being a man pressed close. He was handsome enough but she hadn't really thought of him in that way - until now. Her heart sped up and she contemplated making a move before he came to his senses and got up. Just as she lifted her head, he lowered his, and their lips met.

He smelt slightly of antiseptic, but his lips were soft and his kiss was light. It hurt her neck to hold it in that position too long, so she lowered her head back onto the bed and he followed her. When she opened her mouth, he took the hint. She hadn't done anything like this for a while and she'd forgotten how good it was to be this close to another person, not caring about anything except for her pleasure and his.

She curled her fingers around his more tightly, trying to tell him without words to keep doing this and not to stop. But he let go of her hands and shifted slightly, to take some of his weight off her, which although was considerate of him, what she really wanted was more of him touching more of her. A small noise escaped her as the angle of his lips on her shifted. She put her arms around him, pressing one hand to the back of his neck. Beneath her fingers his muscles were taut as they held his head in the same position.

When he broke off, she expected him to get up and apologise, which irritated her because she couldn't think of a good reason to stop. It turned out he had found one, though, because he moved his mouth to her neck, working his way down, and she certainly couldn't complain about his wet lips moving softly across her skin. Her opinion of him improved no end at his talent.

One of his hands was under her dress, moving slowly up her leg, leaving her in no doubt about his intentions. She marvelled at the way he could touch so much of her at one time, but it still not be enough. Annoyed at the amount of him that was covered up, she managed to half-manoeuvre his blazer off, but she was too forceful, he was in too much of a precarious position, and she managed to push him off the bed.

He landed with an "omph!".

She winced and leaned over the edge to look down at him. "I'm sorry, are you okay?"

"Nothing broken," he said, sitting up.

"We can soon check that." She stood up. "Lie down. I did some first aid."

"I'm fine, really." He sat on the bed, though.

She pouted. "You doubt my abilities?" She pushed his shoulders and found he was surprisingly pliant as he lay back obediently.

"Of course, not." His words were muffled slightly by her mouth on his, as she confirmed that kissing him a second time was not just as good as the first, it was better, because now she could do exactly what she wanted. After satisfying herself she had explored his mouth thoroughly she put her tongue back in her own mouth reluctantly.

However, he nibbled on her lower lip before she could pull away, and she nearly forgot what she had intended to do in the first place. She was quite tempted just to get his clothes off as fast as possible and skip everything else, but they were in a timeship that seemed to take as long to get to the moon as any rocket, so there was no need to rush. There was plenty more of him she wanted to see and touch and taste.

Eventually, she forced herself to stop, so she could put herself in a better position. After climbing back on the bed, she sat down and patted carefully down his arms. At least she started that way. Now his blazer was off she could feel his muscles tense through his shirt and she didn't quite go straight down. Once she reached his hands she ran the ends of her fingers lightly across his palms and he took hold of them.

"No broken bones there," she said in confirmation of her findings, not that she'd been entirely concentrating on that.

"If I had a broken pelvis it would be worse now from you sitting on it."

She wriggled slightly, smiling when he gasped and proved she was having as much of an effect on him as he was having on her. "This bed's too small, there's nowhere else to sit." Although neither of them was exactly complaining about her position. She turned round to repeat the procedure with his legs, ending by taking off his shoes and socks. "You don't need these." She got her revenge by running her fingers lightly across the soles of his feet, smiling when he curled his toes.

She ran a hand inside one trouser leg, feeling the contrast between skin and hair that she hadn't been able to make out through the thick material. He drew his leg up, which she thought at first meant he didn't want her to continue, but then she realised what part of her his thigh was pressed against. She leaned forward, with one hand on his knee to improve the angle. In contrast to her earlier consideration, she wanted it to last, so she turned round reluctantly.

When she looked down at him again, she found him gazing at her intently. She blushed, ducked her head and focused on undoing his shirt with one hand and running the other down the skin she was exposing. He had goosebumps where she touched and she bent over to follow the same path with her lips and taste him. It had been warm in here to begin with and he had been wearing warmer clothes than she. Her saliva mingled with his sweat. He tensed under her when she dipped her tongue in his belly button. Tempting as it was to go lower, she sat back up and ran her fingers down each side of his chest. "I think your ribs are all there."

"You think?"

She smiled and brushed against his nipples, watching for his reaction. "I'm not sure how many you're supposed to have in the first place."

He laughed. "Change places and I'll show you."

He bumped against her as they both stood and he pulled her closer for a kiss. She'd put her hands out automatically to steady herself, so now they were trapped between them. Since they were now against his chest again, she wasn't complaining. His heart beat just as hard and fast as hers, and given what else she could feel, it wasn't the only part of him that was hard either. She leaned a little closer and he moaned into her mouth. Until her dress fell away from her back, she hadn't realised he had been undoing it - she'd been too distracted.

She stepped away from him so he could help her take her dress off. Lying back on the bed, she hid a smile behind one hand as he folded her dress and laid it out carefully on the next bed. She'd just thrown his clothes on the floor - it looked clean enough, although she hadn't really studied it.

She had been about to make a crack about him making a good housewife when he joined her on the bed and she decided not to put him off. As his fingers touched the skin on her sides she shivered, and he counted as he moved them down, over each rib. "This one," he ran his hands along the bottom pair, "isn't attached to the breastbone." His hands met in the middle, and he ran them up her breastbone to demonstrate, not that she was really concentrating on his impromptu anatomy lesson. As he brushed against her breasts, she hoped he would be a typical man and not ignore them for too long.

At the top, his hands carried on moving to run along the top of her breasts, his fingers beneath the edge of her bra. She groaned as it was nearly what she wanted, but not quite. Not wanting to wait for him, she took the initiative and wriggled enough to get her hands behind her back and undo her bra, which he happily pulled off her.

"You're beautiful," he said, looking down at her.

She smiled at him in response, and put a hand on the back of his neck to pull him down to kiss him again. She ran her hand through his hair, thinking she could never get tired of this, but let him go when he moved his head away, trusting him to find a better use for his mouth.

She was right because he moved to her breasts with his lips and tongue. His hand on the other brushed against it lightly and she told him where the best place for it was by moaning. Not that she could have stopped herself from making a noise if she'd tried. When his hand and mouth swapped, he made her moan much more quickly. He followed it closely with a tug on her nipple between his lips and she arched off the bed.

As much as she was enjoying it, and would be quite happy if he didn't stop what he was doing for the foreseeable future, she desperately wanted to touch him again. She managed to get her hands on his trousers to unzip them and, as she pushed them down, he wriggled out of them. The feeling of his body against hers reminded her that as good as this was, there were far more pleasurable things to do that she really didn't think she could put off too much longer. So she didn't mind too much when he broke off what he was doing to start on her stockings.

There was only so far that either of them could get, though, so when Harry stood and took off his remaining clothes, she sat up and did the same. She waited until he came closer before she said, "That looks painful," and reached out a hand to brush along his cock. As she did, he moaned and stepped forward so that she pressed harder.

"Perhaps I should kiss it better," she said, manoeuvring round him to jump down. His eyes followed her as she knelt down.

"I don't think that will work," he said, his voice husky - more so than hers.

She grinned and kissed along his cock anyway, feeling it twitch under her mouth and hearing the harsh pants he made as she did it.

His fingers twisted in her hair, and he still held a lock of it as she pulled away and said, "You're right, that does seem to have made it worse. What do you suggest, doctor?" Her voice sounding as innocent as possible.

He bent down to his trousers and pulled a condom out of his wallet. Then he put his hands round her waist and picked her up as if she weighed nothing, setting her down on the bed. She lay back, although she'd prefer being on top, he'd made her feel aroused enough that she didn't really care any more as long as he was inside her sometime soon.

She expected him to go straight to it, after he'd put the condom on, but he didn't. She had willingly parted her legs but he just ran a hand up the inside of her thigh, following it with his mouth.

"Harry," she groaned, "don't tease."

"What, you mean like this?" And he put a finger inside her.

She gasped, not expecting it. She raised herself up with one elbow on the bed and reached for him, but he caught her hand. He grinned as she sighed at him, but then he replaced his finger with his cock, which made both of them moan.

"Better?" she asked, although her voice cracked as she said it.

"Oh, yes." His voice had got distinctly hoarse now.

She reached up to put her hands on the side of his head to pull his mouth down to hers as she lay back down. His tongue moved in her mouth as slowly as his thrusts and she hated not being in charge, but the bed wasn't big enough to roll them over. Instead, she raised her hips to not quite meet his thrusts, forcing him to speed up a little.

He moved his mouth to her ear, but while she liked the gentle feeling of his breath on it, his lips did nothing for her, so she angled her head and he got the message. Which was just as well because she didn't think she was capable of speech any more. He shifted his mouth easily to her neck, where she had exposed it, and she ran her fingernails down his spine. He arched into her touch and she scratched a little harder in response.

His hand moved down her side, brushing lightly across her breast and causing her to moan. She thought that might encourage him to stop there, but he carried on and pressed his palm against her hipbone, just as her hand reached the bottom of his back. She rolled her hip into his touch and pushed him deeper inside her at the same time. His hard thrust hit just the right spot and she screamed.

He gave her a slightly odd look, but sped up his thrusts, making them harder and aiming for the same angle. His lips worked their way down to her breast, and when he took a nipple in his mouth it was all too much and she came, with him following straight after. She briefly wondered if he had held off for her benefit.

He nearly collapsed on top of her before pushing himself back up. "Sorry."

She shook her head, not quite trusting herself to speak, and her throat felt dry.

The Doctor's voice intruded on the moment, calling their names. He sounded far too close for her liking.

Harry was up immediately and jumped down to start pulling on his clothes. Sarah followed him, bending down to pick up the ones that had ended up on the floor. He didn't quite look her in the eye once they were dressed. She didn't want there to be tension between either of them, and neither did she want this just to be a sordid one-off - it had been too good for that, for a start. So she grabbed one arm to turn him toward her, and kissed him, hard. He smiled at her when she pulled back, and returned the kiss, lightly this time.

"Ah, there you are!" The Doctor stuck his head round the door, fortunately they jumped away from each other just before he could see what they were doing. Although Sarah was fairly sure he wouldn't understand what had been going on anyway.

"Well, what are you waiting for, we've landed!" He didn't wait for an answer, just turned round and walked back out.

"Nothing, Doctor," Sarah said, and ran after him, Harry behind her.

It helped that Mike's sister just happened to have a cottage in Scotland, which she willingly loaned them. Of course, once they had somewhere to go, that was when all the problems surfaced.

Harry had to be prised away from work with bribes and threats - mostly threats; Josh was not happy about spending time in the middle of nowhere (even though it was not that far away from the city); and Nat worried whether she really wanted to go on holiday with Mike, especially since the cottage only had four bedrooms.

Once all that was finally sorted out, somewhere along the line had been the decision to drive up. They went in Mike's car, since he was the only person who had one that would fit all of them and their luggage. Except that he got a bit precious about it and had to be forcibly removed from the driving seat when they stopped at the services.

They failed to find the cottage on the first attempt, and since they had very nearly all fallen out with each other before they even reached that point, it should have been an indication that it was not all going to be as rosy as it could have been.

Eventually, though, some pizza and wine revived their flagging spirits and they drifted off to bed early. Except Sarah, who had slept on the way up, and Harry, who was not doing very well at hiding his yawns.

"Why don't you go to bed?" she asked him. "Perhaps an early night would do you good, after you've been working so hard."

He shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You're not afraid of having nightmares, are you?"

"Of course not." Given the way he did not quite look at her, she suspected she was right.

She sighed. "That can't be normal. You are doing something about them, aren't you?"

"I don't need you to mother me," he said, harshly.

She bit her lip. She knew it was a touchy subject but she could not just leave it alone. She did not want to start the weekend on a bad note, though, so she stood and made for the door.

Harry called her back as she was reaching for the knob. "I'm sorry. I didn't come here to argue with you."

She turned back to face him. He was at least looking at her now. "Neither did I." She hesitated, thought about saying more but decided against it. "Good night, Harry." They had all weekend to discuss it, after all.

~*~*~*~

Sarah ended up having a disrupted night's sleep. Having Harry so close by only made her worry about him even more. Eventually, once she decided it was not too early, she got up. When she reached the kitchen she found Nat and Mike were already there, sitting at the table, eating breakfast and arguing, albeit quietly.

"They're my friends," Nat said. "I trust them."

Mike leaned back on his chair, waving his hands for emphasis. "But you don't really know them. For all you know they could be paedophiles."

"I think I'm old enough that's not much of a threat."

Sarah hovered in the doorway, trying to decide whether to intervene or leave them to it when Mike spotted her and waved her in.

"Come in here and tell Nat how stupid she's being."

Sarah smiled, not quite wanting to say anything, and went over to lean against the counter where she could see both of them.

Nat sighed. "I arranged to meet some friends of mine in Inverness today, as it's not very far away."

"Okay." Sarah frowned. "So why is that a problem?"

"Because she's only talked to them on the internet, she's never met them before."

Sarah bit her lip. She had to admit, he had a point.

When she said nothing, Mike carried on, "And I've heard stories. Of people who went out to meet people they've met on the internet and not come back. I've investigated some of them, I know what they can be like."

Nat leaned forward. "I'm not that naïve!"

Sarah closed her eyes, took a deep breath and went for a placatory tone. "Mike, I can see you're concerned for Nat, and that's sweet. So why don't you go with her?" She ignored the small shake of her head Nat gave at that.

"I don't know," Mike said, slowly.

"They're just Nat's friends, they don't bite."

Mike still did not look convinced, though. She saw Josh nearly come in, before changing his mind and turning round. Her next words stopped him in his tracks. "Why don't you take Josh with you? That way, once you're sure Nat's friends aren't axe murderers the two of you can keep each other company."

Josh came back, stood in the doorway and frowned at Sarah, before Nat and Mike turned to look at him, and he smiled at them. "What are you volunteering me for?"

"Going to Inverness to make sure Nat's friends aren't going to kill her. It's a city, you'll like it." She hoped.

"Is there a pub?"

"It's Scotland, of course there's a pub," Mike answered. Silly question, really.

"And a bus," Nat added. "Which is just as well."

"Great." Sarah smiled. "So that's sorted then."

There were unenthusiastic grunts from all concerned but it was too late for any of them to back out now.

Sarah put the kettle on and took the opportunity to grab a quick whispered conversation with Nat while Mike took his empty plate over to the sink. "What's wrong?" she asked, leaning over so they could not be heard. "He's just being protective. At least he cares."

"I know. I just need to get used to it, that's all." She picked up her knife and toyed with it before looking up at Sarah. "I think I preferred Luca."

Sarah winced.

"Yeah," Nat said.

Sarah went back to the kettle and was just pouring herself out some tea when Harry interrupted.

"Is there enough for another cup?"

She looked round, not having heard him come in. He looked terrible and she wondered if he had slept at all. She did not want to get into another argument, though, so she said nothing and reached into the cupboard above her for another mug.

"Do you have any plans for today, Sarah?" Mike asked, as he started on the previous night's washing up.

She poured a mug of tea out and handed it to Harry. "Harry and I are going in search of the Loch Ness Monster."

Mike gave a short laugh but did not pause in the washing up. "You're not telling me you believe in the fairy stories."

Sarah looked over at Nat, who raised her eyebrows. Sarah gave her a small smile. She was not quite sure what to say to Mike, though. She hated the idea that he thought her someone likely to believe in flights of fancy - she'd had enough of that with the articles she had written when she was travelling with the Doctor.

Fortunately Harry came to her defense. "There happens to be very strong evidence to support its existence."

"Like the evidence of our own eyes," Sarah said.

"You didn't seriously see it."

Josh was on her side too. "If Sarah says it exists, then it exists."

Okay, fine," Mike said.

There was an uncomfortable pause after that, while Sarah half-wished she could have had that conversation with him on her own. She drank her tea to cover up her discomfort.

Once the washing up was done, Mike left. "I'm going for a shower, seeing as it's free."

Nat very deliberately did not look at any of them, before finishing her breakfast and following him.

Sarah sighed. She had not meant for them to gang up on Mike, just because he did not know the truth. The trouble was she had got used to being able to talk to Josh and Nat about this sort of thing, and it had been nice to say what she really meant around them, so she had not thought through her reply before she said it. Mike seemed so sceptical about the whole thing that she did not want to tell him the truth, even if she had trusted him enough to.

~*~*~

Sarah was glad by the time they were all out of the house and it was just she and Harry on their way to the Loch. She immediately felt guilty about it, but only for a moment as she resolved to enjoy herself. The morning's argument would probably be forgotten by the evening anyway.

It was a nice summer's day with blue sky and sunshine. The scenery was more spectacular than she remembered, although that could be because she was seeing it from a different place. The only trouble was that because of the weather, and it being a bank holiday weekend, the area around the Loch was packed with tourists.

"It's a pity we don't have that signalling device," she said, "save ourselves a lot of trouble."

Harry grinned at her. "Might scare the tourists a little."

She shrugged. "Shake them up a bit."

"And what would we do for the rest of the day?"

There was a pause and then Sarah laughed. "Why don't we go on a boat trip?" she said, when she had recovered. "They promise a history of Nessie, beautiful views and a possible sighting."

"Well, one of the three is right."

She quickened her step. "Come on, it'll be fun."

"Hmm," Harry said, but followed her anyway.

They kept away from most of the tourists by going to the back of the boat where the view was unlikely to be so good. Not that it mattered after it filled up anyway. Then the trouble started, namely the conversation between the couple in front of them. The woman was, naïvely in Sarah's opinion, expressing her hopes of seeing the infamous Loch Ness monster. The man, who might have been her husband had Sarah made assumptions like that, read from a leaflet and told her of the sightings there had been so far. It was when he tried to tell her how Nessie was really a plesiosaur that she had to put her had over her mouth to keep from laughing.

"They don't know any better," Harry said, leaning over and lowering his voice.

Sarah took her hand away and pitched her voice to match his. "I know but he sounds so sure."

"Why did I agree to come with you, again?"

"Because it'll be fun. And you never know, we might see the Skarasen again."

All Harry said was "hmm" but then the boat moved, so they were distracted by listening to the tour guide. It was interesting to hear the history of the legend of the Loch Ness Monster and Sarah wondered where it had all come from. It would be interesting to know how much had been created purely to explain the aliens living there. Since that was not something she could easily find out, Sarah busied herself with admiring the scenery, which was just as pretty as promised.

She could not resist, though, when the guide asked if there were any questions. "What about the rumours that the Loch Ness Monster was seen in the Thames in the 80s?"

Harry groaned but Sarah genuinely wanted to hear the answer.

The guide smiled patronisingly at her and Sarah immediately took offence. "That is, I believe, just a rumour." He looked up to take in the rest of his audience and Sarah scowled at him. "The only confirmed sightings of Nessie have been in this Loch, and the Thames sighting was confirmed to be a hoax, I forget now what the real explanation was."

"But--" Sarah got no further because Harry clamped his hand over her mouth. She looked daggers at him but that did not deter him.

He only removed it when everyone else was busy listening to the next question and answer. "Play nice."

She turned to him. "I just don't understand how all these people can ignore the evidence that's in front of them. How many times has the whole world had aliens revealed to them and they still don't believe it?"

"That's what you did before you met the Doctor."

"All right, fine." She threw her hands up. "You win."

She looked away from Harry at the water and fumed in silence for a few minutes until the boat returned to their starting point. He touched her arm gingerly. When she stood, she smiled at him. She could not really stay angry at him for that. Besides, it was not really him she was upset with, it was the world in general, and that was not something anyone could fix in an afternoon.

When they were back on the shore they went for lunch in an overpriced café and spoke of trivialities. Afterwards they found themselves a hill with a good view and sat down - Sarah on Harry's jacket. She had rolled her eyes but he just ignored her and sat next to it, so she really had no choice. They admired the view and took in the unpolluted air for a little while until she decided this was as good a time as any to broach the subject they had only briefly touched on the previous night.

"Harry, don't get mad, but what happened to you while you were missing?"

At her words he turned his gaze back to the lake and the hills beyond, and said nothing.

"Were you tortured?" she asked hesitantly, unsure of whether she wanted to know the answer, assuming he gave her one.

He shook his head. "No. Not really."

Which probably meant yes but she did not really want to press the point. She had been hoping that with enough time he would be able to talk to her about it and she was just thinking that was obviously not the case when he spoke again.

"They didn't... they didn't really need to tie me up any more, when you found me. I would have stayed anyway."

"Oh god, Harry." There was not really anything she could say to that. "But you came with me."

"Because it was you."

She reached out one arm to take his hand. He curled his fingers round hers and she squeezed a little.

"I don't know if I can trust my judgment on anything else."

She bit her lip and looked away. He was the only one who could answer that. She almost did not need to know what had happened to him, her imagination was supplying a good image right now.

After a pause he dropped her hand and turned to face her again. "I have been trying to get you into NATO."

"You have?" His change of subject surprised her.

"I think there's something you can help with. But they don't trust you."

She gave a short laugh. She knew exactly why. If he had just told her where he was going at the time then she would not have had to resort to such drastic measures when he went missing. Her motivations at the time were not something she wanted to discuss with Harry so she looked around her, searching for a change of subject, for something more pleasant to talk about and found her inspiration in the sky. "That cloud," she said, pointing, "looks just like the TARDIS."

He put a hand up to shade his eyes and frowned. "What, where?"

She moved closer to him and pointed again. "Up there. It's sort of square and it even has the light on the top."

"It's not even slightly square."

"Yes, it is. Well, maybe if you squint." It did not help that it was changing shape already in the slight wind.

He looked back at her. "Sarah Jane Smith, there must be something wrong with your eyesight." He stared into her eyes, until she giggled and turned away, blinking watery eyes.

He lay back, head on his arms, and said, "There's one above us shaped like a Dalek."

She looked up at the sky and even though she tilted her head in a couple of different directions, could not see it at all. "Now there's something wrong with your eyesight."

"Maybe you're not looking at the right angle."

She shifted herself over so her head was on his chest, tucked under his chin and tried to follow his eye line. Then she saw it, a oblong sort of shape with a long thin bit sticking out. "Oh, and that's a dog he's shooting at."

She felt rather than heard him laugh and they spent a merry few minutes picking out shapes.

"It's so peaceful out here," Sarah said eventually, after they had been quiet for a while. "It's so easy to relax and forget the real world doesn't exist."

When he said nothing she lifted her head to look round and discovered he had fallen asleep. She did not like to wake him, so instead she followed his lead, using him as a pillow.

By the time they both woke up it was getting chilly and they walked back to the cottage, arm in arm.

They were first back, and when Nat, Josh and Mike arrived, Sarah and Harry had opened the wine and were working their way through the newspaper Sarah had bought earlier, the sections of which were on the sofa between them.

"Good time?" Sarah said, leaning her head back so she could see them.

"Yes," Nat said, "apart from having to come home with these two pissed."

Sarah winced. It was not quite dark yet.

"I'm not drunk," Mike said, flopping down in an armchair and managing to manoeuvre Nat out of her wheelchair and onto his lap.

"Mike," Nat admonished, as everyone, including herself, laughed.

"I'll get some more glasses," Harry said, getting up.

"If you think that's wise," Sarah said, but he did not reply.

Josh picked through the rest of the paper and settled in the other armchair with it. Sarah took the opportunity to stretch out on the sofa. She could not relax, though, until Harry came back with some water. She had been starting to worry about how much he had changed while he was away. She accepted some for herself as well, because she knew it would placate him.

Once he had done he gave her a look. She just smiled back at first, but eventually acquiesced and moved her feet enough for him to sit back down. After that, though, she put them in his lap instead and grinned at him, daring him to move them. He sighed but rubbed them anyway, much to her content. She lay back with her eyes closed as Nat told them about the friends she had met, and Harry told scandalous tales of Sarah's behaviour on the boat.

She was nearly asleep from a combination of fresh air and a good foot massage when she jerked up suddenly at a crash from the kitchen. A glance round the room told her who was missing.

"Josh, are you okay?" she called but there was no response. She looked over at Nat, who was not in a position to be going anywhere. So Sarah headed to the kitchen to find Josh passed out on the floor, a broken glass next to him, but otherwise he looked unharmed.

Harry had not been far behind her and she moved to one side to let him get a closer look. "Just passed out drunk, it looks like," he said. "I don't think he hurt himself."

Sarah bit her lip.

"We'll take him to bed," Mike said from the doorway where Nat, now back in her wheelchair, hovered behind him anxiously.

Sarah and Nat returned to the lounge as Harry and Mike between them took Josh upstairs. Sarah sat back on the sofa, hugging her knees to her chest. "I don't think I've ever seen Josh get that drunk."

Nat's expression was just as serious. "I thought Mike was looking after him but policemen do tend to drink quite a bit."

Sarah shook her head. Keeping up with Mike could not be the only reason. Josh certainly had not shown any signs that she had noticed of wanting to compete with him. "People don't generally get that drunk without a good reason, but Josh is fine as far as I know. He hasn't said anything to you?"

Nat shook her head. "No. There have been some times when he's been a bit, I don't know, different. But I didn't think anything of it."

Sarah sighed. She had thought the same thing.

Nat continued, "Do you think it's his father's death? He seemed to take it too well at the time, I thought."

"It could be almost anything. Josh isn't the easiest person to get anything out of." She rubbed at a grass stain on her jeans. "It could equally be guilt from all those people he killed. Maybe having Mike and Harry around remind him of Luca and Will and he regrets what he did."

Nat's eyes went wide and she shook her head.

Sarah frowned. "What?"

Nat jerked her head towards the door. Sarah uncurled and twisted round to see Mike and Harry standing there, listening. The expression on Harry's face was blank which was not a good sign. She swore under her breath.

"I think it's time for bed," Nat said.

Sarah nodded and waited for her and Mike to leave. She then knelt up on the sofa to peer over the back of it at Harry, who came in the room and shut the door but made no move to sit down.

"What have you not told me?" His voice was equally expressionless.

"Harry..."

He folded his arms and stared down at her.

She had meant to tell him the truth, but when he was better and when the time was right. The trouble was that the longer she put it off, the harder it was. "Will was mixed up with a group called the Crimson Chapter. They believed I was the herald of an alien invasion. Aliens who were going to wipe us out."

This was not showing Will in a good light and she hated to do that to Harry. But all she had was the truth, so she had to tell him that. "There was another group, the White Chapter, they believed the aliens were benign, that they would help us. The Crimson Chapter wanted to kill me to stop the aliens coming, the White Chapter were protecting me for the same reason. Josh was a member of the White Chapter, I didn't know until after Will was dead."

She stopped to take a breath and give Harry a chance to say something, but he showed no signs of moving a muscle. "Will was sent to kill me. I know he never would, he had the chances but he was my friend. Josh said he killed him in self defence, that Will was going to kill him." She shook her head. "I don't know what really happened." She never would either - she was not going to call Josh a liar now by asking him again.

"And Josh is still your friend."

