So Very Right
And so he was back
Showed up with the same dramatic timing as when he left. And me, wanting to stay so aloof, wanting to let him know how angry and hurt I was, what was the first thing I said to him?
“Are you going back to him?”
I mean, how bloody pathetic is that? How needy is that? In front of everyone, like they needed another reason to treat me like a 16-year-old girl whose boyfriend had dumped her.
Alright, I did cry after he left. More than once. But only in Jack’s office. And in the archives. In the tourist office. At the coffee machine. I was discreet, though, I made sure the rest of them didn’t know. I’m sure they didn’t.
At least when Jack came back I didn’t act like a 5 year old throwing a temper tantrum like Gwen did.
I was too busy taking a whirl on the emotion roller coaster. Anger, relief, resentment, confusion, joy, lust ... well, this IS Jack Harkness, after all, a man so gorgeous that even when he’s covered in alien slime I want to throw him to the ground and demand that he take me right there. Not that I’ve ever actually done it - Jack would have been all too eager to comply and my suit would have been ruined - but the thought has entered my mind. On more than one occasion. As frequently as it happens to Jack, I think he likes being covered with alien slime.
More like, he likes buzzing me to bring him the towel and change of clothes he always conveniently ‘forgets’ to take into the locker room. The man is so transparent.
And so beautiful. Seeing him naked, with water cascading over that body is almost a religious experience.
And he knows it, the git.
Worse, while I was trying to sort all those emotions from his return, his ex-lover entered stage right. His psychotic ex-lover.
And while we’re all caught up in that circus, Jack asked me out on a date.
A date. I don’t remember a single thing I said - as flustered as I was, I’m not even sure I managed a full sentence - but I can quote every word Jack said.
Of course, we never did go on that date. We made plans, but something always came up, weevils, or helping UNIT, or that time that alien artifact exploded at Tosh’s desk and turned us all pink for a few days. But it was alright, there was coffee in his office before anyone else arrived, holding hands on the sofa after everyone had gone. Quick little whispers of kisses when we passed on the stairs.
But that was as far as it went, because there was also Jack looking at Gwen like a puppy dog, Jack crying a bit watching Gwen walk away from him and towards Rhys.
He didn’t know I saw that, but I know everything that goes on in the Hub.
Which left me wondering if he meant it when he said he’d come back for me, or if that was just another pretty lie to get me back into his bed.
Which wasn’t going to happen till I was sure I meant more to him than a convenient warm body when he was feeling randy.
Not that it was easy. Everyone time I handed him his cup and our fingers touch, I remembered those fingers against my skin. And his smile reminded me how sweet his kiss was. And those eyes were so impossibly blue I felt like I was falling through an ocean and he was the only one who could save me.
Then one day I realized that sometimes when there was a sudden noise - when Owen dropped a tray one night, or when Tosh dropped a thick file - Jack’s shoulders hunched and his long fingers shook. Just for a second, mind you. And the corners of his mouth quavered sometimes, quickly covered up by a patented Captain Jack Harkness smirk. And sometimes those depthless beautiful eyes held something I never thought I’d see ... fear. Sometime happened to him while he was away. Something horrible. I don’t think the others even noticed, but I did.
And I noticed something else. It wasn’t Gwen he turned to when he was fearful, it was me. When he was feeling shaky, it was me, not Gwen, he stood next to, side by side, letting my warmth ease him.
Maybe it really was me, not Gwen, who meant something to him.
Or maybe he was just remembering the comfort of sharing his bed when it all got too much.
That was the problem. Trying to understand Jack was like trying to understand the birth of a new star.
I’d never been more confused. More conflicted.
Then came the warehouse, and all those stupid action movies Jack made me watch with him had obviously imprinted themselves on me, because suddenly I found myself channeling Chuck Norris and kicking and punching, and if I’d had Jack’s Webley instead of a stun gun, they’d have all been dead.
I’d have killed them all without blinking.
Not because they’d tortured that poor alien, not because they shot Rhys, not even because they pointed guns at my team mates..
It was because they threatened Jack. And the rage I felt that they would dare, dare even think of harming Jack made the edges of my vision go black and my muscles feel like steel.
All this, knowing the man can’t die.
I realized then how lost I was. There had never been a question. Not really.
Jack’s a bastard. A liar. Demanding, needy, secretive. Probably not faithful. And I was going to love him every day of the rest of my life.
Not that I told him. I still wasn’t sure what kind of relationship he wanted. I wasn’t going to let myself be hurt again if all he wanted was a nightly shag.
Then we thawed out Tommy. And knowing what he was going back to, how little time he and Tosh had together -
I could lose Jack, I thought, quick as that. And Jack, so far from his own time, his own home. How alone he must feel. I had to go to him.
“...would you miss me?” he asked, with a defeated tone and a look in his eyes that said he thought he’d already lost the game.
He doesn’t understand, I thought. He doesn’t know why I’ve kept my distance. I’ve hurt him. I never wanted to hurt him.
“... wouldn’t change that for the world.”
Jack and I are different. I use words, I need words to communicate, to understand. Jack, though he could talk forever ever about work, about things that don’t matter, uses actions, needs actions to explain his deepest feelings, to understand what’s beneath the surface of what you’re trying to tell him.
I know how hard it had been for him to actually tell me what he felt. And he did it for me.
So I swallowed my words and responded in a way he couldn’t possibly misunderstand.
That kiss was the stuff legends are made of.
Jack and me, we’re probably not good for each other. We both have a darkness inside, secrets that we hold fast. Our road will never be easy, never be smooth. We’re going to shatter each other into a million crystal pieces, over and over.
But we’ll always be there to put the pieces back together. Always. We bring a sort of peace to each other’s troubled soul. We make each other laugh, a way of throwing light on the darkness. We feel wrong when we’re apart, and so very right when we’re together.
And that’s enough for both of us.