Summary: After every life, a hell; after every hell, a heaven. Stories of Jack Harkness, in three drabbles.
I don't write drabbles often and I've never written Jack in a Torchwood setting before. This trio of drabbles contains absolutely no spoilers for Children of Earth, but was generated after watching the episodes and realizing anew the unique, and heart-breaking, status of Captain Jack Harkness in the Whoniverse. As always, I do not own anything - characters or settings - in the Whoniverse, nor do I take coin for writing about them. They are solely the property of the BBC.
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When Jack was a child, someone showed him a Moebius strip - it was called something else on the Boeshane Peninsula - and he'd been entranced with the elegance of space turned back on itself.
A few years later, an Agency instructor used the strip to illustrate the supremely impossible nature of time and Jack was seduced into becoming time's lover.
Then he met the Blue Rose; time fled from him and space shrank to the dark places hidden in his eyes.
Now his hopeless and eternal mission was to find a way to cut the ribbon and free himself.
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"There," Gwen said, wiping her hands and smiling at Jack. "Done and dusted."
The Hub looked better than it had in years; Ianto was pleased. "I've needed help with this for ages. Thanks."
"Organization - compartmentalization," she said, satisfaction in those remarkable eyes of hers. "What do you think, Jack?"
Jack smiled at them. "Great job, folks."
Inside his head, he screamed, choked on earth, died and returned for 1,000 years. Inside his head, he died, and died, and died. Inside his head, he was quite mad.
Still smiling, he shut each door in his head, and went upstairs.
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If anyone were to ask ... no, there was no need to talk about the journey.
He finally recognized the gold that had surrounded him since ... what was the place, the time? The satellite? Yes.
She had long since gone ahead, but the gold ... ah, the beast had outlived the flower. And changed ... not a beast anymore, but a friend, fading and beautiful. He embraced it, with all the love in his old, old heart. Poor Doctor, he thought, who had to remain, if only briefly, while he was free to dance into the gold, and rest.