She ran a hand over her face. "It's complicated, Harry."

"Obviously."

"I meant what I said before, when I told you about him. Will was trying to save lives at the time. We all were. If it wasn't for him the Crimson Chapter might have wiped out half the population." She looked up at Harry, looking for a reaction but he looked steadily back at her.

After a while he said, "I'm going to bed."

"Harry," she called after him.

He paused in opening the door but did not look back at her.

"I'm sorry."

He closed the door again after him, never saying anything or looking at her. Sarah buried her face in her hands and put off going to bed, since she was clearly not going to sleep.

~*~*~*~

The next morning Sarah felt terrible after a night of tossing and turning, but she hoped Harry would be speaking to her at least. By the time she made it downstairs he was already dressed and looked as bad as she felt.

"Harry," she begun, although she was not sure quite where to go from there.

"I have to go," he said. "Work called. I have to go back."

Sarah bit her lip. He was obviously doing it just to avoid her. She could not quite believe she had spoiled their holiday this way. "You don't have to lie for my benefit."

Harry scowled at her. "I'm not lying. You can check if you like." He thrust his mobile phone at her.

She did not take it at first, but he gave her no choice other than to look at the recent calls list. Sure enough there was one there labelled 'Work' who had called only half an hour ago. She handed it back to him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean--"

He cut her off. "No, you never do."

She raised her voice, though stopping short of shouting. "Damn you, Harry Sullivan. I don't need you anyway."

He said nothing but slammed the front door after him. She stared after him in frustration, sorely tempted to rush after him and ask him to explain himself.

Nat came around the corner, yawning. "What was all that about?"

Sarah turned and brushed past her. "Nothing." She went upstairs to get dressed.

She did not rush and by the time she came back downstairs she was feeling more calm at least.

"There's some toast if you want it," Mike said, on his way out of the kitchen.

"Thanks." She applied herself to buttering it and asked Nat, amiably as if nothing had happened, "Do you have any plans for today?"

Nat gave her an odd look, but said, "I think Mike and I should probably spend some time together."

"Are you guys," she waved a hand, "you know?" Nat did not seem too thrilled with Mike at times, although that could have just been because she needed someone to vent at and that person was usually Sarah.

"I don't know." Nat twisted her half-empty glass round in her hands. "I have a whole load of things I want to talk about. I just need to get him away from a pub."

Sarah grinned. "The lake is very picturesque."

"If we go, are you okay to stay and look after Josh?"

"Yeah. I wasn't really planning on doing anything anyway."

There was silence after that, as they finished their breakfast. Sarah spent most of the time looking at her toast, but she could still feel Nat's eyes on her. She was not going to answer the question Nat was not going to ask. Eventually, Nat sighed and left. Sarah went to take some water up to Josh.

She knocked on his door lightly, not expecting an answer, and opened it a crack to peer in. "Josh?" she asked, softly.

There was a grunt in answer, so she put the glass down on the bedside table along with some paracetamol. "Harry's gone and Nat and Mike are going out," she said. "Drink this and come down when you're feeling better."

She got another grunt in answer, so left him to sleep it off.

Downstairs, once Nat and Mike left, she settled herself down for a quiet morning with her book. It was almost strange that there was no television in the cottage, but a radio had pride of place instead. Although she opened her book and took the bookmark out, she did not get much further than a few paragraphs before she found herself replaying her conversation with Harry the night before, trying to work out how it could have gone better. Eventually she gave up and applied herself to something more useful - namely trying to work out how to repair their friendship.

She was surprised when Josh came in and sat down because she had been lost in her own thoughts and had not heard him coming downstairs.

"Josh." She smiled at him and rested her book in her lap. "Feeling better?"

He closed his eyes and rested his head against the back of the chair. "I could murder a fry-up."

"Well, I might be persuaded to see what we have, if you tell me what happened last night."

He sighed.

"That wasn't the first time you've got that drunk is it? I know there have been other occasions when Nat or I have tried to get hold of you and can't."

He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I didn't think you knew."

"I..." she was going to say that she did not know - not until last night - but it was possibly not a good idea to tell him that.

"It helps me forget."

She waited to see if he was going to continue but when he did not she asked, "What is it you want to forget, Josh?"

"Do you have anything in your life you regret?"

She frowned but answered anyway. "Yes." And that did not even include last night. "Do you?"

"I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours."

She rolled her eyes but at his serious expression said, "Okay. You first." She hoped this was leading towards answering her question.

"I wish I'd spent more time with dad. And then I wouldn't feel..." He rested his chin on his hand and looked out of the window.

"It wouldn't help, believe me." This was something she'd had plenty of experience of.

He said nothing.

"When was the last time you visited your mum? Maybe you should go and see her, she'll love the chance to look after you for a bit and talk about your father with you."

"She wouldn't, she hates him."

"Death makes people all nostalgic, she probably remembers the good times better now."

"Maybe." He looked back at her. "So what's your regret?"

"If I had to pick one..." She took a deep breath. "After the Doctor left I thought he was coming back. So I didn't let myself get settled, be too close to anyone, have the career I'd wanted before I met him." She picked at the top of her bookmark. "I wish I'd lived my life back then, instead of only really starting now."

They were quiet for a minute, then he said, "So what about breakfast?"

Sarah shook her head but followed him into the kitchen anyway, and delved into the cupboards to see what she could fry for Josh's breakfast and her lunch.

"Where is everyone today?" Josh asked, sitting down to watch her cook.

With everything assembled, she decided to just throw it all in the frying pan. "Nat and Mike have gone out, down to the lake, I think. We can go out there later, if you like, a bit of fresh air will probably do you good. Harry got called into work, so he's gone home."

Josh nodded. "What is the deal between you two?"

"We're just friends, I told you." She jumped back as the pan threatened to spit hot oil on her.

"You don't seem like just friends."

Sarah poked the food, then decided it was best to let it fry for a bit and sat down opposite Josh. "Harry was the only person I knew who had been through the same things I had with the Doctor. For a long time there was not one else I could talk to about it. I think that made us close."

"So you don't fancy him then?"

She laughed. "No. He's like my big brother. Besides, the two of us would never work, we're too different."

He frowned. "How can you be so sure?"

"We tried once." She went back to the pan to stir everything up. "We had a big row and I slammed a door on him."

"And you're still friends?"

"We'd been drifting apart before then. I think the only reason he didn't break up with me was that I was a girl and he couldn't let himself do that." Which, at the time, had only made her more determined not to do it, until she realised she was not doing herself any favours.

She turned back to Josh to see him smile. Reaching up to a cupboard she retrieved two plates and dished the contents of the frying pan onto them.

As they ate they exchanged stories of what they had done the previous day, Josh having little memory of the same conversation the night before. By the time she had finished he was keen to see the scenery Sarah described. They headed towards it at a leisurely pace, taking plenty of time to enjoy the view.

"It's nice," Josh said, "but I wouldn't want to live here."

Sarah grinned and shook her head, but said, "I know what you mean. It's nice and relaxing but the lack of...anything would drive me mad after a week."

"I'm not sure I would even last a week."

She laughed. "You're definitely a city boy."

It ended up being a relaxing day in which Sarah did very little, which was just what she needed. She debated telling Josh that Harry knew that he had killed Will, but in the end she decided against it and instead convinced Josh to go to Switzerland to spend some time with his mother. Hopefully that would give Harry enough time to get over it and with luck, he and Josh would still end up friends afterwards. It would all get a bit tense, if not.

Josh went to bed early, so Sarah was actually reading this time when Nat and Mike came in.

"How's Josh?" Nat asked, before Sarah could say anything.

"Better. He's still grieving for his father. But I've told him to see his parents, hopefully a bit of time away from it all will be just what he needs."

Nat nodded. "I wish we'd realised sooner."

"So do I. But there's nothing we could have done if he hadn't let us."

Nat sighed. "I suppose."

"But tell me, how did your day go?"

"Oh, really well." She gave a big grin.

"Good, I'm glad to hear it."

"I'm going for a bath."

Sarah raised her eyebrows. "Um, okay."

Sarah could not help smiling as in the doorway, Nat met Mike coming into the lounge, and they exchanged long, smiling glances. As long as Nat was happy, though, Sarah did not care.

Mike flopped onto the armchair with a sigh.

"Good day?" Sarah asked.

"Yes." He sat up. "You don't need to give me the 'if you hurt her speech', Josh already did that. Twice."

She put her bookmark back in the book and put it on the coffee table. "So it's going well then."

"Yes." He drummed his fingers on one leg. "I think so."

"You think?"

"Well, I offered to move in and she said she wasn't ready." He stilled his hand.

"Give her time." Sarah could certainly see her point. "Has she told you about Luca?"

"Yes. And I understand, I really do. I just didn't realise how much her not being able to get up to my flat was getting her down."

Sarah shook her head. "She doesn't usually let these things affect her. But I think it was that you were working long hours and she didn't get to see you much."

"I have to admit, it would be nice to get home and have her there, rather than having to make the journey to hers. And sometimes I'm only there long enough to sleep before I have to go back."

Sarah nodded.

"Of course, it would probably be different if she was still working."

She blinked "...what?"

He did not seem to be paying any attention to her and carried on regardless. "Mind you, she always said she hated working for Planet 3 anyway."

She shook her head. "Mike, what are you talking about?"

He frowned. "Wait, you don't know any of this?"

"No."

"Sorry." He winced. "I thought she would have told you."

"So, what is it I don't know? Did she resign, or what?"

"No, they fired her. They had to, she was on a criminal charge for hacking. No-one could trust her anymore."

She gasped. "A criminal charge?" Sarah frowned before she realised. "Shit. NATO."

"Yes." He leaned forward on the chair. "You knew about that?"

"I asked her to do it!"

"She never mentioned your name." He lowered his voice a little. "You won't tell her I told you, will you?"

"No," she said, although she was not really thinking about that. She leaned back and addressed her comments to no-one in particular. "I've been a terrible friend. They caught her and she never told me. Josh was hurting and I never knew. And I'm afraid Harry's got PTSD or something and we won't let me help him. And I was trying, damnit!" She brought her fist down on her leg.

"Sarah," Mike began, but she would not be placated.

"No. You don't know what it's been like and now..."

He put one hand on her knee. "She doesn't think any less of you, I know that. You're her best friends, you and Josh."

"It's all falling apart." She shook her head. "I can save the world but I can't save my own friends."

He frowned. "I'm sorry, you've lost me."

"Go to Nat. I'm going to bed."

The effect of her stalking out was somewhat lessened when she came back in a minute later to retrieve her book.

~*~*~*~

The journey home might have been something of a strained affair except that two sleepless nights took their toll on Sarah and she slept most of the way home. Once there she reminded Josh to see his mother, thanked Mike for letting her sleep, rather than drive much and said nothing to Nat about what she knew. She still had not worked out what to do with her new knowledge about Nat.

She only stopped off at her house long enough to check everything was still there and dump her stuff. Then she headed to the cemetery via the florist. Once there she laid the flowers on Will's grave and stepped back to look at it.

"I'm so sorry, Will. I should have worked it out sooner, I should have done something to stop this." She smiled grimly. It was too late for apologies now.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see a figure sitting on a bench. She lingered for a few minutes more before heading towards it and sitting down.

They sat side-by-side in silence before Sarah worked out what to say. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what really happened to Will. I wanted to wait until you were better but that never seemed to happen. I want to help you but you won't let me and... Well, I'm sorry for not believing you."

Harry said nothing but after a minute he pulled something credit card sized out of his pocket and passed it to her. She took it but frowned at him.

He was looking at something in the distance, but even so he must have seen her expression because he said, "It's a pass. It'll get you into NATO."

She smiled. "Really? You did that for me?" She really did not deserve the friends she had.

"There's something you need to see. I think you can help us. I'll pick you up at 8.30 tomorrow morning."

"Where are we going?"

He shook his head. "I can't tell you that. Not yet. But it's about the mission I was on when I was captured."

She nodded. She would have to accept that for now and hope for more answers tomorrow.

"I have to go now," he said, standing. "I'll see you tomorrow."

She stood too. "Harry..." But she did not quite know what to say.

He kissed her on the cheek before walking off and she took that as her answer.

Harry kissed her on the cheek in greeting. "Don't worry, I have a contingency plan."

She raised her eyebrows but he refused to elaborate.

They were doing this properly this time, so they had dinner first. The rest of the evening was spent with Harry teaching Luke various card games, all of which he turned out to be rather good at, beginner's luck notwithstanding.

After Luke had gone to bed, Sarah took the chance to quiz Harry. "So what is it?"

He did not pause in clearing up the cards. "What?"

"This great plan of yours."

He put the cards back in their box and grinned at her. "Guess."

She sighed. "The shower?"

He shook his head. "I don't think the acoustics in there will really help."

She grinned, remembering when they had tried that once and discovered it was not going to be a repeatable event, given the sensation that had caused. "Um, somewhere away from Luke's room. Outside in the garden?"

"And make your neighbours think I'm killing you?"

"Oh, yes, bad idea." And Luke would probably still be able to hear as well. "I give up, what is it?"

"This." He pulled a length of dark blue cloth from his pocket as he came over to where she sat on the sofa.

She frowned. "What is it?" On closer inspection it looked distinctly like a handkerchief.

"A gag."

She blinked, not quite believing that Harry of all people was suggesting this. "You want me to wear that?"

"Do you want sex or not?"

"Well, yes, but..." After all, how long had it been since he was last here?

"Until you can learn to be quiet, or Luke has left home, it's that or nothing."

She sighed. "When I adopted him I never thought what a dampener he would put on my sex life."

"Oh, I didn't say you won't enjoy it." He grinned at her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Harry, what do you have planned?"

He grinned, leaned forwards and kissed her slowly, which she had been wanting to do the whole evening, but she had not dare initiate anything for fear Luke would see. When they parted, she saw he had pulled another length of cloth, this time a red piece, from the other pocket, although he looked a little shy about it.

"What's that one for?"

He demonstrated by tying it round her eyes.

She let him do it, then tugged up a part of it and gave him a look with one eye.

"Trust me," he said.

She hesitated for a moment but reminded herself this was Harry and he would never do anything to hurt her. So she smiled at him. It was just that it was unusual for him to take charge like this. At least, it was unusual now that they had both discovered it went much better if he just did what she said. Well, mostly.

He stood and held out his hand. "Put your blindfold back down."

She did as he asked, put her hand in his, and let him lead her upstairs to her bedroom. Once there, he kissed her again, then stopped to put the gag on, just as she was enjoying herself. She stood there and let him, though. It felt strange, letting him take control, but not so strange she did not like it. Not being able to see, she had no way of telling what he was doing, or what he would do next, and she could not ask him either. She could take the blindfold off quite easily if she wanted but that would not be in keeping with the spirit of it.

Next thing she felt was his hands on her as he divested her of her clothes. She smiled as he fumbled a little with the buttons on her shirt, since they were star-shaped, so did not undo easily. She had worn it specially for this purpose.

"If you're not careful," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear, "I may just rip this off."

She shook her head, and he must have had his in just the wrong place because her head hit his and he said, "Ow."

She could not apologise, so instead she reached out her hands, found the front of his shirt and started undoing it. As she did so, she ran her fingers across his skin, but before she got further than a couple of buttons he danced out of her grasp. The sound she made in protest was muffled by the gag. Which at least proved it was doing its job.

When she heard him moving about, she stood still, not wanting to hit him accidentally again. Behind her now, he pulled her shirt from her shoulders and applied his mouth to her neck as he undid her jeans buttons. She tilted her head to expose more neck - at least certain that this time she was moving her head in the opposite direction to where his was.

She moaned as his lips reached her shoulder, but if he heard it, it would only be because his ear was so close to her mouth. When his hands brushed across her back to undo her bra he had to stop doing anything else to take it off her. Since her jeans were round her ankles by this point, she took the opportunity to step out of them. Unfortunately, she tripped, but Harry caught her before she could hit either the floor or something else on the way down.

She giggled through the gag and she heard him laugh too.

"Perhaps this was a bad idea," he said.

She shook her head. She could have removed the gag to tell him she wanted him to carry on, but that seemed against the spirit of the occasion. Besides, he would know what she meant because she kept it on. Which he clearly did, because he picked her up and settled her on the bed.

"Sit here," he said, and brushed his lips against her cheek. Then he took her socks off, running his hands down her legs and around her feet, before tickling the soles.

She laughed and hit him where she thought his shoulder was. She certainly connected with some part of him and he stopped. After that she could hear clothes rustling noises, so she thought she might as well take her knickers off while she waited.

"Hey, I was looking forward to that." His voice told her he was getting closer to her.

She tried to smile but the gag made that difficult. The bed dipped, then she felt the heat from him as he leaned over her. One of his legs pressed against hers, and since she only felt hair and skin she guessed he was naked as well now.

Trusting him to follow, she wriggled up the bed so she was lying fully on it, content to let him have his way with her for now. He was not far behind her, running his fingers in decreasing circles around one breast before retracing the same path with his lips. Now she was definitely glad of the gag because not being able to see meant she could more fully concentrate on the sensation. One hand found his head and ran her fingers through his hair, encouraging him as she moaned softly, glad that she did not have to temper her volume too much.

After giving the other breast equal treatment he kissed down her stomach, following with his fingers. After giving her belly button some attention he stopped suddenly and when she reached out she felt nothing. It was now that she had nothing else to concentrate on that she realised just how uncomfortable the gag was getting. She grimaced around it but her mind was soon distracted when she discovered he seemed determined to kiss every inch of skin on her legs.

Moving one leg to encourage him to get on and go further up, she found that she could use one foot to brush along whichever part of him she could reach. He stopped her, though, by holding on tight to both ankles while he carried on. Since that meant he had less of a good angle the higher he got, she stopped fighting him and his grip soon loosened.

He stopped short of where she really wanted his mouth to be, though, and she groaned. He ignored her and instead ran a hand around her hip. She was aware of how much her legs tingled, but also of how much the gag was digging into the sides of her mouth. As he moved his body back up hers, she put one leg around him and felt him hard against her.

All she could think about by now though, was the feel of the gag. Her mouth was dry and she coughed, but having an equally dry piece of cloth in there did not help and once she started coughing she could not stop. She sat up and felt Harry's fingers at the back of her head, undoing the gag.

Once it was off she immediately felt much better and gulped in great lungfuls of air as she used the other hand to tug the blindfold off and over her head. Harry sat next to her, looking concerned and holding out the glass of water that she had left on her bedside table earlier, knowing it would not be something she thought of when going to bed.

"Thanks," she said, and took a few sips to wet her mouth and throat.

"I'm sorry. I should have never had tried that."

She shook her head. "I could have taken it off any time I liked and I didn't. I was enjoying myself." It was such a good feeling to have him give her all his attention, and for her not to feel the need to compete to reciprocate. She sighed and passed him the glass back. "Has killed the mood a little, though."

He turned back to her after placing the glass back down. "Has it?"

She looked down and grinned. Obviously, it was only her mood she had killed. "I know why you became a doctor," she said, leaning forward, and pushing him back against the pillows. "You get off on ill people, don't you?" She pressed her lips to his and kissed him the way she had been wanting to all the time she'd had the gag on and could not.

He threaded one hand into her hair and continued playing with it when she pulled back, wrapping strands of it round his fingers. "That's it exactly," he said, with a grin.

She smiled back and kissed him again, this time running her hand down his chest until it reached his cock. He moaned into her mouth and moved his hand to the back of her head as she grasped it firmly. Her coughing fit had certainly had not affected him that much, as it only took a few good strokes before he came over her hand. She smiled at him as she lay back down and let him wipe her hand with a tissue, before he wiped himself.

"The trouble is," he said, "that I've let you be loud too long. Now I'll have to just teach you to be quiet."

"You wouldn't like me that way."

"Oh no?" He raised his eyebrows. "How would I know, as I've never seen it."

"And where did you learn to be so quiet?" He had barely made a sound, as usual.

He grinned at her. "You wouldn't want to know."

"Oh, but I do."

"You don't."

"I do." She propped herself up on one arm to run her fingers over her chest.

"And you don't get me that way either."

"I usually do."

"Hmph." But he pulled her on top of him. "Are you ready for your first lesson? It seems only fair after all."

It had been long enough that she had forgotten the feel of the gag. She smiled at him. "I'm ready." She kissed him as he ran one hand down her back to press her closer to him. "So how many lessons do you think I'll need?" she whispered into his ear, before giving it a lick.

"Oh, many, I'm sure. Now, if you make a noise, I'll stop."

She frowned and was going to ask what it was he would stop doing, but then she felt his hand in the one place he had not touched all night. She pressed her lips together in an effort not to make a sound, but soon found she was putting all her concentration into that, so his efforts were not having much of an effect. "No," she said. "This isn't working, I can't do it."

He looked guiltily at her, so she said, "It's not your fault," but that did not change his expression. She did not mind if they just stopped now and went to sleep, but she knew he would think that he had not done his duty, or such like, if she had not actually had an orgasm.

She sighed, then stretched over to where she had discarded the blindfold on the other side of the bed. "This was a good idea." Pulling it back over her head she got it mostly in the right place before she lay down on her back next to him. "Now you can do whatever you like."

There was a pause for a moment where she struggled to hear anything, then his hand was back where it had been before. She gasped because although she had been expecting it, he had done it suddenly with no warning. It was slightly easier to keep quiet now that she only had two things to focus on, although she did not think she could do it for long.

He must have read her mind because there was hardly a gap between him stopping and replacing his fingers with his tongue. She bit on her finger, in an effort not to cry out at the feeling, and her other hand reached desperately for something to hold on to. It found Harry's hand, and she wrapped her fingers round his wet ones.

She could not help but wriggle, so his other hand pressed on her hip in a futile effort to keep her still. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was not long before she had to stuff her fist in her mouth. He stopped then, which was just as well because she did not think she could cope with him carrying on while she came. He pulled on her wrist and replaced her hand it with his mouth and tongue, and she was distracted from screaming by the taste.

"That works," she said, breathlessly afterwards, while he reached around her head to pull the blindfold off.

"I'll have to think of a contingency plan for my contingency plan." He undid the knots, folded both the handkerchiefs up and placed them neatly on the bedside table.

"I thought you were going to teach me how to be quiet." She shifted closer to him and he put his arm around her, running his fingers across her shoulder.

He grinned at her. "That assumes I want you to be quiet."

She leant over to kiss him and smiled against his mouth. There was something to be said for having Luke in the house: he certainly made things interesting.

He trailed off as he watched her calmly finish the glass of wine that had been half full only moments before. He had expected her to be upset with him but not to this extent. After placing the glass back on the table, she gave him a look that dared him to comment. He winced. She had a tendency to be fashionably late, but he always made the effort to be on time.

She poured herself another glass of wine, not caring when some of it sloshed over the side, turning a spot on the tablecloth red. She slammed the bottle down on the table none too carefully and he jumped. None of it spilt though - there was not enough liquid left for that.

He felt he had to say something, given that she did not. "There's a first time for everything." He attempted a smile but sighed when her expression did not alter. Changing tack, he reached for her glass, but she was faster and pulled it towards her out of his reach before his fingers even touched it. She glared at him and he gave up on that idea for the time being. "You should have started without me."

"I did." She took a sip - and at least it was just a sip this time.

It was only when he looked down at the table more closely he noticed that although the full complement of knives and forks was present, there was nothing else. Not in front of her, or in front of him. She had certainly not started with the Starter and that was definitely not a good sign.

He sighed, poured himself some dutch courage and made sure the bottle stayed on his side of the table, out of her reach. It was also liable to be knocked off by his elbow, but since it was empty it did not really matter too much. He took a sip of his wine and grimaced - she was on the cheap stuff. "What's happened?" he asked, his voice soft and his face sympathetic. At least, he hoped it was.

She was immediately defensive. "What makes you think anything's happened?"

He raised an eyebrow, took another sip of wine, which did not improve the taste, and waited for her to speak.

She did not answer at first, instead twirling her glass round by the stem, staring at it intently. Eventually she pushed it away from her and slumped back in her seat with a sigh. "Turns out he was having an affair. With my boss."

He did not have to ask who 'he' was, since it was obvious from the context. He wished he could remember the name of the boyfriend, if she had ever mentioned it, but now was probably not the best time to ask.

He frowned, remembering something. "Isn't your boss...?"

Her voice was firm. "Yes."

He winced at her tone. He could not understand how anyone could do that to Sarah. And not only due to the likelihood of her roasting ones nuts alive, as he had heard her threatening to do once. "I'm sorry."

"I burnt all his stuff."

He smiled. "Good for you."

She gave him a weak smile in return and sat back up. "I'm better off without him." Although she sounded more like she was trying to convince herself of that.

Reaching for the untouched jug of water, he poured them each a glass and pushed one over to her hopefully. "You're too good for him."

"Of course I am." She gave him a quick grin before sighing again and reaching for the water. "So, why were you late?"

"It's a long story and I'm starving. Do you want anything else to eat?"

She shook her head.

"Well, I'll order." He looked round for a waiter and managed to catch the eye of one of them, who nodded and made his way over. "And you can steal my food while I talk."

"When have I ever done that?"

He raised an eyebrow at her; she stuck her tongue out at him. Fortunately, they were saved from getting any more childish by the arrival of the waiter.

Harry gave the menu a quick peek and ordered. "It all started on my way home from work. I heard a loud bang and when I looked round there was a girl lying in the road..."

~*~*~

It was obvious what had happened, even in the fading light: a red sports car had hit the girl, who was struggling to sit up while clutching her arm. Harry wasted no time in hurrying over. The driver was quick to jump out of his car and protest his innocence and her guilt at running out in front of him. A man in a jumper with question marks all over it was not far away and already fussing over the girl. From their demeanour Harry guessed they knew each other.

"Can I help?" Harry asked. "I'm a doctor."

"Oh, thank you," the odd man said, before looking up at Harry and grinning at him. "Of course!" He moved to one side to give Harry room to kneel down next to him.

"Where does it hurt?" There was evidence of tears on the girl's cheeks. She wiped her eyes roughly with the sleeve of her black jacket and sniffed before she answered. "Everywhere."

Harry decided to ignore that until she gave him something more specific to work with, and gingerly touched her arm. From the way she tensed he suspected it might be broken. He looked up. "Has anyone called an ambulance?"

"I'll go," the oddly-dressed man said, quietly.

"Professor!"

"I'll be back soon, Ace." He touched her shoulder lightly and hurried off towards the houses at the end of the street.

Harry turned his attention back to his patient. "That's an interesting name."

"It's not my real name." She took a breath in as he shifted to give her arm more support while trying not to move it too much.

"Well, my name's Harry."

"Hello, Harry." She gave him a quick smile, which he returned.

A noise from behind made him look round to see that the driver had slumped to the floor, and was sat on the kerb, his head in his hands. Harry could not really blame him, since running someone over was undoubtedly a traumatic experience, but that should not prevent him from offering to help at least.

