Jack's Bliss
Fandom: Torchwood (what else?)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Death (briefly), one swearword
Word Count: 2000
Summary: Diane couldn't explain to Owen what flying felt like. Jack would have understood.
Prompt: 064. Fall.
Jack's Bliss
Jack stands right on the edge, watching the empty street below. It’s long past midnight - he slept and dreamed hours ago. Terrible, trapped dreams, where he’s searching, always searching, and he has to keep stopping to save the people he loves a little, while the object of his search, the person he really loves, slips beyond his reach again. It’s easy to see where his subconscious is coming from, but it still makes him feel like the whole world’s gone to shit and he has no way out. Tonight he needs more than open space to heal him.
He can feel the universe pushing him towards the edge of the roof, and he sways for a moment, coat conspiring with the wind in an effort to snatch control away from him and pull him into the empty air. It would be so easy. So, so easy, to take the step and fall, to fly for a few seconds and just… let go.
With one last, longing look at the street below, he steps back, turns and walks away. Then suddenly he spins on his heel, runs back, and hurls himself from the roof.
The rushing wind snatches his breath away, and he twists, graceful because he’s done this God only knows how many times before, turning over easily to see the wide, dark sky instead of rising tarmac. He spreads his arms, closes his eyes, and for a few precious moments all is bliss - here there are no friends or lovers to save, no duties to fulfil, no secrets to keep or lies to tell, and it’s so perfect that even when he hits the ground and dies in an instant of shattering bones and spraying blood, he still thinks it’s worth it.
~*~
Toshiko stands at the end of the street, hands over her mouth to hold in the scream, because she can’t believe what she’s just seen.
For a minute, she can’t move, and that’s enough time. She watches in disbelief as Jack sits up, rubbing his head, then stands and dusts down his coat as if nothing’s happened. As if he didn’t just jump from a fifteen-storey building, as if she didn’t just hear the sickening sound of his impact on the pavement. He straightens up, and she can see him sigh even from this distance.
Then he turns to walk away, and stops.
They stare at each other, a hundred metres apart, for so long Toshiko wonders if she’ll ever be able to move again. Then Jack just goes, taking another route into the darkness and leaving her to cope with impossible memories.
She goes home.
The next day in work neither of them speaks about it. Jack’s pretending everything’s fine, but she can see the hints of darkness in his eyes whenever she catches his gaze. She’s ruined his escape, just by being there, and she regrets it painfully, because he’s a little sharper than usual with all of them today, readier to snap and bark, more spiteful. She’s sorry, but she can’t tell him, because it didn’t happen. She wasn’t there. She saw nothing.
She manages to convince herself that’s the truth over the next week or so.
~*~
“We’re picking up a transmission,” Tosh says, and they all look up. She hits a few keys, and starts putting the message through the translation systems, but draws a blank. It’s energy they’re picking up, and she projects it onto all their screens, showing them how it fluctuates, apparently at random.
But Jack’s seen this before, and he gasps a little, standing from his chair.
He keeps moving upwards, goes sailing over the desk with something suspiciously like a whoop of joy, somersaulting through his open door and pirouetting up into the empty space of the Hub’s central area, gliding with the ease of practice. Ianto gives a yell and tries to catch his ankles, but ends up floating away from the floor himself, slow and clumsy compared to Jack, who’s still on the rise and spiralling gracefully up like he’s done this a thousand times before.
The others don’t dare move, clinging to the furniture and staring wide-eyed at their flying comrades.
Ianto freezes for a second or two, then tries to work out how to get back down, unable to stop himself from kicking out instinctively. He keeps flying upwards, and though he knows he should be filled with wonder and amazement at this incredible experience, all he can think about is how far up he is, and how much that’s going to hurt when he falls at last.
He catches up to Jack, who’s stopped, lazily stretching out and lying back in mid-air, eyes closed, expression ecstatic and joyous, openly euphoric, and Ianto’s never seen him look so beautiful before. Halfway through a slow tumble backwards, he steadies himself, reaches out, and takes Ianto’s hand, bringing him to a halt.
