Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, dammit. *Sobs*. It belongs to Russel. T Davies. The Lyrics belong to Shane Mack and their song 'More Than This.'
Notes: Slash.
Media: TV series with slight referance to the book 'The Twilight Streets.'
Spoilers: Quite a few haha for the whole 3 series.
Characters: Captain Jack
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I've burned a hole in, in the map I made
And I'm not sure what I missed
And I just make the same mistakes
Can I be more than this?
The whiskey burns this throat as he swallows. He pulls a face at the taste, dropping the glass tumbler onto the smooth, if a little stick, bar top. His eyes are downcast, his skin pallid and gaunt. He hasn't been eating properly. The sighs that fall from his lips are heavy. The barmaid studies him curiously; he is not the first depressed man to trail in with an air of despondence and down shot after shot of strong alcohol in a vain attempt to numb themselves from whatever pain haunts them. But he is different, he looks different, carries himself different.
He is attractive, despite his appear ant distress. He huddles in a long greycoat that even she, someone who has known him only for an evening, can see is not a position that suits him.
"Captain Jack," another barmaid whispers in her ear. "A total sweetheart and not to mention a nice piece of eye candy." The other maids' smile is sad. "If he had been in a good mood, he'd be flashing his pearly whites and wooing every man and woman in here…"
"Why isn't he now?"
The blonde barmaid just shrugs. "Who knows, love? Who knows?"
If this is all, if this is all we ever were
At least I loved enough to hurt
Enough to hurt
Ianto. Ianto. Ianto. He had been stupid again. Why does he never learn? Never fall in love. Never. It only ends in death and pain and sorrow. He never learns. Never listens. Because Jack loves to love, to be loved. He can't stand not being wanted, not being desired in some way. So he keeps trekking down the same path of dark temptation with anyone who catches his interest. Remember Estelle? Remember Greg? Of course you do Jack. Look at what you done to them. Your love, your meddling destroyed them. History just keeps repeating itself and you do not listen!
He motions for another tumbler of whiskey. He drinks to forget, yet with each passing drink Ianto's face is just more vivid in his mind. Ianto had loved him. Loved him. And Jack, he had killed that. He had marched in, like usual, guns blazing, cocky swagger intact and ruined everything. He royally fucked up.
He has lost his team. Lost his daughter. Killed his grandson and his lover. Will the blood ever clear from his stained hands?
I played a fool, yeah I played a losing game
And let go of my innocence
And I don't know, I'll never be the same
Can I just be more than this? More than this?
He knows the barmaid studies him. He knows that with each shot of whiskey, he only becomes more susceptible to the pain he is trying to drown out. Those eyes burn into his memory. Ianto had died in his arms, used his last breath to assure Jack of his feelings. Jack hadn't had the time to say anything back, didn't have the strength. And because of his weakness he hadn't even been able to let Ianto die knowing that Jack loved him back, that Jack cared for him more then he wanted to admit. Ianto had given Jack his heart, and he had died not knowing he clasped a portion of the Captains' own.
He had died not knowing Jack loved him.
If this is all, if this is all we ever were
At least I loved enough to hurt
Enough to hurt
He leaves the bar, tossing a few notes onto the side. The barmaid watches him leave with a sigh. He doesn't spare her another look. The chilled evening air claws at his face, biting into his skin. His exhales are puffs of white and he hugs his coat around himself. Wales. He smiles. It has given him so much. And taken so much,
The smile bleeds into a frown. He hates this place. He hates himself. The only one left in this place that is even worth the consideration is Gwen, but she has her own family now. Heavily pregnant is she, off to start a new and more fulfilling future that Jack has had many a chance to have, but never could.
He tears his eyes away from the grey streets, washed out with t he grim darkness of the winters' evening and sets his jaw. He can't stay here. He won't. To stay here would be to find a ghost on every corner. Tosh. Owen. Ianto.
Earth hold too many ghosts. Those children he had sacrificed. Estelle. Steven. Suzie. Too many, lingering on street corners, in the local shops. In his dreams. He has to get away. He has to leave to move, to distract himself.
Yet even as he sets the coordinates in his wrist strap he knows the Ghosts will follow him. It is his curse.
I was standing in the rain, had my face in the mirror
And made nothing into bliss
And I found losing was just a trend
Yeah is there more than this?