I sat down heavily in Jack's swivel chair and settled myself.
"Well, Jack, do you recall how older and older female humans have been able to get pregnant through the recent technological advances? Well, I'm not exactly female or human, but... I've got a little miracle on the way. Perhaps two, if the zygotic divisions surpass their current numbers."
The captain's face had never lit so thoroughly as his blue eyes sized up my slim frame.
"Doctor! Will you show, or are you bigger on the inside, as well?"
Jack Harkness was grinning widely, and so was I.
"What are you going to do about it?" he asked, smile fading a little at his own question, the once bright, deep tread of his lips now merely a shallow flicker of light cross a firefly's wings.
Trust a soldier to say what needed saying.
Soon, before I realized it he was touching my shoulder, massaging my neck with warm, considerate fingers.
"You're cold. Is that normal, for a Time Lord? I've noticed that you rarely seem affected by temperature changes."
His hands slowed, kneading out kinks I hadn't allowed myself to feel for months. Had it been that long since I'd... left her with him? One deep breath, and I found words again.
"Time Lord physiology graces us with a higher tolerance, thus the lower temperature."
I kept still, easing into his hands as he soothed the crushing crust of hardship with variable pinch, grab, release motions that rendered me vague and sleepful as his digits dug and poked every centimetre of my shoulder line below and above. He was turning me to putty, and he knew it. Almost as good as me, with those hands.
"I'm not a lump of clay on a wheel, Jack Harkness. Lest you forget."
My sigh rang on half deaf ears, of course, and so, not entirely against my oftimes formidable will, I eased back my head, closed my eyes, and drifted.