"Here," Harry said, "do you have a jacket to go with that suit?"

"Huh?" The driver looked up at him, confused for a moment. "Oh, er, yeah. It's in the car. Do you want me to get it?"

"Yes, please."

When he came back with the jacket, Harry took it off him, rolled it up and slid it carefully under Ace's arm. She breathed out deeply and when he looked up she was biting her lip. He gave her a smile. "I don't think it's that bad," he told her.

She nodded, but then looked up and over his shoulder. Harry could feel someone hovering but had assumed it was still the driver. When he looked up he could see that the driver was safely stood back on the pavement, although shuffling from one foot to the other. The person just behind Harry was the man Ace had called 'Professor'.

The professor came round to bend down behind Ace. Harry addressed them both. "I think it's just a broken arm. Easily fixed."

"I'm sorry," Ace said, looking behind her. "It's my fault, I should have been more careful."

"No." The professor shook his head. "It was an accident, no-one's to blame."

"It's going to be too late now, isn't it?"

The professor smiled and patted her shoulder. "We have plenty of time, don't worry."

"You mean we can go back and try again?"

Harry frowned, wondering what they were talking about, but it was really none of his business. Part of him entertained the notion that it might be time travel, although why that was his first thought he could not say. He knew time travel was possible, of course, and he knew people that did it. Well, one at any rate. However, it was unlikely that was what these two were referring to. He shook his head. He had been spending too much time in secret organisations these days, he decided.

The sound of sirens intruded on his thoughts and before they knew it, the ambulance was there. Harry stood to give the paramedics his assessment, then stepped back to let them do their job. Once Ace was safely in the ambulance, they asked if anyone was going with her.

"Ah, yes." The professor, who up until now had been hovering beside Ace and frowning, came to life.

"No. You go and save the world."

"Ace--"

"I'm a big girl, Professor. I'm sure I'll be fine with the nice ambulance men."

Harry grinned at her tone, but hid it behind his hand.

The professor sighed. "All right, then, if you insist." He touched her nose with his fingertip. "I'll come and see you later."

She smiled and they closed the doors behind her.

The professor turned away from the ambulance. "Harry, you could be useful."

"I can? But--"

"Some aliens have crash landed nearby. They're benign usually, but apt to do something stupid when they're scared."

Harry opened his mouth but no words came out. This was not what he had been expecting. Okay, so his life with MI-5 was not always as exciting as it had been when he was in UNIT, but sometimes boring was a good thing. And at no point in the last few years had his life involved aliens. Except when Sarah had been suspicious of something and needed his help. "Um," he managed.

"I suspect they might be in need of a doctor, and I know they're not sailors, but I'm sure you'll cope."

Some part of Harry's brain decided this was all a bit too much to cope with and shut down. "What about the driver?" he asked, that being a detail he could deal with at the moment.

The professor waved a hand. "Let the police deal with them. Come on."

Harry thought the police might want to talk to them as witnesses and running away from them might not be such a good idea, but the professor was already taking long strides down the road, swinging his umbrella. So Harry really had no choice but to follow, having to jog to catch up.

~*~*~*~

They trekked through a forest Harry was not even sure he knew existed, and eventually he recovered his senses enough to ask about the aliens they were going to help. The professor's answers were not terribly enlightening though. Harry was just starting to wonder if it was all a trick and he had put himself in danger when he saw something between the trees, glinting off the setting sun.

As they got closer Harry was amazed to discover the object was big and silver. He smiled to himself. Somehow he had got used to the idea that aliens travelled in police boxes that were bigger on the inside. He wondered how no-one had noticed it earlier. Although it was somewhat off the beaten track the dog pooh he had seen on the way suggested that people did come down here.

"Hello!" the professor called, as they approached.

In response, a hatch on the side opened and something came out of it; it was not something human. It was green for a start, so it almost looked quite sickly. It was certainly a person, if a short one, being half Harry's height and he wondered if it was a child. When it spoke, the voice was deep but the language was not one he had ever heard. And given the timing of the pauses, he wondered if he was hearing it all.

The professor seemed to understand it though, and even spoke it back, gesturing at the ship as he did so.

"Harry!" The professor said, at an apparent lull in the conversation. "Come here and say hello."

"I'm afraid I don't understand the language," he said, although he stepped closer anyway.

The professor frowned. "That's odd, we're not that far away. Don't know what's wrong with the old girl."

The expression was so familiar for a moment that Harry's mind conjured up for him the image of a man with curly hair and a long scarf. He shook his head and just caught the word 'translator', which Harry took to mean he would have some way of communicating.

"It seems they do have some injured people," the professor continued, this time with Harry listening to him. "Go with Cliciix. I'll see what I can do for the ship."

"Rightho, professor."

Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the professor frown. He did not have time to wonder why because the alien - Cliciix apparently - had already stepped through the hatch, back onto the ship. Harry bent over to get through it himself and discovered he was mistaken in thinking that he would be able to straighten up once he was inside. Since the aliens were three feet tall - based on the one he had seen so far anyway - it was logical that they would not need such high ceilings.

Harry followed Cliciix down the corridor, his back protesting as they went. Eventually the alien twisted a wheel on a door and stepped through. On the other side was a room with beds and equipment. This Harry could recognise as an infirmary, even if it was an alien one, and he immediately felt more comfortable with the situation.

He went over to one of the beds and knelt down, rubbing his back, but at least he was at the right height now. He wondered if any of them spoke English, as unlikely as it sounded, but someone had to be his translator - there was only so much he could do without being able to get answers to his questions.

Cliciix offered him a small, thin box the size of a large key. Harry took it and thanked him, unsure of what to do next. He realised what the box was when Cliciix made a sound and a moment later a deep "You're welcome," came from the box.

His eyes widened as he realised the meaning of the Doctor's earlier words. "You have translation technology!"

The box repeated his words in the alien language. Cliciix's reaction was merely to nod and wave a hand toward the patient.

"Oh, yes, of course," Harry mumbled. He turned back to the person lying in front of him. "What seems to be the trouble?"

The ensuing conversation was a little laboured, being as they both had to wait for the translation of their words, but eventually he managed to help. At least, he hoped he did, what with the alien's physiology being, well, alien. They did not seem to have very much medical knowledge either, but once he gave them an idea of how to treat the injured people they seemed happy enough.

By the time he had repeated the procedure for another patient he almost forgot he was dealing with aliens, so familiar was the routine. He started to enjoy himself, and once he had finished he stayed and chatted while he waited for the professor. He wanted to learn more about these people, not least why they had no-one with any medical knowledge on board.

"Doctors are very precious," one of them told him, "they're not allowed to leave our world."

As much as Harry was flattered at the idea of being thought of so highly, he had to wonder about this practise. "But what happens when one of you is injured? Like today." He wanted to get up and pace but had to be content with sitting on the floor and trying not to tower over anyone.

"Then we wait."

"And how many people die waiting?"

There were murmurs amongst them that the translator was unable, or unwilling, to translate, which Harry took to mean the answer was not one he wanted to hear. He noticed that Cliciix had taken no part in the conversation and instead stood by the door, scowling. Harry wondered what that was all about, but decided it might be best not to ask any more questions, lest he dislike the answers.

"Everything all right in here?" The cheerful voice of the professor interrupted, along with his head around the hatch. Although Harry appreciated the rescue, he was not so sure about the tone.

Harry got up, bent over, and went over to him. "Do you know what goes on here?" He whispered but since he had left the translator on the floor where he had been sitting, it did not matter. "These people were dying because they won't let their doctors travel."

"I know." The professor sighed. "My fault I fear."

Harry frowned at him, but the other man did not seem keen to elaborate. "Why? What on earth did you do?"

"Oh, nothing on Earth, I'm afraid."

Harry was at something of a loss. "Can't you talk to them? Make them see sense?" Harry knew his skills in influencing people would come up short when trying to convince aliens their ideas were nonsensical. Especially when he was not quite sure what was going on in the first place. He half-wished the Doctor was here. It was the sort of thing he would enjoy.

"Well, time to go," the professor said, and lifted his hat. He had gone off back down the corridor before Harry could protest.

Harry was left no choice but to follow and was at least grateful to be able to stand up straight again, once they were outside. "That's not done my back any good," he said, but his words were lost beneath a loud blast. He looked back to see the ship ascending straight into the air. Within a minute it was out of sight. He shook his head. If he had not seen it with his own eyes he would not have believed it. Even now he was uncertain he had not imagined the whole thing.

He turned back to the professor, only to see what was becoming a common sight of the back of him disappearing into the distance. "Hey!" Harry raced off after him.

"Was that it?" Harry asked, as he caught up.

"Why, what did you want? Daleks trying to exterminate us while we worked?"

Harry was speechless, not for the first time that day. This professor was a difficult man to have a conversation with. "Just who are you?"

The professor stopped and looked at him. Harry could swear there was a glint in his eye. "Don't you know?"

"No! But you seem to know me. You weren't there when I told Ace my name and I certainly never told you."

"Oh, it was a lifetime ago. Well, three really, but who's counting?"

Harry had the definite impression that there was more to this conversation and he was definitely floundering.

"I'm sure you'll work it out eventually." The professor started walking again, swinging his umbrella as he went.

Harry stayed where he was for a moment. This man definitely knew more than he was telling. And there was something strange about him. He was not the first person Harry had known like that. But it could not be, could it? "Doctor?" he called, in case he was right.

The professor said nothing, just kept walking, so Harry jogged up to him. Once he was level he could see the other man was smiling. Harry could not quite believe it had taken him this long to work it out.

"I thought Sarah was pulling my leg when she told me about regeneration."

"It's all true, Harry."

"I just can't quite... oh no!" The mention of her had reminded him and he checked his watch. She was going to kill him. "I'm late for dinner with Sarah. Um..." Harry paused as he saw the Doctor's face soften and wondered if he was going to say something. When he did not Harry bid him good evening and crossed the road they had just reached.

Once he reached the pavement he looked back to see the Doctor watching him. "Goodbye, Harry!" he called, and lifted his hat.

Harry gave him a grin and a wave and headed up the street.

~*~*~*~

"How long ago was this?" Sarah froze in the act of digging her fork into Harry's main course. He had long since given up the fight and pushed it more towards the middle of the table, so she did not knock anything over. He was not certain how drunk she was, or how much of her demeanour was just anger.

He considered. "Not long. I came straight here."

"Then he might still be here."

"Sarah..."

She put her fork down. "Come on." She pulled her coat and bag from the back of her chair and hurried to the door.

He called after her. "We can't just leave. What about the bill?" He picked up his jacket and hurried after her. She had at least stopped at the counter. "I haven't finished my dinner," he protested, but then she had not been in the mood to let him get his own way this evening to begin with.

"I want to pay the bill," he told the unfortunate young man behind the counter.

The waiter was unperturbed by this and calmly flicked through a pile of paper, while Sarah hopped from one foot to the other, looking at her watch. When he presented her with the bill, she snatched it from the counter before Harry could get a look at it.

He reached over and tried to take it off her. "Now, look here, old girl..."

She held it away from him, while digging about in her wallet. When she slapped the bill and some notes on the counter she looked at him smugly. The waiter picked it up and coughed. He showed them the amount, which was more than she had given him.

Sarah's face fell and she bit her lip. Harry decided it would be wisest to say nothing, and made up the required amount. She gave him a smile at least, and turned towards the door. Harry grabbed her arm. "A few more minutes isn't going to make a difference, old girl."

"It might. And don't call me that." She snatched her arm out of his grip.

Harry sighed. Even though they had been friends for years, he sometimes still did not understand her. By the time he made it out of the restaurant she had started off up the street. She ignored him when he called after her, so he had to grab her hand and pull her round so they were going in the right direction.

"I think the TARDIS is probably around here somewhere," Harry said, once they reached the spot where he had first met the Doctor and Ace. He looked around, trying to work out which way they would have come from, given that he knew where they were headed to. "This way," he said, and headed in the opposite direction to the forest.

"Are you sure?" Sarah asked, but followed him anyway.

He did not bother replying because he knew she would not like the answer. As they walked she looked around corners, so she spotted it before him, standing by the kerb at the end of a cul-de-sac. Almost as soon as they saw it, there was a familiar noise as it started to dematerialise.

"No!" she shouted, and rushed past him. "Doctor!"

The Doctor either did not know she was there, or he ignored her, because the TARDIS had disappeared by the time she reached it. "No," she said again, and sunk to the pavement, face in her hands.

Harry frowned and jogged over to her. When he bent down he could see through her fingers that she was crying. One good thing about being friends with a girl like Sarah was that this was rarely something he had to deal with. He awkwardly put one arm around her shoulders. That was obviously the right thing to do because she rested her head against him.

After a minute she sat up and wiped her eyes with her fingers. "Ignore me, I'm just drunk."

"I can't do that." Sarah was the sort of girl one had to pay attention to.

She shook her head. "Why is it that all men leave me?"

Since she did not look at him he supposed her questions was probably rhetorical. He answered it anyway. "Not all of them." He patted her on the shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere." He smiled at her.

She offered him a small smile back and relaxed a little against him.

The ground was cold and hard though, so he stood up and offered her his hand. "Come on, I'll walk you home."

She put her hand in his and he helped her up. She gave his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Harry," she said, and smiled at him properly this time.

It had been a strange sort of evening, he mused, as they walked back down the road. But it had turned out all right in the end.

"Luke has the spare room now," she told him - she had been meaning to make one of the other rooms into a spare room instead but had not got round to it yet. "So, there's either the sofa," she continued, "or you can sleep in my bed..." She leaned forward suggestively, with full knowledge that somehow earlier in the evening the top button on her shirt had come undone. Not that he ever chose the alternative, but she always felt like she ought to offer, just in case anything had changed.

By this time they were both sitting on the sofa, with the wine bottle on the floor between them. Harry shifted closer to her and knocked the bottle over. Since it was now empty, she did not really worry about it too much. "I never could say no to you," he said, which was part of the reason she asked.

"We'll have to be quiet," she said, "I don't want to wake Luke up and have him ask awkward questions."

"You'll have to tell him about the birds and bees sometime." He leaned forwards and kissed her.

She wished she had eaten some of the garlic bread because now she remembered why he had. She kissed him back enthusiastically, though, because he was not going to get her that way. That was why she kept onions in her fridge after all.

"And you are incapable of being quiet," he said when he pulled back.

She grinned at him. "Oh, yes? Is that a challenge?"

He had a hand on the outside of her leg, which he started moving higher up it. "If you like."

She took his hand, said, "Come on, then," and led him upstairs.

When they passed Luke's door she let go. She pushed it open gently and peered in through the crack. It looked like he was sleeping soundly, but she did not yet know how much noise it might take to wake him up in the middle of the night.

She shut the door again and headed down the hall to her room. Once there she found Harry had already taken his shoes off and was sitting on her bed examining the book she had left on her bedside table. He looked up when she came in, though, and replaced the book.

"He asleep?"

"Unless he's pretending." She did not think he was, but she could never be quite sure exactly what he was learning. She straddled Harry's lap and kissed him more thoroughly than they had earlier, on the sofa. He held her where she was with a hand on her back, the other he already got up the front of her shirt and her skin tingled where he touched it.

She shifted her body enough to push him back on the bed and he had her shirt off before she could get her hands where she wanted them. He lifted his head to apply his mouth to her neck and she tried to concentrate on taking his shirt off. It was annoying that he showed no reaction to this, whereas she could not help pressing into the touch of his lips on her skin. The trouble was that he still had a t-shirt on.

"You wear too many layers," she said, untucking his t-shirt and touching her fingers to his stomach lightly enough to make him shiver.

"I know how much you like taking them off," he protested. It was true, she had to admit, Harry knew her far too well. Which was why they kept doing this - there was only so much you could do with a vibrator, after all.

As she applied herself to taking his t-shirt off, she only realised he had undone her bra when she felt his hands on her breasts. She gasped, then bit her lip to keep from making a sound. In retaliation, she bent her head to kiss along his cheek to his ear. He pulled her close, so she could feel how much he was enjoying this, but did not make a sound until she nibbled at his earlobe, and even then it was a very quiet moan.

She grinned and stood up. He started to sit up, but she pushed him back down with a hand on his chest, then moved it lower, so she could undo the zip on his trousers, taking care to be as slow as she could, and ensure her hand touched everything in its path.

This time he did not make a sound but she could see he clutched handfuls of quilt tightly and when her eyes met his, he was looking at her intently. He probably had an interesting view from where he lay, but then hers was not that bad either, especially once she had his trousers and pants off.

She could not resist rubbing her hands along his cock and he whispered, "Sarah!" although whether that meant 'stop' or 'don't stop', she could not tell. She chose to take it as the former and stood back up. He closed his eyes for a minute and took a couple of deep breaths.

She waited until he sat up and looked at her before grinning at him and unbuttoning her jeans. She wriggled out of them slowly before bending over to pull them off, rather than bending down.

"You're going to kill me," Harry said, his voice husky.

"At least you don't have to be far quieter than normal."

"You're loud enough for both of us."

She did not mind that he was usually quite quiet but it was always a good feeling when she managed to make him vocal.

He held out one arm and said, "Come here," although she was only a step away from the bed and his hand was on her hip before she had even moved. She let him take her knickers off and was surprised when he put his hand back again after she stepped out of them. He really was determined to make her scream. She put her hand to her mouth, as he explored her with his fingers, until he offered up an alternative. She tried to concentrate on sucking his fingers but it was not easy. Especially when he stopped and she whimpered, fortunately not very loudly.

She just about managed to stay standing and breathe as he reached into her bedside table for a condom.

"Let me," she said, taking it out of his hand. She certainly was not going to let him have all the fun.

He lay on his back and closed his eyes. Which gave her the opportunity to sneak in a crafty feel as she did it.
Afterwards she just sat back and looked at him, so he opened his eyes again and gave her a look.

"Do you want to sleep on the sofa?" he asked.

She only gave him a grin in reply, but he forced the issue by starting to sit up. She heaved a big sigh for his benefit, as if he did not know how she really felt by this point. She shifted position, managing to get a knee in his stomach so he lay back down, where she much preferred him to be. Once he was inside her she stayed where she was for a minute, resisting his fingers digging in, trying to get her to move, and the fact that she desperately wanted to.

"You're doing this on purpose," he said, his eyes looking glazed.

Sarah did not quite trust herself to speak, so she just grinned at him again and braced a hand on his chest for better leverage. It was killing her not to make a sound once she did move, though. It did not help that not long after he positioned her hips just so, and made her gasp. She put a hand up to her mouth again but there were far better places to put it, so she did not keep it there for long. She gave in and moaned anyway, trying to keep it quiet.

He moved his hands up her back but since he was already hitting the right spot it did not really matter any more. It was getting difficult to think so she was not quite sure what happened, except that the next thing she knew she was flat on her back with Harry on top of her.

"Hey!" She remembered to whisper, at least. She felt sure she had won their position debate long ago.

"I'm doing you a favour," he said, leaning down to kiss her and she realised he was right when his mouth on hers meant any sound she made was muffled.

When they stopped to breathe, he ran one hand down her collarbone and along the top of one breast. "I can't tell how close you are," he complained.

She smiled and rubbed his shoulder. "You like it when I moan, don't you?"

He said nothing because he was too busy kissing along the path his hand had taken. Not that it mattered because she already knew the answer. She arched up as he sucked on a nipple, but he quickly transferred his mouth back to hers and she let out the moan she had been holding in, only partially successfully

She let herself go a bit more after that, and raised her hips to meet his as his thrusts grew faster, trusting him to make sure she did not get too loud. It was not really a surprise when she could feel him tremble as his arms struggled to support him.

Usually, she liked it when he came first, partly because it did not happen very often, and also because she liked the ways he had to make her come. This time, though, she needed his mouth where it was. Making sure his tongue was in a position to cut off most sound, she put her legs around him, pulling him deeper into her and it was only a couple of thrusts before she screamed. Fortunately, it came out more as a grunt but was enough to make him come too.

It was a minute before she could focus again, and he rolled to lie next to her, still panting.

"Next time," she said, "I'll send Luke over to Maria's for a sleepover."

"Good idea." He looked over at her. "Then you can be as loud as you like."

She grinned and propped herself on one arm so she could put one hand on his cheek, and pull his head towards her for a kiss. When she moved it down to his chest she could feel how fast his heart was still beating.

"Although now," he said, "I know how to gag you."

"Hey!" She reached back to get her pillow to hit him with and by the time she had, he had one to defend himself, and for a few minutes they might well have been the same age as Luke.

While she waited to see if he noticed her, she took the opportunity to study him. He was still wearing the same clothes as when she last saw him, so she wondered how long it had been for him since they last met. Although he would probably still be dressed the same, even if it had been years. The only time she had ever seen him wear something wildly different, except after regenerating, was in Scotland when he had gone native. Thinking of it reminded her of a long-forgotten wish to see him in a kilt but she squashed the thought almost immediately; it was not what she was supposed to be thinking of in respect to the Doctor.

She must have made a noise, though, for he spun round on her chair, not at all startled to see her, and not looking guilty for having broken in either. Although for all she knew, the TARDIS was parked in her spare room. He sprung to his feet, gave her a big grin and waved a book at her.

"Sarah Jane Smith! I love this book." He threw it at her, and she caught it - just - and turned it over to see it was her copy of UNIT - Fighting for Humankind.

She shrugged. She had written it many years and another lifetime ago. She threw it back to him and he caught it deftly in both hands. "Keep it."

He shook his head and shifted her mouse over to put it down on the mouse mat. "I've got one already."

She frowned. She did not remember seeing one in the TARDIS library, but then he probably had some way of making sure she did not see any books from her future. Something she had written, before she wrote it, would definitely have stood out.

While she pondered this, the Doctor was making his way around her attic, poking at things in it. "Have you seen him recently?" he asked her.

She stepped around him and stood behind his right shoulder, to see that he was pointing at a photograph of the Brigadier. "A few years ago. I still get invited to the UNIT reunions." She hoped he was not going to ask about the entire contents of her attic - they would be here a while. Not that she minded the Doctor being here but she could think of far better things they could be doing.

"So do I. I've just come from one, in fact." He took a step back and Sarah had to quickly do the same to avoid him walking into her. He peered up, although at what she was not sure, since his gaze was directly where she had nothing, it being too high for her to reach.

She was also lost, which was not exactly unusual when talking to the Doctor. Or being talked at by him. "But the last one was--"

"Ten years ago. Or was it eleven?" He frowned, then waved a hand, moving on to pick up her stuffed owl.

"Oh, well." She tried to remember which reunions were that long ago and whether she had gone. She took hold of the conversation while she had a chance, along with the owl and put that back where he had got it from. "Would you like a cup of tea?" She always thought better with some tea inside her.

"Yes, please. And do you have any biscuits?" He put his hands in his pockets; she wondered if that was to prevent himself from touching anything else. "Those nice ones, with sugar on. What are they called?"

She smiled. "Nice biscuits?"

He clicked his fingers and pointed at her. "That's it. Never can remember the name."

She shook her head indulgently. "I'll see what I've got."

Downstairs, in the kitchen, the Doctor nattered on about what he had been up to recently (saving the world, partying with little blue aliens, the usual really), while Sarah made the tea and let him talk. She considered asking about Rose but thought better of it. If she was not here that implied either something had happened to her, or she had broken his heart and gone back home. Either way he seemed happy enough now and she wanted to keep him that way. So she kept quiet, at least until he had dipped his biscuit (just a digestive, unfortunately, it being difficult to stock up on his favourite food when you never knew if you might see him, or in which incarnation) in his tea and stuffed his mouth with it.

"I can't believe that you just dropped in for no reason." She sighed as half her biscuit broke off and sank to the bottom of the cup.

The Doctor swallowed. "Okay, you've caught me there. I heard stories about the local madwoman round here. People say she speaks to aliens and I thought it was worth a look. While I was in the neighbourhood, so to speak."

Sarah gave up on the idea of fishing the biscuit back out and licked her fingers. "Which stories did you hear?"

He leant forward across the table and looked at her. "How many of them did you make up?"

She smiled and took a sip of her tea. "Tell me which ones you heard and I'll tell you which came from me."

"Well, let's see..." He slouched back in his chair and counted on his fingers. "There's one where you have a house full of Oompa Loompas."

"I'm more inventive than that." She picked her cup up to drink, since this could be a long list. Every time she spoke to someone she either heard a new rumour, or told them one.

"Of course." He looked up briefly. "So, the one where the tooth fairy lives in your attic is probably not yours either."

"I hadn't heard that one." She considered for a moment. "I quite like it, though."

"Aliens go to you for advice on conquering the world." He frowned. "And you tell them the White House is the best place to start."

She laughed, having to put her cup down before she spilt its contents. "I was having a bad day; best I could do at the time. But I have been educating the populace about Daleks, it seemed like a good idea."

"You're probably right." He sighed and looked over her shoulder out of the window.

"Doctor?" Sarah wondered what had gone on with them recently that he was not telling her, but she was not to find out, as he was off on another topic immediately.

When his attention was back on her he seemed to be a different man from a moment ago, and back to his normal, hyperactive self. "I was here to investigate this Bubbleshock thing, looks very suspicious. But you seem to be on the case, and perhaps it's a good thing if you humans learn to look out for yourselves sometime. I can't be everywhere at once, you know."

She was going to dispute that but nearly swallowed the part of the biscuit still in the tea, so was preoccupied with not choking and trying to decide whether to eat it anyway, or just give up and bin it.

"And I thought you might be lonely," he continued.

She put the biscuit back on the saucer, finding a need to focus on the Doctor's abrupt change of subjects. "What makes you think that?"

"Your computer is called Mr Smith."

"Well, it wasn't as if there were many others queuing for that job."

"Sarah Jane," he said, softly, "if you--"

"No," she said quickly, covering the hand that he was idly resting on the table top with hers. "I like this life. I chose it and I can change it if I want."

"So." He sat up and coughed. "There's nothing you would do differently?" He turned his hand over and rubbed his thumb across the back of her hand.

She bit her lip. "Well, maybe just one thing." She leaned over and kissed him lightly.

"You're getting on with your life. You don't need me." He looked sad at the idea though, she thought.

"You're right," she agreed. "I don't need you. But I do want you."

He opened his mouth to say more but changed his mind and closed it again. She smiled, waiting to see what he would do next. He matched her smile and pulled her closer for a kiss, pressing one hand to the back of her neck to hold her there.

She took the opportunity to take his tie off before pulling away, taking his hand and leading him upstairs. She discovered, as she passed, that he had decided her bathroom was a good place to park the TARDIS, so that there was just enough of a gap for K-9 to manouevre around it, and certainly no space to shut the door and have any privacy. She would ask him to move it, but had other, more important, things on her mind.

Once in her bedroom he happily lay down on the bed, and kicked his trainers off. He looked quite comfortable, with his hands behind his head and bouncing slightly. "Good mattress, well sprung. What are you doing with my tie?"

