Not sure where this came from, it just happened to me when I was lying in bed this morning, 'cause we all know there's nothing better to wake up to than a little angst ;P
Not sure whether to carry it on, y'know what happens next, does he get accepted again, rejected or does he simply run away to a place where he can try to forget even his own name (NOT a bar!) It is as yet undecided.
Jack and Ianto. That should be made a universal constant, no, it was a universal constant. Wherever, whenever they were, they would find each other. Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones. Always.
Those were the thoughts racing through Jack's head as soon as he was able to stop and take a good look at things. He was home, Ianto was alive, and life- just this once- was fucking amazing.
Of course that all went to shit. The minute he opened his big mouth, the minute he overcame his biggest fear and voiced one thought that kept him sane throughout that year, his life turned to shit.
"Maybe we could, y'know when this is all over; dinner, a movie…?" And by god was he nervous, his mind tried to rationalise it, all he was doing was asking that man he'd slept with for quite a while now to go out with him, surely he shouldn't be feeling this anxious.
"Are you asking me on a date?"
"Interested?" he smirked, trying hard to maintain some semblance of nonchalance when facing the situation that'd kept him sane for the better part of that year.
"Honestly Jack? I think I'm probably busy"
And just like that he felt as if someone had poured buckets of ice cold water on him…again. "But I haven't even said when…" he tried, struggling to keep his voice even as his dreams, his perceived future, crashed down around him.
"No, Jack, you haven't. But fundamentally I think the answer would be the same, don't you" his question was rhetorical. He didn't even turn to witness the emotions playing over the immortals face, to see the heartbreak in his eyes.
"Why?" he whispered, a step away from tears, his weakened physical state playing havoc with his emotions, really he hadn't spend long enough 'healing', but all he'd wanted to do was get home to him. To Ianto. The man who was breaking his heart.
"Because really Jack, I'm not that desperate. You left. End of. Now; I'll take this floor, don't want you gettin' overexcited, you take the roof. You're good on roofs" he smiled. He fucking smiled, and Jack felt something inside him break further.
"You don't get to say that to me, not anymore" he whimpered, failing to hide the tell-tale tremor in his voice, before he walked out, leaving the only good thing in his indefinably long life behind.
And then there was the business with John. Suffice to say his head wasn't in the right place during their snarking match, infact his head was arguably in the wrong fucking quarter of the known galaxies. But the short moment of what was almost peace he felt on his fall was what scared him the most, the thought that he'd found himself in so deep that dying was the only place he could be at ease. It was terrifying.
He woke up in almost indescribably unfathomable pain, bent almost in half over a bench. As had become the norm, he'd revived before his body had had time to fully repair himself. He had the Master to thank for that. Killing him over and over without any time for his body to repair, running his little experiments and games, he'd had to adjust, revive as soon as the worst was healed 'cause he'd be dead in a few minutes anyway. Really he was beginning to see the benefits of spending more time healing in the TARDIS, maybe if he had he'd be back to his version of normal. But that's your life all over Jack Harkness, a snarky inner-voice taunted him, a day late and a dollar short.
So he'd dutifully dragged himself halfway across Cardiff, finding John, saving Gwen, hell saving the day. And he'd done it without complain, not giving a second though to the pain every movement caused. It was his penance for leaving, for letting them down. He'd tried to make amends, booked them the best rooms in the best hotel he could find, gave them the next day off, everything he could think of. And yet they still left him alone.
By the time they reached the hotel Jack was beyond pain. He was pretty sure his nervous system was systematically shutting down- something else he'd learned to do in the Valiant- numbing his body until the time of his ultimate demise. If the team noticed, none of them tried to help. And he was fairly certain they would've noticed, he could barely walk, leaning heavily on whatever stable structure he passed in a bid to take the edge off. He reached the lobby in time to see the lift shut on the people he once called his team, leaving him to fend for himself. No more than he deserved.
He collected his room key, barely managing to stay upright in the lift, let alone the seemingly endless stretch of corridor. He'd secured them all rooms on the same floor, so he knew they were safe and there if they needed him, hell if he needed them. But as his feet slipped out from under him, and he hit the floor with a dull thud and a suppressed groan, he thought back to his failed conversation with Ianto and the hostility they'd shown him and he knew he couldn't ask them. No matter how close they were, no matter that by just shouting he could have them out here in minutes, he couldn't rely on them. The though send a sickening kick to his stomach, joining with the rolling his attempts to stand cause. Giving up any pretence of dignity, he crawled slowly and haltingly to his door. Jack Harkness, defender of the earth, lover, fighter, heartbreaker, con man, agent, interrogator, prisoner, complete fucking arsehole, whatever he was viewed as, crawled as defencelessly as a child, weary and broken. He managed to pull himself up enough to open his door, only to collapse once inside, using the last of his strength to kick shut the door and pull himself far enough into the room that he vaguely entertained the idea of reaching the bathroom. It was to no avail. Barely able to push himself onto hands-and-knees, he promptly threw up, the pitiful amount of food in his stomach mixing with a hefty amount of blood, whimpering at the pain as tears he'd managed to fight off for the better part of two days streamed down his face. As the final rolling subsided along with a painful retch, he collapsed, too weak to try to drag himself away from the mess.
Captain Jack Harkness spent his first night of freedom, back in a place he once considered home, shivering and crying softly, laying in a pile of his own vomit, whimpering in pain. He was cold, lost alone and so, so broken. Worst of all, he began to wish he was back on board the Valiant, back in a place where he knew the people he loved were close by. Back in a time where he wasn't forgotten.