Stream of consciousnessesses...es
Torchwood stream of consciousness piece from four o'clock this morning.
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The three most important men in his life really couldn't have been more different. And yet there was something that connected them all, made them all similar, that went beyond their all knowing him.
It was strength. Strength of mind, and of body. Strength of spirit. Strength of character, really. That's what drew him to each of them, and probably played a large part in keeping him interested in each case. Of course, it didn't hurt that all three were also quite good looking.
That sort of thing rather appealed to one Jack Harkness.
It was the Doctor's mind. Sure, it was also the cheeky smile, the hair, the lines across his forehead when his eyebrows lifted in confusion or surprise, and that snappy suit of his. In previous years it had been the goofy joking face, the leather jacket, and, oh God, those ridiculous ears of his. In the Doctor's case looks weren't a constant, so although Jack certainly wasn't fussy, the exceptionally strong mind sealed the deal permanently. Jack liked an intelligent man.
It was John Hart's body. The reflexes, the agility, the muscles, that face. Cheekbones, chin, points and lines and curves and angles. His former partner was most definitely physically appealing. The wit and innuendo, the sex and the drinking, the shouting and brawling and arguments over dominance; all that was good and bad, everything deeper, came later. Appearance was first, and John's had Jack hooked in an instant. From then on and forever, no matter how much he loved or loathed the man, Jack could never deny his base attraction to John Hart.
It was Ianto's spirit. Of course he was smart, but Jack had met greater minds in the Doctor, other worldly scholars, maybe even Toshiko. He wasn't physically weak either, and not at all unattractive, but Jack knew so many who surpassed him. What made Ianto stand out was his near unbreakable spirit. He was strong willed, sarcastic, loving, passionate, emotional but guarded, and his eyes sparkled with secrets. He exuded sexuality, humour, darkness, patience, all from deep within. Ianto was a mystery, so much bottled up inside him that Jack would never grow bored.
So yes, the three men had shared traits. But their major strengths lay in different areas and Jack was loathe to order their importance. The Doctor was amazing, John was exhilarating and Ianto was just so. All somehow perfect yet somehow all flawed. John was in his past and his present, Ianto in his present and his future, and the Doctor was everywhere until the end of time. None of that made a difference, because Jack had been to each end of the Earth's time-line and back again. John came to him, he came to the Doctor, and Ianto was always waiting. The physical attraction came knocking, the yearning for intellect pulled him away, and the patience and love of another was such a constant comfort. Jack was irrevocably torn.
In the end, and, he supposed, in the beginning too, when it all came down to it, it probably didn't actually matter. He had memories for John, plans for the Doctor, and Ianto's warm body pressed against his. Life was pretty much covered from top to tail by these three most important of men. And when he thought about it Jack found that sometimes the idea of eternity didn't seem quite so bad.
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*sigh* When did writing become so disjointed and challenging for me? I feel blocked, bogged down in ideas that I can't find the right words for. I never thought writing was supposed to be this hard. Maybe it's not what I'm meant to do after all...
Don't worry. I know I'm just in a bad place right now. I'll find "it" again.
... I hope.