Sarah had been stood at the end of the bed, twirling his tie round one hand as she watched him, but at his question she sat on him, one leg either side, and placed the tie carefully on one pillow where she would be able to retrieve it later. She leaned down for a kiss, saying nothing and leaving it up to his imagination instead.

Her hair tickled his face and he took a strand of it in one hand. She sat up enough to look him in the eye. He held her gaze and she could see in his expression that he wanted this as much as she did. So she leant back down, finding the need to undo the buttons on his jacket and shirt to get to his skin. His fingers dug into her thighs through her jeans as she hit the sensitive spots and he squirmed under her, on purpose she suspected, given that he knew how that made her feel.

He did not let her get very far with undressing him; he merely waited until she reached his waist to flip them over and press his body against hers. She had not put the tie down completely flat, so could feel its edges under her head. She did not complain, though, because he put his mouth to much better use than it had been earlier, which entirely took her mind off everything else. She would let him do what he liked for a little while, before having her wicked way with him and was quite happy if it involved both of them wearing considerably less than they did now.

She could tell already that she would be spending a pleasant evening in his company, in her bed.

~*~*~*~

It was the familiar sound of the TARDIS dematerialising that woke her, and Sarah leapt out of bed, just in time to see the police box disappearing from her bathroom. She stood in the doorway for a minute, hoping that maybe he would come back. When it was obvious he was not going to, she went back into the bedroom to pull her dressing gown around her. She sighed and slumped on the end of the bed. It seemed unlikely she would ever see him again, and she wished he had at least taken the time to say goodbye.

After staring at a blank wall, feeling sorry for herself, she stood, knowing she had to carry on regardless, and spotted something on the pillow. She picked it up and frowned. It was a tube of lipstick but did not look like any of hers. Even if it was, what would it be doing in her bed? The Doctor had been quite happy with the one she had already been wearing the previous night. Taking the cap off and twisting it open to look more closely at the colour, she heard a noise she recognised. It took her a minute to place it, since it was so unexpected but it was definitely the same sound the sonic screwdriver made.

In the bathroom, she applied it to the door and it locked firmly. She smiled. A sonic lipstick would certainly come in handy, as well as looking less inconspicuous in her handbag than the sonic screwdriver might have. Perhaps it was time to investigate that Bubbleshock firm and Mrs Wormwood in person, now that all her leads had petered out, and the Doctor was counting on her to save the world.

After John left she got lost in thought for a while, before she decided to throw the contents of her office into boxes and bring them down to her room. Which was completely illogical, she knew, and meant that she could not see her floor for work-related boxes. Her bed had already disappeared under all the books she had begun piling there, and her desk was covered in clothes. She no longer cared about how much sense any of it made, since nothing made sense any more anyway.

By the time Jack O'Neill knocked at her door, she was glad of the distraction.

"Hi." He had a shy grin that she would not have expected to see on him. "Can I come in?"

"Um." She looked round at what was normally a neat and tidy place where she did not spend much time. "Sure," she said eventually, hopping back over to the bed to clear a corner. There was a chair somewhere in the room but she could not quite see it. "Sit down." She indicated the small space on the bed.

Jack grinned at her and sat. He had a box with him which he put down behind him, risking losing it in the mess of Elizabeth's possessions. She wondered what was in it but wanted to know even more what he was doing here. Maybe he just did not have anything to do while everyone else was busy packing. Not that she wasn't happy to see him, even if it meant that she would end up finishing her packing in a rush in the morning now. Although, she had to admit, Jack being here probably did not really change that, the rate she had been going.

"Sorry about the mess," she said. She took another pile of books from the bed and balanced them on a box that was mostly flat with files. It turned out not to be flat enough, because they slid off, with most landing between that box and its neighbor and two ending up under the bed.

"You should see my office. And that's just on a daily basis."

She smiled, knowing he was lying - the Air Force tended to create tidy people out of messy ones. Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the bed. She winced as she felt various things slide towards her. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the esteemed General O'Neill?"

"Just Jack. We're not at work now." He waggled a finger at her. "We've been through this before. And I wanted to apologize. Again."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. I know you did everything you could."

"I just wish I could have left that ass, Woolsey on Earth. Then maybe you could have stayed."

"We can't change the past; what's done is done." She guessed the platitude probably helped him as little as it did her. The trite words reminded her of something that had happened not so long ago that, suddenly seeing Jack again, now seemed so strange. "Speaking of the past, I wanted to thank you."

He frowned. "You did?"

"Yes." She paused for a moment. "This is going to sound weird."

"I work with the SGC. I deal with the wacky every day. Did I tell you about the time I had the Ancients' knowledge downloaded into my brain?"

Elizabeth smiled. She could hardly forget, given he had done that right before they first met. She had read reports of the previous time that had happened to him and had thought he was brave for willingly doing it a second time. Her limited experience of Air Force Colonels meant she had not expected it of him. Now that she knew Jack better, she wondered how she could ever have thought anything less of him.

"I was attacked by the Replicators recently." She folded her hands on her lap and looked down at them. "Well, it was their nanites really. They made me think I was back on Earth, that the Stargate program didn't exist and I was going mad."

"As attacks go, it could have been worse."

As she looked up she saw him raise his eyebrows at her. She tucked an errant lock of her hair back behind her ear as she thought about what could have happened. "Except that it would have killed me eventually. Carson told me afterwards the nanites were trying to convert my body into a Replicator."

"Those nasty... microscopic beings."

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "Actually, they're smaller than can be seen under an ordinary microscope."

He waved his hand. "Details."

Shaking her head, she continued with her story. "Anyway, in that world, in my head, we still met, even though there was no Stargate. You called me in to help with a treaty against the proliferation of nuclear weapons."

"Which sounds exactly like the sort of thing you're qualified for." He nodded his head at his words.

"That's probably why it seemed so real. You were really great, helping get on with my life after I thought I had a nervous breakdown, and being a friend. I just feel like I should thank you for what you did. The you in my head."

"Well, in that case, you're welcome." He frowned. "I think."

"Of course, after that it turned out you were really a nanite, trying to keep me in that world so they could take over my brain more easily, but...." She shrugged. It was generally better not to dwell on that too much.

"Ah, well, easy come, easy go. At least I was mostly the good guy."

She could not help but laugh at that. Now that she had said it out loud and told him what happened, it somehow seemed more unreal. It did feel good to laugh, though. There had not been much opportunity for that lately, but Jack always had a talent for finding the humor in any situation. That was partly why she liked him so much.

"Aren't you going to ask what's in the box?" he asked, when she had sobered.

"I wondered if you were going to keep me in suspense."

"Well, if you hadn't hijacked the conversation.... I planned what I was going to say and everything."

He looked so terribly serious for a minute that she felt compelled to hide her grin behind a hand.

Without giving her a chance to ask, he said, "I brought you cake."

Elizabeth frowned. "Is this an Athosian dish or did someone--?"

"It's one of Sergeant Siler's creations. Apparently he's doing a cake decorating course in the evenings and he sent this over as a celebration of Atlantis, so he said."

She tried for a mental image of Siler and icing but it was just not possible. He was good with a wrench but cakes were a whole different thing. "You're kidding me?"

"No." He fished the box out from behind him and opened the lid dramatically.

She leaned over to see in. "Wow," she breathed. "If he ever gets tired of working at the SGC, he's definitely got an alternative career." It was only a small, round sponge cake, but somehow Siler had managed to ice a Stargate on it. Some of the tiny symbols were even identifiable from the Milky Way Gates.

Jack angled the box towards him so he could get a better view. "I don't believe it."

His words surprised her. "You didn't look?"

"I promised Siler faithfully I wouldn't spoil the surprise."

"And you weren't tempted?" she asked, with a grin.

He sighed and gave her a look. "I'll have you know I can always be trusted to keep my word. Well, mostly. Probably."

She shook her head. "I'm sure I have a knife somewhere." She frowned. "I definitely saw one earlier." She stood and picked her way across the floor to root around the desk. When she moved a stack of clothes, she could not stop some of her underwear from falling. She thought she saw a pair of panties disappear inside a thick file on John Sheppard but could not quite care about that at the moment. Perhaps it would give someone a good laugh later.

The knife turned out to be in a different pile entirely. She did not even remember thinking it would be a good idea to wrap a sharp knife in a towel, but obviously she had done it anyway. It did at least mean it was probably clean enough.

Getting back over to the bed was equally fraught, especially now she was in danger of stabbing something on the way, but she managed to make it without incident.

Standing in front of Jack, who held the cake box on his lap, she said, "It almost seems a shame to cut it."

"It was made to be eaten."

Elizabeth gave him a look.

He shrugged. "That's what Siler told me."

She rolled her eyes, cut two slices and slid them out, passing one over to Jack. He put the box, with the knife now in it, on her nightstand. There was just enough space to perch beside him on a small pile of books, so she did so. She took a bite of her piece, one hand underneath to catch any crumbs, not that it mattered much now. She closed her eyes, savoring the taste. It was very good cake; she wondered if Siler had made as well as decorated it.

When she opened her eyes again to take another bite she saw Jack grinning at her. "What's so funny?"

"I can tell you're really enjoying that."

"I am." Another mouthful finished the slice off. Let Jack think whatever he wanted. It was good cake.

"You have a crumb," he said, reaching out one hand to brush his thumb gently against the corner of her mouth.

She looked at him as he did so, but his eyes were on her lips. Yet his hand lingered even after he was finished. She wondered if he was going to do something more, but his eyes did not meet hers and she could not guess what he was thinking. On impulse she turned her head to press a kiss to his palm.

He took his hand away. "This probably isn't the best time. You're upset about leaving Atlantis."

She stood up and turned away from him, so he would not be able to see the expression on her face. "This wasn't what you came here for. I'm sorry." With living in different galaxies they had not seen much of each other recently. Maybe he really had turned up just to offer her cake, as unlikely as it seemed. But his being there had stirred up all her old feelings.

"I didn't say that exactly."

She heard him stand, and then he was behind her, one hand on her shoulder, warming it with his touch. With his other hand, he gently brushed the hair away from her neck. She could feel every tiny part of her skin his fingers touched. She closed her eyes, wondering what he would do next, trying to decide if she should respond the way she wanted to, or whether she should stop him. After all, he spoke the truth; she was looking for someone to make her world right again and this was not necessarily the best way to do it.

The decision was taken away from her when she felt his lips against her neck. "Jack," she began, a little unsteadily, "I don't want you to do this just to offer comfort."

He spun her round and kissed her, his lips firm on hers. Her arms went round his neck; one of his was around her waist, pulling her to him. "Any version of me," he said, when they parted, "would always help any version of you. Either way, I want to do this. You're beautiful, smart, and you laugh at my jokes."

She smiled in response and touched his cheek with one hand. This time, she pulled him down to her for another kiss, enjoying the taste of the cake that still lingered. They both jumped at a crash outside her door, followed by shouting. She hoped no one had dropped anything fragile. Just because they were going back to Earth did not necessarily mean they did not need some of this stuff.

She bit her lip, wondering whether she should go out and check. Jack, who was still holding onto her, took the decision out of her hands by maneuvering them round so the back of her legs hit the bed. She fell on it, with him on top of her, and the world outside of the two of them was mostly forgotten as he reminded her how good a kisser he was. However, she was distracted by the books with hard corners under her back, and the way some of them fell onto the floor as Jack moved round to apply his mouth to other parts of her body.

"It's no good," she said, as he wrestled with taking her top off. She stilled her hands on his chest, under his shirt. She almost wished he had his jacket on; he looked good in uniform. "This is just too uncomfortable."

"Oh." He sat up and awkwardly pulled his shirt back into place.

She had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. "I meant the bed, you idiot." To punctuate the point she threw a book that had been trying to cut her spine in two at him.

He caught it easily, with one hand, and turned it over to look at the cover. "Danielle Steele?"

She blushed. "One of my guilty pleasures." She really wished she had looked more carefully at what she had thrown before she did it. "Why don't you help me pack? Then there'll be more space on the bed." She began piling things up, although she was still not sure where she was going to fit it all.

Jack, though, solved the problem by stripping the blanket and taking everything else with it, raining books onto boxes and leaving her holding a file slightly awkwardly. "I can't wait that long," he said, taking the file off her and sending it with wild abandon to join the others before attacking her top enthusiastically, so that he had it off before she even had time to think. By the time he had her on her back again, with his mouth making its way towards her breasts, she was not going to complain. It was a much better way of spending her last night in Atlantis.

~*~*~*~

Afterwards, while Jack slept, Elizabeth unearthed her robe from under a pile of papers and stood at the window. She had seen this view a thousand times; it was etched on her brain; but that no longer seemed like enough. When they got here she had not missed Earth that much: maybe because she had been so busy. She was already feeling homesick for Atlantis, and they had not even left yet.

She gave a sigh and sat down on the floor: her muscles protested as they begun to ache from the distraction Jack had given her. Now she was alone - or nearly - she allowed a tear to fall down her cheek unchecked. It was just the start, though, because more followed.

She did not even hear Jack get up, and only knew he was there when she felt his arms around her. She leant her head against his chest for a minute and told herself she was being stupid. This was the Ancients' city: they had every right to it, whereas she had none. Lifting her head, she gave him a small smile and a kiss. He did not let go but settled down next to her.

"When you get back, give me a call," he said. "I'll tidy my place for you."

Jack somehow always knew what to say to make her feel better.

"Just so we can make it messy again," he added.

She laughed and she felt him laugh too.

"It will be just like in the nanite world," he went on. "Except without the nanites and with the Stargate program still existing."

It was only now that she trusted her voice to speak. "And what exactly do you think we got up to?"

"I wouldn't have been able to resist you."

"Except you were really a nanite...."

"Oh, well...."

She smiled to herself. She was not going to tell him exactly what had gone on between the two of them. Not yet, anyway.

Fortunately, given her lack of success with stalling tactics around him, he changed the subject. "What are we looking at?"

"Over there," she pointed towards a tower capped with a tall spike, "the moon is setting and the sun will rise. There are colors in the sky never seen on Earth."

"I bet I've seen better."

"Oh, yes?" She turned to face him. "Can you prove it?"

"I'm sure Daniel has photos. I'll get him to find them when we get back to the SGC."

"And what if you're wrong, and an Atlantis dawn is the best sunrise in two galaxies?"

"I'll buy you dinner. But I'll be right, and you'll be buying."

He grinned at her, and she could not but help return the grin; his happiness was infectious. She kissed him again, to show him how much she appreciated him. He pulled her closer and broke off exploring her lips to to kiss along her jaw and nibble at her ear.

They nearly missed the sun rising.

It was only when her brain absently registered that his tone had changed that she focused on the here and now.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Robin frowned at her from across his desk and leant forward on it. "I asked if there was something wrong. And there obviously is."

"No, everything's fine." She was certainly not going to confide in him so she turned her attention to the pile of paper overhanging his desk on one side, wondering when it would be likely to fall off.

"Because if there was something then maybe I can help."

Sarah blinked. The two of them had never quite hit it off but had discovered that avoiding each other generally worked quite well. This was not a side of him she had seen before and she wondered how noticeably different her behaviour had been.

"Is there something?" he asked again when Sarah said nothing.

"No." She sighed. "I don't know."

"So, then tell me what it is. What do you have to lose?"

She gazed absently out of the window and watched as the clouds moved across it and the sky turned from blue to grey. There was no good reason not to talk to him, she supposed. "There's a friend of mine, he's..." she paused and decided to go with the simplest explanation, "in the navy. He's gone missing."

"I'm sorry to hear that but you can't let it affect your work."

Sarah nodded. She knew that but it was not that easy.

Robin sighed. "Take the rest of the day off, you're no use like this. Call in sick tomorrow if you want to but if you come in, you work. Is that clear?"

"Yes." Sarah left his office before he could change his mind and went home as ordered. No-one challenged her as she left the building and she was glad she did not have to think of an explanation. She was not quite up to coming up with a good creative lie at the moment. It was nice not to have to endure the close proximity of sweaty people on the tube in the rush hour but it was not much of a silver lining.

Everything had been fine that morning until the post arrived just before she left. She had flicked through it, expecting to find the usual mix of junk mail and bills and leave them until she got home. However, there was envelope with NATO stamped on it and she tore into it eagerly, intending to blame the trains if she was late. That all changed when discovered the note in it telling her Harry was missing in action.

Her immediate thought was to fabricate an excuse to spend the day out of the office to try and find out where he was. Except that she had promised Harry she would not. He had never qualified it so she could not say for certain whether it counted now he was missing. If it was that secret then she really should not go investigating. But if something had happened to him then he might need her. She had not been able to make a decision one way or the other all day.

Once she got home she decided a phone call to NATO could not hurt, and she was right because they refused to tell her anything. She spent the rest of her day scouring the newspapers online in an attempt to find if there had been anything significant in the past few days that Harry could have been involved in. She found nothing, which was not unexpected. Anything that could have happened would have been covered up somehow.

Since she had not actually found anything she decided it did not count as breaking her promise but she was not any happier about it by the time she gave up and went to bed. She did not expect to sleep but found she was tired. She dreamt of Scotland, spaceships and Harry, which she interpreted as Harry wanting her to find him. Besides, if she did not at least try she was going to go mad.

In the morning she called in sick, as Robin had suggested and started with the address Harry had given her to write to him. It turned out to belong to an ordinary, yet empty house with neighbours that were not nosy. They might annoy everyone else but nosy neighbours were often her most useful source.

She spent the rest of the morning giving herself a red ear and an aching arm on the phone to Royal Mail. She had concocted a story about needing a forwarding address since she had lost the phone number of the house the occupants moved to. This did not prevent her being put on hold for most of the time and being told she was speaking to someone in the wrong department when she did eventually get a person on the other end.

Various people um'ed and ah'ed about whether to give her the information but finally she managed to get hold of a junior person who did not ask too many questions, believed her story and was happy to look it up on the system for her. She wished she had Nat's ability to hack in and get it for herself but without it, and with Nat away, she had to resort to the old fashioned method.

Her suspicions were confirmed in the end - the address Harry had given her was just a cover and the post was redirected elsewhere. Another trip out revealed the same lack of information as the first and she wondered just how many redirects there were. The afternoon saw her coming up with a variety of different voices and stories and yielded her the address of Porton Down. In the end she could not quite decide if that was a victory or not.

Bored of spending most of the day on the phone she went to bed early but her sleep was not any easier for having made the effort of starting her search.

The morning continued her stint of her running up a big phone bill when she began by updating Planet 3 on the state of her non-existent flu. After that she worked through every connection she knew Harry had to find out what he had been working on, or if anyone knew where he was and what had happened to him. Most of them she was sure did not know - some were surprised when he told them why she was calling. But for some of them she could not decide whether their reluctance to tell her anything was through lack of knowledge or inability to do so.

By this point she was willing to try anything and the one person she had not been able to get hold of was the Brigadier, since technically he was retired. The current head of UNIT was not even sure who Harry Sullivan was. Fortunately, she managed to find the Brigadier's address and she was glad for an opportunity to get out of the house.

Once there Sarah marvelled at the size of the house. She knew UNIT paid well - better than the regular army anyway, being as how UNIT was so hazardous - but a Brigadier's position obviously paid very well. When she stopped gaping (only part of which was out of jealousy) she tried the doorbell. The door was opened by someone Sarah assumed to be his wife and an enquiry revealed the Brigadier to be in the garden.

The garden, she found to be just as big and beautiful as the house. It took her some time to find the Brigadier, as he was hidden in the flower beds on his knees with a trowel.

"Miss Smith," he greeted her as she approached. He had never quite changed from the formality he always had when she had been with UNIT. Mind you, everyone she knew still called him the Brigadier. Anything else just seemed strange.

"I'm not taking you away from your plants, am I?" she asked.

"No, I needed a break anyway," he said, standing up, albeit slowly. "I'm not as young as I used to be, can't do this all day."

As they made their way across the garden back towards the house Sarah asked him about it and they made small talk about plants. She was hopelessly lost on the subject, though, for she had never had a garden, so never felt the need to know the difference between a dahlia and a tulip or what exactly an azalea looked like.

The Brigadier's wife, who he introduced as Doris, brought them drinks, which Sarah accepted with gratitude for it was hot out in the sun. Once they were sat down in the shade she turned to the reason for her visit.

"I found out a couple of days ago that Harry's missing," she said. "I thought you might know something."

"Alas, no," he replied. "NATO is not generally in the habit of telling UNIT what it is up to. Assuming I was still in UNIT, which technically I'm not."

Sarah sighed. "No-one will tell me anything, you were my last hope."

The Brigadier smiled kindly at her. "I can certainly ask around, if you think that will help."

Sarah smiled back. "It will, thank you. NATO wouldn't tell me and I didn't know where else to turn to."

There was not time for further conversation on her part because Doris returned with a phone call for the Brigadier. They exchanged quick goodbyes and he promised to phone her the next day.

~*~*~*~

Sarah remembered well the experience of waiting for phone calls. In the past it had been from men and at least she could ring them before she gave up completely. These days it tended to be sources who were usually, but not always, more difficult to get hold of.

More recently everything happened by email and instant messenger and was usually handled by Nat, while Sarah was out chasing them in person. She had long since given up on men when she realised none of them could offer her the excitement the Doctor had. Besides, she did not need a man anyway, she was much happier with her independence.

Her dreams that night were tortured by the phone, with its stories of ever more gruesome variations of Harry's death. By the time she woke up she decided anything the Brigadier could tell her had to be better.

By lunchtime she was annoyed with daytime TV and wondered why she had ever bothered buying a television in the first place. She was just considering how much she could sell it for when the Brigadier was as good as his word and rang. However, the news was not as useful as she had hoped.

"I'm sorry, Miss Smith," he began, "but I don't have anything for you. All I can tell you is that he has disappeared, there's no more information than that I'm afraid."

"Thank you," she said, mostly out of habit, but followed it up with a "dammit" once she put the phone down. Although that was almost a habit too, at times. She resisted the urge to throw something breakable and contented herself with a cushion instead, which was not nearly as satisfying.

She threw herself down in a comfy chair and contemplated her next move. She wondered if the Brigadier really knew nothing or whether he just was not telling her. It was not as if she could not be trusted to keep a secret! The trouble was that even if she badgered him he would still not give her anything and she had run out of things to try.

If Harry would not tell her anything then it was unlikely he would tell anyone else outside of his work. She did not even know how to contact his family - he never spoke of them so she was not even sure what family he had. She could try and find them, but it would not get her any further and would be no use if she did not even have something to tell them.

She could not give up just yet but if there was nothing else to try what other choice did she have? Suddenly a thought occurred to her. It would have to wait until night but it was worth a go...

~*~*~*~

Sarah sat on the bunk and leant back against the wall, sighing. At the time, breaking into Porton Down had seemed like a good idea. After all, it was the last place Harry had been working and they must know where he was. But evidentially, even if they did, they had no intention of telling her.

She had spent a few hours earlier in the day walking round Salisbury, formulating a plan. She had known there would be security and that going in as a burglar would not work. Instead she had gone for swiping an employee's card when they weren't looking and buying from the local charity shop so she could dress up to look like her. However, the loss had been reported too soon for Sarah's liking and she had been caught while she was lost in the place, trying to work out where to go.

Now all she could do was wait for them to decide she was not a threat and let her out. Given the number of times her name had come up in the past few days, it could take a while. Tired, she lay back but a small cell was not really conducive to sleep. Her mind wondered and she thought back to the last time she saw Harry, searching for a clue he might have left and she had missed.

*****

Sarah checked her watch as she exited the tube station, hurrying round the pedestrians who were determined to block her path by moving as slowly as possible while simultaneously taking up the entire pavement. She apologised as she nearly bounced off a couple with foreign accents she could not quite place, who then confirmed their tourist status by immediately asking her for directions. She could not find it in her heart not to help them even though she was by now running very late.

There had been so much to do she had stayed at work later than she should, gambling on the trains being on time, which of course meant there were delays. Sitting in a hot carriage under the city of London had really not helped her patience either. She was just hoping by the time she got to the restaurant she would still qualify as fashionably late.

She had been undercover until yesterday and had come back to the office to find she had missed something big. Francis Currie had been in the middle of it, though, and he had consequently been boasting about some of the things he had seen courtesy of his friend in UNIT. Sarah had been trying to remind herself all day she was not jealous, without much success. However, she still had friends in high places herself and was hoping Harry would be able to fill her in and she could be able to get her own back on Currie.

The dinner they had every year was something she always looked forward to and she made an effort to be there, no matter what she was doing. She knew Harry felt the same, even if he would never say so. They kept in touch in between times, of course, but their communications tended to be few and far between, as they were both usually busy and often moving about.

When at last she reached the restaurant, she was twenty minutes late, even for all her rushing. There was a queue in the doorway, partly because it was popular but also due to the slow service that fortunately did not detract from the quality of the food. She took a moment to get her breath back, then nipped around the line while no-one was looking and found their table herself. She resisted the urge to take more than a passing glance in the small mirror that hung in the doorway: Harry would not care what she looked like.

He either had one set of clothes for best or everything he owned looked similar because he always wore the same blue blazer every year. She had threatened to inspect his wardrobe once. He had been so affronted that she had suggested clothes shopping instead and shared some mental pictures she had of him in various outfits that had been fashionable at the time. In retaliation he had mentioned his naval uniform and the point about men in uniform also seemed to apply to her because she would be quite happy if he just wore that. Unsurprisingly, the subject of clothing had not come up again.

She looked round the restaurant to find Harry had not yet spotted her as he seemed deeply engrossed at examining the painting on the wall behind him. Every year the owners redecorated, if changing the paintings counted. It was probably enough to impress the casual visitor but Sarah had been here often enough now to know they just rotated them and they actually only had a few years worth. A quick glance around the room was enough to convince her she had seen all of these already.

The walk to where Harry sat, on the other side of the restaurant, was pitted with dangers because the owners also seemed to have a fascination with greenery. This was at least something they changed on a more regular basis and was very pretty with different colour flowers in different parts of the room, all carefully chosen not to clash with the wallpaper. However, they did seem to be inordinately fond of the things and not of pruning them at all. It made her path rather like a maze and did not enable her to sneak up on Harry for he turned round before she was there.

As she approached Harry smiled and got up so he could pull her chair out. She glared at him but he was not swayed and she sat down with a sigh. Nothing she had said or done over the years had ever stopped him from doing what he thought was right and proper so her protests were more a way of venting her frustration at losing the argument than anything else. They had long since reached the point where she was fairly certain Harry did it expressly to annoy her anyway.

"Sorry I'm late," she said.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "I haven't been here long."

She looked at the table, with plenty of cutlery set out and a jug of iced water in the middle. Harry's glass was half full, or half empty depending on how you looked at it.

"Liar," she joked, smiling.