Ianto can’t help clinging to his hand, his grip white-knuckled, so tight it has to hurt but Jack doesn’t seem to care, kicking off from the fountain and catching Ianto up in his arms as he spins past. Ianto gasps and pulls him tight, his terror growing as he looks down over Jack’s shoulder and sees the others, staring up at them, expressions blanked by distance, and he feels his grip on Jack get tighter, because Jack’s the only stable thing in this weightless, unreal world. But Jack’s smiling like he’ll never stop as he pulls back, then kisses Ianto until he forgets they’re standing on nothing and relaxes in Jack’s arms, feeling Jack smile against his lips.
When they part, Jack sends them rolling sideways, and Ianto lets everyday concerns take over from the things beyond his control, whispering, “The others saw that.”
“I don’t care,” Jack breathes, still wrapped up in his arms and spinning them gently through the air, avoiding the fountain and the walkways with such skill that Ianto doesn’t have time to flinch before the dangers are gone, sailing past his head, and he’s learning quickly to just relax and trust Jack to steer them right. Jack repeats, “I don’t care,” then whispers, “Let them see I love you.”
Ianto hesitates for a moment, then smiles back at him. Jack’s grin is real and full of life, and he seems giddy with delight as he pulls back from Ianto, taking his hands and drawing him into a dance. Ianto goes with him, following his lead, finding that he’s grinning too, and then laughter’s bubbling up out of him, and they’re flying and dancing and spinning, cavorting together in the air, blazing with joy, and Jack’s laughing with him, and they’re free and unfettered, pirouetting and rejoicing in three dimensions.
They spin slowly to a halt, Jack’s arms around Ianto’s waist and Ianto’s hands on Jack’s steady shoulders, and stare at each other for a few seconds before they both look at the being beside them. The closest thing Ianto can liken it to is white mist, gathered a little but barely held together despite the lack of gravity. Jack stretches out a hand to it, the gesture somewhere between a blessing and a plea, and the mist moves to touch his fingers. He stays still.
Ianto reaches out to follow suit, feels the being touch his skin like silken fog, and becomes aware of such joy it almost overwhelms him. It’s happy, he realises, because they’re happy. It basks in their pleasure, and as it withdraws again, he becomes aware of Jack saying, “Thank you, thank you,” so fervently Ianto almost joins in, but he can’t speak, still feeling the alien’s exultation. It takes such delight in spreading joy across the universe that Ianto feels like everything’s just got brighter. All the pain and death and misery that Torchwood has seen is negated by this single creature.
But the creature pulls back at last, and vanishes away, leaving their hands outstretched in silent benediction and only their own joy to sustain them. And Jack and Ianto start to sink back down from the heavens.
The look of heartbreak on Jack’s face is more than Ianto can bear. He showers kisses on Jack until their lips meet again, and that’s how they touch the floor, the pressure under their feet strange after their sudden freedom. Ianto can feel Jack trembling in his arms, though whether he’s fighting tears or simply reacting to the rush of adrenalin, he’s unable to say.
Jack pulls away at last, and Ianto’s all too aware now that the other three are staring at them. He sneaks a look from the corner of his eye, but it’s not good. Gwen’s looking stunned - and slightly envious - while Tosh has her wide-eyed look of horror, and he wonders what she’s thinking of to make her react so badly. Owen’s expression is a mixture of agony, envy, and inconsolable loss.
He doesn’t understand, and when Jack steps back and looks up, he can see him trying to comfort himself with the knowledge of what has happened rather than crumpling from the fact it’s been taken away. All of a sudden Ianto feels lost and lonely again, catches himself wondering if that alien, so sweet and loving, isn’t the most misguided creature he’s ever met. Because for a few minutes he’s known the most incredible elation, but it’s gone now and he’ll never get it back.
Jack looks back at him, holds his gaze for a moment, then brushes his fingers across Ianto’s cheek and walks away, back to his office.
