Blue-eyed boy
Author note: A little steam of thought from Jack about our favourite blue-eyed boy. Set just before the new series, perhaps post Jack and Alonso. Had this one simmering for a while and if I don't get it out now it will become redundant, so here goes.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood, it has been given to the American's, may they treat it well.
I dive into the deep blue sea, as blue as his eyes. Everything reminds me of him.
Last night, that boy, he had blue eyes. A sweet face, but not his face. It feels like I've had a hundred blue-eyed boys since he died. A hundred sets of blue eyes to replace his eyes. His blue blue eyes that fade a little more with each boy. He asked me one thing. Don't forget me. But I've let the details drift from my mind; leaving white flanks, dark hair, blue eyes. Each boy could be him.
What made him different, distinct? Nothing but circumstance, I mourn the death of better times. But each lover is distinct, particularly when they give so much to you. And he did; woke up thinking of me, went to sleep thinking of me. Even his dreams were tainted with me - sleep time mumbles, one word, one name. Jack.
And what did I give him? Moments of my regard, flickers of attention between other loves. He was just someone to play with, my spare time toy.
And when he faltered, when he doubted the depths of our relationship, I cut him down. But we are a couple. Do you have a problem with that? Your mine, but I'm not yours. Claim your commitment to me, but don't expect anything of me, because I am Captain Jack Harkness, free spirit, traveller through time and space and eternity. It was his privilege to spend time with me. His privilege and his curse.
Nothing lasts and I make sure of it. Smother my loves in danger. Hold them close to my flame. Watch them bathe in my light and shrivel in my fire. Because I mean something if they love me, mean something if they die for me. Not just some cosmic joke. If they love me I can't be – wrong.
And so the victim becomes the perpetrator. Because that's what the Doctor did. Demanded my devotion and then watched me die. Not his fault that I can't stay dead.
But perhaps it is – the Doctor's flame is brighter than mine. And there are worse things than death. Life for instance. Ianto got off easily.
I can't forget Ianto, because details are just details, and he will stay in my heart, not my mind. But I can't let him hurt me forever, he wouldn't want that; wouldn't even believe he could. So perhaps me and blue-eyed boys need a rest for a while. Let Ianto's memory be Ianto, not a hundred subsequent mistakes. I just hope next time I'm more careful with my toys, because eternity is a long time to spend alone.
Author's note: Please forgive me my indulgence and review. Shoot me down in flames, but I wanted to release Jack in my mind so I could enjoy the new series.