It's all AU.

Rowan had gone home for a bit. Seen Micki's daughter, seen his mum, done some work. Slept in his own bed. It was strange how used to that he'd gotten.

And then right back here, not a month later, wandering from his bathroom to get something out of his pocket in his room while in the middle of brushing his teeth.

He showed up in the lobby of the hotel in boxers, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. "Bugger."

Rowan sprawled out on the grass, writing notes in his green Torchwood folder, chewing on a piece of grass. He was belly down and his feet were swinging in the air like a child's.

Jack slid into the stool across from Rowan, glass of water in hand. "Hey. I'm Jack. Harkness. Do you know me?"

Rowan had a lot to think about. Talking to Harold had. Hurt his head, hurt his soul. Made him hurt for the Doctor. For Harry even. But he'd liked talking to someone who loved the Doctor.

He'd gotten lost in thinking, wandering around town. Which was why he turned a corner and walked right into someone. "Oh bugger. Sorry! Sorry!"

Rowan rubbed his head, more tired than anything else, heading towards the coffee grousing, "It's six bloody am." Pause. "Somewhere. To me."

Rowan stared at a mirror in the entry hall, frowning as he kept mussing his hair, changing it before turning to someone nearby and asking, "Do I look like a girl?"

It was what passed for night, and he'd woken from very strange dreams to an even stranger reality. He spent a bit of time looking out his window, at the swirl of stars stretched across the sky. He rubbed his eyes and wandered out, thinking that maybe a cup of tea would be a good idea.

He found his way to the dining room, procured his tea, and then looked about. When he saw someone already there, he smiled faintly and walked over. "Hello," he said, pleasantly. "Would you mind a bit of company?"

The Doctor shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he wandered out of the hotel, glancing along the street before he picked a direction, starting to walk. He wasn't sure where he'd go, but eventually, he'd have to face Rose, and he knew it. He just... wanted to put it off a bit longer.

"Sounds daft, even in your own head," he muttered to himself, hunching over slightly. He was avoiding running into Rose if he could, and avoiding trying to sort through his emotions about her. The guilt over her death, the need to protect her, even from himself if he had to, and the affection that frightened him more than anything else.

He looked up when he noticed a shadow on the ground, and gave the young man a slight smile by way of greeting.

Spike was feeling distinctly better. He’d found a first aid kit in the hotel kitchen and patched himself up, and the (internal) application of some alcohol from a bottle of vodka he’d found nearby had made the bullet wound in his side more or less ignorable. Now he just needed a drink.

Preferably O-Positive.

Spike eyed the sign pointing to the bar and sniffed thoughtfully. In a world where trapdoors disappeared into thin air and demon hunters from 2007 turned up at inconvenient moments, and where the kitchens were staffed by androids, it was quite conceivable that the bar would serve blood.

He swaggered into the bar, noted that it was almost empty – not unexpected for the middle of the afternoon – and leant on the bar, automatically giving the serving android the eye. “Don’t suppose you serve blood, mate?” he asked, in a low voice. No point in shouting out that he was a vampire, not when he wasn’t sure he could fight off anyone who took exception to the fact.

It appeared they did serve blood, and not just blood but human blood at that. Spike grinned. Maybe this place wasn’t going to be so bad after all.

Rowan curled his toes, stretched out in the sun in a park near the hotel. He was soaking up the sun, eyes closed and sleepy. "If I fall asleep, wake me up, okay then?" he said, without opening his eyes, sensing someone over him.

Rowan doodled in boredom, half asleep with his other hand holding his head up. He was barely awake and it showed, head drooping and hair looking limp as the rest of him.

Rowan had a basket of chips and, from somewhere, a small palm pilot that he was one finger typing information into, sprawled out under a tree. He was looking up, occasionally, which, by some circumstance was exactly when he saw the Doctor. His second Doctor, the last one he'd seen. He dropped the palm pilot and nearly spilled the chips, trying to flail to his feet, "Oy. Doctor!"

Rowan was starting to freak a bit. It took a while, but he'd gotten around to it. So he started trying to surprise the doors into giving him an exit, opening it very fast then shutting it then again

Rowan stretched out on the grass and watched the sun move through the sky, the duel moons pale and white against the blue blue sky. It looked like Earth. Some earth, at least. Until you looked at the sky and saw it was nothing but. "I really should have paid more attention to astronomy."

Rowan had had a pint, had stored his folder, and was looking for chips. He wandered down the street, peering in shop windows and not seeing anything that looked like chips. He hailed someone coming the opposite way down the sidewalk, asking, "Have you seen a chip shop?"

He was craving comfort food.

Rowan walked through his office door, munching on a piece of toast, juggling his coffee, and a report.

Unfortunately the door he walked through did not lead him into his office. It led him into a brightly lit room with disco balls and thrumming music. Piece of toast still in his mouth, Rowan looked right. Rowan looked left. Rowan sighed around the toast and muttered "Bugger"