oncoming_storms 62.2 Confession
He hums a soft lullaby to himself, on those nights when the sounds of the Hub are not enough.
Jack isn’t sure he recognizes it, not anymore. It’s a tune long forgotten by a mind filled to the brim with technologies and people and plans. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t quite grasp the words. He’s certain that it’s nestled in his childhood; a memory reawakened only once Gray’s presence became a constant once again.
He doesn’t mind though. Because the tune brings with it a strange feeling of calm, and that’s not something Jack can take for granted these days. On those same nights, he’ll sometimes head down to talk to his brother, and the night will be spent leaning against the morgue wall; a thick metal door the only distance between them now. Most of the time he doesn’t say anything but a handful of words, some variation of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’. However, there are times when Jack will talk. And talk and talk until his mouth is dry and his voice is hoarse, throat aching from the effort. He’ll talk of the past, those pieces he can remember, of things that should have been but weren’t. Of the Doctor and Rose and Alex and Martha. Of what John was like not when he first met him, because it was too late then, but in those little moments that made Jack wander what he had been like before the Agency got to him. He’ll talk of half forgotten memories and dreams, of disillusioned wishes for the future and buried hopes from the past. And sometimes, Jack won’t say anything at all. Just hum the lullaby under his breath in hope that one day he’ll remember it all again.
Muse: Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Word Count: 296
Prompt: Confession
Jack isn’t sure he recognizes it, not anymore. It’s a tune long forgotten by a mind filled to the brim with technologies and people and plans. And no matter how hard he tries, he can’t quite grasp the words. He’s certain that it’s nestled in his childhood; a memory reawakened only once Gray’s presence became a constant once again.
He doesn’t mind though. Because the tune brings with it a strange feeling of calm, and that’s not something Jack can take for granted these days. On those same nights, he’ll sometimes head down to talk to his brother, and the night will be spent leaning against the morgue wall; a thick metal door the only distance between them now. Most of the time he doesn’t say anything but a handful of words, some variation of ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you’. However, there are times when Jack will talk. And talk and talk until his mouth is dry and his voice is hoarse, throat aching from the effort. He’ll talk of the past, those pieces he can remember, of things that should have been but weren’t. Of the Doctor and Rose and Alex and Martha. Of what John was like not when he first met him, because it was too late then, but in those little moments that made Jack wander what he had been like before the Agency got to him. He’ll talk of half forgotten memories and dreams, of disillusioned wishes for the future and buried hopes from the past. And sometimes, Jack won’t say anything at all. Just hum the lullaby under his breath in hope that one day he’ll remember it all again.
Muse: Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Word Count: 296
Prompt: Confession