Captain Jack Harkness

"No, not my best, I'll admit," Jack nodded, agreeing. "But don't hold it against me. I'm out of practise. I'll have to try harder in future."

Carefully, he slid himself down on the grass so that he was lying on his side facing the Doctor, his head propped up on one elbow.

Jack didn't like the sound of prophecies. He liked to think they were a load of rubbish. But then he knew truth was a little more complicated than that. He'd been given his own once. The turn of a century before he met the Doctor again, and that had proved true.

"No," Jack said with a firm certainty in his voice. "No you're not." As well as caring for the Doctor for the Doctor's sake, a very selfish part of Jack's mind cared for him for his sake. And he needed the Doctor. He needed this Doctor.

"Not as long as I'm around, and I'm not going anywhere," he continued, still as firm, threading his fingers between the Doctor's as if to cement his words.

"Everybody dies, eventually, but that's a long way off." His voice very nearly broke, showing the effect of the words, though he didn't meant to.

"I'm not losing anyone else, Doctor. And I'm not losing you, not again. I'm not letting anything happen to you. Just you remember that."