A/N: MAH GODS! I just realised I got w1nter to beta this chapter like, 3 months ago, and I only just found it... please don't kill me! *hides*

Diclaimer, yo: I don't own Doctor Who (or Torchwood). Or much else for that matter. I almost own a laptop! Just gotta pay off that last $160 and I'm home free! Hah!


CHAPTER THREE: AND THAT, CHILDREN, IS WHY YOU NEVER SHOULD-

"Brittany, have you seen the Doctor?"

Brittany just looked up from a handwritten record at what she thought was Jack, but was in fact the Doctor trapped inside handsome Jack's body.

"No," she said, "he left a while back." She returned to perusing the report. "Why d'ya ask?"

The Doctor twiddled his thumbs and glanced at the door. "That man's gonna get himself into trouble." And not in the way you're thinking, he added silently to himself. Jack, the chronic philanderer, was masquerading around a medieval palace, full of serving girls and young princesses, in the Time Lord's own body. And he had been gone an awfully long time…

"I'm gonna go find him, okay?" the Doctor announced, rising to his feet. He subconsciously reached up to slip his glasses into his pocket, but upon discovering that he was not in fact wearing his usual brainy specs, he changed the movement into a scratch of his nose, hoping to cover up his mistake.

"Yeah, whatever," Brittany replied, not even sparing him a glance, too deeply engrossed in her reading. It was so odd, seeing different reactions from people. Normally she would be berating him to be careful and not get into any trouble, but now, with him to all intents and purposes Jack, she didn't even wave him off.

The Doctor left the musty old records room, rubbing his eyes wearily. Reading by candlelight couldn't be the best thing for your eyes, that was for sure – and Jack didn't have a pair of spectacles handy. No wonder everyone in this time period went blind at the age of forty. He mounted a long flight of stone steps, emerging into an airy corridor thronging with servants and members of the royal court going about their business. The Doctor suddenly felt very conspicuous in his long grey overcoat, an item of clothing that wouldn't be invented for a few hundred years. He normally didn't worry about modern clothing, but… He shook off the feeling, and tapped a passing maid on the shoulder.

She turned, irritated to be interrupted by someone who clearly wasn't a noble. "Sir?"

His accent! The Doctor balked, unsure of whether to speak or not. America hadn't been settled yet, so good ol' 'handsome Jack's' accent wouldn't exist. He wasn't sure how well he'd be able to put on a British accent using the Captain's voice – he just didn't have enough experience in this body yet.

"Was there something you wanted, sir?" the maid prompted, eager to be on her way. "Only I've got this linen to deliver." She indicated the piles of sheets folded over her arms.

"Oh, yeah," the Doctor said, deciding there was nothing he could do about the American accent. "I'm looking for a friend of mine. Tall, wears a long brown coat, walks about like he owns the place. You didn't happen to see him, did you?"

"No sir, I just work in the laundry," the maid replied unhelpfully. "You could try one of the guards. Now, if you would excuse me…" She scurried off without further ado, quickly disappearing into the crowd.

The first guard the Doctor tried was extremely unhelpful, as were was the second, third and fourth. The fifth guard stated that he may have seen such an individual heading towards the royal apartments, and so that was where the Time Lord went.

The royal apartments! This did not bode well for the Doctor's reputation at all. Jack, with his confirmed status as the worst womaniser to ever be born, was in the royal apartments. Dear Rassilon, please tell me he hasn't seduced the Queen! He was never going to live this down.

A single guard stood to attention in front of the doorway to the royal wing of the palace, polished pike held aloft. The Doctor didn't doubt that the man would know how to use the weapon, so he approached with caution.

"Hello there," he said with a friendly smile. "I was wondering whether you'd seen a tall fellow, in a long coat?"

"I mighta done," the guardsman replied sharply. "What's it to you?"

"He's a friend of mine, and I need to find him before he does something he's really gonna regret."

"Well, as a matter o' fact, I do remember lettin' such a bloke into the royal apartments," the guard admitted, lowering his voice. "Said 'e was some kind o' phys … ph … Fizz-is-shun."

"Physician, yes that's him," the Doctor confirmed. "I need to see him." He started to step towards the door, but the guard coughed pointedly. The Doctor bit his lip in annoyance, and dug a couple of gold coins out of his pocket and pressed them into the other man's hand. The guard grunted in satisfaction as he tucked the gold into a his belt pouch, and nodded the Doctor through.

The royal apartments were lavishly furnished, with colourful tapestries depicting famous battles lining the walls, and polished rosewood seats scattered about at uneven intervals. There weren't as many people here, but the corridors still had their fair share of wandering dignitaries and bustling ladies-in-waiting. It didn't take him long to find someone who'd seen Jack, and was soon standing in front of a heavy oaken door. But, despite the thickness of said door, the Doctor could still hear … giggling.

There was nothing for it. He would have to open the door, and face whatever was happening with his head held high, with dignity and –

"By the Hand of Omega!" the Doctor spluttered as he entered the room. "By all the stars in the Seven Systems, what in the Name of Rassilon were you thinking?" He shut the door, and gaped at the two figures in the room.

Jack appeared to be tucked up in bed with a very young, and suddenly self-conscious, lady-in-waiting.

"Doctor… I wasn't expecting to see you here," Jack said, actual surprise in his voice, never mind the expression on his face. "Umm… it's not what it looks like?"

The Doctor advanced on the bed, an accusing finger trained on the two figures, Jack in particular. "Not what it looks like? Not what it looks like?" he spat, voice raised in anger and disgust. "And just what does it look like, Jack Harkness? WHAT DOES IT BLOODY LOOK LIKE!" The Captain wasn't given a chance to reply however, despite the severity of the question posed.

"Out!" the Time Llord roared. "Out of the bed now!"

The Doctor cut an imposing figure when angry, and Jack immediately leapt to obey. His hand shot out from underneath the covers and scrabbled around for his clothing. Within a few seconds, he was standing in front of the Doctor, pulling on his blue pants with one hand, and trying to knot his tie with the other.

"What were you thinking Jack?" the Doctor berated, prodding the Captain so forcefully that his skinny frame almost collapsed back onto the bed. "Do you not think before you act? Didn't you spare a thought for the impact this could have on me? I have a reputation to uphold, Jack; I don't want to be known as the Last of the Time Lords with Chlamydia!"

Jack was speechless, unable to form a response. He was, however, spared from another verbal dressing-down by the knock at the door.

The room fell deathly silent as everyone turned to face the door. The Doctor shot Jack a look that said 'if you besmirch my reputation by even a fraction of a percent more than you already have, I am going to throttle you'.

The knock came again, followed by the voice of a woman.