Title: Throughout History
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Toshiko Sato, Jack Harkness
Rating: PG-13
Words: 959
Spoilers: S2E3, S1E12
Disclaimer: Characters and situations belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for
hc_bingo prompt "Combat"
Author's Note: As always, comments and criticism are welcome and would help me to improve.
Tosh couldn’t settle.
She paced around her flat, tidying the already pristine space.
She made a cup of coffee, then tipped it down the sink when she realised that she didn’t want to drink it.
As she stood leaning on the edge of the sink watching the dark liquid swirl down the drain she eventually gave in and let the tears that had been threatening to fall all evening consume her.
It was so unfair.
Tommy, who was such a brave hero, who had single handedly saved the world, had been executed as a coward because he suffered from PTSD, in a time when it wasn’t recognised as a condition, after being conscripted to fight in a war and being sent back to the front before he was ready.
When her sobs had subsided, Tosh blew her nose and wiped her eyes then, feeling numb, left the flat to let the cool air of the Cardiff night caress her skin and calm her shattered nerves. She wandered aimlessly, not paying any attention to her surroundings or the drunken crowds spilling from the pubs as she passed.
Eventually Tosh found herself outside the tourist office, looking out across the bay. She leaned on the railings and sighed heavily, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue.
She hadn’t realised how cold she was until she became aware of a warm presence next to her.
Tosh turned and looked up into the concerned blue eyes of Jack Harkness as he stood next to her, mirroring her position leaning on the rail. Tosh shivered and Jack held his coat open, inviting her to snuggle against him sharing in its warmth.
Tosh didn’t know how long they stood there like that in silence, before Jack gently turned them and led her over to the invisible lift.
Once down in the bowels of the hub, Jack led Tosh over to the sofa in his office and retrieved a bottle of scotch and two glasses from his desk. He poured the drinks, handing one to Tosh and keeping the other for himself before sitting down on the other side of the sofa, tucking one foot up underneath him and angling his body towards her.
Jack took a sip of his drink and watched Tosh expectantly.
“Why do we do it Jack? Why do we fight wars?” Tosh sipped at her drink, holding it in both hands. Jack kept silent, recognising Tosh’s question for the rhetorical statement it was.
“Tommy told me that when they woke him in 1918 and told him that we had won the war they said it was the Great War. The war to end all wars. Then, what was only three weeks later for him, the Second World War started. Since then there have been countless regional wars. Vietnam. The first Gulf war. Now we are back fighting in the Gulf again. There is always a war going on somewhere. People dying for disputes over religion or oil or land. What is the point?” Tosh raised her eyes from her glass and looked up at Jack, willing him to somehow, impossibly, know the answer.
“I’m sorry Tosh. But there will always be wars. Humans will always find something to fight about. Throughout history it’s always the same.” Jack swilled his drink around in the glass then raised it to his lips downing the amber liquid.
“I’ve seen more than my share of wars.” He said quietly, sadly “I joined the army as a young man back in my own time before being recruited into the Time Agency. I fought alongside the Doctor on the game station.” Jack poured himself another drink and downed it quickly before topping up Tosh’s and refilling his own again. Tosh knew better than to question Jack, getting the sense that what he had just imparted to her was something he didn’t like to talk about. Not secret exactly, just not really mentioned. She smiled gently at him as he returned his attention to his glass before speaking again.
“Since coming to Earth I’ve seen friends, colleagues, lovers, all fall. I’ve died too, more times than I can count, but I came back.” Jack closed his eyes “I always come back.” He swallowed hard.
“I’ve fought in the Boer war, the First World War, and the Second World War. I’ve seen that three times.” Jack looked across at Tosh who reached out and covered Jack’s hand with her own.
“When we were in 1942, it was pretty amazing seeing all those brave men and women and how they just got on with life,” Tosh said smiling faintly, “such hope and optimism there even as the men prepared to go off to war once more.”
“Yeah” said Jack bitterly, putting down his glass, “even though they knew as well as we did that as many of them would probably be killed by the end as would survive.” A single tear rolled down Jack’s cheek as he remembered the real Captain Jack Harkness. Tosh reached up and gently rubbed the tear away with her thumb. “He would have been proud that you took his name and carried on fighting, to make the world a better place.”
They sat for a minute longer, holding hands and smiling softly at each other through watery eyes until Tosh gently pushed herself up and took the two glasses, placing them carefully in the sink in the kitchenette. Then she went out through the cog door to the tourist office and out into the night, hailing a taxi to take her home to bed and a dreamless sleep.
Jack watched her go, then shut the Hub down for the night and climbed down the ladder to his sleeping quarters and into his waiting lover’s arms.