Post by jack on Aug 6, 2010 22:36:51 GMT -5
Temptation.
It's sitting there, on his wrist. An unobtrusive bit of metal and leather, always there, always a reminder. He was surprised to learn it (like he) had survived the blast in the Plass, but it didn't wholly shock him. It was amazing how much he had missed that strap around his wrist, but when something spends two thousand years on your wrist, you tend to miss it when it's gone. It did, however, make sense that the Vortex Manipulator would be found in the rubble and they barely found scraps of his greatcoat. He had been wearing the Manipulator when Rose had changed him into the freak he was (but not the greatcoat) -- so apparently whatever she had done had worked for everything he was wearing.
Briefly, Jack laments the fact that he tossed that pair of leather trousers into the garbage over a century ago when they didn't fit into the dress of the time. How was he supposed to know he had been turned immortal? It had taken roughly ten years, two gunshots, half a dozen stabbings, and death by javelin to figure it out. By that time, the trousers had gone the way of the dodo and there was no chance in hell he'd get them back.
Jack never found a pair that fit quite the same way.
They probably still exist... somewhere. Jack, however, doesn't have the want or the will to find them.
Instead, he sits in the bar at the end of the universe and stares at the useless wrist strap.
Temptation.
He sees it when he looks across the bar, noticing that orange-skinned Sewythina giving him the eye from across the room. And it is 'the eye', given that she only has one. Jack's fucked one before; he knows what they're like. Wild in bed and will come six times without even breaking a sweat. If he wants to lose himself in someone, she's the perfect candidate.
There's always the ficus, mind, though Jack hasn't been in the mood for slivers.
If he consumes enough hypervodka, he'll feel the desire to fuck until he can't see straight, until his back is sore and his legs ache -- a pain that lasts a matter of hours until his perfect body heals itself to its previous state.
Still, sex and alcohol are a wondrous mix, Jack thinks to himself as he downs the eighth shot of the night. He's just starting to feel that all-too familiar buzz, but it doesn't last for long. His body metabolises it too quickly. He signals for another, wanting to keep the alcohol level in his blood stream as high as he can manage.
He winks at the Sewythina and she gives him a nod. His bed won't be empty tonight and, judging by the look she gives another bloke nearby... Jack will have his wicked way with more than just her tonight.
Temptation.
He's staring at his wrist strap again, knowing it could solve everything. He knows he could hop a transport ship, skip this solar system and head back to Earth.
The records at the Hub will never be fully destroyed. Jack had security protocols in place in case the Hub was ever breached, and data backups of all the CCTV and archival files were stored in a forgotten area of Flat Holm. All it might take is finding the correct date and the coordinates Jack used to activate his wrist strap the day the Daleks invaded. It would be so simple, really. He'd pop back to that fateful day in October, pull Ianto from the room before the gas was released and no one would be the wiser.
Sure, he would be changing the course of history, but who cares in the end? The Doctor does it all the time to serve his own ends, why can't Jack?
He thinks back to John suddenly. The night John tried to convince Jack to leave earth behind and succumb to the glitter of the galaxy. Jack chuckles, remembering how he chided John about not being able to master that whole temptation spiel.
Temptation.
Jack looks at his wrist strap one final time, snapping the cover shut. They won't be able to stay on earth, he knows -- not when the rest of the world believes him to be dead. So... what's the difference if the Jones family has a body to grieve over... or an empty casket? None in his mind. He knows once he does this he won't be able to return to Earth, not for a long time.
This sits okay with him.
He always promised Ianto he'd take him to the stars one day.
Jack downs the last of his hypervodka and meets the gaze of the Sewythina once more. He holds up a finger, the still universal sign for 'one minute'. One minute is all he'll need in her world.
Only one man has ever tempted Jack to go against everything he was ever taught and fuck with time itself.
Temptation.
For once, Jack gives into temptation.
It's sitting there, on his wrist. An unobtrusive bit of metal and leather, always there, always a reminder. He was surprised to learn it (like he) had survived the blast in the Plass, but it didn't wholly shock him. It was amazing how much he had missed that strap around his wrist, but when something spends two thousand years on your wrist, you tend to miss it when it's gone. It did, however, make sense that the Vortex Manipulator would be found in the rubble and they barely found scraps of his greatcoat. He had been wearing the Manipulator when Rose had changed him into the freak he was (but not the greatcoat) -- so apparently whatever she had done had worked for everything he was wearing.
Briefly, Jack laments the fact that he tossed that pair of leather trousers into the garbage over a century ago when they didn't fit into the dress of the time. How was he supposed to know he had been turned immortal? It had taken roughly ten years, two gunshots, half a dozen stabbings, and death by javelin to figure it out. By that time, the trousers had gone the way of the dodo and there was no chance in hell he'd get them back.
Jack never found a pair that fit quite the same way.
They probably still exist... somewhere. Jack, however, doesn't have the want or the will to find them.
Instead, he sits in the bar at the end of the universe and stares at the useless wrist strap.
Temptation.
He sees it when he looks across the bar, noticing that orange-skinned Sewythina giving him the eye from across the room. And it is 'the eye', given that she only has one. Jack's fucked one before; he knows what they're like. Wild in bed and will come six times without even breaking a sweat. If he wants to lose himself in someone, she's the perfect candidate.
There's always the ficus, mind, though Jack hasn't been in the mood for slivers.
If he consumes enough hypervodka, he'll feel the desire to fuck until he can't see straight, until his back is sore and his legs ache -- a pain that lasts a matter of hours until his perfect body heals itself to its previous state.
Still, sex and alcohol are a wondrous mix, Jack thinks to himself as he downs the eighth shot of the night. He's just starting to feel that all-too familiar buzz, but it doesn't last for long. His body metabolises it too quickly. He signals for another, wanting to keep the alcohol level in his blood stream as high as he can manage.
He winks at the Sewythina and she gives him a nod. His bed won't be empty tonight and, judging by the look she gives another bloke nearby... Jack will have his wicked way with more than just her tonight.
Temptation.
He's staring at his wrist strap again, knowing it could solve everything. He knows he could hop a transport ship, skip this solar system and head back to Earth.
The records at the Hub will never be fully destroyed. Jack had security protocols in place in case the Hub was ever breached, and data backups of all the CCTV and archival files were stored in a forgotten area of Flat Holm. All it might take is finding the correct date and the coordinates Jack used to activate his wrist strap the day the Daleks invaded. It would be so simple, really. He'd pop back to that fateful day in October, pull Ianto from the room before the gas was released and no one would be the wiser.
Sure, he would be changing the course of history, but who cares in the end? The Doctor does it all the time to serve his own ends, why can't Jack?
He thinks back to John suddenly. The night John tried to convince Jack to leave earth behind and succumb to the glitter of the galaxy. Jack chuckles, remembering how he chided John about not being able to master that whole temptation spiel.
Temptation.
Jack looks at his wrist strap one final time, snapping the cover shut. They won't be able to stay on earth, he knows -- not when the rest of the world believes him to be dead. So... what's the difference if the Jones family has a body to grieve over... or an empty casket? None in his mind. He knows once he does this he won't be able to return to Earth, not for a long time.
This sits okay with him.
He always promised Ianto he'd take him to the stars one day.
Jack downs the last of his hypervodka and meets the gaze of the Sewythina once more. He holds up a finger, the still universal sign for 'one minute'. One minute is all he'll need in her world.
Only one man has ever tempted Jack to go against everything he was ever taught and fuck with time itself.
Temptation.
For once, Jack gives into temptation.