Ok! So, I'm going to regret the time in the morning, however here is the requested sequel to my previous story, "Breathing Space" and I hope that this meets everyone's expectations. It takes place quite some time after the events of Breathing Space.

I don't own DW or TW.

Recommend listening "Never Gonna Be Alone" by Nickelback. Please read and review and enjoy.


"Hey! Get those out of your mouth!"

Captain Jack Harkness dove over to the high chair, attempting to snatch Owen's car keys out of the grip the eleven month old had on them. He told Owen a million times that he needed to keep his area clear, especially when the little time tot was around.

"Just like your dad, sticking every bloodly thing into your mouth," Jack grumbled, still tugging at the keys, as the baby's face began to turn red with upset. Gwen laughed as she came up behind him with a box of animal cookies. "Language. And I think that's just typical baby behavior, Jack," she said, smoothly trading the keys for a cookie. Jack gaped at her in awe. "How'd you do that?" He asked, the now once again happy baby munching on the cookie. Gwen chuckled at the look on the Captain's face. "Practice, Jack. Tons of cousins and whatnot." Jack smiled. "So, I guess this means you have experience with kids." "I guess," Gwen said with a laugh.

"So, you ever think about…maybe having one of your own one day?" He asks casually, watching the quiet time tot out of the corner of his eye. Gwen looks at him over her shoulder. "You offering there, Captain?" He shrugs, moving closer to her. "I mean, if you're not…totally repulsed by the idea…" Before Gwen could announce that there was nothing more she wanted than to have his children, Donna swooped in.

"Oh no you don't! There will no such talk around the baby! He's like a sponge and if his parents haven't corrupted him yet, I'm certainly not giving you two the chance! Have this talk somewhere else!" She ordered as she picked up the adorable little guy, who was now babbling happily at the sight of his aunt. Jack shot Gwen a look that clearly said this conversation was far from over.

It was at this time that Owen began complaining. "Where are my bloody car keys?" He shouts, tossing pillows and papers off the couch and knocking over containers of Chinese, ignoring Ianto's protests about messing up the Hub. Jack whistles and tosses the now slobbered over keys to the doctor, who groans in disgusts when he realizes that his beloved keys are now covered in drool. "Courtesy of the time brat," he growls, and Tosh thumps him on the arm. "Don't call him that! He can hear you!" She scolds, and he ducks another thump.

"Bloodly hell, woman!"

"Language!" Everyone reminds him, and he groans again, eager to leave the Hub, if only for some food.

Donna, seeing the chance to get in some licks of her own on poor Owen, hands the baby to Ianto, who is quite happy to hold the little boy. He seems calm and relaxed, melting into the Welsh's arms and yawning adorably. Ianto tucks him in closer to his body, feeling his little two hearts beat. He wishes he had someone he could have a child with. If only for the moment. That was the thing with this job, you didn't have much a social life and even then, how did you tell someone you fancied that you tracked down aliens for a living without sounding mad? So, in the meantime, he could content himself with his little nephew.

Who then proceeds to spit-up all over his new shirt.

"Ugh!" He yelps, holding the tiny time lord away from his body in disgust, grimacing at the white mess on his shoulder. Tosh and Jack laugh as Donna and Gwen race to his rescue, the latter quickly taking the baby away and handing Ianto a towel. "Sorry, Ianto."

"It's ok. I'll go see if I can get it out." He says, quickly leaving the room, Donna following him. This was his favorite shirt.

With Ianto and Owen and Donna gone, it's now just the three of them. Gwen plops down onto the couch holding the little one carefully, in case he has more to share, then sitting back slowly, situating him against her chest, his little head resting comfortable in the crook of her neck, breathing softly. She melts at the feel and smell of her nephew and knows for certain that she wants to have a baby. One she can keep and not have to give back to his parents. One with Jack's eyes and smile and a love of adventure….

Whoa, girl. Easy.

First she has to figure out if Jack was serious or if he was just flirting and pulling her leg. He did that sometimes, without thinking of the consequences.

However, unbeknownst to her, Jack was thinking along the same lines. Watching Gwen holding the newest addition to the family they had all become cemented in his mind that he was ready to be a father. And he wants Gwen to be the mother of child. She was the ideal candidate. She was strong, compassionate, kind-hearted, loyal, determined. She always went above and beyond for the team and the people they helped. Jack thinks back to the first case they ever worked together, how she reminded them that they suspect they were pursuing was just a young woman who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time. She reminded Jack of what it was to be human. He hoped that their child have all those traits and more.

