A/N: hello~! i was watching 'Exit Wounds' and i felt like writing some Jack stuff. i feel that i made him cry a lot. ugh. well, if you dont wanna see Jack dry on an imaginary shoulder... f- off! gone on! leave! anyway, this takes place at the end of "Exit Wounds" when his brother is frozen, but he hasn't talked to John yet. ve~

Penance

"Hello Jack," said the all too familiar voice.

Jack slowly turned to the person that had spoken. He saw the spiky hair, the long coat, the old blue suit, the beat up sneakers. Tears came to his eyes as he confirmed to himself that it was the Doctor who had spoken.

"Why…" Jack wanted to ask 'why now?', 'why didn't you come when I really needed you?', 'am I really that unbearable to you?' But he couldn't. He knew he would never be able to say a word against him. That didn't stop his doubts however.

The Doctor smiled. A sad sort of smile, one that showed he understood Jack's pain, but still stood apart from it.

Jack slowly moved to stand in front of the Doctor. Not moving away, or moving at all, was the only confirmation Jack needed. He let himself cry on the Doctor's shoulder and tried to hold onto the last piece of his life that he could truly count on.

The Doctor only stood there, feeling all the swirling emotions coming from Jack. He held him loosely, and rubbed circles into his back.

All that had happened, all the emotions he had held in, it all came flooding out at once. The regret, the loneliness, the fear, the pain… all of it. But none so much as the guilt. The guilt of letting go of Gray's hand, of not finding him in time, of moving on while his brother suffered, the guilt of having to freeze his brother because he hadn't been good enough to save him. He wanted to do anything he could to alleviate even the tiniest bit of his brothers pain. Anything he could have done… so he died. He died over and over and over again. Every time he thrashed and screamed under twenty feet of dirt, every time he gasped and struggled to breathe, every time his chest collapsed under the pressure, every time his lungs filled with dirt, every time awoke to the black, heavy pressure of dirt closing in on him, he thought of Gray. What Gray had been through; Gray, who had been left to scream in dark, waiting for the moment when his brother would come to save him. Gray, who had been tortured over and over again, waiting to become one of the many corpses he was surrounded by. Gray, who had begged and prayed to be killed, outliving the monsters that kept him hostage, the so-called gift of life that had become the greatest curse.

And the guilt returned anew. The guilt that made Jack accept the death he justly deserved.

Jack stopped crying. He pulled away from the Doctor. The Doctor looked into Jack's stony eyes, and Jack in turn looked into the Doctor's warm brown ones.

"Jack…" he began. Jack, however, just stepped back a bit, choosing to stand near the container holding his brother's frozen body.

The Doctor stared long and hard at Jack, contemplating something, before he spoke. "I'm sorry, but… I'm not the real Doctor."

Blank shock shot across Jack's face. "Wha…? Then, who are you? What did you do to the real Doctor!" Jack lunged forward and grabbed hold of the man's shirt holding him up and demanding answers.

"The Doctor is fine. He's visiting Midnight right now. I only used his body as an astral projection because this was the easiest way to get near you," the fake Doctor said.

Jack stood, shell-shocked. He was both furious and embarrassed. He had cried on this 'person's' shoulder, and now he learned that it wasn't even the real Doctor. New emotions welled up inside Jack and his anger grew.

"What the fuck do you want with me then? I just had to bury three people, what do you wanna add to that! How much worse do you wanna make this for me!" he was yelling and cursing and almost on the verge of tears again.

The fake Doctor just stood there and took it. This was probably the best move for both himself and Jack. Jack needed to vent, and the fake Doctor only helped.

Jack calmed slightly, taking heaving breaths before he once again turned to face the fake Doctor. The Doctor smiled softly. Stepping lightly he approached Jack and placed his hand on either side of his face.

Staring intensely into Jack's eyes he said, "They'll all tell you it wasn't your fault."

Jack blinked, confused. But the Doctor spoke again. "They'll all say he was wrong." Then it came to him. He was talking about his brother and what had happened.

"They'll say maybe he should be killed. That it won't help to just freeze him. They'll all try to convince you that your brother was crazy. That he was wrong to attack you like he did. But you don't see it that way, do you? You know he was right to be angry. His anger was all he had left. He hated you with all the power of hell's flames. But if that meant he depended on you in some sense, that's okay right? As long as you could be someone to him. As long as you meant something to him. If you could be there for him in any way… that would be enough." The Doctor paused. "That's right isn't it?"

Jack was dumbstruck. He couldn't say anything, he couldn't even think. Tears welled up in his eyes again and silently rolled down his cheek. This was probably the most emotion he had ever shown. And it wasn't even the real Doctor standing before him.

The Doctor wiped Jack's eyes with the pads of his thumbs. "How many times?" the question was asked softly. So soft Jack wasn't sure he heard it.

"How many times did you die for your brother?" The question shook Jack to his very core.

How many times had it been? In a thousand eight hundred years how many times had he died? How many times did he wake to the reality of being crushed all over again? Jack had no clue. It would take hours to calculate it. All Jack could remember was the crushing pain, the gasping breathes….but never any screaming. Gray was wrong about that. Jack never screamed. He was silent save for his gasping breathes, and heart wrenching sobs.

Jack didn't answer. The Doctor stared at him with a blank expression. "If you can't answer, I think that means you've died enough."

The Doctor paused then said, "I am the manifestation of your deaths. You may not believe it, and to be honest I don't believe it either. However, that's what I am. I would love to lie to you and say that when you die I can be there for you, but I can't. All I can do is continue to be your tool and your companion. You've carried me with you for many years, and I will continue to serve you well."

He gave Jack a wistful look, like he wasn't saying everything he wanted to say. His eyes slid shut and he disappeared.

What Jack didn't know was that the specter wasn't at all the manifestation of his deaths, but a manifestation of his gun. The one he always carried with him. The one he favored over all. Though it could not do anything for him, except be used, it would continue to watch over him until it was tossed aside.

Jack stood stunned for a moment before moving to comfort his team. All would be well in time. But time wasn't so merciful.

omg! short! well i hope it didnt suck.