"That's why I ran, Jack," the Doctor said. "You don't need to have to watch it, when it happens. I'd rather you were off in some cantina, not worrying about me."

The Doctor held a lot of belief in prophecies. His planet believed in them, his people had their own future-telling abilities, but he'd never had one so utterly directed at him. So completely knowing.

And who knew what could be knocking for him. Anything. Anyone. And Jack's life was too fragile right now. A small death would kill him if they couldn't outrun the Marquis. Another loved one, dead because of the Doctor.

He curled his fingers around Jack's, before bringing his hand up to his lips and pressing a small kiss to his knuckles.