| Date: 11 December 2007
Characters: Jack Harkness, The Ninth Doctor Location: outside, hotel room Link to IJ: thread #3306 |
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 "It's a mental thing, and you know it." |
 "I just felt a million Time Lords die across time and space, screaming as the Daleks burned as well. I think I'm entitled to my mental impotence." he said roughly. |
| He lifted his hand and rubbed it across the Doctor's cheek. "You're more than entitled," he said gently. "And innuendo aside, I'm not harassing you. But it's obviously bothering you, and it doesn't mean you're broken." |
| "I'm absolutely broken and it's got nothing to do with my reproductive organs." |
| "You're not nearly as broken as you think you are. You're hurting, you're shaken, you're scared and angry and a little mad right now, but you're not broken." |
| "I thought I was supposed to be reassuring you." |
| "Telling me the man I died for, and have put all my faith in, is broken is not reassuring. It's not even true." |
| "What's broken can be fixed. It's being fixed." |
| "I think we have different definitions of broken." |
| "I think we have different definitions of most things." |
| "Give me another example?" he asked, settling in, letting his eyes close as he listened. Somehow it made him look really, ridiculously, young. |
| "What's time, Jack?" |
| His eyes were only open for a second in response to the question, before he let them close again. "Literal or personal definition?" |
| "Either or." |
| "Messy. Mutable. Complicated. Chaotic. A tangled thread that runs through the universe. Life. Un-fucking-bearable." |
| "It's everything to me. It's what I breathe. And it's so tangled." |
| He nudged at the Doctor. "Scoot over," he mumbled, voice soft and slurring just a bit. "On your side, facing me." |
| He turned over, frowning, "What?" |
| Jack leaned in and kissed him softly. It wasn't quite chaste, because it was Jack, but it was warm and familiar and loving. As he kissed, there was a very barely there brush of warmth against the Doctor's mind, not pushing or prying, muted by shields that Jack couldn't get down but leaking through as exhaustion collapsed them, anyway. "You are never going to be alone, and time will always, always, be," he promised, just. Slurry and soft. |
| The Doctor stroked Jack's hair back gently, "Go to sleep, Jack." |
| Jack pushed back into the Doctor, curled lightly forward and feel into deep, deep, sleep. He'd be there for a good long while. |