Flying
Captain Jack Harkness stood staring across Cardiff, his current home, and it had been his current home for around a hundred and fifty years give or take. He just stood there on top of one of the buildings near The Torchwood Hub surveying the city like a guardian of some sort who had been charged with saving and protecting Cardiff forever.
A single tear trailed slowly down his emotionless hardened face and dripped from his hallowed cheek on to the World War two trench coat he was wearing. The cold night air whistled around his body tugging him closer to the edge of the building and ruffling his spiky brown hair, Jack didn't seem to notice.
He smiled sadly and raised a hand to his head saluting the city as if saying goodbye, he took another step closer to the edge still smiling slightly and whispered a poem, a short one he had heard back on his home planet a long long time ago.
I look though my mind
To see if I can fly
And realise if I try I'm likely to die
I wave goodbye and turn to fly
Because what's the fun in staying behind
The Captain took a deep breath and stepped slowly over the edge of the building throwing his arms out all the while smiling looking to the whole world like he was flying.