LOVE
TWENTYSEVEN
Wil rolled over and opened her eyes. Jack was watching her, a bemused look on his face.
"What?" she asked.
"You were snoring," he replied.
"Was not."
"Were too."
"I don't snore."
"Yes you do," he grinned. Then his expression turned serious, "How are you?"
"Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"
He shook his head slowly. "Listen," he whispered.
A befuddled look graced her face but she calmed herself and did as her Captain ordered. Old habits die hard. Slowly the awareness came to her… she was hearing nothing. Absolutely nothing…
Her eyes went round, "Huh?"
He smiled again. This time a smile which made her realize all the other smiles had been mere shadows of the real thing. For a second or two she allowed herself to bask in the glow of that glorious Jack Harkness smile before asking, "What did you do?"
"I have witchcraft in my lips."
She pulled a face, "Shakespeare? Henry the Fifth?"
"Well… more or less."
"Hmm… You're telling me you have magic kisses?"
He shrugged, as much as one can shrug while lying down. "You've read the case files. Carys… Ianto… And the others."
"But how? Is it something… the thing that Rose did to you?"
"No, I don't think so. Or at least not solely. Oh, it is true: thanks to Rose Tyler I have a surplus of alive. But I suspect what's going on here is more of a combination of things. Rose's gift along with the fact that I'm a different kind of human; we changed, morphed, evolved, between the twenty-first and fifty-first centuries. My pheromones are one of the more obvious examples of that transformation, one of the more blatant aspects, but there are many other things that make me quite unlike you."
"Are you saying you're more advanced than me?"
"Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. But beyond even that…" a dark look flashed across his face.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what Iserliss did to me…"
Wil blinked at him but said nothing. She simply waited. In truth she almost didn't want to know. It would be so much easier to not have to meet that story. Greet those images. Deal with such knowledge and the staggering wrath it could, would provoke in her. I'm a bloody coward, she thought as she tried to steady herself.
"He messed with my brain. Extracted pieces of it to study, to experiment on. I've had several strokes, been paralyzed, and worse. But each time he'd drag me back, shake me hard, wake me up. I always recovered and I felt like myself – I feel like myself, I really do, but yet… I feel different, too. I feel like I'm more than I was. Like the sum total of my parts way exceeds the whole. I can't explain it, but somehow I knew you were in trouble and somehow I knew that I could help. Or maybe…" his voice trailed off as he looked deep into her eyes. "Maybe it's just that I love you and I don't want you hurting so badly."
"Yeah, about that…" she said.
Again the smile. "The art of life is to deal with problems as they arise, rather than destroy one's spirit by worrying about them too far in advance. We should seek simply to live, as the poet has it – vita umbratilis – a life in the shade. Especially here and especially now, Wil." He leaned close to her, kissed her lightly, almost chastely. She felt a shiver of arousal but did not act on it.
Instead she nodded; let the issue pass in deference to something more pressing. "So you knew, you understood, what had happened to me? That I could hear… everything…?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why it happened?"
"Haven't a clue."
"But you… you've fixed it?"
Once more he shrugged. "What do you think?"
She searched her mind, stretched out her senses, "Seems that way…"
His face morphed into a wicked, wicked grin, "My God, John must've been annoyed."
John…
The grin held fast, "Whoops. Sorry."
"You're incorrigible, Captain Jack Harkness."
"I am, aren't I?"
There was a long period of silence as they looked at each other.
"Thank you," he said softly, so softly. "I didn't want to die alone."
"You wouldn't have died."
"Here? Yes. I think I would have. Eventually… there's no doubt. But you were right. Although my body was ravaged and my mind violated, my soul remained unhurt, intact – was perhaps stronger than ever."
That surprised her, "You heard me, even then?"
He brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, "Of course. I will always hear you. Always and forever."
Then he sat up and stretched, letting the blankets fall from his torso. Looking at him as detachedly as possible she realized the angry red scars on his skull had vanished. His skin color was good, his body strong, firm, beautiful.
He turned, saw her appraising him and smiled shyly, "My clothes?"
She sat up, got out of bed, looked around, "They're back on the ship – my ship – but I do just happen to have this with me." She picked up her shirt from off the floor and rifled through its pocket. Out came Jack's worn leather wristband.
"Ah!" he gratefully took it from her. "Again, thank you." He buckled the strap around his left wrist and then watched approvingly as she got dressed. "You've recovered nicely from your injuries," he commented. "You look good, but somehow… different."
"I am different. There are some problems that even you can't fix, Captain Jack Harkness." There was no trace of bitterness in her voice. Nor in her heart.
"I reckon that's true." He stood, looked down at his body and then back again at her. "So… what's next?"
She smiled. "Right. First clothes and then, well, we've got places to go, people to meet, and things to accomplish."
"Of course we do. You want to fill me in? I admit I've kind of been wondering where…"
"Give me a moment?"
"Absolutely." He flexed his shoulders and stretched out his back.
Grasshopper?
Yes, Teacher?
Have you taken care of things?
Yes, Teacher.
Good. Good. I think we're ready to leave.
I believe I am too, Teacher. I don't like this place very much.
Well, we're in agreement there. Are you able to beam us aboard?
Yes Teacher.
Then do so and prepare for immediate departure.
Our destination, Teacher?
To Cardiff, Grasshopper.
Wil reached out and took Jack's hand in hers.
"Say goodbye to Miri, Jack."
They were gone before he could even open his mouth.
-00-
"Love is something eternal; the aspect may change, but not the essence."
Vincent van Gogh