Jack/Inara - And I, Feeling Older
Fandom: Whoniverse/Firefly
Title: And I, Feeling Older
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Mal Reynolds, with mentions of past Jack/Inara.
7_crossovers Prompt: 3. Silk
Content Warning: Natural character death.
Summary: Jack has lost track of how many funerals he’s stood at.
Author’s Note: Part of my Elaborate Lives series. A companion piece to Goodbye. This? Also sad. There’s a general sad theme. Title is from “The Velocity of Saul at the Time of his Conversion” by Okkervil River, which-is way too much of a Jack song.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to RTD and the amazingness that is Whedon. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
Jack has lost track of how many funerals he’s stood at.
They’re always so dreary and depressing, and nothing at all like the person they were commemorating. He understands the sentiment-death hurts, and rips out a part of you that you wish that you could keep-but he doesn’t understand the prevalence of the tradition. A funeral should reflect that person, the life that they lived and the fantastic things they did-some people more fantastic than others, but still worth celebrating. If he had had his way, the funeral of Inara Serra would have been a celebration. There would have been warmth and laughter, silk and grace, and all the components that made up the person who she was, and always would be.
Unfortunately, the rest of the human race doesn’t the world the way he does. They don’t have his age, his experience. All they know is that a part of them is missing, and they want to grieve. So Jack keeps quiet, letting them plan their funerals their way, and grieve in the own way. It’s the way things should be, after all.
When you’re a fixed point in time and space, there is no death, no cycle of rebirth. He’s sure that if he had one, his soul would be beyond reincarnation at this point. Jack has never really considered himself a religious person, but he has to admit that Buddhism has had more appeal than most. There is no omnipotent figure to believe in, just a logical road to inner peace and happiness, despite the material nature of the world. If he ever thought he stood a chance at receiving inner peace, he probably would have taken this route. But he knows that there’s no peace for someone who’s been taken outside the cycle of life. There are just-moments. Moments where the rest of the world falls away, and he doesn’t have to worry about his impact on the future, the craters he’s already made in the past.
He had moments like that with Inara. He’s going to miss them, and he’s going to miss her the brilliant woman that she was. He knows that eventually she will join the memories of all the other people he’s lost, swirling in the back of his mind, but for right now, the loss is still fresh and sharp, just as it should be.
He stands at her funeral, stays for the chants and the prayers, and once the period of mourning is completed, he plans to leave. Most of these people will never see him again, and that’s probably for the best. Inara’s long, happy life is an anomaly, really. Most of the people in Jack’s life share short, brutal ones.
As he’s making to leave, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Mal is standing there behind him, holding the urn they had placed Inara’s ashes in, and he extends it out to the other man.
“I think that she would have wanted you to take her.” He places the urn gently in Jack’s hands. “You showed her the world. You would know where she’d want to be laid to rest.”
Jack is surprised, and at first he tries to give it back, pushing it into Mal’s chest. “I was just a travel guide-you were her family.”
Mal is having none of it, however, and moves his hands over Jack’s to keep them against the cool metal of the urn. “You were a little more than a travel guide, and you know it.” After a moment, he removes his hands and gives the other man a solemn nod. “Take her somewhere amazing. She’d like that.”
Jack has no argument for it, and just nods, taking a step back and still holding the urn in his hands. He waits until Mal heads back to the rest of the mourners and he’s alone, before shifting so that he could reach the buttons of his vortex manipulator. He had one call to make.
“I think the Doctor has one more trip for us, Inara,” he says softly, as he sends the pulse up to the TARDIS, somewhere in the universe. “What about you?”
Title: And I, Feeling Older
Author: iluvroadrunner6
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Captain Jack Harkness, Mal Reynolds, with mentions of past Jack/Inara.
7_crossovers Prompt: 3. Silk
Content Warning: Natural character death.
Summary: Jack has lost track of how many funerals he’s stood at.
Author’s Note: Part of my Elaborate Lives series. A companion piece to Goodbye. This? Also sad. There’s a general sad theme. Title is from “The Velocity of Saul at the Time of his Conversion” by Okkervil River, which-is way too much of a Jack song.
Disclaimer: I don’t own. They belong to RTD and the amazingness that is Whedon. I’m just borrowing and will put everything back where I found it.
Jack has lost track of how many funerals he’s stood at.
They’re always so dreary and depressing, and nothing at all like the person they were commemorating. He understands the sentiment-death hurts, and rips out a part of you that you wish that you could keep-but he doesn’t understand the prevalence of the tradition. A funeral should reflect that person, the life that they lived and the fantastic things they did-some people more fantastic than others, but still worth celebrating. If he had had his way, the funeral of Inara Serra would have been a celebration. There would have been warmth and laughter, silk and grace, and all the components that made up the person who she was, and always would be.
Unfortunately, the rest of the human race doesn’t the world the way he does. They don’t have his age, his experience. All they know is that a part of them is missing, and they want to grieve. So Jack keeps quiet, letting them plan their funerals their way, and grieve in the own way. It’s the way things should be, after all.
When you’re a fixed point in time and space, there is no death, no cycle of rebirth. He’s sure that if he had one, his soul would be beyond reincarnation at this point. Jack has never really considered himself a religious person, but he has to admit that Buddhism has had more appeal than most. There is no omnipotent figure to believe in, just a logical road to inner peace and happiness, despite the material nature of the world. If he ever thought he stood a chance at receiving inner peace, he probably would have taken this route. But he knows that there’s no peace for someone who’s been taken outside the cycle of life. There are just-moments. Moments where the rest of the world falls away, and he doesn’t have to worry about his impact on the future, the craters he’s already made in the past.
He had moments like that with Inara. He’s going to miss them, and he’s going to miss her the brilliant woman that she was. He knows that eventually she will join the memories of all the other people he’s lost, swirling in the back of his mind, but for right now, the loss is still fresh and sharp, just as it should be.
He stands at her funeral, stays for the chants and the prayers, and once the period of mourning is completed, he plans to leave. Most of these people will never see him again, and that’s probably for the best. Inara’s long, happy life is an anomaly, really. Most of the people in Jack’s life share short, brutal ones.
As he’s making to leave, he feels a hand on his shoulder. Mal is standing there behind him, holding the urn they had placed Inara’s ashes in, and he extends it out to the other man.
“I think that she would have wanted you to take her.” He places the urn gently in Jack’s hands. “You showed her the world. You would know where she’d want to be laid to rest.”
Jack is surprised, and at first he tries to give it back, pushing it into Mal’s chest. “I was just a travel guide-you were her family.”
Mal is having none of it, however, and moves his hands over Jack’s to keep them against the cool metal of the urn. “You were a little more than a travel guide, and you know it.” After a moment, he removes his hands and gives the other man a solemn nod. “Take her somewhere amazing. She’d like that.”
Jack has no argument for it, and just nods, taking a step back and still holding the urn in his hands. He waits until Mal heads back to the rest of the mourners and he’s alone, before shifting so that he could reach the buttons of his vortex manipulator. He had one call to make.
“I think the Doctor has one more trip for us, Inara,” he says softly, as he sends the pulse up to the TARDIS, somewhere in the universe. “What about you?”