Veni Scripsi Vici
NOTES: I intentionally left it open-ended. Imagine for yourselves what happens. The theme song for this fic is 'A Pair of Brown Eyes,' (originally done by the Pogues, though my favorite version is by The Young Dubliners). Swap out 'brown' for 'blue' and it works. Reviews will result in higher confidence in writing, which will result in more writing of Janto fics, which will result in more posting of Janto fics. RATED for Hart's colorful language and mentions of shagging.
The Best Laid Plans
Shit…shit, am I dying? If I am, then…then, this really is shit. I'm not supposed to die like this. I mean, I'm still fairly young. And handsome. I have more adventures ahead of me; more shags, more drinks… I mean, dying young has always been in my general plan, but there's got to be a fight first.
If only the universe would listen to my damned plan. Ha…that'd be brilliant, wouldn't it? So, Captain Hart, how would you like to die? Well, universe, I'll tell you. I've got to go down like a man, guns blazing, blatantly laughing at death. There's got to be a fight. It doesn't have to be heroic or anything, mind you. Just badass. And this isn't to say that I'd die right then. Because a last shag is definitely on my agenda. Doesn't matter who from; I just want one. Sound like a good plan, universe?
Well, you know what? It was a fucking good plan. Only it seems I'm not allowed to carry it out. Unless I've terribly missed something, there's been no fight here at all. There was just a deafening bang and a blinding light, and then something huge and heavy and burning hit my chest. And now I'm here on the ground, half-buried in miscellaneous debris. So fast…I didn't even have time to put my jacket back on, damn it. The arm I can see is bare…red and blistering… Ah, there's my jacket. It's crumpled in a burning heap a metre or two off. Damn. I loved that thing.
Ouch…ow, ow, ow… Fuck, death's not supposed to be like this… Has Jack been through anything like this? How could you go through this and then just…go back? How does he take it? Jack…I want Jack. I still want that last shag, and I take it back; it does matter who from. I want a last shag with Jack.
Damn it…why am I so obsessed with him? Has the 21st-century mindset rubbed off on me after my stay there? I think it was rubbing off on him. He's turning into a romantic. God, I hope that's not happening to me. I'll stick with my good old 51st-century ideals, thank you. The thing is…when you spend five years with someone, spending most of your time with only him…you get kind of attached. Ever since we last saw each other as Agents, before I found him at Torchwood, no matter how many others I kissed and shagged, he was still in my mind. Old lovers are usually so easy to leave behind, but not him. There was always this nagging in my mind, no matter how faint, to go and find him. And I did. And it didn't end well. Then I found him again, and again, it ended horribly, mostly due to me.
I left him behind…to travel 21st-century Earth, but after a while, I realized that I couldn't bear knowing that he was there…on the same planet, in the same time… As soon as I fixed my manipulator, I got the hell out of there, back to my rogue adventures. And now I'm here. And I'm still thinking about him. Why, damn it? Why?
I don't know why, but I know I have a revised plan: I want to die in his arms. I want to kiss him again. He was always a great kisser. I want the feel of his lips, his tongue…I want the taste of him in my mouth. When I lick my lips, all I taste is blood and burnt flesh… I want to see his eyes above me. Jack always loved boys with blue eyes: me, Eye-Candy… I used to tell him that it was because he loved himself too much. He'd say, "Speak for yourself." Then we'd probably just snog. I miss him. I love him, damn it…like I've never loved anyone else. Maybe…maybe I'm still not one for old-fashioned ways of thinking, but…I suppose I'm still allowed to pick a favorite, aren't I?
If he were here, I think I could ignore the pain…but I'm alone with it… There's too much pain…it's everywhere. It's all over my chest, my stomach…burning, throbbing, stinging… I need to find him…go to him…yes…or at least call him…see where and when he is…I can't afford to try and find him myself. There may not be time. Wait…my arm…the bare arm…it's my right arm… Where's my wrist strap? No…no, no, shit, no… Where is it? Where is…it has to be here…where…no…no…Jack…Jack…where is it?!
There…yes…it's there… Ha! It's here! Over by my jacket… The leather's charred…still smoldering…but it should work…it's got to… I can't reach it from here…not for the life of me… Ha…the life of me… Well, that's what it might end up being anyway, so here goes…everything…
There we go…just drag yourself out…out of the rubble…fuck, that's easier said than done… My legs are completely trapped…so is my other arm…and it feels like it's broken…it hurts…it all hurts… You can do this…you can beat this, boy…just…yank your arm out– Oh, wow…if my arm wasn't broken before, it certainly is now…but it's out, at least… All right…two limbs to go… I just have to gather up all my strength…and…lunge… Ouch…shit, that hurt… Am I – oh, fuck…I'm bleeding…my stomach is bleeding… Seems as though parts of that giant hunk of burning whatever decided to just…keep going through me… Ow…blood makes the burns sting…I think moving is only making it worse…but I moved… Ha! I've moved! I'm closer! Yes… Come on, your legs are almost free…come on, John…come on… Lunge…ow…you can get there…you have to get there…this is your only hope of any kind of reasonable death…you have to get there…come on!
My inner voice is sort of turning into him…it's more encouraging, I think. He's willing me on…bringing me to him…I'll come to you, Jack…I'm…I'm…I'm fighting… Ha…I'm putting up a fight…yes…Captain John Hart is most certainly going down with a fight! Maybe not according to plan, but I've always been one to shake things up, haven't I? Plans are for the paranoid… I am Captain John…fucking…Hart…and I am dying like a man. And you know what else, universe? My legs are free. I've only got a few more lunges to go before I've dragged myself to my sweet reward, and when I kiss him, I will laugh. I'm laughing already. Because I've won. I may be burning and bleeding and dragging myself through the dirt, but I've won.
This is it…one more lunge between me and my Captain…my starship trooper…my last request…and nothing is going to stop me… Reach out as far as you can…collect your strength…and think of him.
"This is for you, sexy."
Lunge.