A rush of life giving oxygen was ruthlessly dragged into cold, stiff lungs.
A frozen heart was forced to pump blood through dead veins.
A weary soul was dragged away from the darkness.
A tear dripped from closed eyes.
A gasp of agony and imprisonment forced its way through blue lips.
A whisper of anguish followed.
A pair of eyelids tore their way open.
A pair of blue eyes filled with more tears.
A thought and a wish flooded a mind.
A collection of stiff fingers exercised their joints.
A collection of limbs did the same.
A blinding light taunted a broken man.
A cry of 'Why?' Was firmly locked away.
A begging, broken sound.
A desperate scramble for answers.
A desperate longing for the truth.
A clawing fear of abandonment.
A wish.
A wish for death.
A wish for the darkness.
A wish for closure.
A wish for the end.
A wish for the end of pain.
This is his life now.
He does this over and over again.
Never to be free of this eternal loop.
Forever he shall remain almost dead.
This man's name is Jack Harkness.
Or at least.
That's what he calls himself.
Jack appears to be an ordinary bloke.
Carefree.
For those that know he's not an ordinary bloke.
He appears fine.
Okay.
As if this arrangement doesn't bother him.
But Jack Harkness is a man of lies and deceit.
Jack Harkness is a dying man.
Eternally dying.
Because until his final death.
Jack Harkness will be almost dead.
And who knows when his final death will be.
Jack Harkness will never die.
At least as far as he knows.
He will forever be.
Almost dead.