It was early evening when they arrived at John's flat, a small place, with an air of slightly-dusty elegance. Jack loved it. They got Chinese take-away and ate it in the little-used kitchen. Jack noticed that the rest of the flat seemed oddly impersonal as well. He supposed the Doctor had been able to obtain a pre-furnished flat and that few of these things actually belonged to him.

"I'm not much of a cook," John explained, pointing to the food in front of them. "But this place is quite good -- they're getting to know me by name and I've only been here a few weeks."

Jack filed that away for later. He planned to go looking for the TARDIS in the morning. "Where'd you move from?" he asked conversationally. He wanted to get a feel for the back-story the chameleon arch had created for the Doctor. It might help for later when Gwen and Martha asked nosey questions. He had managed to avoid them thus far, but eventually they'd wonder about the mysterious "nice guy" he'd met on holiday.

John frowned. "Chiswick," he answered promptly. "I used to live in Chiswick. My father Robert was a teacher and my mother Barbara was a secretary." He recited this as if by rote. "Phil Collins was born in Chiswick, you know."

Jack nodded along. He decided not to press, to avoid having to make up a story for himself until he could think of a good one.

"This is a nice neighborhood," he said, indicating the area. "I think I'll go exploring tomorrow. I haven't spent much time in London lately."

"Good," said John. "I have work to do tomorrow. The proof I was taking a break from calls." He stood up and began to clear away the dishes. Jack placed a hand on his elbow.

"I'll get that later," he murmured in John's ear.

"Oh!" John set the dishes down and turned into Jack's arms. "This is much nicer, having you around," he added, as Jack pressed a kiss to his jaw line. "Quite a bit nicer."

**

The next day, John was up early -- he brewed divine tea -- and retreated to his study to work on his proof. Jack took this opportunity to get his bearings in the neighborhood and to go in search of the TARDIS.

It wasn't far, which didn't surprise him. It was parked in a disused alley, about four blocks from John's flat. He placed a wistful hand on the blue wooden door. At least it was all right. He pulled his old key out of his pocket and let himself in.

The TARDIS's interior lights were dimmed, but she hummed in recognition when Jack entered.

"Hello," he said softly, addressing the ship. "I've got him. I know where he is, and I'm taking care of him." He wasn't sure why he was talking to the TARDIS, but he supposed it needed some sort of reassurance about where the Doctor had gone. It also helped to fill the empty room with something; he didn't know how the Doctor could stand the sound of his own footsteps on the grating when no one was around "I'll bring him back soon," he added self-consciously, unsure of whether or not he was lying. He patted the console gently and the TARDIS hummed back.

Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and paced the console room. From what he could tell, everything seemed to be in order. The ship was sleeping, waiting for the Doctor to return. Jack's hand closed around the watch in his pocket. Would the Doctor return? He took the watch out and looked at it. It would be so easy to just open it, let the Doctor regain his memories… and then what? The Doctor would return to find Jack in the TARDIS, holding the watch?

Or, he could just not open the watch. He had it. He could hold onto it and make sure it was never opened. He could leave it in the TARDIS, no one would ever find it. He sat down on the jump seat and set the watch on the console. He could leave it right there. Get up and walk out. The Doctor had always wanted a normal life. Now he could have one. Jack would let John Smith go on living.

The cell phone on the console began to ring.

Jack jumped. Since when did the Doctor have a phone?

He leaned over to look at it. The caller ID display read Martha. He supposed she had given it to him. He wondered if everything was all right. Maybe he ought to call her and see if anything was wrong. After all, if she needed the Doctor badly enough to call him…

He could take care of it.

Jack could take care of anything the Doctor could. He had everything in the TARDIS at his disposal. He shoved the watch back in his pocket and turned to go, the only sound in the empty ship the echo of the ringing phone.

**

Jack waited a few days to call Martha, so as not to look suspicious, but he watched the news on John's television obsessively. The universe wasn't ending, nor were there any reports of aliens destroying Cardiff. Plus, his little domestic adventure was going quite well. He felt better than he had in months

When he called casually, Martha didn't seem to indicate that anything was wrong, and even though he knew he couldn't outright ask her, it didn't even sound like she was hiding something. She sounded relieved to hear from him, but he chalked it up to her having become more cautious since her time with the Doctor. There was no reason for her to be worried about him.

He hung up with Martha just as he was arriving back at the flat with the shopping -- this wasn't really a conversation he wanted to have in front of John. Plus, the kitchen had badly needed restocking. He was wondering what he could cook for dinner (was he adventurous enough to try a stir fry?) as he fumbled for his key.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he realized the door was unlocked. John was an habitual door-locker, even if they were both home during the middle of the day.

Jack rushed into the flat. He found John sitting in the middle of the living room floor, just staring into space.

"Are you okay?" he asked gently, setting his bags down on the kitchen counter.

John didn't move.

"John?" Jack stepped forward and placed a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "What happened?"

"I'm going mad, Jack." John's voice was hoarse. Jack knelt beside him and put in arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. John resisted, pulling away stiffly. "I am mad."

"You're not mad," said Jack quietly. His mind was racing. Something was wrong. Was the chameleon arch breaking down? "What happened?"

"They don't exist." John's voice shook painfully. "All the articles I thought I wrote. All the books I thought I wrote. The lecture I'm supposed to give tomorrow. They don't exist." There were tears forming in his eyes.

"What do you mean?" Jack asked, even though he knew the answer.

"They don't exist! They just don't!" John buried his face in Jack's chest. "I don't know what's wrong with me."

Jack pulled him close and kissed his forehead, stroking his hair. "There's nothing wrong with you, John."