Somehow Harry was always there before her. No matter how early she left or how far away he had been the day before, he always got there first. She had wondered once if he had bugged her so he always knew where she was, as unlikely as it seemed. After a while, though, she had given up on that game because they were reaching the point of arriving for their 8 o'clock dinner before the restaurant opened for the evening. Not that she had ever admitted what she was doing and she certainly was not going to quiz Harry on the subject.

He smiled back and poured her a glass of water. "I see you haven't lost your touch."

"Thank you," she said, although that had not quite been a compliment, given her previous words.

"Speaking of which, how's the investigative reporting going?"

She took a bigger sip of water than she meant to and only just managed to stop from swallowing a rogue ice cube.

"Steady on, old girl," Harry said, once she finished coughing, although he at least looked a little concerned.

"For a doctor you're remarkably unsympathetic."

He reached out for her hand and pressed his fingers to her wrist. Frowning, he said, "Well, I think you'll live."

He grinned at her as she took her hand back and rolled her eyes.

"As far as my job's going, I've just been undercover. So I've spent most of my day buried under reams of data, trying to work out what is relevant and how to present it. Which I would be getting through much faster if my boss didn't feel the need to remind me every hour to make sure it's all above board - his exact words."

"So, what did you say to him?"

"What makes you think I said anything?"

"Oh, just a guess."

Sarah held his gaze for less than a minute before she admitted he was right. "All I said was I'd been doing this job since before he was born and I knew what I was doing. Then he slammed the door to his office and sulked for the rest of the day." She grinned at the memory.

Harry laughed. "That's the Sarah Jane I know." He held his glass up and with a shake of her head she lifted hers to clink against it.

"I can't do it too often, though," she said, "or he'll find an excuse to fire me. But what I really want to know is what's going at UNIT with that flu pandemic. I don't suppose you know anything about that?"

"I might," he said, but was prevented from saying any more by the arrival of the waiter. Harry deferred to her to choose the wine, which was something of an empty victory on her part as they had already made their way through the list and agreed on one they both liked. Ever since they had stuck to drinking that one. She ordered by the time-honoured method of pointing and agreeing to whatever the waiter said that sounded like it could be the name on the wine list. Her Italian was not improving, even after the number of times she had been here.

Harry, on the other hand, insisted on ordering their food in Italian, which would have been fine had he actually been able to speak it. Her curiosity had got the better of her once and when she asked he had told her he had been there in the past. Obviously he had survived the experience but then a group of sailors could probably get away with pretty much anything.

There had been occasions when she had tried ordering her own food or accosting the waiter to make sure she got what she actually wanted, as opposed to what Harry decided she might like to eat. However, she had discovered he had the hitherto undiscovered skill of looking rather like a kicked puppy, so she had been forced to give that battle up as one she could not possibly win if he was going to try dirty tricks like that. She had not quite surrendered without a fight, though, because it had involved a lengthy lecture about what she liked and what she was prepared to eat.

He had listened very patiently, and nodded a lot, but in the end it made no difference because Harry's pronunciation was so atrocious that the waiter's guesses of what he had said usually bore no resemblance to what he actually meant. The results tended to be amusing at least and after some investigating she had discovered a fish and chip shop round the corner so whatever happened she knew she would not go hungry. This was, of course, not something she let Harry know about.

"You were telling me," she said, once the waiter had taken their order, "about what UNIT have been up to."

"I wasn't."

"All right, you were about to."

"You sound very sure of that."

Sarah calmly poured herself another glass of iced water and waited for him to crack. Before she could let go of the jug he held his now-empty glass up. She raised her eyebrows and refused to move.

"Fine," he said, "is this off the record or on?"

She grinned and poured him some water. "I'd love to get the scoop out from under Francis Currie but if I say it's on the record you won't tell me, will you?"

He grinned. "No."

"All right, you win. At least I can annoy him by knowing more than he does. Or at least I hope I will." She rested her arms on the table and leaned forward in anticipation.

"I don't really know exactly what UNIT got up to. As far as the 'plague' is concerned though, it's an alien virus designed to alter DNA. Apparently makes us easier to digest."

"Ugh," she said, suddenly glad she had not got caught up in it. "Where did it come from?"

"I wish I knew. I think ICIS were involved but I can't believe they did it on purpose. UNIT is investigating, though."

"Hmm." Sarah frowned and wondered who she could ask to find out. Unfortunately, the only two people she knew who were still remotely involved with this kind of thing were Harry and the Brigadier and the latter was not exactly known for being terribly forthcoming. But that was something for her to try later. "Given that the panic seems to have died down already, I'm guessing you found a cure," she said.

"Not us. At least, not on our own; we'd never have found it in time. The Silurians helped."

"Really?" She wondered if Currie knew about the alien involvement in all this and whether he believed it if he did. He had not even hinted at it but then it was something that was probably going to make people less likely to take his story seriously. "So it was something the Silurians already knew about."

"I'd say so. Or something similar at least."

"Perhaps it came from a race the Silurians have come across..." she trailed off trying to remember if the Doctor had ever even mentioned them to her.

Nothing immediately sprung to mind but before she could question Harry any further the wine arrived. Quite how it had taken them so long just to bring it up from the wine cellar was another of life's little mysteries. The consolation was that at least it tasted as good as she remembered. She nodded at the waiter as she confirmed the taste and he filled both of their glasses. Sarah juggled her wine and water and managed to find space for both. Harry was far too conscientious and would not allow her to drink alcohol without water, although whether that was the doctor in him or just him she could not say.

"Leave it for UNIT to investigate, that's what they're here for remember?" Harry said, once they were alone again.

The trouble was that all of this had thrown up feelings regarding UNIT she had not thought about since the last time she saw Harry. Which probably was part of the reason why they only met once a year. "I just wish I could get back in there," she said, wistfully, gripping her wineglass by the stem, dipping one finger in the wine and running her finger around the rim. "If only the Brigadier hadn't thrown me out." She was starting to get melancholy and wished she could drink more wine. Deliberately, she pushed her wine back to its place and reached for the water with a sigh.

"He didn't exactly throw you out. If I recall, he was quite gentle."

"Well, no," she conceded, "but he didn't let me stay either. It wasn't as if I only came as a pair with the Doctor. What are you grinning at?" she added.

"Nothing." Harry tried to school his expression into a more serious one but did not entirely succeed and ended up resting his chin on his hand so he could conceal his mouth behind his fingers.

He had at least managed to lighten her mood, if only slightly. "The trouble is," she continued, ignoring him, "that life after UNIT seems so ordinary and boring in comparison."

"I thought you got death threats after your last investigation."

Sarah had been quite proud - she had won the office competition for the number she got. She regretted telling Harry immediately she had, though, given the lecture he gave her afterwards. "Is it worrying," she asked him, "that there have been so many people, and aliens, trying to kill me that it actually seems quite normal?"

Harry frowned. There was a reason Sarah did not usually talk about this with him - he had a tendency to worry about her no matter how often she told him she could look after herself. She hoped she had not let herself in for a repeat of the previous year's lecture he had felt the need to give her on the subject.

"If you're not careful," he said, "one of these days someone is going to succeed."

"I'll be fine. Hazard of the job, that's all." She smiled but he looked down and swilled the wine around in his glass a few times before finally taking a sip. She gave in and finished hers off while wondering how the mood had gone down so quickly. She refilled her glass, not caring what Harry thought about that.

Fortunately, at that point their food arrived. Sarah was struggling to work out how it could possibly take so little time to cook, relatively speaking, compared with opening wine, but was distracted by discovering what Harry had ordered, however inadvertently. He seemed to have outdone himself this time. Hers was definitely a fruit salad, which was nice enough for dessert but not really the best choice for the main course. His meal, on the other hand, looked like nothing on earth; or off it.

"What actually is that?" she asked the waiter before he could move away.

His answer was something unintelligible, presumably in Italian.

"And that is...?"

"Creamed lamb's brains." He smiled and departed and Sarah wondered if that was really a traditional Italian dish or just on the menu to confuse the English. She had to hide her own smile behind her hand. Harry was certainly not going to get any sympathy from her; this was entirely his fault. To his credit, he did dig his fork in and try a bit.

"What's it like?" she asked.

He swallowed and said, "I've had worse," but she noticed he carefully ate the vegetables around it after that and she refused his offer to taste it without hesitation.

Their conversation turned to old memories and old secrets that often got them funny looks from neighbouring diners if they ever caught any of it. It was possibly her annual dinner with Harry that kept her sane, Sarah thought. There was certainly no-one else she could discuss this sort of thing with without anyone else thinking she was either completely insane or making the whole thing up.

There were lots of 'do you remember when's, not that either of them had forgotten any of their adventures with UNIT and the Doctor. Neither of them seemed to want to discuss anything more current and the mood was much more cheerful by the time they finished the food and the coffee arrived.

"I keep thinking," she said, when their discussion reminded her, "that we should go back to Scotland, see if Nessie's still there."

Harry poured two cups of coffee before he answered; a stalling tactic which worried Sarah because she could not think of a reason why he would feel the need to.

"That's a good idea, you should definitely go."

She pulled her coffee towards her but it was too hot to drink just yet. "What about you? Don't tell me you're too busy." She frowned as Harry absent-mindedly added milk to his, then frowned at the taste. She removed the problem for him by swapping their cups: Harry had once complained to her at length about milk spoiling the taste of coffee. Sarah, on the other hand, did not mind either way.

He looked up at last and she said nothing, waiting for him impatiently. "I didn’t want to spoil the meal," he said, "but I'm leaving on an overseas posting."

"That's not unusual, even though you have been in the country for a while recently." It was certainly not enough to explain his odd behaviour.

"You're not going to like it."

Sarah discovered the milk had cooled the coffee quite well and she drank half of it - she had a feeling she was going to need it.

"I can't tell you where I'm going or how long I'll be gone." He gave her a small smile over his coffee cup that did not fool either of them. "It's very hush-hush, old girl."

"Don't give me that, Harry."

"Sorry."

She sighed. "You're right, I don't like it." Especially since not much earlier he had been worrying about her getting killed and now he was going off who knows where doing goodness knows what, and who knew what might happen to him while he was gone.

"I haven't got to the part you really won't like yet."

Sarah went for some more fortification, this time in the form of wine. That Harry did not stop her did not help her feeling of dread about this.

"I need you to promise me you won't try and find out where I've gone."

"Why?" A sudden, horrible thought came to her and she froze. "You're not in trouble are you?"

"No," he said quickly. "No, but it is top secret and I don't want anyone finding out through you."

"You think I can't keep a secret?"

He winced. "It's not that, old girl. But if you knew you wouldn’t be safe."

"Why? What the hell is going on, Harry?"

He shook his head and pushed his now-empty coffee cup away. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

She took a deep breath but bit her lip before she could say something she would later regret.

Harry pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket that was starting to look distinctly crumpled and passed it to her. "Here," he said as she took it from him and read it, "you can still write to me."

The address was in this country, which was not really that much of a surprise. It would be a lead she could chase up except that she was already feeling guilty just thinking about it. By the time she had put it away carefully in her purse he was already on his feet.

"Let's go," he said.

"Where's the rush?" she asked him but he already had his wallet out and Sarah was forced to follow him in order to have their standard argument over the bill. Usually she refused to pay for food she had not chosen but equally did not want him paying for everything. Her heart was not quite in it this time, though, so her contribution consisted mostly of saying 'thank you' and 'goodbye'.

While it was true Harry had not been away for a while, he used to be off round the world often. This time, though, there was something about what he said, or rather did not say, that made her think this time it was particularly dangerous and she wondered if he would even make it back for next year's dinner.

Once outside he smiled at her and said "I'm starving. Am I right in thinking there's a chip shop near here?"

Sarah laughed and put her arm through his as they headed off for a more palatable meal.

*****

Sarah let a tear fall down her cheek - there was no-one to see it anyway. Now she could think of things she might have done differently, if only she had known. The worst part was not knowing anything at all; not knowing if he was dead or alive. Harry could come back tomorrow or not at all.

When she heard a key turn in the lock she debated whether to carry on crying to garner some sympathy. However, when the person who walked in was revealed to be the Brigadier she quickly dried her eyes and stood up. He was unlikely to fall for that, she thought.

"Miss Smith. You do seem to have a penchant for getting into trouble."

Sarah gave a tight smile in return. The Brigadier was someone on whom excuses would not work either.

He surprised her, though, by sitting down on the bunk she had just vacated. Sarah sat down next to him.

"I understand; it's hard not knowing where he is or what he's doing."

Sarah looked down at her shoes. The Brigadier being understanding was not that unusual but was a little hard to take at the moment.

"You just have to be patient. You can't go breaking into places, they don't tend to like it."

Sarah looked up at him. He looked a bit concerned, which was unexpectedly sweet. "I'm not good at waiting."

"I noticed. But nevertheless, there is nothing you can do, you just don't have a high enough security clearance to be told anything. And no," he held up a hand, anticipating her next comment, "you can't get one either."

She nodded in response.

"And maybe you'll find one day he'll tell you himself. Patience is a virtue, Miss Smith. Now, up you get, they're sick of the sight of you and you look like you could do with a night in a proper bed."

"Thank you," she said, knowing now why the Brigadier was here and what he had done.

"What for?" he said, but he smiled.

~*~*~*~

By the time she got home it was late and she found the Brigadier was right - she did feel better for a night spent in her own bed. Although she was woken in the morning by the doorbell. She wanted to ignore it but whoever was there was insistent, so she gave in, put on a dressing gown and opened the door.

"Sarah, where have you been? I've been trying to get hold of you all night," Nat said as Sarah let go of the door in surprise, giving Nat a chance to get inside.

"Hi Nat, how was your holiday, why don't you come in?" She was pleased to see her, even though it was too late to use any of her computer talents.

Nat ignored her and carried on. "I've been worried. I got back to work yesterday to find you've been off sick and when you were in you looked terrible and were really quiet. I didn't know what to think, this isn't exactly the season for the flu."

Sarah thought about cutting in but just sat down and waited until Nat had drawn breath. She did not get a chance to say anything though because it turned out to only be a temporary lull.

"You could have called me you know," she carried on, although more quietly. "France isn't that far away. Which was great, by the way."

"Good," Sarah managed before tackling the rest of Nat's rant. "A good friend of mine has gone missing. He was on a mission for NATO, I think, and no-one knows where he is. I just..." she trailed off and bit her lip.

Nat reached over to take her hand and Sarah held on gratefully. "I'm so sorry. If you need some help looking for him--"

"Thank you but I've tried everything and there's nothing left to do except hope he's okay."

"At least they haven't told you he's dead. That means there's still hope."

Sarah nodded. It was not much of a comfort.

"Are you going to be all right? If I'm any later in this morning it will get too suspicious."

Sarah smiled at that and nodded.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, at work."

"I don't know, Nat..."

"You have to carry on, Sarah. I'm sure your friend wouldn't want to come back to find you pining away like a girl in some trashy romance novel. That's not you."

"You're right." Sarah stood up. "Perhaps I should start now, come back to work today."

"No. No offense, Sarah but you still look terrible. Go pamper yourself, eat chocolate, have a long bath. Have a long bath in chocolate. Hmm, that's an idea... And I'll see you tomorrow."

"Thank you," Sarah said, as Nat left. Nat smiled in response. Sarah settled in to follow her friend's advice and wait for Harry to come back in her life, however long that might take.

Jack came up behind her, although not too close, as the skirt settled once more. She might have laughed at his pose - on anyone else it would look a bit girly. Jack, though, could get away with that sort of thing.

The Doctor pointed at them with the sonic screwdriver. "1950s Earth," he said, "and Jack's is two decades later."

Rose groaned. They had been playing this game for a few outfits and the Doctor had got them all correct. It was getting annoying now. You would think with the size of his wardrobe (it took up an entire room, for goodness sake!) he would have at least forgotten when some of them were from.

"I've seen Grease, you can't fool me." The Doctor grinned.

"So have I," Jack said. "Good movie. Although it's a pity you don't have anything like that cat suit Sandy wears at the end." He looked her up and down as he said it.

Rose laughed and hit him. "It looks better on you." The black biker's leathers he wore were indeed very tight fitting. She had to admit he looked good in them, though. Mind you, Jack either had a good body or a good eye for clothes, or most probably both.

"We must try harder," Jack said, "come on Rose."

She waved at the Doctor - it seemed the right kind of mood for it - and followed Jack back to the wardrobe room. Jack had been impressed when he first saw the size of it and the number and variety of clothes it contained. Rose soon discovered he was willing to take time to go through it with her, explaining which era of history they came from. Although she had to concede, half of the time she had no way of knowing if he was right. When it came to clothes from her future or from other planets she had to trust Jack's word on when they were in fashion. In the case of some of them she really could not understand why. She was surprised, though, to find that so many other planets had discovered jeans.

When she emerged from behind a handy rail of clothes she found Jack standing disturbingly close, for which she gave him a look.

He folded his arms and grinned at her. "You really should wear a corset under that."

Rose mimicked his stance and raised one eyebrow. She wanted to know how he knew she wasn't wearing a corset under the long dress she had found. She wasn't going to ask, though, mostly because she wasn't quite sure she wanted to hear his answer.

Jack, at least, got the hint and offered her his arm like the gentleman he was dressed up as - complete with top hat.

When they presented themselves for the Doctor's inspection he guessed immediately, unsurprisingly.

"Victorian England," he said, "Perfect!"

Rose beamed and tried a curtsy. "Why thank you, kind sir," she said, in her best upper-class accent, which really wasn't that good given the wince Jack gave at it.

"Actually, I just meant you've picked out the right clothes this time. If you'd like to step this way lady and gentleman." He opened the TARDIS doors with a touch on the console and motioned with his arm to indicate the way outside.

Rose sighed but did as he requested.

Jack let go of her arm before he was pulled along outside with her. "Aren't you getting changed too?" he asked the Doctor.

"Why, is there something wrong with what I'm wearing?" The Doctor looked down at his attire with a frown.

Rose had already tried this more than once before and had long since given up attempting to get the Doctor to fit the era. Mostly, it seemed to be the other way round.

"I could just see you dressed as a butler," Jack said, his head on one side and a glint in his eye.

Rose shook her head and stepped outside to leave them to it. It was, to her limited knowledge, definitely Victorian England. They had landed not far from what was probably a road, given that as she watched a horse and carriage went past her at great speed. Apart from that there didn't seem to be many people around and it was actually a little disappointing. She turned and shouted behind her, "Come on, you two!"

The Doctor and Jack, still squabbling over the Doctor's choice of clothing, at least managed to step out of the TARDIS. Rose tuned them out and took advantage of their inattention to make the decision as to them which direction they should go in, although she did not really know where would be best so headed out pretty much randomly.

The reason for the lack of people about soon became apparent when thunder rumbled overhead. Rose looked up to see big black clouds overhead. She did think it was odd, though, that everything stopped for a thunderstorm when it didn't at home.

Very quickly it started to rain and a small drizzle soon turned into a downpour as they headed down the road.

"There must be a pub here somewhere," Rose suggested.

"Victorian pubs, not really a place for a lady," the Doctor said.

Rose didn't really care that much at this point. The dress she wore seemed to soak up the rain and it was getting heavier with every step.

Jack, at least, had taken the initiative and banged on a nearby door. Rose didn't seriously think he would get anyone to let them in but she had underestimated his charm and they were soon in a warm house drying out by the fire. She couldn't help noticing how Mrs West (although she was Eileen to Jack) kept smiling at Jack. She looked to be about her mother’s age, if not older, but since species differences never seemed to bother him, she imagined age gaps were unlikely to either.

The Doctor showed no signs of being bothered by being wet and was examining the knick-knacks on the mantelpiece instead.

"Where is everyone today?" he asked as Rose tried to get her hair dry.

"It's the thunderstorm," Mrs West said.

"But that's not exactly unusual," Rose said, "it's not as if England stops for rain."

"Just as well!" Jack put in but Rose ignored him.

"You're not from round here, are you?"

"We're travellers, just passing through," said the Doctor.

Mr West unexpectedly made an appearance in the room and joined the conversation. "I would leave soon, then."

At that point Jack decided to give Mrs West a big smile, although when Rose looked in the same direction he was, she wondered if it wasn't aimed at Mr West instead. It didn't matter though, because the effect was an offer of dinner and somehow Rose managed to have been volunteered to help, it being the maid's day off, apparently. Mr West's statement seemingly having being forgotten by everyone except Rose, who agreed whole-heartedly and wished they could just leave and go back to the TARDIS before the Doctor got them into trouble.

However, Mrs West seemed to think they all needed a four course banquet, so there was plenty of cooking to do and Rose was kept busy. She just hoped that the Doctor was keeping Jack out of trouble in the meantime. Although equally, Jack needed to prevent the Doctor from offending someone too.

After what seemed like hours spent in the kitchen hearing Mrs West's entire life story (which really wasn't that exciting, or that long, Victorian women not really having that much choice in, well, anything much) she was eventually demoted to waitress. It didn't help that Rose hadn't really been able to tell Mrs West much about herself for fear of it not making sense in this time. And it wasn’t her fault that she didn’t understand how most of it was supposed to work - usually she just put something in the microwave, so an open fire was a bit tricky for her to master in comparison.

On one of her trips between the kitchen and dining room Rose saw Jack and Mr West standing suspiciously close to each other in the hallway. She couldn't stop, though, because the dish she carried was hot and heavy. By the time she came back the scene was one of perfect innocence and Rose settled for giving Jack a look. He just grinned back.

Jack was, of course, free to do what he liked with whom he liked. Just because he was travelling with her and the Doctor didn't mean he had to display any sort of loyalty to them as far as his sex life was concerned. But it was a different matter altogether when he was putting himself in the middle of someone's marriage (from whichever side it was) and Rose really wished he wouldn't.

Consequently, she felt a bit out of things during dinner, especially as both Mr and Mrs West were keener to talk to Jack. The Doctor didn't seem to notice and was quite happy dropping in comments and distracting the couple from vying over Jack. There was nothing else Rose wanted to ask, after her time spent preparing the food, and there were no observations she really felt qualified to offer, either. She spent most of the meal wishing they weren't here at all and wondering how soon they could return to the TARDIS without it seeming rude.

She briefly toyed with the notion of imagining what her life would be like if it was just her and Jack. She decided it would probably be a whole lot less dangerous but more boring because Jack was too easily distracted by a pretty face (or any face at all, really). The Doctor's diversions were at least interesting, if often near-death experiences.

The rain never to let up all through the hours dinner seemed to last and Mrs West offered all three of them beds for the night - the house being big enough for each of them to have their own room. Rose wasn't entirely thrilled with the idea - she was missing the luxuries of home already - but the Doctor and Jack both seemed overjoyed at the suggestion and she gave up before she even said anything in protest.

She'd just about managed to get dressed for bed - which seemed to involve covering more of herself than on an average day at home, when she heard the Doctor shouting and somewhere in there was Jack's name. Wanting to know what he'd done now, she headed out to see what all the noise was about. Upon reaching Jack's room the scene that confronted her consisted of Jack, naked, standing in the middle of the room; Mr West in the bed, presumably just as undressed, although since he had the covers pulled up practically to his neck it was hard to tell; and the Doctor, still fully dressed, standing in the doorway, arms folded. Rose tried not to look at Jack, but it was difficult, and besides, he never really cared who saw him.

What Jack had been doing was immediately obvious.

"It's not like I forced him," Jack was saying. "He practically jumped me."

"What, when he's already married to Mrs West?" Rose asked.

"Especially because he's married to Mrs West."

"You seemed quite happy to flirt with her," the Doctor put in.

Jack just shrugged. Rose had to turn away from the scene in front of her for a moment. Jack had a way of making people feel special when he turned on the charm. And he'd certainly made her feel that way when they first met. She'd found it funny when he seemed to flirt with everyone he met - it seemed like he couldn't help it. But flirting with someone he didn't actually like that much made her wonder just what he felt about her and the Doctor.

"It's this culture," Jack was saying behind her, "it's so repressed and made to believe homosexuality is wrong. What do you think is going to happen?"

"Well you don't exactly help," the Doctor replied.

Mr West was staying silent on this topic, and it did rather seem to be the Doctor and Jack's argument. Rose was just wondering where Mrs West was and if she was staying away when she spotted the edge of her around the corner, eavesdropping. Rose decided to leave the men to it and went over to her.

"I'm sorry," she said. "If we hadn't come..."

"It's not your fault. I always suspected but I never could pluck up the courage to ask him outright."

"What are you going to do?"

"Oh, it's too late now. The time for me to have children is long since past. There's no point in leaving him and creating a scandal."

"But if you're not happy with him..."

Mrs West looked at Rose as if she were a child. "It's not a question of happiness, it's my duty to be loyal to my husband. If anyone else ever suspects I will always deny everything. That's how it is." She sighed. "But at least now I know where the weather is coming from. We’ll have to leave here and move again…"

Rose was utterly confused by this but before she could ask anything she saw Mrs West look up and to the side. Rose turned to see that during their conversation the Doctor and Jack's argument had finished and she hadn't noticed. It was the Doctor who had come up behind her.

"Get changed, Rose," he said, "we're going."

She might have complained about having to leave in the middle of the night, even though the rain had stopped, but this didn't really seem to be the time.

The clothes she'd been wearing when she stepped out of the TARDIS earlier in the day were now merely damp so she put those back on, rather than take an outfit that wasn't hers. It seemed unlikely they'd ever be back to return them. The Doctor had never quite managed to change his clothes, claiming he really wasn't that wet but Jack was at least now wearing something, which was an improvement.

Rose said goodbye to Mrs West, which was cordial enough. She was still worried about the older woman but she seemed to be so stubborn that nothing Rose could say would be likely to make any difference. And Rose wasn't sure that rocking her world would help her that much. Not that the Doctor was going to give her a chance to anyway, for he hustled Jack out of the door before he could say anything to anyone, although in his defence he didn't look like he was about to.

The walk back was in silence. It was pitch-black out and the Doctor pulled a big torch from inside his jacket pocket, although how it fitted in there, Rose couldn't say. As she shivered she looked forward to getting back to the TARDIS more and more. Jack noticed though and took off his heavy coat, draping it round her shoulders. She smiled at him and he put an arm round her, sharing the warmth. The Doctor pretended not to notice and walked on ahead.

Rose knew she was going to have to do something about this situation because otherwise the atmosphere was unbearable and the last thing she wanted was for Jack to be made to leave. Not least because it probably wouldn't really do that much about the tension in the end.

When at last they reached the TARDIS, the Doctor turned round and scowled at them before they could get far into the control room.

Rose spoke before he could. "Are you jealous? Is that why you're so upset?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Rose."

"So what is it then?"

"Jack insulted our hosts. We were supposed to be there to enjoy a nice bit of Victorian England but there's always one who has to spoil it for everyone else."

"Oh, because you've never insulted anyone. Like my mother for instance."

"At least I never slept with her."

"You can hardly blame that on Jack. It does take two to tango. I assume you know that one!"

"I'm sorry," Jack said when the Doctor paused at Rose's words. "I swear I didn't cause the problems in that household. I just brought them out in the open."

