Warning: Sexual themes (well... it's Torchwood. :P)
Chapter rating: M (again, it's Torchwood! XD)

Disclaimer: I do not own Torchwood, or any of the characters. I do own the situation I've created for them But, alas, I can't call these lovely people mine :'(

Author's Note: I AM SOOOOO SORRY it took so long to update. Forgive me? :'( I have an extra-special chapter 4 for you! XD ... Again, sorry you'll actually have to wait for it. But not for as long! It'll be somewhat like chapter 1, with its songfic-ish theme. It'll be based on "Mutiny Below" by the BEST BAND EVER Ludo 3 Look it up, if you want a little hint at what might happen soon

Chapter 3
'Life Without'

Jack looks down at me – a small, reassuring smile on his face. It weighs me down like a ton of bricks. I close my eyes.

I can feel Jack's grip on my knee tighten slightly as he adjusts its position over his shoulder. I wince internally, fearing what's about to come. Definitely no pun intended.

I gasp quietly as Jack's penis breaches my arse hole. I hiss as he slowly moves in. His slow pace convinces me he truly wants to kill me.

"It always hurts the first time, but, it'll pass." Jack whispers, leaning in and kissing my lips softly.

I have gotten over my gag reflex after a week of his kisses; so I'm still able to do it while being impaled. I shiver.

Jack presses his forehead against mine as he carefully begins to move inside me. I groan. It feels like my internal organs are threatening to burst if I don't stop this.

"Y-you said it would pass." I mutter. Jack stops moving. I calm just a bit.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to stop?" Jack whispers, leaning away from my face.

I open my mouth to speak, but my throat just cracks. My body has betrayed me.

I stare up into Jack's blue eyes for a moment. I've never seen them, or him, like this – worried; genuine. Like nothing else in the world seems to matter but my answer. To be honest, it scares me.

I lift my hand up to the nape of Jack's neck, pulling him back down towards my face.

"No." I whisper and kiss him.

I wake up with a bitching head ache. I roll out of bed and just as I make to stand up, it hits me. Jack found her. Lisa.

God knows what he's done to her. Tortured her. Interrogated her. Brain-probed her. Then killed her. All the fun, Torchwood ways.

I'm not the pacing type, but I find myself eroding my bedroom floor for at least an hour until I swear I see a dent in the wood that was not there before.

I go out to the living room before I go mad. I sit down on the couch, trying to be calm. I look at a mug that I suppose I left on the coffee table. I lift it and see some coffee in it. I tilt my head, sceptical about the chance I could have left the drink unfinished. I inhale; over-night stale-coffee smell, and too little coffee beans. I didn't make this. I couldn't have.

I purse my lips, staring at the mug until I give up and go wash it.

I examine my kitchen counter, placing the now clean mug into an over-head cabinet. My coffee bean tin is in its proper place beside the machine. I find a small, brushed-together pile of split coffee grounds. I cock one eyebrow and clean it up.

I go to the refrigerator and I look through it. Milk, cream, water bottles, old takeaway containers. I spot one with black permanent marker reading: "Jack ღ".

I pull the small Styrofoam container and open it, finding a bit of chicken and chips. I roll my eyes, tossing it in the trash.

I don't know what, but it suddenly feels as if some cloaking aura has come for me and I nearly fall back, finding balance on the counter's edge. I feel a bit dizzy.

I slowly make my way out to the living room and lay down on the couch. I close my eyes and decide quietly that if Torchwood wants me out, they'll just have to come and find me.

3 Weeks Later

I pick up my bag of groceries, smiling at the cashier politely before leaving.

I walk out to car park and freeze; realizing I don't have a car. I usually do errands for Torchwood with the SUV and I'm the last one to leave, if at all.

I turn and make my way home to my apartment which is only 2 blocks down, anyway.

Aside from the occasional slip of the mind, I've made my life from Torchwood pretty good. It's a tad quieter than it used to, but at least I sleep more than 2 hours at night... sometimes.

I look to the horizon; enjoying the view of the sun setting; exploding into oranges and pinks and all sorts of colours. It's one of the many things I've been able to enjoy without Torchwood. Every time I hear a siren I don't automatically focus on whatever Jack might be about to send through the comms. Every time I hear a gun shot in my apartment; I don't panic and grab my automatic pistol, clearly remembering that I'm playing James Bond in the living room.

I think I've been healing. The other day I actually didn't growl at the memory of the note and of Jack's face.

When I come up in the lift in my building, I don't immediately brace myself to meet Jack's murderous glare once the door opens on my floor. I don't carry my gun under my over coat and I absolutely don't think of what Jack might have been doing for the past 3 weeks without me.

Of course I don't.

When I get to my door, I unlock it and get inside silently. I'm trying to avoid a strange woman living across from me. Now that I'm home more often, I've actually seen my neighbours. And frankly, I wish I was never home.

The first day I didn't go into Torchwood again, I went out for breakfast. On my way back in, a young blonde woman, no younger than 20, leaned on the frame of her door, smiling at me. She was either high or crazy.

Every day I've seen her since then, she has been flirting with me like a whore on a street corner in London.

I'm lucky that she didn't catch me tonight. I exhale in relief at my quiet apartment, setting my groceries down in the kitchen. I put the perishables in the fridge, and everything else in the cupboards.

I find my way into my bedroom lazily, just wanting to sleep. I undress, throwing my clothes in the hamper. I slide under the covers, staring out the window. The sunset is on the other side of the building, unfortunately. I can only see a vague wisp of yellow in the top border of my bedroom window. The rest is blue, transitioning to a dark, navy night colour.

I haven't been able to sleep a full night in years; since I was recruited to Torchwood. Too much work; too much to worry about. But, now, I suppose my body isn't used to having time to sleep.

Watching the night fall, I slowly feel my eyes begin to droop. I close them and listen to the blissful silence.