Jack looked like death warmed over. The Doctor didn't know any other word for it... dzixiz, perhaps, or plutt, but really death warmed over was, ironically, the best. He was still wearing the same clothes he had worn the day before and had clearly slept in them, his greatcoat doing little to hide the wrinkles in his shirt. The Doctor wondered if he had even slept at all, judging by the paleness of his face and the dark circles under his eyes. He stuck his hands in his pockets, resisting the sudden urge he felt to smooth down Jack's uncombed hair with his fingers. It was sticking up in the back.

"You hungry?" he asked as he led the way back to the console room. "The Great Bazaar's famous for its tye pastries. That and some nice hot chlul would make a good breakfast, don't you think?"

Jack did not respond.

"Or we could have waffles. With maple syrup? Oh, and whipped cream, I love whipped cream. I bet you like whipped cream, Jack. Oh, of course you do." He cleared his throat. "I remember. You do."

Silence.

"Or we could sit around the TARDIS staring at each other. We could watch paint dry." They entered the console room and the Doctor began setting coordinates. "Maybe clean the bathroom."

Jack grunted.

"Listen, Jack," said the Doctor, yanking on a lever perhaps a bit harder than he'd meant to. The TARDIS lurched and Jack stumbled, though his sullen expression remained unchanged. "I'm trying to help, trying to give a little. I mean it, we can make this work." He cupped Jack's chin in his hand and looked into his eyes. "But we both have to try."

Jack scowled and the Doctor stepped away. Casually, he pressed a button behind him and the TARDIS materialized on the surface of Catalonia. He grabbed his coat from its place on the support and draped it over his arm. "Allons-y!"

Once out in the bright sunshine, Jack looked worse. The Doctor decided the only cure for that was pancakes. Luckily, there was a stand selling them a few yards away. Even in the fifty-fourth century, pancakes remained unchanged. There are some things that need no improvements.

"What have you got on you?" the Doctor asked Jack, as they reached the head of the queue.

Jack reached into his pocket. "Four quid."

The Doctor sighed and pulled out the psychic paper. "Guess it's on me, then. One day, I'll have to remember to start carrying money, if all our outing things are going to be like this." Jack didn't respond, but he accepted the synfoam plate of pancakes without protest. The Doctor regarded this as progress.

They found a picnic table in a grassy area to eat. Well, the Doctor ate. Jack just picked at his food, while the Doctor talked at him cheerfully and loudly, so as to be heard over the passing shoppers and shouting children.

"It's fascinating," the Doctor exclaimed, "...how you're not listening to a word I'm saying."

"I am," said Jack, trailing his fork through the pool of syrup on the edge of his plate.

"Pop quiz, then. Who did I come here with last? Hint: You know her."

Jack wrinkled his nose. "Donna?"

"Oh, sorry. The answer I was looking for was Sarah Jane." The Doctor sighed and laid his fork down. "We can go if you're not having fun. Unless there's nowhere you would have fun." He was getting tired of Jack's attitude.

Jack shook his head and speared a piece of pancake. "We can stay."

The Doctor grinned. "Brilliant!" Grudging acquiescence was something of an improvement over passive resistance. "Where should we go first? Books? Handicrafts? Ooh, street performers! I hope they have a one-man band!" He was plainly conscious of the fact that he was just filling air with sound, hoping Jack would respond to something he was saying.

Thankfully, when they had finished eating, Jack stood and followed him down one of the aisles, though he did tend to just follow the Doctor like a petulant child instead of looking at any of the wares himself. The Doctor hadn't originally intended to shop but he was beginning to think he might get something for Martha and Gwen. After all, they had to deal with Jack on an hourly basis and he was beginning to appreciate what a respectable feat that was.

The Doctor's gaze fell on a stall laden with jewelry and other goods. "Look at this!" He reached for a large gold urn adorned with intricate carvings. "This is lovely!"

"That's Xoviccian Fertility Pot," said the old woman behind the counter. She eyed the Doctor and Jack. "Are you hoping for a little one?"

The Doctor set the pot down quickly. "No," he said, pushing it away with the tips of his fingers. "Definitely not."

"Ah, well, you're young yet." She smiled and leaned in conspiratorially. "Maybe you'd like a nice present for your husband? We have a wide variety of–"

"Oh, we're not married," said the Doctor quickly, despite the way his stomach flip-flopped at the fact that the woman had mistaken them for a couple.

The woman raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah," said the Doctor, turning away. He snorted. "Definitely not married." At least not at the rate we're going.

"What was that?" asked Jack when the Doctor had joined him again.

The Doctor looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"That," he pointed back at the stall, where the old woman was showing her wares to a slim, dark-haired woman.

"What?" The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "She asked if we were a couple. We aren't." He hoped it would end here, but Jack seemed to be on a short fuse.

"You can stop rubbing it in now," he snapped. "I get it, okay?"

The Doctor blinked. "Get what?"

"If you don't want me around, I can just go." He turned, coat snapping and stalked away.

"Where are you going?" the Doctor sputtered, completely confused.

"Somewhere else," said Jack tersely.

"But... but you don't have transport!" The Doctor tried to run after Jack, but the crowd was rapidly filling in the spaces between them.

"I know," called Jack. "Fifty-fourth century? I think I can adapt."

And then he was gone. The Doctor froze, scanning the crowd. Jack was gone. The Doctor's shoulders slumped and he turned, heading back the way he'd come. He'd wait–five and a half hours, maybe. Jack would come back to the TARDIS.

**

Jack had expected to feel much better after storming off, but instead, he felt very guilty. He couldn't help but imagine the Doctor sitting glumly in the TARDIS, waiting for him to come back, though he knew that probably the Doctor was already off somewhere else, having fun. Perhaps with the nearest blonde.

Jack needed a drink. He scanned the stalls in front of him, looking for something that looked like it might dispense refreshing beverages. He finally settled on one of the few actual buildings in the bazaar, a dark and dusty establishment with a crowded bar, where he ordered some Arnelian fire ale and paid for it with the money in his pocket.

"Trust me, it's money," he told the bewildered barkeep as he grabbed his bottle and turned to go. He hadn't gotten halfway across the bar when he heard a woman's voice.

"Not interested, sorry."

"Come on, baby. Don't think you can resist a fine specimen like this, can you?" Jack glanced at them out of the corner of his eye. Two men were surrounding a young woman with long dark hair–Jack realized he recognized her from the old woman's stall. She had arrived just as he and the Doctor were leaving.

The woman snorted. "You lot really are thick if you–ah!" Jack whirled. One of the men had grabbed the woman and was twisting her arm behind her back. The more she struggled, the tighter he held her.

"Let go of her!" Jack barked, striding forward.

The man holding the woman released her and narrowed his eyes at Jack. "Who the hell are you?"

"Someone who knows how to treat a lady." Jack reached down to help the woman up. "I'm Captain Jack Harkness," he said to her.

She smiled. "I'm Melody– oh, look out!" Jack spun just in time to feel the full force of the man's punch in the center of his nose. Jack stumbled back, dropping his bottle. They were both definitely broken.

"Oh, that makes me real mad," muttered Jack. "That was my last four quid." He ducked the second man's swing, sending him into the floor. When he tried to rise, Jack elbowed him in the top of the head.

"That was easy enough," he said, grinning at Melody. She screamed and Jack turned, just in time to realize that the first man had had a gun.