Tosh watches Jack with a knowing smile. It was well known amongst Team Torchwood that Jack and Gwen had a special bond. They both had strong feelings for the other, and in Tosh's opinion, they were perfect for each other. They balanced the other out and had great chemistry, in and out of the work place. Plus, more power to them for finding each other, really.

She nudges the captain and he looks over at her. "You think the world is ready for an offspring of Captain Jack Harkness and Gwen Cooper?" Jack smirks. "I already picked out a name for a girl." He confides with a shy smile. "Well, don't tell me. Tell Gwen. I'm sure she has some names of her own." She encourages him and he nods.

Just as he is about to march over and declare his undying devotion to the beautiful Welsh, the sound of the TARDIS wheezing into existence fills the Hub. "Oh, they're back." Tosh calls out, and Ianto and Donna come back into the open space.

The door of the blue box opens and Rose Tyler-Smith steps out first, grinning at the sounds of her son's happy squeals and shrieks when he sees that mummy and daddy have returned. "I think he's happy to see us, Sarge," she comments to her husband, taking his hand as they make their way over to their son. "I think so, too, Lewis." The Doctor reaches his son first and happily scoops him into his arms. "Hello there, Jonathan."

Jonathan Jack Tyler-Smith, affectionately called JJ, was the first in a new line of Time Lords. He is the perfect blend of his proud parents, with his father's eyes and his mother's smile. An innate sense of curiosity and a tendency to get into anything and everything, Jonathan had captured everyone's hearts that ever came into contact with him.

Jonathan babbles happily to his daddy, his little hands reaching out and grasping the Doctor's cheeks, smushing them together and giggling hysterically at the faces he could make his daddy pull. Rose watches her husband and their son together, knowing that even when they have more children later, she would never tire of her seeing her firstborn with his daddy. Jonathan was the missing piece that completed her life with the Doctor. She had gotten pregnant with him less than a year after her return, something Jack had boasted that he had predicted long before.

"Am I good or am I good?" He crowed, beaming like he was the father. "I knew it! I told myself, self, less than a year, baby time lord. And it happened!"

The Doctor had been ecstatic, thrilled beyond belief that now he would have a part of Rose even after she was gone. He had been such a help through the pregnancy, waiting on Rose hand and foot. She never wanted for anything when he was around, and while a part of her (a tiny tiny part) was annoyed at the attention, the rest of her adored him for wanting to do so much.

"You're carrying the next generation of Time Lords inside you, Rose Tyler! You deserve to have someone wait on hand and foot for you! I nominate myself!" The Doctor proclaimed proudly, grinning.

There had been moments when she had tried to do some things for herself, and for the most part he allowed it. There were times however, when he put his foot down and stood his ground.

"What am I, Rose?" He aks. "My servant," She answered with a grin. "And what does a servant do?" She props her feet up in his lap. "Takes care of me." He grins. "Exactly! So let me take care of you."

It had been a long and difficult labor, but her husband didn't falter once. Owen and Jack worked together to deliver her son, and it was worth all the pain for the look on the Doctor's face as he held his newborn son for the first time. It was mix between awe and fear and devotion and wonder and love and pride. Jonathan had fit perfectly in his daddy's hands. Gwen had snapped a picture of the small family later on; Rose sitting up in the bed, holding Jonathan (who was sleeping) and the Doctor sitting slightly behind her, his long arms around both his wife and son. As soon as the Doctor had gotten a hold of it, he had taped it to the monitor in the control room, so he could always see it as he piloted the TARDIS.

She's brought of his thoughts by the Doctor nudging her slightly. "I think he's want his mum," He murmurs softly, holding Jonathan out to her. Rose cuddles her son close to her. Jonathan grins brightly, touching her cheek and babbling, happy to be with her again. "Who's mummy's big boy?" She teases, tickling under his chin and he giggles, wiggling around in her arms, before yawning widely. "My, that's a big yawn there, little one," The Doctor coos, taking his son. "Time for your nap, mate." He looks to his wife who nods. They tell everyone their goodbyes and the Tyler-Smith clan go back into the TARDIS for some family bonding.


The Doctor watches his family for a long moment. Rose lying on her side, Jonathan cuddled in next to her, his small thumb inside his mouth, and his small chest slowly falling and rising, with Rose's hand lying atop it protectively. The Doctor gently takes his son's free hand and studies the small hand for the nth time since Jonathan had been born, his little fingers and the tiny indentions that would later become his knuckles. The tiny hand grips his father's hand so strongly, knowing that he was safe and loved, that it brings tears to the Doctor's eyes. He had honestly thought that he would never get the chance to be a father again, and now he was, lying in bed with his wife and son, both of them in his protective hold, safe and sound.

This was perfection.


If only I was in charge of Doctor Who...