"For all the good it did Mrs West," Rose said.

"You can't force her to do something she doesn't want to," the Doctor said, more calm now.

"I know," Rose conceded. Something she had learned on her travels with the Doctor was that she was really glad she didn't live in an earlier time. She would hate not to have the options available to her in the 21st century.

"For what it's worth," Jack said, "I'm sorry. I'll understand if you want me to leave."

"No!" Rose said. "I mean, I don't want you to go."

Jack smiled at her. Even with what she had heard earlier tonight, he could still make her feel special, just with a look.

"You can stay," the Doctor said, "as long as you stay out of trouble."

"I'll do my best," Jack said, walking up close to the Doctor and smiling at him. "And if you ever need someone to teach you to tango, you know where I am."

Rose knew everything was going to be all right in the end because she saw the Doctor grin.

She was feeling much more enthusiastic about facing the day, having had the chance to spend an hour waking up and then pampering herself, rather than the usual rushed leap out of bed and into clean clothes. Knowing in advance that her usual 9 o'clock meeting was unlikely to be too onerous she had brought her breakfast with her. She turned up to find her department heads had the same idea and they all had matching cups of coffee and bowls of something that mostly resembled oatmeal. Even if it did not quite taste like it, it was all least nutritious and kept her full until lunch time.

After that she had been prepared to take Rodney's gripes with a smile but unusually, he did not have any. Probably because he finally had some time to do all the things he had been telling her for weeks he never got the chance to get to. The meeting had still taken just over an hour, however, but today it was because they had spent half of that time joking with each other, rather than trying to solve the latest crisis, as was more usual. It was not the first time this had happened but it had become rare enough that she was struggling to remember how long ago it had been. It had reminded her of the meetings they used to have in Antarctica when they were not under so many time pressures. She wished more of the ones they had here were like that.

In fairly high spirits after the meeting, and feeling cheered by the current turn of events (or lack of them), she intended to spend her morning working through a pile of paperwork that she had been meaning to do for days and was now becoming quite urgent. First, though, she checked to see if there was anything more important she needed to deal with. She was surprised to find an e-mail from General O'Neill had just arrived, for he didn't write often.

From: j.oneill@airforce.gov
To: e.weir@atlantis.gov
CC: j.sheppard@atlantis.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 10:18 AM
Subject: You tortured Kavanagh?!

Are you insane?

At least you didn't record it.

(Is this Ronon guy as impressive as he sounds?)

Jack

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

attachments: akavanagh1.jpg, akavanagh2.jpg

It only took her a couple of minutes to read through the attachments and establish that Kavanagh had complained about her, unsurprisingly. She could not blame him. Even though Ronon had not touched him the threat was certainly there and even if he had been guilty it was still completely unjustified. They were supposed to be the good guys and that meant they did not torture people, even if it might mean the safety of the city. The only bright spot was that he had certainly complained before and probably on more than one occasion. With any luck he had cried wolf too many times and Jack would just ignore him.

That did not make it right, though, and was something she had been unable to justify to herself on the nights she had spent tossing and turning, trying to make sense of it all. Most of the time other events conspired to put it out of her mind, but eventually she had managed to reconcile herself to the fact that she could not change the past and she needed to be consider her options more carefully in future. She really did not need this bringing up again, even though she had felt guilty for escaping justice for it. In the cold light of day she wondered if she had been insane, or just desperate. She replied quickly, wanted to know Jack's perspective, even if he did not have all the facts yet.

From: e.weir@atlantis.gov
To: j.oneill@airforce.gov
CC: j.sheppard@atlantis.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 10:22 AM
Subject: Re: You tortured Kavanagh?!

Don't remind me.

Are we in trouble?

Elizabeth

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

She tried to turn back to her paperwork, knowing it could take Jack a while to respond, depending on how busy he was, but she could not concentrate any more. She found herself looking round the room and staring for a while at the activity outside her office. Most of the technicians working there had turned round in their chairs to chat and were currently laughing. If she went out there they might stop and she did not want to spoil their fun. Even if they did not and they let her into the joke she was not really in the mood for it.

She could not argue that she did not know what she had asked Ronon to do because she knew what he was capable of and she had seen the after effects of torture on more than one occasion. It had not been pleasant. She had tried, in the past, to convince people it was not the answer to their problems and now she had expected it to solve theirs, when an evacuation would have saved lives, if not the Stargate and the way home.

If she was in trouble then there was no doubt in her mind that she would be asked to step down. She wondered if she should anyway. It was rapidly becoming obvious, in the face of first the Wraith threat and now the one from The Trust, that Atlantis needed a leader who would endorse more aggressive solutions to what were fast becoming military problems. It did not need one whose main focus was on finding allies. She almost wished for a crisis to break up the quiet day and take her mind off things.

Rubbing her temples it was clear that she was not going to get any work done with this hanging over her. And sitting at the computer, staring at her inbox was not going to get Jack to reply any faster. She wished they were not so far away so she could see him in person to explain it to him properly. Before her thoughts could depress her any more than they already were, she decided to go for a walk.

She did not have any particular destination in mind and just wandered through the corridors. She passed people as she went, some of whom were taking the opportunity to catch up on non-urgent tasks, and others were pursuing more social activities. She returned their smiled greetings and tried to remind herself that with the exception of Kavanagh, who was no longer in Atlantis anyway, they were all happy with her work. But if they had known what she had done would they still feel the same? If she left she would miss not only Atlantis but also all these people that had become her friends.

Thinking that exercise might help she turned towards the gym. She had only just got out of the transporter when she heard grunts, clashes and sounds of flesh meeting floor, and her heart sped up in slightly horrified anticipation, in case she had got her wish. Walking gingerly round the corner she found the door was open and practice was in full swing. She took a deep calming breath and peered in.

One of the new young marines was just pushing himself up from the mat on the floor and he touched foreheads with Teyla before grinning and returning to a line of men and women along the side of the room. Some jostling went on, no doubt he was getting ribbed about being beaten by a girl. Elizabeth smiled. No one who had been here for longer than a few days thought about going up against Teyla hand-to-hand and winning, no matter how much training they'd had. Real life combat was obviously a far better learning tool, as much as Elizabeth wished none of them had to go through that.

While she was distracted by the marines, Ronon had stepped up. Although Teyla held a stick in each hand, Ronon had no weapons and Elizabeth thought that must be an unfair fight. As she watched she discovered she had forgotten how good Ronon was; how good he'd had to be to survive. It still amazed her - she was not sure if any of her people would have lived so long if they had been in the same situation.

She had intended to watch the fight but her eye could not help but be drawn to Ronon. As he dodged and parried Teyla's sticks he made it look easy, although Elizabeth knew it was actually an instinct he would not soon lose. He had obviously not been idle while Teyla fought because there was already a layer of sweat coating his skin and he could not be working that hard yet. His muscles tensed and relaxed as he attacked Teyla and blocked her attacks in return. Elizabeth smiled as she remembered the workout she and Ronon had gotten two nights ago. Now it seemed like it was too long ago.

She allowed herself to get caught up in her memories, which eased her mood a little. But by doing so she was not concentrating on what was happening around her and missed Teyla taking Ronon down. Ronon seemed good-natured about it, though, and was laughing as he allowed Teyla to help him up. Elizabeth had to give herself a mental shake to pull her thoughts back into ones that were acceptable for company and more related to current events.

The class was dismissed and Elizabeth nodded back to the marines filing out as she stepped in.

"Doctor Weir," Teyla greeted her, as she left Ronon to tidy. "Is everything all right? Or are you interested in learning how to fight?"

"I already know," Elizabeth replied. She refused to elaborate, though. Ronon was not looking in their direction, on purpose Elizabeth thought, although she could not think why.

"Then was there something specific you wanted?"

"No, I think I just got so used to lurching from one crisis to another that I'm not sure I remember how to do nothing any more."

Teyla smiled. "I understand. But there is always something."

Having finished, Ronon interrupted their conversation to inform them, "McKay tells me there is something called 'second breakfast'," which was his way of saying goodbye.

Elizabeth smiled at his enthusiasm. Somehow Ronon always managed to lift her spirits, without even seeming to try. She wished she could find an excuse to join him but since she wanted something from him other than food she thought she had better not. She did not want to embarrass herself in front of whoever might be in the mess hall.

The rest of the gym done, Teyla had collected up her sticks to return them to the back in the window and Elizabeth rethought her exercise idea. She really needed some perspective from someone else. And to not have to pretend any more that everything was all right. Watching the Athosian she found herself twining her hands together in nervousness. Berating herself, she smoothed them against her pant legs.

"Teyla," she began, although she was not really sure where to start, "you heard I nearly had an innocent man tortured?"

Teyla had sat herself down as Elizabeth spoke, and waited until Elizabeth had seated herself in the window beside her before she answered. "I did. I am told it was necessary to save Atlantis."

Elizabeth wanted to get up and pace but settled for clasping her hands together tightly in her lap and not moving them. She shook her head. "It shouldn't have been. It should never be."

"I agree, Doctor Weir, but sometimes we have to do things we would rather not to protect our people."

Elizabeth wondered, for a moment, what Teyla might have had to do. But then Teyla had lived under fear of the Wraith all her life.

"You have a valid point, Teyla, but this man was innocent. I mean, suspicious, but innocent. And perhaps I did it because..." Teyla cocked her head and Elizabeth took a deep breath before continuing, not entirely wanting to admit what Kavanagh had suspected, "...because I didn't like him. Because I wanted it to be him. I let my emotions get the best of me and made a bad call because of it."

Teyla laid one hand on Elizabeth's arm. "You felt, and I believe still feel as if you let your emotions get in your way."

Elizabeth sighed in remorse and nodded. "Yes, on both accounts." In that accusation, Kavanagh was probably right but that was how she was, she did not know any other way to be.

"If you are asking for my opinion then I do not see anything wrong with that," Teyla said with a comforting smile.

She shook her head. "If I had been thinking rationally then perhaps we could have discovered who was responsible before it became critical and the situation wouldn't have arisen."

"You cannot put all the blame on yourself. If we felt you were wrong then we would tell you. You know we would not allow you to jeopardise Atlantis. Yes you may have made a bad lapse in judgement, but that in no means implies that you are a bad leader. You are after all still human, and still capable of making mistakes, leader of this base or not. "

She smiled at Teyla. "You're right." None of these people restrained themselves from giving their opinion when they disagreed with her or each other. "Perhaps it was justified but that still doesn't make it right."

"That is something I believe that only you can decide for yourself."

Elizabeth nodded. "Since coming here I've been finding I often have to change my opinions on what is right and what is not. My views and beliefs are constantly changing in front of my eyes and sometimes it's all just a little too much to take."

"Perhaps there is something about Atlantis that makes you think this way."

"Perhaps there is." With a smile she rose, feeling at least a little more cheered, even if she could not recapture her mood of an hour earlier. "Thank you for your advice, Teyla. I will try and take it."

She had only taken a few steps when Teyla called her back. Elizabeth turned in the doorway. "If there is ever anything else that you would wish a second opinion on, I am happy to advise you once more."

"Thank you, Teyla, that's a great comfort. I will keep you to your word."

A slight inclination of Teyla’s head was her reply and she left Teyla in her own devices.

Elizabeth returned to her office via the mess, pretending to herself that she was not disappointed that Ronon was no longer there. She got herself some more coffee, though, and stopped to watch the waves, trying not to think too much. The anticipation of a reply from Jack almost made her want to go back to her office and check her e-mail right that minute. Except that if it was bad news she did not want know. Good news and maybe she could put it behind her once more and chalk it up to experience.

She did not rush back up to her office, therefore, but was surprised when she arrived to find Ronon sitting at her desk, his back to the door.

"Hello. How was second breakfast?"

Ronon turned round to look up at her. "McKay was not exaggerating."

Like many of her conversations with Ronon she was not entirely sure how to respond, except with a smile and a small shake of her head. "That's good to hear." She moved round to her desk to sit at it and found Ronon was just finishing setting up a chessboard on it.

"You have e-mail," he informed her.

"Thank you," she said, sitting down and clicking off the standard SGC screensaver she had never quite got round to changing. Her heart sped up as she saw one was from Jack. She opened it straight away, wanting to at least put herself out of her misery.

From: j.oneill@airforce.gov
To: e.weir@atlantis.gov
CC: j.sheppard@atlantis.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 11:09 AM
Subject: Re: Re: You tortured Kavanagh?!

No, we've got bigger things to worry about. Like, say, aliens? Besides, it's he-said-she-said stuff, it's like trying to prosecute date rape cases.

If it were up to me, you three would be getting commendations.

Jack

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

Upon reading it she closed her eyes, slumped back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Her worrying suddenly seemed so silly.

"Everything okay?" Ronon asked her.

She smiled at him. "Yes, nothing to worry yourself over. I take it you would like a game?"

"Yes," he replied, pushing the board away from him, the white pieces towards her.

She sat up, moved her computer out of the way and advanced a pawn. Every time she thought she had Ronon figured out it always turned out there was more to him than met the eye. She could not quite remember how the conversation had started now but after discussing strategy in chess it turned out he wanted to find out more about it.

He had understood the goal of protecting the king while attacking the opposition's well enough but she had expected him to have had more trouble with the notion of the queen being the most powerful piece on the board. As it happened he had smiled and given her a look that she thought might have melted plastic. It was one of the few times when she had known exactly what he was thinking. After an initial shock she found that not only did she not mind but she reciprocated.

So, it had started with chess. Despite Ronon being a man of action and instinct he had picked the game up quickly. She supposed it was not that different from having to plan your life when it consisted of considering the next planet to go to avoid the Wraith. He was a willing pupil and she enjoyed teaching him. Their games always went quickly, though, as he never liked to spend too much time thinking, and if she did, or tried to, he would generally find a way of making sure she did not. Sometimes she did it on purpose and then the game would not end at all.

He had not completely mastered a poker face, not that it was entirely necessary for chess. But as he moved a knight he looked up and gave her what was definitely an evil grin, forcing her to concentrate on the board, to try and discover what she had missed. She could not find anything, though, which either meant he was better than she thought at chess or better than she thought at bluffing.

She peered up at him through her eyelashes. "You're getting good at this."

He slouched back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and grinned at her. "I suggest the rock."

"Rook," she corrected automatically, even though he had long since refused to call it that. She had surprised herself by finding it endearing rather than annoying. Ronon reached an arm out to pick his king up and immediately put it back down again. She could not decide whether he was doing it on purpose to distract her.

"Okay," she said, giving in, "you got me. Why would I move my rook?"

"Then my queen can put you in check."

She glanced up at Ronon, who looked gazed back at her. She could not help but laugh in response, which felt good in comparison to the stress of the rest of the morning. She was still smiling when she spotted an opening, moved her rook as he suggested and looked back at Ronon to make his move.

He frowned at her and studied the board. "What did you do that for?"

She grinned at him. He had never won a game against her yet and refused to let her help him or go easy on him. So, although her move looked like it would benefit him, he would know that he had missed something. She thought that perhaps if he could just sit still long enough to consider all the possible ramifications of his moves then he would do much better.

He only thought for a couple of minutes before moving a bishop.

"Are you sure you want to do that?" she asked him, but at least he had realised why his suggested move was a bad idea.

"Yes," was his immediate answer, although he looked carefully at the board again.

Successfully knighting a pawn in exchange for one sacrificed earlier in the game put his king in check with only one way out. Anyone else might have given up at this point but not Ronon. There was something to be said for his determination: he always played to the bitter end. Given that he had nearly scored a draw on one occasion, she could not blame him.

"So, how's your morning been?" she asked him, now that the pressure was off her at least.

"Good."

Sometimes it was hard chatting with Ronon because he did not give anything away. But then it was not his sparkling conversational skills she liked about him.

"Any plans for this afternoon?" she asked, lightly.

"Sheppard said something about 'paperwork'."

Elizabeth smiled despite her disappointment. She was willing to bet that Sateda had not been as bureaucratic as Earth - or America, at least - and she did not envy him his afternoon.

"But I am free this lunch time," Ronon said as he moved his king to what would have been an excellent defense had he noticed her rook hiding on the other side of the board.

Moving it up, she grinned at him. "Checkmate."

Ronon gave a grunt and tipped his king over. "One day I will beat you."

"I'm looking forward to it." Not just because she liked spending time with him, but also because their chess games had a tendency to be a prelude for something else entirely. "Is there something good for lunch?"

"There is," he replied looking straight at her.

For a minute she was not entirely sure because Ronon never missed a meal. Then she remembered his second breakfast and gave him a slightly shy smile. "My quarters. One hour." Ronon's conversational skills must be rubbing off on her.

He gave her a smile back and left her with only one hour to spend with a pile of paperwork that she swore had grown larger since she'd been gone. Not to mention an e-mail to reply to.

Before she did, she read through the rest of the e-mails that seemed to have accumulated, even on a quiet morning. There was only one other on the same subject, from Teyla this time. When Elizabeth read it she discovered John must have e-mailed his team about Kavanagh, which suggested he might have been at his computer working. John did not really do sitting down and working quietly very well, so it seemed unlikely, but then she could not really blame him given what she had spent her morning doing.

From: telya@atlantis.gov
To: j.sheppard@atlantis.gov, e.weir@atlantis.gov, ronon@atlantis.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 11:31 AM
Subject: Re: Fwd: You tortured Kavanagh?!

My apologies for not replying earlier. I am still unused to this technology.

I am glad that none of you are in danger any longer.

Teyla Emmagen

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

The rest of her inbox confirmed that other people had taken the time to catch up too. It was hard to concentrate, with an entire hour to fill up but she simply had to get some work done while there was such a good opportunity. Her reply to Jack was not exactly a difficult one though. If he had been there in person she could have kissed him when she saw his last e-mail.

From: e.weir@atlantis.gov
To: j.oneill@airforce.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 11:58 AM
Subject: We all owe you one.

Thanks.

Elizabeth

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

She hit send and with a mischievous smile, wrote an addendum.

From: e.weir@atlantis.gov
To: j.oneill@airforce.gov
Date: Tues, May 2, 2006 11:59 AM
Subject: Ronon

And he's better. In every way.

Elizabeth

This information is classified. Distribution to anyone without the proper security clearance carries consequences including and not limited to the following; fines up to $30, 000 or the equivalent; up to ten (10) years in federal prison; revocation of security clearance; revocation of citizenship or resident alien status; and/or deportment.

Although the walk had helped she still longed for an open space. The biggest one in the SGC was the Gate Room but as she could not set up in there she had gone to the commissary instead and stayed there since, entranced. She had long passed the point where she worried about the colour of her fingers, as unsurprisingly they were now black from countless page-turning. The remains of what was once lunch was buried under a pile of not-quite folded up papers that she had read and kept on the table. The ones she had discarded entirely were providing a foot rest underneath. A smaller pile to one side were the ones she was saving for last.

She had only been peripherally aware of events around her, except for a brief period a few hours earlier when Rodney had come in to complain about Colonel Carter. As he had obviously come merely to moan and talk her ear off with useless dribble while not listening to anything Elizabeth had to say, she had gone back to her reading and when she next looked up Rodney had gone. Now she noticed the number of people around her growing, suggesting that it was evening. She was determined to finish, however. There were plenty of other tables and she could always eat here if she got too hungry to wait.

A shadow fell over her, blocking the light and although she scowled she otherwise ignored it, hoping whoever it was would get the message and leave her alone. However, the shadow only grew slightly smaller and a coffee cup was set down right on a section she was reading. She looked up, expecting to see Rodney come to harass her again or John to do the same, but it was Jack O'Neill who sat on the other side of the table, arranging his legs around her papers, looking casual and unexpectedly handsome in faded snug-fit jeans and a pale blue short-sleeved shirt. She had spent most of her time in the SGC in suits but only now did she feel overdressed.

"Catching up on a year's worth of news, are we?" he asked.

"Well, I was," she said, picking up the cup to move it and half-hoping he would take that as a signal to go. The smell of the coffee hit her as she did so and, against her will, she took a sip. At her actions Jack leant back in his chair and smirked at her. Elizabeth sighed. Half the time she was convinced she was working with children; the other half she knew they were all geniuses in their fields. They just had funny ways of showing it. Jack was obviously not an exception.

"And there I was thinking you were working hard on some important work-related thing."

"I actually don't have anything on at the moment."

"You don't?" Jack sounded so surprised Elizabeth hid a smile behind her cup.

"I've told everyone who could possibly need to know every detail I can remember about everything that's happened in the last year. The only other thing I need to do is approve new personnel, which is mostly a case of agreeing to my department heads' recommendations and doesn't take long. So..." she shrugged.

"Here you are."

"Here I am." Elizabeth leaned back herself, unconsciously matching Jack's posture. "Don't you have more important things to do than bring me coffee?"

Jack gave her a grin and a look that told her there was nothing more important in his world right now than her. Fortunately she had seen that tactic often from John Sheppard in the past year and was by now immune to it. Mostly.

"The trouble with being the Man is that there's a lot of paperwork and not a great deal of action."

She cocked her head, keeping her expression serious with a little effort. "So you do paperwork now? I heard tales of people having to stand over you and force you to finish it."

"I said there was paperwork, I didn't say I did any of it."

She could not help but smile at that. A year spent running the SGC had obviously not changed Jack O'Neill. It seemed oddly comforting.

"Wanna play hookey?" She was slightly surprised at the abrupt change in tone and subject but he leant forwards over the table and lowered his voice. "You look like you need a break and I definitely need to get out of here."

Elizabeth intended to contradict him before her aching back told her she would like to escape with Jack very much. She gave him a cheeky grin as an answer and he had swept up all the papers on the table before she was even on her feet. They paused only to throw them in his office and before she could think about it too much they were in an elevator headed up to the surface.

Of course, they could not escape entirely unnoticed, the SGC was a military base after all, but the few people they passed said goodnight to Jack without looking suspicious. Elizabeth tried not to laugh and give them away. She had definitely spent too much time in meetings recently. Not that Jack helped either: when they were safely in his car and making their way out of Cheyenne Mountain he made a show of looking in his rearview mirror and asking her, "Do you think we got away with it?" She hid her mouth behind her hand when she found she had not actually forgotten how to laugh.

***

Elizabeth leaned back and held her menu up, deliberating over it. There was so much choice and although the novelty of eating ordinary good Earth food had not quite worn off, she was still trying to memorise tastes she would probably not get to experience for another long time. Jack had not even opened his, which told her all she needed to know about how often he came here.

It was only once both she and Jack had calmed down somewhat and began to act a little more like the grown up leaders they were, that he told her they were going to dinner. She would have complained at not getting a choice in location but her stomach had rumbled to let her know how hungry she really was. Besides Jack reassured her he knew this great place that she would just love. She should have known that would not necessarily refer to a five star restaurant with expensive food.

All of a sudden the menu was yanked away from her and she focused in on Jack, giving him a look.

"I recommend the steak," he said.

Elizabeth smiled, which was something she seemed to be doing a lot around him this evening, which made a nice change. Jack made it hard to be annoyed at for long, even if she was only half-pretending. "I never knew it was possible to get a steak pizza," she said.

"It's something everyone should experience at least once in their life."

"I can't believe, of all the restaurants around here, some of which I know serve very good food, you picked a pizza place."

In all fairness to Jack it was not a typical pizza place - or at least what she remembered a typical pizza place being. There were interesting photos hung on the walls of what looked like the local area perhaps fifty years ago. The lively and catchy background music was not something Elizabeth remembered hearing before, which may or may not have meant it was recent. The waitresses were as brightly dressed as the walls and the furniture yet still managed to blend in and disappear just when you wanted them. Whenever the door to the kitchen opened the smell of pizza wafted over, although it was not so strong as to be unbearable.

"Well, you've never been here, have you?"

"No." Elizabeth did not think she had been anywhere like here.

"So you're getting a new experience." Jack spotted a passing waitress and tried to wave her over but it seemed that their table was not her problem this evening. Either that or she was just not interested, it was difficult to tell.

Elizabeth had to hand it to Jack; he certainly liked an interesting life. "I've had a lot of those recently."

"Getting bored yet?"

She thought for a moment before answering. Sometimes it would be nice to have more than a few hours to relax in but then she had always liked being busy. If she had a day to spend doing nothing she would inevitably be bored before the end of it. In retrospect Jack had probably rescued her just in time. "No," she said. "Although sometimes it would be nice to be able to spend some time enjoying Atlantis without being interrupted for some crisis or another."

"I know what you mean. Somehow I can never find time to get the paperwork done in between crises."

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. It was nice to see some of the real Jack O'Neill, without the Ancients' knowledge in his brain and the imminent threat of his death. Spotting what was probably their waitress she waved her over. The restaurant had obviously gone for uniformity and employed waitresses that looked remarkably similar. Elizabeth was on the verge of getting up and standing in her path before, in a sudden change of fate, the waitress worked out they were still here and the drinks she carried were for them after all. Elizabeth made sure to read her name badge this time, for future reference, and established she was called Mandy.

Elizabeth let Jack order for the both of them and they took bets on how long their pizzas might take to arrive. Elizabeth thought her estimate of five minutes (based on how long it took them to get it out of the packaging and into the microwave) was more likely to win over Jack's three days (based on how long it took for them to kill the cow and ship it over).

"So," he said, serious once more, "what'cha been up to?"

"Saving the world. You?"

"Watching other people save the world, mostly."

Elizabeth took a sip of her beer, watching while Jack drank a third of his in one go. She knew enough about the man to know he used humour to hide anything personal. She hoped that he would confide in her whatever it was he was concerned about. It certainly seemed like he had asked her here for a reason. "Jack, if you don't like your job, get a different one."

"Simple as that."

"Yes," she answered the implied question. "You saved the world, a lot, and if you just asked you could probably get anything you wanted."

Jack appeared to be considering this, while picking at the label of his beer bottle.

"Is there something you'd like?"

"I..." he paused, "I don't know."

Elizabeth wondered what it was he was not telling her. "Look at it this way, what have you got to lose?"

The label came off with a flourish, but before Jack could say anything Mandy returned with their pizzas. Jack slid a dollar bill across the table to Elizabeth without comment but she could have cursed the waitress for actually doing her job for once, as Jack ordered them another beer each and tucked into his pizza without further comment. Elizabeth figured she had all evening, though, especially at the rate Jack was getting through his drinks. Not that she was going to complain - she could think of plenty of reasons herself to get drunk tonight.

***

As they drunk more beer, staying long after they had finished their surprisingly good pizzas, the conversation turned to small talk and the strange things that to occurred regularly, both at the SGC and in Atlantis. Because it was all classified they had spent an entertaining ten minutes renaming races, planets and objects. In all likelihood no-one would be able to tell what they were talking about anyway but this way it somehow felt safer. Elizabeth was probably not going to be able to look a Wraith in the eye again without laughing.

