Solipsism

Jack: Two Seconds

Isn't that just great? He needs me.

The Time Lord needs me.

I am needed.

Oh joy.

Pardon me while I fall apart. All I want right now is to be left alone. Is a little privacy too much to ask? I want to be left alone with my bleak, existential despair. Just the two of us: my despair and me. Is there any doubt I've earned it? Come on… don't I deserve a little slack here?

I know I ought to be kicking and screaming, fighting whatever it is we're up against. But, again, let's be honest, is there any doubt we're up against something, and that this something isn't good? And why the hell is that? Can you tell me? Why does it always have to be not good? Is the universe really this unfair? It makes me want to howl like a rabid wolf.

I look at his face and recall that when I first met him I was a vapidly happy fifty-first century lying cheating sex-addicted con man. Since then, well… do I need to enumerate it for you? I was turned into a hero against my will, I was killed, and then I was dragged back to life and left forsaken, intentionally abandoned – left behind – on the killing fields of Satellite Five. After that, well, after that it all went steadily downhill – ultimately the whole ball of wax being topped off with my having to become celibate. Talk about insult being added to injury…

Thanks to The Doctor I have developed, among other "admirable" traits, a shred of empathy… and did you know? Despair is empathy's best friend. Right now I long to be permitted to wallow in my despair, but that look on his face… I know that look. I know he's not going to allow me to wallow. This is a wallow-free zone. I hate him for it. And I love him for it. I love him because I know he's right.

Speaking of… The Doctor is watching me. "Jack," he says quietly, his eyes filled with kindness and concern, "I don't expect you to be an unfeeling automaton. I don't want you to be an unfeeling automaton. But the game's afoot; we dance at dawn. There will be time for other things later, but right now we do indeed have work to do. We need to figure out how to get onto the Newhope, and that's just for starters." I notice the tone of his voice is changing, becoming cooler and more serious. "My question to you, Jack, what I need to know is, are you going to Call or are you going to Fold?"

I slowly close and lock the doors and then turn back to face him. "Are we going to play Texas hold 'em or are we going out dancing?" I smile wanly. "Because if I have a choice…" It occurs to me I've been slouching as well as wallowing, so I pull myself up to my full height as I walk to him, "…between poker and clubbing, well, I'd probably choose the latter unless I can make a slight alteration to the variant of poker?" By now I'm in his face and grinning as wickedly as I can manage.

He shakes his head grimly but I can see that his eyes are smiling. "Are you done feeling sorry for yourself?" he asks.

Whoa. Okay. Well. "Yeah," I answer, still looking into his eyes, which I think are smiling, aren't they? "At least for the time being..." Yikes, maybe they're not smiling. "B-but I reserve the right…" I hiccup.

After a long, uncomfortable moment The Doctor smiles sardonically and winks, "That was at least two seconds," he says snarkily.

I take a step back and mutter, "What is this, a competition?"

"What else could it possibly be?" he responds.