They were very different, these two strange men, Lynda observed, as they stormed the control room of station five.

'Friends', the Doctor had said, while frantically trying to find this girl, this 'Rose'. Somehow she doubted it was as simple as friends, and she had to admit that she felt a little disappointed. She'd taken quite a shine to the Doctor. He had rescued her after all, and called her sweet. He wasn't quite her type, but there was definitely something about him.

Then Jack had come along. He was far more her type, handsome, charming...And also completely concerned with finding Rose. Briefly she had wondered what was so amazing about this girl that she had two very different, but very intriguing, strong men so desperate to find her, to make sure she was safe.

Lovers, Lynda had thought. She must be sleeping with both of them. Did they realise? Lynda couldn't tell from the way that they treated each other on their way up to the level Rose was on. Probably not. Plain cheek, that was. And just not fair on the Doctor (He'd called her sweet) and Jack (So nice, so handsome, so charming).

They were so different, these men. The way they reacted when Rose was disintegrated (Poor girl. Even if she was a slut.) Jack, raging wildly, wielding his gun ("You killed her, you killed her!"), the Doctor just staring, silently gobsmacked. Their worlds had been rocked, Lynda realised. Shattered. They must have both loved this Rose. Such a shame that she had been cheating on them with each other.

Then Jack said it.

"Get your hands off him!" He'd screamed, or something similar, as the guards began to wrestle them away. He'd struggled, trying to get his gun round, trying to get to the Doctor.

Oh, Lynda had thought. Oh.

And then they'd said not a word to each other, not a word while they were hustled around to the holding cell, the Doctor blank-faced, Jack raging and grief-stricken. Not one word, until the Doctor proclaimed,

"Let's do it."

Jack had known immediately what he meant, with just those three words.

Very different, these two strange men. But linked somehow, intricately, in ways more than simple 'friends', as the Doctor had said.

As they worked towards saving Rose, Lynda watched them. Very different. But so very well matched.

Damn, She thought. I know how to pick 'em, don't I?