She wiped the tears from her eyes, even as she was not quite sure what exactly it was that had been so funny. She was still giggling as she rose to answer a call of nature - a phrase that, once she had said it, just started them off again. But in the few minutes she was gone reality took the opportunity to kick back in and Jack was as sombre as her when she returned.

"These chairs are really uncomfortable," he said, as Elizabeth put a hand on the back of hers. "My house is just around the corner and I have beer. Or coffee."

"Perhaps coffee is a good idea," she said - standing up without support seemed to take more of an effort than it usually did. She blamed it on the difference in atmospheric composition and the relative speed of the rotation of Earth in comparison to what she was used to.

Jack signalled for the check and this time Mandy appeared almost immediately. She did not look happy as she gave them a bill that included more beers than Elizabeth remembered them drinking. She could not decide whether to complain at the service or apologise for their behaviour until she realised that it did not matter what a waitress in Colorado Springs thought of her when she spent most of her time living in another galaxy.

The bill quickly paid, they were soon out on the street. Elizabeth fell into step beside Jack but stumbled into him and he put an arm round her waist, for which she was grateful. She could not help but be reminded of Simon, who until now she had done what she considered was a fairly good job of not thinking about.

"I just broke up with my boyfriend," she said. She felt more sober in the fresh air but if she was telling Jack this it was probably an indication that she was not. It was funny - she had expected saying the words aloud would make it more real but it just seemed very far away, as if it had happened the previous year, rather than the day before yesterday.

"Hell of a long distance relationship," he said before suddenly falling sideways into a bush and nearly taking her down with him. She held onto one of his hands with both of hers and managed to pull him out with minimal help from Jack himself. When he was upright once more she put her arm around his waist and they lurched along again, close together so there were fewer directions in which to fall.

"That entitles you to get drunk," Jack said, continuing their conversation as if nothing had happened.

"Well, that explains me. What's your excuse?" She had meant it lightheartedly but when he did not answer for a few minutes, Elizabeth considered what she could safely change the subject to.

Eventually, though, he spoke. "From tomorrow General Landry is going to take charge of the SGC."

"I did wonder," she said, "what with him taking some of the meetings."

"What did you think of him?"

Jack's question sounded important, so she considered her answer carefully. She had argued with the General earlier in the week but she did not blame him for it. That had most likely been a decision made by a group of Air Force officers who had not known John Sheppard, only his record. Also, they had probably not considered his use to the city or their good working relationship and friendship, both of which she treasured and wanted to hold onto. He sounded like he knew what he was doing, though, which was not easy in a job that suddenly included the existence of aliens on the first day.

"I think he'll work out all right," she finally said.

Jack turned to smile at her but suddenly stopped walking and Elizabeth found herself being tugged backwards. "That's my house," he said, pointing to the one they had just passed.

To Elizabeth's beer-addled brain that seemed unreasonably funny and she had an uncontrollable fit of the giggles. Jack half-pulled, half-dragged her into the house while he laughed himself, at her she suspected. She managed to stop once he had deposited her on his sofa and gone to the kitchen in search of coffee. She half wished they were back in the restaurant because once she had sobered up a little she would have no excuse not to go back to the SGC.

To take her mind off it while she waited she picked up the remote control that was sitting on the table in front of her, flicking through the channels until she found a news channel. Somehow, though, what had been so important that afternoon now seemed petty and uninteresting. How could these people fight each other when there were larger threats out there?

Feeling the heat from the room she took her jacket off, folding it up and placing it carefully on the back of the seat. As she turned back her vision alighted on a photo frame lying on the table. Picking it up she could see there was a picture of SG-1 inside it. It was obviously taken a few years ago, possibly on another planet. She gave a wry smile because the only way she could tell was from their clothes; the background gave her no clues at all. Putting the picture back she noticed there were boxes around the room and except for that it was looking somewhat spartan.

She did not complain when Jack sat beside her, took the remote control from her hands, and replaced it with a mug of coffee. She sniffed it, inhaling the strong aroma of authentic coffee that she had no idea Jack kept. Jack flicked through a couple of channels before he found one showing the replay of a recent hockey match. Elizabeth had never had an interest in hockey to begin with, so found it easy to ignore.

"You really are leaving," she said.

"I really am leaving," he confirmed

Elizabeth took a sip of her coffee. It was hot and sweet and just right.

Her pleasure in the taste must have shown on her face because Jack asked, "Good coffee?" and when she looked up he was smiling at her.

"Yes." There was a minute of uncomfortable silence while he looked at her and eventually Elizabeth turned her attention to the television. One of the teams looked as if they had scored but Jack gave no indication as to whether he thought that was a good thing or not.

She took a few more sips of the best coffee she had tasted in a long time and wondered where Jack had got it from or why he kept it. He did not come across as someone who was a coffee connoisseur, but then as she had only previously seen him in military bases that might that had given her a false picture.

Having made her way through half of it she put it down on the table and sighed. "I should be getting back to the SGC."

He frowned. "What for?"

"It's getting late."

"You can always stay." Elizabeth turned to look, a question on her lips she was not quite sure she wanted to ask and he quickly amended, "I have a spare room. With a much better view than the inside of a mountain."

Elizabeth picked her coffee back up. "I might take you up on that," she said. She hated sleeping at the SGC, having got used to an ocean view so quickly. She finished the rest of her drink, though, before it got cold and tasteless. When she replaced her mug on the table she saw that Jack had also finished his, even though she could have sworn he had not drunk enough. The two mugs sat next to each other on the table and Elizabeth could not stop staring at them, feeling the beginnings of tears she would not allow to fall here.

"Are you okay?" Jack's quiet voice broke in.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't know."

Jack, it turned out, was full of surprises tonight because he pulled her against him, his arms around her. Elizabeth closed her eyes and rested her cheek against his chest, his shirt surprisingly soft. She could hear his heart beat fast, which she put down to the beer. He stroked her back and rested his cheek, or perhaps his mouth, on her head. She felt herself relax, only now realising how much she needed someone who could understand and could give her this.

After allowing herself a few minutes of comfort she lifted her head and kissed his cheek. Before she could move away Jack had turned his head and returned it, but on the lips. It should have surprised her but she opened her mouth and kissed him back without giving it a second thought. Once she had started she wondered why they had waited until now.

The taste of coffee clashed horribly with the smell of beer but since she probably tasted the same she could not complain. Especially not when one of his hands was playing with her hair and his skin felt wonderfully cool under the hand that had found its way under his shirt at the waist.

When he broke off to kiss down her neck and run light fingers down her spine she could not help letting a moan escape and she tilted her head so his lips could touch more of her skin. He stopped when he reached her collarbone to pull his head back to look at her.

"As good as this is," he said, "it would be even better if we moved to my bedroom."

His thumb stroked her shoulder as she saw something that may have been sadness tempered with passion in his eyes. She felt powerless to say no, although whether that was due to her feelings or his temptation she could not say. She took the opportunity to take in some air, even though her body cried out for more of him.

She managed a "yes" in answer to the question he had not quite asked.

In response he kissed her again and she pulled him in close, making sure he stayed where he was this time. His hand travelled slowly down the length of her arm and she shivered when his fingers reached past the end of her sleeves to touch her skin. When his hand reached hers it closed around it and he stood, giving her a gentle tug. She tightened her grip and allowed him to help her up and lead her away.

***

Elizabeth woke to find herself wrapped round a warm body and felt the sunlight on her face - muted as it was through the curtains. The sun was in the wrong place but that had not been an unusual feeling lately. She had to open her eyes before she remembered the body was that of Jack O'Neill, who, fortunately, was still asleep. She lay there a moment listening to his breathing over the background of the dawn chorus she had missed in Atlantis. She almost felt like last night had been a dream but Jack's naked body next to hers proved it wrong. It was tempting to stay a while but she did not want to examine her reasons for sleeping with Jack in the first place, and she certainly did not want to consider his.

Carefully, she extricated herself from the bed and dressed as quietly as she could, feeling the beginnings of a headache, obviously caused by alcohol. She had to hunt under his shirt to find her own and she paused for a moment with one in each hand. As much as she hated leaving Jack to wake up alone she did not want an awkward morning conversation with him. She left his shirt on a nearby chair and pulled hers on. She was still doing it up when she heard movement and turned to see him watching her, his head still on the pillow, his arms underneath it. She wondered how long he had been awake.

"I have to go," she told him.

"Do you regret it?" he asked. "Last night?"

She wanted to say no but when she opened her mouth, "Yes," came out instead. She sighed. "No. I don't know," and found it hard to look him in the eye.

Jack nodded and sat up against the headboard. "You're right," he said. "You should go, otherwise we'll both be late."

Elizabeth's heart sunk. She had not meant to hurt him but it had been easier than she would have expected. She paused in the doorway, wishing she could go back to the warmth of his bed.

"I enjoyed it," she said, and she thought she saw the ghost of a smile on his face before she turned and left.

***

Epilogue:

The third time the Daedalus arrived at Atlantis had almost been as exciting as the first two, even though this time they carried no ZPM or senior staff, missed after spending time on Earth. On this occasion it was during one of their rare quiet periods that did occur more often now the Wraith believed them gone. The Daedalus crew resembled mailmen more than the military but were well received wherever they went, and Elizabeth was as excited by her post as anyone else.

She could not help but be a little disappointed to find there was nothing from Simon, but she firmly told herself not to be so silly and looked more closely at the rest of the mail.

One of the packages was big and rustled when she picked it up. The handwriting on the outside was familiar but she could not quite place it. Curious, she opened it to reveal a stack of slightly old newspapers. Elizabeth smiled, anticipating a long, lazy afternoon in the sun, reading them. Correctly guessing who had sent them, she smiled as she read the note that had been enclosed.

Earth still the same as you left it: the usual death and destruction, and the occasional heroic rescue.
Have fun,
Jack.

He had done a fair bit of physics back when he was a student but that was because he could apply it to airplanes. In the end he had preferred math and doing research for 'Math for Scientists' only reminded him why. On the one hand he would like it if these students just valued the math knowledge they needed and, more importantly, learnt something from his lessons, but on the other hand he would not be too upset if this experiment was not a success at the end of the semester.

The only good thing about the course was that the physics building was next door to the math one - though for some peculiar reason the weather seemed to have it in for him every time he went there. On Monday it had started raining the minute he put his foot out the door. Today it was mercifully dry but blowing gale force winds instead, even though it had been warm and sunny when he left his house earlier that morning.

He pulled his jacket tighter around him and clutched his briefcase to his chest, lest it should fly out of his hand. When he opened one of the side doors of Newton Hall he was nearly pulled away with it. Getting himself inside and closing it behind him was something of a trial and already John was wishing he did not have to teach this class - he usually lasted at least until he was actually in the class before he was cursing it. He was certainly not intending to do it next year if he could possibly find a way of getting out of it.

The one bright spot, and the reason he left early for this particular class, was an opportunity to talk to Rodney McKay, the man who should have been taking it but apparently thought his time could be better spent elsewhere, rather than with actual teaching. Although he was obviously not too busy to butter up Doctor Hall by telling him how much better the mathematicians could teach the subject than he could. It was, he learned, the only time anyone ever heard Doctor McKay admit there was anything someone else could do better than him. Having met the man John could well believe it and always took the opportunity to pay him a visit and annoy him as much as possible, which admittedly was not hard.

Having run his hand through his hair and gone up the two flights of stairs, John reached Rodney's office. Opening the door without knocking, he burst in with a jubilant shout of "McKay!"

There was a grunt and a mumbled "Sheppard" in response. Rodney did not even look up and continued his typing at a frantic pace on the two computers positioned next to each other on a table along one wall.

John waited patiently. It did not take long.

Rodney sighed and swivelled round to face John. "Look, I'm very busy here, do you want something?"

John casually leant his hip against the desk nearest the door. He might have sat on the edge of it but he could not see enough of its surface to do so. "No, not really. Just dropping in to remind you I'm here to teach your students."

"Well, get on with it and try not to rot their brains too much."

"I'll do my best but they do seem to be under a misapprehension that they can be physics majors without actually learning any math."

"They're students, they don't know anything. Now, leave me alone, I have a lot of work to do." Rodney waved a hand at him, as if to shoo him away, and turned back to his computers, scowling.

It was nearly the same conversation they had every week, although it was sometimes enhanced by a pure math 'discussion', depending on how much time John had before his class started and how busy Rodney was pretending to be. John would have found something else to wind the man up with but he did not know him well enough yet. So for now they pretty much stuck to the established script. "It was nice to see you too, McKay." He was just opening the door when Rodney called him back.

"Sheppard, have you got a minute?"

John was too stunned that Rodney was actually being civil that he could not say anything for several seconds. By the time he managed to connect his mouth and brain, Rodney got there first.

"Look, I need someone's help and half the department's off with flu and I promise you'll still make your class on time--"

John held up a hand and cut him off before he could go any further. "Okay, I'll help. What do you need me to do?"

"Follow me."

John moved aside so Rodney could exit his office first and wondered, bemused as to what he had got himself into. Or just why he was doing a favour for a man who went out of his way to insult both him and his subject at every opportunity. Okay, so John gave as good as he got, and he had to admit he quite enjoyed arguing with Rodney, but that had been their entire relationship until now.

As they walked, Rodney muttered to himself whilst leafing through pieces of paper that were variously folded up, stuck in his pants pocket and then pulled out again. John did not know Newton Hall very well so he tried to concentrate on where they were going. After having got lost the first few times he now knew the way from the entrance to Rodney's office, to the lecture hall he taught in but that was it. Rodney led him along so many twists and turns that he wondered if he was purposely trying to get John lost. He was entirely confused, though, when they were suddenly outside once more, because John was sure they had not gone down the same number of flights of stairs he had gone up.

It looked like they were in some kind of quad as it had benches to sit on among the small patch of greenery and a pond towards one side. Except that this quad only had buildings on three sides. The open side was handily acting like a wind tunnel, so now John was almost blown over and he could no longer hear Rodney, who had quickly put his papers away while fighting to keep hold of them. John was quite glad when he was hustled through a big, heavy door.

He found himself on a small landing at the top of a flight of stairs, mercifully out of the wind once Rodney shut the door behind them. A dim light came on with the flick of the switch and John could see they were in a basement. Although physicists must have a funny idea of what a basement was for because this one was full of equipment, much of it blinking. The whirring sounds it all made seemed quiet compared to the noise of the wind he could still hear whistling through the gaps.

"You have to go outside to get to the basement?" he asked Rodney as they descended the steps.

"It's a designers dream."

John gave a wry grin in response, even though the back of Rodney's head was the only part of him that could see it.

Once he was at the bottom of the stairs there was a much more obvious musty smell that John could not quite place. Given the convoluted trip they had made to get here he wondered how much it was used.

Rodney led John over to a bank of equipment in one corner, which had lots of wires plugged into it and lights in at least four different colours that he could see. John thought it could be some sort of supercomputer - it was certainly cold enough - but it did seem an odd place to put one.

"Now, when I say, pull this one down," Rodney said, pointing at one of the switches and miming the movements as he said them, "then that one up and then press this button. Got that?"

"Yep." Rodney moved away and John stood in his place. "What do they do anyway? I'm not about to turn the power off for the entire building or something, am I?"

"Yes, because I want to be down in the basement in the dark with you."

John rolled his eyes. "Likewise."

Rodney gave no indication of heaving heard and he had already moved to another tower over in the opposite corner and pressed some buttons on that one. "Now," he said and John performed the actions Rodney had shown him.

"Ummph! Okay then," Rodney said afterwards, looking up at some flashing lights that were presumably telling him something, "you can go now."

John almost said something but Rodney seemed absorbed in taking readings and writing the results down in the notebook he pulled out of his pocket. It seemed like Rodney's short-lived good mood towards him had evaporated. Rodney McKay was certainly the eccentric physicist the stereotypes made him out to be. John decided to do as he was told and make an attempt at finding his class on his own, before he was actually late, rather than merely fashionably so.

At least, that was the plan. Unfortunately, when John twisted the handle on the door and pushed it, nothing happened. There was not much light at the top of the stairs so he felt around for any other locks or handles he might have missed but all he found was cold, damp wood. A bad omen. Just what he needed.

"McKay!" he shouted down, "I can't open the door." He felt stupid as he said it.

"Oh my god, I know mathematicians have no idea how to do anything practical but even you should be able to open a door on your own," Rodney grumbled as he trudged up the stairs and elbowed John out of the way.

John could not help but smile when Rodney had the same problem he did. "Put some muscle into it," he suggested.

"A little help would be nice."

John braced himself against the door. "1..2..3," and they both pushed as hard as they could. Still nothing happened.

"Great!" Rodney said, as he turned and sagged against it.

"We'll just have to wait for someone to rescue us." John could not help but smile, as much as he hated the situation.

"Except that no-one knows we're down here!"

"I have a class in," John checked his watch, "five minutes! So someone will miss me."

Rodney folded his arms. "Are you implying that no-one will miss me?"

"Now, now! I didn't say that," John said, putting his hands out in which he hoped was a placatory gesture, although he could not say why he was bothering to try.

"They'll never look for you down here, though."

John sighed and hit the back of his head against the door, wishing Rodney was not such a pessimist. Not that John really wanted to be stuck down here, and certainly not with Rodney, but he was not entirely unhappy to be missing class. "Look on the bright side, at least we have light."

"Don't say that, that's just asking for it to go out!" Rodney glared down the stairs at the small bulb in the centre of the ceiling, as if daring it to think about it.

John rolled his eyes and pulled out his cell phone. No signal. He got closer to the door and held it up to the small crack at the top. For a moment, it looked like there might have been something but it went again before he could be sure. Shaking it did not seem to make any difference. "Damn," he said, putting the phone back in his pocket.

He had to look at Rodney for a good long time before he got the message. "Mine's on my desk," he said, morosely.

John sighed again, out of options this time, especially as Rodney did not seem to be about to contribute anything useful, so he went back down to the basement to wait. There were no chairs but there was a small space of wall mercifully free of any equipment, so it was at least something to lean against. He would have taken his jacket off and sat on it but it was not really warm enough. He leaned his head against the wall, closed his eyes and tried to think of a way out of the situation. Rodney was too distracting, though, as John heard him thump his way down the stairs slowly, then sound like he was falling the last few.

His eyes snapped open in time to see Rodney picking himself up off the floor. "You okay?"

"Yes, yes, fine, apart from probably breaking my ankle. And I'm not very good with enclosed spaces."

Given that Rodney was standing relatively happily John suspected he was exaggerating about his injury, so he ignored the first comment and concentrated on the second. "It's quite a big enclosed space."

"Yes, that helps, of course, why didn't I think of that?"

John shrugged but Rodney made a great show of hyperventilating while limping and rubbing one elbow. "For goodness sake, McKay, sit down, you're wearing me out."

Rodney gave him a look but did as he was told, plopping himself down only a few inches away from John, his back against the wall.

"Now close your eyes, take a deep breath and imagine you're on a desert island."

John was almost shocked when Rodney did as he suggested. Well, at least he closed his eyes and breathed more evenly, the desert island part he had no way of being sure about.

"Where did you learn that?" Rodney said after a few deep breaths, not yet opening his eyes.

John guessed his question meant it was working. "When I was a kid," he said. He was not prepared to offer any more information than that and fortunately Rodney did not ask.

"Sam Carter," he said, instead.

"What?" John asked, not following. He turned round to look at Rodney more closely, not that it helped.

"What I'd take to a desert island."

John smiled. "I don't think you're allowed to take people."

"It's my desert island."

"Fair enough." He leant back against the wall, which only served to remind him how cold it had got - he could feel it, even through his jacket. "In that case I'd take a plane."

Rodney opened his eyes and turned his head to look over at him.

"It's a big island!"

Rodney smiled in response this time and John thought he heard a muttered comment of "mad mathematicians" but he could not be sure.

"I thought Sam Carter hated you," John said, changing the subject slightly. This was a more interesting, not to mention, different topic than their usual math arguments and if they had to spend some together in a small space with no other distractions he did not really want to get onto those.

Rodney sighed. "She does, but a desert island would get cold at night so we'd have to huddle together. For warmth."

"Ah, I see." He did think Rodney was perhaps over thinking this desert island thing a bit but then given that he knew what type of plane he would have and the best place to put the runway, he did not voice his thoughts. "But in the absence of a desert island...?" he asked. He might as well get some useful gossip while he was stuck down here.

"I'm pretty much screwed. And not literally either."

John chuckled. His own love life was currently nonexistent, though, so he was not really in a place to comment. "I think," he said, "I'd rather have Buffy."

"Than a plane?"

"Than Doctor Carter. With me on a desert island, I mean, if there are predators at least Buffy would be able to fight them off."

"Don't be so sure Sam wouldn't. But yeah, I see what you mean. She could do all that kung fu stuff on any demons that thought I was food. Then, of course, she'd have to wash the demon blood off."

"Of course." John started to roll his eyes until an image of a half-naked Buffy intruded. "Isn't she a bit young for you?"

"Speak for yourself! Actually I think Sarah Michelle Gellar is in her twenties. So it's not quite cradle-snatching."

"You're the one who likes blondes."

"Buffy was a brunette in the unaired pilot. Didn't you see that?"

"Um, unaired, McKay?"

Rodney waved his hand like that was an unimportant detail. "Internet."

"Ah. I don't suppose--"

"Hidden on the university network, I'll e-mail you the link."

"Thanks."

Having managed somehow to effectively kill the conversation, John was considering if it was possible to have a late morning nap while sitting up when he was conscious of Rodney shivering next to him. Not that Rodney was ever still for very long but he was certainly past the panicky point. He pulled his jacket off and crouched down while he spread it on the floor. When he had sat down on one half of it he patted the other side and Rodney, who had been looking at him suspiciously up until that point, shifted over.

There was not much space for them both to sit and avoid the cold wall, so their sides were pressed together. John could feel he was warmer than Rodney, although that probably would not last now he no longer had an extra layer on. He wished this had happened later in the semester, although he did not know how hot this place got in the summer.

"You know what's happening, don't you?" Rodney's voice sounded suddenly loud after the silence.

John had no idea what Rodney was talking about but that had not exactly been a novelty in their conversation so far. "No."

"We're living a cliché! Two people who hate each other get trapped together and come out friends."

Rodney had a tendency to talk with his hands, which was fine for his right but meant his left hit John in the thigh more than once. Rodney either did not notice or did not care. John was surprised to find he did not mind as much as he thought he would have earlier this morning, considering this was a man he did not actually like. "We are actually having a civil conversation without insulting each other," John conceded, "and we do seem to have things in common."

There was a pause.

"We should agree not to be friends when we get out of here," Rodney suggested.

"Works for me."

"Okay."

They made an attempt at shaking hands without moving and, in John's case, only using his right arm below the elbow. Their hands definitely met, though, so that counted. Barely had they done so when Rodney leapt up and John felt suddenly cold.

"I'm an idiot!"

"Er...yeah?" John tried.

"There are computers in here, connected to the network!"

"You really have computers in the basement?"

"For experiments," Rodney answered, but was over at what John belatedly realised must be a terminal, and Rodney was not really listening any more.

After some typing, and swearing, Rodney sighed and stepped back. "We're being rescued."

"Thank goodness for that," John said, picking up his jacket and shaking it out before putting it back on. It was nice and warm on the inside. Rodney was already making his way up the stairs and John followed him. At the top, Rodney bounced on his feet, his hands in his pockets. John leaned against the door for a minute before it occurred to him that once it was opened he was liable to fall through it. Plus his shoulder was getting damp.

John had to try hard not to start another conversation that could end up with them being friends, or worse, enemies again. Not that either would stop him from trying to annoy Rodney the next time he taught Math for Scientists. "How long will it be?" he asked. There was only so much standing around in silence it was possible to do before boredom set in. "I'm starving."

"Not long, I hope. Although I did forget Zelenka's name again this morning, so he might not rush necessarily."

"Great." John gave up and sat on the top step, his arms resting on his knees and his head slumped over them, the small adrenaline rush of false hope having run out.

Rodney sat by him before looking at his watch. "The cafeteria will have just started serving lunch. And Wednesday is steak day."

John's head snapped up. "Hang on, you have steak in the physics cafeteria?"

"Yes. You don't?" Rodney sounded innocent, but John could tell he was anything but.

"We don't even have a proper cafeteria, just a little place that sells sandwiches."

"So, our building is much better than yours."

"Oh, I didn't say that."

Fortunately for both of them there was a scraping sound outside and they twisted round, neither wishing to get up before it was certain they would be going somewhere. Unfortunately, they both turned towards each other and John's knee hit Rodney's with a crack. John winced at the sound.

Rodney slapped his hand over the spot and glared at him. "Why don't you kill me just as we're about to be rescued?"

"Don't be so melodramatic," John replied, rubbing his own knee. He would have a bruise there tomorrow.

The door finally opened to reveal Radek Zelenka on the other side, looking pityingly at John, at which John smiled and Rodney scowled. John could have kissed Radek at his timing. Rodney just pushed past both of them complaining about his experiment being ruined but Radek was obviously used to that for he said nothing, merely nodded when John thanked him.

John followed them both, as he had no idea where in the grounds he was any more. He needed to reschedule his class and wanted to drag Rodney out of his office to show John where the steak was. The next time he went into a room with Rodney, though, he would make sure either the door stayed open or there were other people in it first.

Elizabeth put down her pen and arched an eyebrow at him. "Which makes your reason for being here somewhat flimsy," she pointed out.

John leapt up and seated himself in one of the chairs opposite her. "I only came to see you," he proclaimed, putting his arms on the desk, leaning towards her and giving her his most charming grin.

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. "Actually I'm glad you came," she said, opening a drawer in her desk, "because I wanted to give you one of these." She held out a ticket, which he took and read.

"'The Law Society's Annual Ball'. So that's why it seems like the whole school is out in the quad in the middle of winter."

"Have you ever been?"

"No, but I've always wondered why it was so popular."

"Well, this is your chance to find out. The advantage of dating the Law School Dean."

He sighed dramatically. "I wish I'd known dating you would be so expensive. At this rate it would be cheaper for me to buy a tux."

She was not taken in for an instant. "Remind me of that the next time I buy you dinner."

"Elizabeth," he drew out the sound of her name and put on the smile that never failed to win her over. Getting up, only to perch on the edge of the desk next to her and lean over, he said, "I've seen how much you earn."

"If only your groupies knew how what a challenge you were to date," she countered, refusing to let him affect her.

"A challenge, huh? Whatever happened to the days when you thought I was dreamy?"

"That was before I dated you," she replied, as she leaned forwards to kiss him. "Now go," she continued afterwards, "some of us have work to do."

He grinned and kissed her again before sauntering out, his Law Ball ticket in hand.

***

"Teyla!" Aiden called, as he ran up to meet her, a little out of breath, "I've been looking for you everywhere."

She smiled in greeting. "I had a class. Was there something you wanted?"

"Yes," he said, taking her bag and hand, and dragging her back in the direction he had come from. "How would you like to go to the Law Society's Annual Ball with me this coming Saturday night?"

