Doctor Who: Rebirth (1/1)
Title: Rebrith
Author: schmevil
Fandom: Doctor Who
Summary: Rebirth hurts.
Character(s): Jack Harkness
Word Count: 350
Notes: Jack on Satellite Five. I forgot that I'd written this, way back when, and decided to post it.
Rebirth hurts - probably more than natural birth. It’s the breathing that does it. When your mother evicts you, sure there’s all the pushing and pulling and nasty mess, but there’s a nice transition from umbilical-cord-provided-oxygen, to breathing on your own. A little slap and then it’s all sunshine and daisies.
Jack has a moment of awareness before he’s taking in air so fast it’s like being sucker-punched in the chest and neck, a moment of panic before - he swears - he hears a crack, and it’s rushing into him. Too much at once - drowning in the sweetest oxygen (and whatever) blend he’s ever tasted - he exhales, and then, for a horrifying moment he can’t stop the hitched panting, like a dog that’s fallen in a river.
He registers the plastic quality to the air; it’s somehow thinner, smoother than organically produced air. This is scrubbed air, not bad aside from the lingering smell of burnt something or other. Judging by the air flow pattern, station air. Satellite Five - he may not be as fast as the Doctor, but Jack’s mental gears click smoothly into motion and he uses eyes that worked the moment he came back, assembles the riot of colours and textures into a drab back corridor on floor 494 and several small piles of dust.
No Daleks. Somehow, he’s not entirely surprised by that. No Daleks though, just dust. Jack grabs some of it, lets bits of the universe’s most terrifying killing machine run through his fingers like he’s playing at the beach. Cold for a beach though, and not nearly enough tanned flesh on display.
Barcelona here we come.
It’s not in his nature to dwell on bad things. Good things, yes. He’s quite happy to dwell on good memories, when there isn’t an opportunity to make new ones. However, unlike the Doctor, Jack and every other talking ape in the universe have only too brief an interval of existence, between long stretches of nonexistence, in which to enjoy those good times.
Jack lets go of the pain, and starts looking for his friends.
Author: schmevil
Fandom: Doctor Who
Summary: Rebirth hurts.
Character(s): Jack Harkness
Word Count: 350
Notes: Jack on Satellite Five. I forgot that I'd written this, way back when, and decided to post it.
Rebirth hurts - probably more than natural birth. It’s the breathing that does it. When your mother evicts you, sure there’s all the pushing and pulling and nasty mess, but there’s a nice transition from umbilical-cord-provided-oxygen, to breathing on your own. A little slap and then it’s all sunshine and daisies.
Jack has a moment of awareness before he’s taking in air so fast it’s like being sucker-punched in the chest and neck, a moment of panic before - he swears - he hears a crack, and it’s rushing into him. Too much at once - drowning in the sweetest oxygen (and whatever) blend he’s ever tasted - he exhales, and then, for a horrifying moment he can’t stop the hitched panting, like a dog that’s fallen in a river.
He registers the plastic quality to the air; it’s somehow thinner, smoother than organically produced air. This is scrubbed air, not bad aside from the lingering smell of burnt something or other. Judging by the air flow pattern, station air. Satellite Five - he may not be as fast as the Doctor, but Jack’s mental gears click smoothly into motion and he uses eyes that worked the moment he came back, assembles the riot of colours and textures into a drab back corridor on floor 494 and several small piles of dust.
No Daleks. Somehow, he’s not entirely surprised by that. No Daleks though, just dust. Jack grabs some of it, lets bits of the universe’s most terrifying killing machine run through his fingers like he’s playing at the beach. Cold for a beach though, and not nearly enough tanned flesh on display.
Barcelona here we come.
It’s not in his nature to dwell on bad things. Good things, yes. He’s quite happy to dwell on good memories, when there isn’t an opportunity to make new ones. However, unlike the Doctor, Jack and every other talking ape in the universe have only too brief an interval of existence, between long stretches of nonexistence, in which to enjoy those good times.
Jack lets go of the pain, and starts looking for his friends.