Captain Jack Harkness

Follows this.

Jack held tight to the TARDIS console as they shook back and forth in flight. His heart in his chest raced. The Ood. Well that was good. Really, it was. The Ood could help (he hoped) and then things would be easier. Things would make more sense and be less confusing for both of them.

It'd be better.

But what if they couldn't? There was always that chance. If they couldn't, he and the Doctor were at a dead end and maybe they'd just have to get used to the fact their memories would never be repaired and that history would never be fixed. They'd have to start again and see where that would take them.

But no, Jack wasn't ready to think about that. The Ood would help, they had to.

They landed and the TARDIS promptly stopped shaking; the central column slowing to a stop.

"Right then," he nodded, "looks like our stop." He smoothed down the front of his coat and nodded to the door, "Doctor's first."

Follows on from this

When Jack came to he was in a hospital bed. He'd been sedated, or he'd passed out, or... something. Whatever it was, he wasn't where he last remembered being and he didn't like it. He didn't feel in control.

He looked down at himself and he'd been redressed in some sort of hospital scrubs. The dried blood had been cleaned away and he felt somewhere in the general vicinity of healthy. He was hooked up to monitors, heart rate and others he didn't recognise.

The curtain around his bed was drawn closed and he called out, "Hey, do I at least get a hot nurse or something?"