Teyla had heard people talking about it in the past few weeks but had not really taken much notice. "Is it not just for the Law School?"

"No, it's only run by them but it is THE ball to go to."

"Why? What is so good about it?"

Aiden suddenly dropped her hand, as if he had only just realised he was still holding it, and began to gesture with it. Teyla found hers was now much colder and stuck it in her pocket. "I don't know, the only way to find out is to go and I've never been. But," he paused for dramatic effect. Teyla might have got annoyed except she was expecting a tale of adventure and excitement. "I've been saving up the money I've earned from Doctor Sheppard, so this year you and I can afford to go, and I'll still have enough left that I can rent a tux."

She frowned, thinking of all the things Aiden had told her he wanted to use the money for. If he were to pay for her ticket to the Law Ball then he would probably not have much left over. However, she knew if she asked him he would deny it, so she focused on something else instead. "Then it is extremely formal?"

"Yes. But I don't see why that should doesn't stop us from having a good time."

Teyla was pleased Aiden had thought of her and her frown turned to a smile. "Then I believe would be very honored to go with you. But I’m afraid I don't have a formal enough dress to wear for this Ball," she added, thinking about the dresses she owned and knowing they just wouldn’t cut it for this lavish event.

"Oh," Aiden had looked excited until she mentioned the problem, so Teyla frantically thought of alternatives.

"Perhaps I can borrow one from a friend of mine," she said, thinking that some of the girls in her gymnastics group were the same size as her and it seemed unlikely they would all need their dresses on Saturday.

"Great!" Aiden was instantly his usual happy self, which Teyla had discovered was infectious.

They were both in high spirits, therefore, as they reached the quad and Aiden waved to his buddies standing in the long line that snaked around it. Teyla smiled at Ryan and Ronnie, who she knew. Aiden introduced her to Karen, Ryan's girlfriend, who Teyla had heard of but never met. She was secretly jealous of her, for Karen was also an exchange student but one who seemed to be fitting into life at Langford much better than her.

Ronnie left after the introductions, and Ryan and Karen snuggled together, for warmth, Teyla assumed. She turned to Aiden, "Should the line not be moving forwards if we are buying tickets?"

"No, they don't go on sale until midday."

Teyla checked her watch. "But it is only 11.30. How long have these people been here?"

"Some of the really hard core people would have been here as soon as it got light. We didn't get here until 10, but I reckon we'll still get tickets."

Teyla could not quite believe it. Many of the people in the line looked to be bundled up in thick coats, hats and scarves, but it even so it was still very cold out, the appearance of the melting snow being deceiving in its hope for Spring. "It is that popular?"

"Yeah. Anyone just getting here has no chance."

Upon hearing his explanation Teyla realised what Aiden had done. "Then we should not have jumped the line. There will be people behind us who will not get tickets now."

"Don't worry, Teyla!" He replied to her with a cheeky grin on his face. "I only left to find you, and Ronnie's not going to the Ball, he was just here to keep your place."

"Oh, I see," Teyla was slightly taken aback. She did not think this was something Aiden would generally be bothered about - or at least it was not something the other footballers would consider. Aiden's upbringing had given him unusually old-fashioned manners, which sometimes took some getting used to. "Well, that's okay then," she told him.

Aiden's grin became wider.

"Hey," Ryan interrupted, "look at that!"

Teyla and Aiden turned to look where he pointed. Someone in the line in front of them had built a snowman and now there were a line of people behind them throwing snowballs at it. As they watched, one of them knocked its head off, which seemed to be a cue for a big snowball fight to erupt around them.

***

John had seriously considered buying a tux until he looked at the price. He was glad he had gone to Lincoln during the week to hire one, though, because it turned out that the Law Society's Annual Ball was an even bigger event than he first thought. There were so many Langford students needing to rent tuxes that the shop was actually closing the day before the Ball so they could make a special trip to bring a mini shop to campus for the students. Seeing the line for tuxes growing longer on Saturday and the little place flat out with orders, he could see that the shop would make big bucks from the event.

Elizabeth managed to look absolutely stunning, glowing with radiance with no effort at all in deep red, long silk dress John had never seen before. There was no back, her skin left bare with little straps going across her shoulders and her front was cut in a nice V-neck, which was then covered by a single line of four diamond teardrops, delicate and sparkling and adding more to Elizabeth’s natural elegance. In all honesty he thought she looked beautiful nearly all of the time anyway but he did seriously wonder how many dresses she could possibly need. It almost made him not want to go to the Ball at all and just stay home and have his way with her, but he knew Elizabeth would not go along with it. After all, this was her school's party, so she should be there, him decked out in a stiff penguin suit or not.

However, the sight of Elizabeth in a new ball gown was almost eclipsed by the hall once they got there. The Ballroom was decorated in the Langford colors of burgundy and gold. Streamers and balloons were attached to every wall and little twinkle lights shone from above the room, lighting the room up with a warm glow.

"Wow! This place looks fantastic!" John said, in total amazement and wonder, after they had got their hands stamped with a red Langford University logo. Somehow the organisers had found quite a big hall. John had no idea it even existed, which was impressive enough in itself.

There were long tables lining each side, with silver glittery tablecloths and fake candles along with the cutlery set out for dinner, which gleamed as they caught the beams of the tiny lights strung across the ceiling. The red and gold coloured stage at the far end had instruments on it for the live band that were obviously to come later. In the centre someone had hung a glitter ball, which was currently turned off, making the dance floor slightly darker than the rest of the room. There were clusters of people looking around, like John, but most were either already talking in groups or at the bar.

John had not even noticed Elizabeth had gone until she sneaked up behind him, making him jump as her sudden laughter rang out in his ears. He forgave her, though, because he had not really been concentrating on his immediate surroundings and she had a glass of wine in each hand.

"I should hope so!," she said with a slight smirk, knowing John well enough to see him trying to work out what he had said several minutes ago that she was only now replying to. "They've spent all day on it." His unanswered question about the ballroom's perfect ambience finally clicked and he gave her a rueful grin in return.

"All day?" he echoed, taking a sip of his wine.

She nodded.

"So who are these mysterious 'they'?"

She lifted her glass to her mouth. He swore she was hiding behind it and not actually drinking that much. "I couldn't possibly reveal that sort of information to a math professor."

He leaned closer to her and resisted the temptation to flutter his eyelashes just to see what effect that might have. "Not even if I offered cheesecake?"

"I believe it's already on the menu, for dessert. So your bribe won't work on me tonight." She did not move away, though.

"I'll find another way," he said, "I should get some perks from dating the Law School Dean."

"So the big office hideaway with ensuite bathroom's not enough for you?"

"Okay, other perks besides the office, bathroom, and the fact that the Dean herself is beyond gorgeous." He smiled at her. One of the many things he enjoyed about dating Elizabeth was being able to say those sorts of things and have her know he meant it.

"You're just greedy." Despite her teasing words she was trying, mostly unsuccessfully, to hide a smile.

"I only want the best."

"So you wouldn't be dating me if I was just a lowly professor?"

"Hmm..." He pretended to think about it for a minute, so she hit him. He grinned his patented Sheppard smirk in response and she just rolled her eyes.

***

Aiden knew far more people than Teyla did, so she was content to be led around by him for the night. She noticed, as he did so, that many people greeted him by name, and even managed a 'hi' for her. Ordinarily, when she was on her own those people would never speak to her. Although this was obviously much better, she did worry that they only did it for Aiden's sake and worried how their reactions would change if she and Aiden were no longer friends.

"Hey, it's Doctor Sheppard. We should go and say hi."

Teyla let herself be dragged along on the arm Aiden had so graciously offered her. She was still too busy gazing at the decorations to take much notice of anything else just yet. She was not going to complain about his suggestion, though, because she liked Doctor Sheppard.

"Hey Shep," was Ford's greeting, along with a more formal "Doctor," to the woman who stood next to him, who was Doctor Weir if the gossip in the school paper was to be believed.

Doctor Weir nodded at them. Doctor Sheppard had not introduced her, proving Teyla's theory about her identity. She would ask Aiden later - he knew more about the students and staff at Langford than she did. As she thought about Aiden she looked in his direction - he was grinning at Doctor Weir, who fortunately did not seem to notice. Teyla felt a small pang of jealousy, for Doctor Weir was pretty, before reminding herself she was far too old for Aiden, and besides, there was no reason for him not to look. When Aiden saw her gaze he gave a cough and returned his attention to Doctor Sheppard, who was greeting them.

"Heya, Ford! And Teyla," he said, turning to her. "I haven't seen so much of you lately."

"No, Aiden has been helping me with my math instead."

"He has? And there I was thinking it was my teaching that had improved your math so much."

Teyla was not sure how to respond to that, apart from being glad Doctor Sheppard had noticed her math grades had got better. She heard Aiden laugh, though, and saw both Doctor Sheppard and Doctor Weir were smiling.

Teyla bit back the first compliment that was on her lips. "Aiden has been a good teacher," she said instead. She felt like everyone else in her math class knew so much more than her and she had trouble with concepts that they all seemed to find easy. Aiden did have a tendency to overuse football examples to illustrate problems but Teyla was not going to complain, for she found them a big help as well as enjoying their study sessions.

"I'm glad to see he's earning his pay check."

"So, how about a payrise, Doc?"

Teyla was concerned that Aiden was being too familiar with Doctor Sheppard and not treating him with enough respect but as Doctor Sheppard was still smiling, she did not worry for long.

"Don't push it. Besides, it's not me who decides how much the TAs get paid. You want a raise you'll have to take it up with the Dean."

"Never mind."

Teyla turned to Aiden to ask him what was so scary about the Dean but he placed his hand on her arm to stop her.

"Come on, Teyla, let's go find Rya'c and Karen. See ya, Doc." Aiden gave a little wave and Teyla was too busy laughing to say good bye herself.

***

Elizabeth spent much of the time before dinner speaking to some other professors from the law department. John felt slightly guilty that he did not know any of them better, given the amount of time he spent in the Law School building. He had mostly spent it getting to know Elizabeth and, by extension, Peter, and none of the other people had seemed terribly important. So he happily attached himself to Elizabeth and allowed himself to be introduced to them. He had no doubt there would be a test later - on Monday when he passed them in the corridors - but he had already forgotten half of the names. He felt certain they would remember his, though.

As promised, dinner did indeed include cheesecake for dessert. Which made John more suspicious of just how much input Elizabeth had on the event. Elizabeth, however, happily sat talking law, sharing a bottle of wine and dodging his questions on the subject. John was certain not to miss out on the wine but still did not really understand lawyer-speak. He suspected they made up big words just to make the other departments think they were clever. He wondered if he dated Elizabeth long enough he would eventually take some of it in.

For now, though, he just let his eyes glaze over and hope some of it made itself understood in his brain through osmosis, much the same way most of his students spent his lectures, he suspected. He was reluctant to leave the table for better conversation because most of the other people there were students and also because he felt more protected from his groupies here. Elizabeth had given them the evil eye earlier in the evening and they had stayed away. John did not blame them - she could be quite intimidating when she chose to be. And no-one was game enough to ever cross her once that eyebrow of hers shots up in challenge. Not even John.

After dinner was finished the band began setting up on the stage at one end of the hall and the glitter ball started turning, sending interesting patterns of light over the guests. John was surprised to find the band playing traditional dancing tunes, along with most of everyone else. Either that or no-one was quite brave enough to be the first on the floor. He turned to Elizabeth and said, "Come on, let's dance."

She looked at him as if he were mad, which he probably was. He was certainly bored anyway. "Well, someone has to be first." He stood and held out his hand.

She sighed and shook her head, but he could see her smile.

She let him lead them onto the floor, at which point he discovered a fatal flaw in his plan: he did not know how to dance. Fortunately, they had inspired some other couples to join them, although they all looked like they knew what they were doing. Perhaps it was just that they were faking it better than John, which was admittedly not difficult.

"Ow."

"Sorry." He looked down to try and follow her feet but that just got him confused.

"John, you're supposed to look at me."

He did as he was told, and couldn't help smiling at what he saw. If dancing was just a good excuse to look at Elizabeth he could certainly do more of it. "How do you know this stuff anyway?"

"Which of us was it who wanted to dance?"

He grinned at her. When he had asked her she had just got into a heated debate that looked as if it could go on all night.

He was startled for a moment when she twisted away from him but she turned back again and almost seemed to fling herself into his arms. He remembered a similar move from the couple nearest them a few moments beforehand, but still took the opportunity to keep her close.

"Were we boring you with our law talk?"

She obviously knew him too well. "No."

"You're a terrible liar, John Sheppard. Left foot back. No, other left."

"Well, I do have two left feet."

She groaned.

"I resent that comment, I could have been lying to you for years and you never knew it."

"Oh, yes?" The tone was deceptively light but the hand on his shoulder had tightened enough to be a warning.

Belatedly, he realised that might not have been the best thing to say. "But I haven't, so you're right. I am terrible."

"Smooth recovery. Shame about your dancing."

"I don't know, I think I'm getting better." Although they did seem to be moving a whole lot less now, which made it easier.

***

Teyla watched the dancers and sighed. Aiden and Ryan had started talking about an upcoming football match and had entirely forgotten she was there.

"I'm going to the bathroom," Karen announced and Ryan barely looked up. "Come on, Teyla," she said, ignoring the boys.

"But I do not need--"

"To talk," Karen clarified.

"Oh," Teyla said and followed her, for lack of better things to do.

Fortunately, they seemed to have the bathroom to themselves for the moment. Karen jumped up to perch on the edge of one of the sinks. Teyla leaned against another.

"So, what's the story with you and Aiden?"

Teyla hesitated. She did not know Karen very well but then there was no one else she was close enough to that she could talk about this with. "There is nothing for me tell. Aiden and I are just friends."

"You don't take 'just friends' to the Law Ball."

"I know," Teyla sighed, "but I was not sure for such a long time. Aiden was the first friend I had here and I do not want to lose that."

"I understand, more than you know, but you don't know if you don't take the chance."

Teyla looked up at the other girl at her words, wondering how Karen had felt when she first started at Langford. She was fairly sure it could not have been anything as bad as her experiences, which she generally tried not to dwell on too much.

Karen just continued. "I spent three weeks sitting in class watching Ryan before I found the opportunity to talk to him. I thought there's no way a hotshot football player like him would ever be interested in me. Okay, so it turned out he was, but if I hadn't done something I would still be wondering, and look what I would be missing out on."

Karen did have a point, but they were very different people, as were Ryan and Aiden.

"And it's not like you won't have other friends."

In her mind Teyla had visions of being best friends with Karen and going on double dates. She indulged herself for only a few seconds, though. If she wanted her fantasy to come true she only had to do one thing and with Karen's backing it seemed much easier, somehow.

"I would be most honoured to be your friend," she told Karen, who smiled back.

"Now, let's drag the boys away from football and onto the dance floor."

Teyla held out her hand to help Karen down, which she took gratefully. Despite her words she paused to look in the mirror. "You're so pretty, Teyla," she said, catching Teyla's eyes in the mirror, "I can see why Aiden fancies you."

Teyla smiled at the compliment. "I could say the same of you. I suspect Ryan never knew what hit him when you first spoke to him." She actually knew this to be true because Ryan had told Aiden, who had passed it onto her, and they had laughed at Ryan's love life and change in fortunes.

"Thank you. Right, I'm ready. Let's knock 'em dead." She hooked her arm in Teyla's and they strode out, heads held high.

***

Pleading a need to rest her feet and get a drink, Elizabeth managed to drag John off the floor after a few dances. She was enjoying his attempts at dancing, and certainly had no plans to teach him - it was more fun watching him embarrass himself, even if it meant he was embarrassing her at the same time. She did not want to encourage the gossip about them too much, though, and her dance-card was full of other people wanted a dance with the lovely Doctor Weir, once she had a break. John would probably have fun just sitting looking cool and watching her.

He was on his way to the bar, she back to their seats and until that moment she had not given another thought to the girls who were usually seen hanging around John's office door. At least there were only two of them here but that was still enough to egg each other on. It must be getting bad, she thought, if she was starting to recognise his groupies already.

She was just glad that no speculation about John's attendance tonight had reached the Langford Daily because their already low-cut and revealing dresses would probably have been even worse. She had tried not to stereotype them but as they were both blonde, always dressed in the latest fashions (which Elizabeth would deny to anyone she kept up with) and probably in a sorority, it was hard. She remembered those types of girls from her own student days and she had not liked them then either. Things had obviously not changed much with time.

Both girls were watching John, so had their backs to her, which was probably just as well because she swore she heard her name mentioned. She slowed down slightly, trying not to look obvious.

"That bitch, Weir," she heard.

"How dare she steal him from us? Just because she's Dean she thinks she owns the place."

Elizabeth could not help smiling. They seemed harmless enough, even if they were annoying. They were obviously deluded if they thought John would ever have dated any of his students, especially a sorority girl who clearly had no interest in math. She supposed he had got used to them over time and wondered if she ever would.

She did not see another pair of girls standing nearby, scowling as they listened to the younger girls talk.

***

Aiden turned out to be a better dancer than Teyla was anticipating. In retrospect, she should not have set her expectations so low. After all, she had seen him play football and knew he could change direction and avoid tackles without falling over, and dancing was not really all that different. It probably should not have come as a surprise that he knew the steps of all the dances too. She was quite grateful for his grandparents’ education. He was also good at knowing exactly when to twirl her and dip her for maximum effect and Teyla found she was really enjoying herself. She and Aiden seemed to be perfect dance partners.

She was quite disappointed, therefore, when the dancing was interrupted by what could only be described as girly fighting. But was by no means less vicious for all the scratching and hair pulling that was going on. It seemed that two girls, one with dark hair and one with red, had set upon two blonde girls. Teyla could not tell what the fight was about, for the participants were all screaming at each other with too much volume and venom to make out the words properly.

All eyes were on them, though, including those of the band, who had stopped playing as the fight competed for entertainment. Teyla stared in horror along with everyone else, although she felt slightly guilty, for she imagined the girls would not be happy being the centre of attention, if they were focused on anything else. Some of the men were egging them on and Teyla was glad Aiden was sensible enough not to be one of them.

Instead, Aiden put an arm around her waist and pulled her to him, for protection, Teyla assumed. It was possible he was using the fight as an excuse to get near to her. Ordinarily, she would have pulled away, protesting that she did not need his protection, not least because there was nothing she needed shielding from here. His friendship was all she ever wanted from him, ever since he first offered it. This evening, though, she decided to equally use it as an excuse, finding she was liked being this close to him. If her mind had not already been made up about their relationship, it certainly would have been confirmed by recent events.

***

Elizabeth thought afterwards that she should have seen it coming. Law students and John's groupies in a room together were a recipe for disaster to begin with but even she had not been expecting the cat fight. If she had she would have put money on her sensible TAs to be breaking the fight up, not starting it.

She watched in horror for a few seconds, unable to believe what she was seeing, before springing to her feet to run over to them, possibly knocking over her wine glass in the process. Her shout, as she ran, was heard clearly in the suddenly quiet hall. It seemed to have an immediate effect on all four girls and by the time she reached them they were stood in front of her, looking at the floor. Elizabeth was keenly aware of everyone's eyes on them and John's on her.

"Follow me," she said, and none of the girls dared do anything else.

Luckily, there was an entrance hall, which tonight doubled as a cloakroom, and, most importantly, had doors that shut them away from the main hall. She heard the band start up again, background noise from here, and out of the corner of her eye she saw John stand by the doors looking intimidating and shielding them from prying eyes with his back.

She gave the girls her best stare, not that it mattered for none of them would meet her eyes. She noticed their red faces and wondered how much was from exertion and embarrassment and how much was from alcohol. She did not blame her TAs for drinking, for they had worked hard and deserved to celebrate, but that did not entitle them to do whatever they liked. The younger girls definitely had blue logos on the backs of their hands, which they were quick to cover up when they saw her looking, indicating to Elizabeth they were guilty of underage drinking. That was something to be resolved for next year, right now this was more important.

"Would someone care to tell me what that was all about?" she asked.

Unsurprisingly, no-one said a word.

"Miranda?"

The redhead, at least, managed to raise her head and look at Elizabeth. She certainly looked frightened, though. Good. "They were saying nasty things about you, Doctor Weir."

"That was all?" Admittedly, Elizabeth was having difficulty conceiving a scenario with enough justification for the fight in the first place but even so, this was something she expected from drunken teenagers, not adults.

Her only answer was more shuffling of feet. Miranda obviously felt she had done her bit in confessing and was not going to volunteer any more information.

"I'm not condoning what they did but they are entitled to their opinion. Even if they had done something wrong, did you really think that was the best way to solve it?"

Two heads shook and there were two muffled, "No, ma'am"'s.

Elizabeth repressed a sigh and ignored the way her hands shook. Between John and his groupies she sometimes felt as if she was teaching elementary school, not graduates. Her law students were supposed to be her bastion of sensibility. "All right, I don't have time to do this now, so you are all going home to write letters to the Daily, apologising to all the people here who you have spoiled the Ball for."

Now there were eight eyes on her, all of them big.

"Yes, I'm sure you will be headline news. Enjoy your fame, girls, and I will see all four of you in my office at 9 o'clock sharp on Monday morning."

"But..." one of the blonde girls began and "class", the other put in, as the first paused, looking for an excuse.

"I don't care. I am here to have fun, not shepherd adults behaving like six year olds. I suggest you be there. Now get out of my sight."

All four took the opportunity to grab coats in silence and escape into the cold before even putting them on. Elizabeth wondered if they would be complaining about her or fighting again once they were outside but as long as they went elsewhere they were no longer her problem. Hopefully, the punishment she had set, and the threat of further discipline, once she had calmed down enough to think of something suitable, would be enough to prevent any further damage tonight.

Elizabeth allowed herself to let out a sigh and John came round from behind her and wrapped her in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, allowing herself the luxury of his comfort and warmth seep into her while they were temporarily alone.

"Your groupies I would expect almost anything of," she said, after a minute when she had composed herself, "but Miranda and Kerry I thought were better than that."

John said nothing, just kissed her on the forehead. Sometimes she wondered if her relationship with him was worth all this hassle, but as she stood like this, breathing him in, she never wanted to let him go.

"We should go back in," she said, moving away from him reluctantly. She squeezed his hand briefly, took a deep breath, and walked back into the hall with John at her side.

***

This year’s Law Society's Annual Ball might be remembered for all the wrong reasons but still, all the guests looked happy as they finished their drinks and started to drift away. The dance floor was still packed, though, as the band finished their last tune and the guests applauded in appreciation.

Teyla, still breathing hard from the dance, gripped Aiden's hand a little tighter but he did not seem likely to let go anyway.

"Thank you for bringing me," she said, "I enjoyed it." She was only sad the evening had to end.

"I had a good time too," he said.

For a minute the two of them stood there grinning at each other and Teyla wondered whether he would ask her out, if his feelings for her were that obvious that Karen knew about them. The moment drifted on, however, with Aiden looking at her and Teyla started to get uncomfortable with his stare. Rather than letting go of his hand and turning away, as she would usually do, she took a deep breath, licked her lips and moved forwards to kiss him.

She kept it short, just long enough to feel his mouth on hers. It was sufficient to tell him what her intentions were though, because he pulled her closer with his free hand on her waist and really kissed her back. Part of her hoped they were not now the centre of attention but it was only a small part because the rest of her was concentrating on the feel of Aiden against her, which was incredibly distracting.

When they paused, though, all of that was forgotten as she saw the expression on his face. Teyla enjoyed making him that happy and liked kissing him enough that she really could not find a good reason to stop. So she pulled him closer this time.

***

John and Elizabeth were still finishing their wine as the guests and the band left and said their farewells.

"Must be something in the air tonight," he commented.

Elizabeth turned to look and saw Ford and Teyla pressed together and kissing in the middle of the dance floor, neither of them looking as if they were likely to stop any time soon. "At least it's something good this time," she said.

"Hey, Ford," someone shouted, throwing a jacket at him, which was presumably his, "get a room!"

The pair broke apart long enough for Ford to retrieve his jacket from the floor and some good-natured roughhousing broke out between the two boys. Elizabeth had tensed at the first punch but relaxed again as all four - the boys and their girlfriends, she assumed - laughed. John put one of his hands on top of hers where it lay in her lap and she entwined her fingers with his gratefully. There were times when she wished she did not live in such a small town, the university making it seem even smaller. Tonight had highlighted to her the reasons why she and John could not do the same thing.

"Perhaps we should be making a move," John suggested, rubbing her little finger with his thumb, as Elizabeth contemplated.

"We should," she said, coming back to reality, "but someone has to clean this place up."

"You?"

Elizabeth sighed. "I wouldn't usually, but I sent the heads of the cleanup crew home earlier and I suspect the others took the opportunity to escape."

"Ah. So, the mysterious 'they' who organise the Law Ball..."

"Are my TAs, yes," Elizabeth finished. "But if you tell anyone..."

"My lips are sealed," John said, and mimed zipping his mouth.

Elizabeth could not help but smile at that and, seeing that they were the last people left in the room, gave him a kiss. He stubbornly refused to open his mouth and return it, so she brushed her fingers along his lips, unzipping it again. "You can talk," she said, "just not about that."

He smiled back and kissed her properly this time.

"Come on," she said, before she got too used to that, "the faster we clean up here the sooner we can get home."

Those words did the trick because John had leapt out of the chair he had been lounging in and rushed to the other side of the room. "Race ya!" he said.

It was an unfair contest: Elizabeth was too busy laughing and watching John to move at first. She soon shook herself and went to find some trash can liners and collect up the junk left on the tables. John soon forgot about his challenge too, because he kept on finding opportunities to sneak up behind her and distract her. Repeated threats to either throw all the trash on his head, abandon him to finish on his own, or both, seemed to have no effect. Perhaps because he knew as well as she did that she was unlikely to follow through with them.

Despite the help, or hindrance, of a man who gave every pretense of being allergic to work when he could be preventing her from getting any done, it did not take long to get the hall tidy. She had just done a final check round the place to make sure she had not forgotten anything when John grabbed her hand just before it reached the light switch and kissed her.

"John," she said, as she managed to push him away a little, "I have a nice warm house where we can do this."

"I know. I just wanted to tell you the girls didn't spoil the Ball for me. I'm sorry they spoilt it for you, though."

"It's not your fault." She knew he had never done anything to encourage any of the girls that hung around his office. He had tried discouraging them but that had a tendency to have the opposite effect. She was slightly scared about what went on in their minds. "I'll live," she continued. "It seems to be an acceptable hazard of dating John Shepherd."

"Only acceptable?"

"I didn't mean you and you know it."

He grinned and before he could make a wisecrack she gave him the kiss she had been saving for when they were at home and in bed.

"Elizabeth," he said, slightly breathlessly, when she took advantage of his surprise to pull away, "what happened to waiting until we got home?"

She merely grinned and turned the lights off.