"But I looked, and looked and they're not where I thought they'd be. And then I looked them up in the computer and they just don't exist. I don't exist."

"Shh…" Jack murmured soothingly. "Whatever happened, we'll figure it out." As he held John, he began making plans. He'd go back to the TARDIS and get the psychic paper. He could use it to prove to John that he existed, somehow -- it could show some sort of convincing documents. He closed his eyes, tightening his hold on the other man. "We'll work this out," he whispered, more to reassure himself than John.

**

The next few days were more subdued. The day Jack was supposed to return to Cardiff came and went. He kept his phone off; he knew Gwen and Martha must be trying to reach him, but he couldn't face them. He had to take care of John.

John seemed moderately convinced by the psychic paper, which Jack had gotten to show several official documents proving John's existence and various letters of recommendation from his university days. Despite this, John still didn't bounce back to his old enthusiastic self. He seemed to want to keep Jack extra-close, as if he was afraid of him leaving.

John's melancholy was due in part to his dreams, which were increasingly nightmarish. He kept waking in the middle of the night with dreams of things the Doctor had done. When he told them to Jack, he could place some of them -- the Time War, the Master, losing Rose and Donna.

"I dream I'm this awful, awful man," John said quietly one night as he huddled against Jack. "I've… killed. Many things. I'm a monster."

Jack kissed the top of his head. "You're not a monster," he murmured into his hair.

John was silent. "He's so lonely," he continued. "The man I am in my dreams."

"You've got me," offered Jack, tilting John's chin up to look him in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

"But your job–"

"I'm going to resign from the force," Jack said quickly. "Find a job here and stay with you." The lie of the police detective seemed so odd and far away, as if he'd never really said it in the first place. It was easy enough to "quit" his job and find a new one here. He didn't want their relationship to be based on a lie. And John needed him.

John pressed a kiss to his forehead. "You don't have to do that," he said.

Jack grinned at him. "But I want to."

John's features broke into the first real eye-reaching smile he'd had in days. "Well, then! We should celebrate." He pushed Jack back against the mattress and climbed on top of him. "Let's go out tomorrow night. That Indian place by the Tesco maybe?"

Jack yanked him down on top of him and kissed him fiercely. "We could start tonight," he said with a grin.

"Ooh," said John as Jack's hands moved low. "Your way's better. Though I do like the Indian place. We could do both, I suppose..."

**

Every day, Jack put off calling Gwen to tell her he wouldn't be coming back. Partly, he was afraid of all the concerned messages that would be on his phone. Partly, he felt guilty -- both about leaving Torchwood and about making this decision to let the Doctor remain human permanent. But John was looking so happy this past week, much happier than Jack had ever seen the Doctor. After Jack had agreed to stay with him, he'd seemed to light up and was working furiously on that proof of his.

For his part, Jack was vigilantly watching for anything the Doctor would normally take care of and he had made it a regular ritual to check on the TARDIS when he was on his way home from the market.

It was on one such day that he was walking home from visiting the TARDIS, a job application for the Tesco in the next block tucked in his shopping bag, when he heard a loud booming.

His head jerked up. The sky was rapidly filling with ships, enormous, silver, ring-like craft which Jack didn't recognize, each appearing with a sonic boom that rattled the windows in the buildings around him. Cursing, he dropped his bags and sprinted the rest of the half-block to the flat.

"John!" he cried, as he flung open the door.

"What's going on?" John looked frantically at him. "Have you seen this?" He was pointing at the television, which had just broken in with the story. The rings seemed to be appearing simultaneously over the entire country; there were hundreds of them. "What are they?"

Jack's mouth was dry. "I don't know," he said quietly.

"I mean, I didn't really believe all that alien business -- at least, I don't think I did." He frowned. "I really can't remember... Christmas and all those incidents, but really... who believes in aliens?"

Jack grabbed his shoulders. "John, listen to me," he began gently. "I'm going to go out for a little while. And then I'll come right back, I promise." He kissed him quickly, then turned to go.

"Where are you going?" John's brows knit in confusion and he made to follow. "Don't go out there! We don't know if it's safe!" He grabbed Jack's sleeve. "Look, the government's telling people to stay in their homes!"

"Stay here," Jack ordered, wrenching his arm out of John's grasp. "I'll come right back, I swear. There's just something I need to take care of. I'm not leaving you." He kissed him again, and ran, afraid that if he looked back again he wouldn't be able to go.

When he got back outside, the ships didn't seem to have done anything. They were just up in the sky, hovering silently. Jack bolted for the TARDIS. There had to be something he could do. He tried not to think about how clueless he really was without the Doctor.

He threw open the door of the TARDIS and leapt inside. The light seemed dimmer than it had earlier that afternoon, but it could just have been his imagination. It still hummed to greet him, as though it were relieved to see him.

He ran for the Doctor's coat, which was still hanging on the support where he'd left it and pulled out the sonic screwdriver. Then, he moved to the monitor and tapped it gently. It blinked to life. Jack pointed the sonic screwdriver at it, willing it to tell him something useful. Unfortunately, the readout seemed to only be in Gallifreyan.

"Damn it!" he snapped, kicking the center column hard. "What's wrong with you?"

The TARDIS hummed back indignantly. Jack ran a hand through his hair. He'd have to do something else. He dropped onto the ground and lifted the grating; maybe the Doctor had something in there that would give him an idea. He found a length of rope, a trunk full of scuba gear and something that looked unsettlingly like the boot version of the resurrection glove, but nothing that could be useful. He was so engrossed in his search that he didn't hear the door open.

"Jack Harkness," he heard the voice behind him say. "What the hell are you doing?"