First Torchwood Series!
1 - Tosh
She didn't, couldn't, understand Gwen's blind, irrational hope; but was envious of it anyway. It was incomprehensible, *impossible* that Jack, always so full of life and energy, had been transformed into just another body in the morgue.
She'd mourned collegues before, Suzie's death (or both of them) was still a painful memory, but never before with this kind of bewilderment and emptiness. She supposed that feeling was all wrapped up in the enigma that was Jack himself. There were still so many questions she had for him, and about him, so many parts of his personality still to discover and unlock. Jack died just as he had lived, a mystery enveloped in a roguish grin and sly wink.
Their trip back to 1941 had shown her just how much of Jack lay beneath the surface he showed them. Not just his knowledge of the time period, or the amazing (but somehow not surprising) revelation that he used to be a conman - that little gem she hadn't had time to process properly. No, what had hit her forcibly during that night, was Jack's perception, his empathy. She'd seen snatches of it before of course. With Ianto after Lisa, with John Ellis after.. everything, with herself after Mary. There though, in the middle of a war, he had met the man whose name he had taken. He had shown her the kind of man the real Jack Harkness had been: kind, resolute, devoted and loyal to the men under his command.
Her Jack's grief at not being able to save the Captain from a fiery death had been real and raw.
Standing there, looking down at a too pale, too quiet, too still, Jack, she just wished that she had told him that he was everything the other Jack Harkness had been, and more.
She didn't, couldn't, understand Gwen's blind, irrational hope; but was envious of it anyway. It was incomprehensible, *impossible* that Jack, always so full of life and energy, had been transformed into just another body in the morgue.
She'd mourned collegues before, Suzie's death (or both of them) was still a painful memory, but never before with this kind of bewilderment and emptiness. She supposed that feeling was all wrapped up in the enigma that was Jack himself. There were still so many questions she had for him, and about him, so many parts of his personality still to discover and unlock. Jack died just as he had lived, a mystery enveloped in a roguish grin and sly wink.
Their trip back to 1941 had shown her just how much of Jack lay beneath the surface he showed them. Not just his knowledge of the time period, or the amazing (but somehow not surprising) revelation that he used to be a conman - that little gem she hadn't had time to process properly. No, what had hit her forcibly during that night, was Jack's perception, his empathy. She'd seen snatches of it before of course. With Ianto after Lisa, with John Ellis after.. everything, with herself after Mary. There though, in the middle of a war, he had met the man whose name he had taken. He had shown her the kind of man the real Jack Harkness had been: kind, resolute, devoted and loyal to the men under his command.
Her Jack's grief at not being able to save the Captain from a fiery death had been real and raw.
Standing there, looking down at a too pale, too quiet, too still, Jack, she just wished that she had told him that he was everything the other Jack Harkness had been, and more.