The others turn back to their work, still shaken and avoiding Ianto’s eyes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just staring after Jack, wondering how much of what happened sprang purely from the dizzying, rapturous delight he was going through. He wonders if Jack even remembers what he said, or even meant it in the first place. Or just said it because, at the time, he was so filled with love for everyone and everything.
It takes him a few minutes, but he pulls himself together, tucks away the memories for when they’re needed, and goes to make some more coffee, because everyone has let their drinks get cold, too busy staring at the impossible to think of such trivialities.
~*~
Jack stands right on the edge, watching the empty street below. It’s long past midnight - he slept and dreamed hours ago. Terrible, free dreams, where he’s soaring, flying and dancing, and he’s filled with joy and sorrow because he knows it has to end, while Ianto’s captured in the moment, not understanding that knowing such heights makes the lows a little lower. It’s easy to see where his subconscious is coming from, but it still makes him wake with bitter disappointment and wonder if there’s any way out. Tonight there is no way to heal him.
And he can feel the universe pushing him towards the edge of the roof, and he sways for a moment, coat conspiring with the wind in an effort to snatch control away from him and pull him into the empty air, but this time he closes his eyes and steps back. He doesn’t look down at the street before he turns and walks away.
To jump, now, would ruin the purity of those few minutes in the Hub. He’s had time to crawl back from the crushing agony of loss that first hit him when he started falling, and now he knows better. Because those minutes were beautiful, and he won’t let anything spoil them. For a few precious moments, all was bliss - he was free, he was relieved of all his cares and duties and secrets and lies, and, best of all, he could share his paradise with someone else.
It may have made the lows a little lower, but it’s given him heights to aspire to as well.
It was so perfect that even though a little bit of him died when it was lost, he still thinks it was worth it.
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Death (briefly), one swearword
Word Count: 2000
Summary: Diane couldn't explain to Owen what flying felt like. Jack would have understood.
Prompt: 064. Fall.
Jack's Bliss
Jack stands right on the edge, watching the empty street below. It’s long past midnight - he slept and dreamed hours ago. Terrible, trapped dreams, where he’s searching, always searching, and he has to keep stopping to save the people he loves a little, while the object of his search, the person he really loves, slips beyond his reach again. It’s easy to see where his subconscious is coming from, but it still makes him feel like the whole world’s gone to shit and he has no way out. Tonight he needs more than open space to heal him.
He can feel the universe pushing him towards the edge of the roof, and he sways for a moment, coat conspiring with the wind in an effort to snatch control away from him and pull him into the empty air. It would be so easy. So, so easy, to take the step and fall, to fly for a few seconds and just… let go.
With one last, longing look at the street below, he steps back, turns and walks away. Then suddenly he spins on his heel, runs back, and hurls himself from the roof.
The rushing wind snatches his breath away, and he twists, graceful because he’s done this God only knows how many times before, turning over easily to see the wide, dark sky instead of rising tarmac. He spreads his arms, closes his eyes, and for a few precious moments all is bliss - here there are no friends or lovers to save, no duties to fulfil, no secrets to keep or lies to tell, and it’s so perfect that even when he hits the ground and dies in an instant of shattering bones and spraying blood, he still thinks it’s worth it.
~*~
Toshiko stands at the end of the street, hands over her mouth to hold in the scream, because she can’t believe what she’s just seen.
For a minute, she can’t move, and that’s enough time. She watches in disbelief as Jack sits up, rubbing his head, then stands and dusts down his coat as if nothing’s happened. As if he didn’t just jump from a fifteen-storey building, as if she didn’t just hear the sickening sound of his impact on the pavement. He straightens up, and she can see him sigh even from this distance.
Then he turns to walk away, and stops.
They stare at each other, a hundred metres apart, for so long Toshiko wonders if she’ll ever be able to move again. Then Jack just goes, taking another route into the darkness and leaving her to cope with impossible memories.
She goes home.
The next day in work neither of them speaks about it. Jack’s pretending everything’s fine, but she can see the hints of darkness in his eyes whenever she catches his gaze. She’s ruined his escape, just by being there, and she regrets it painfully, because he’s a little sharper than usual with all of them today, readier to snap and bark, more spiteful. She’s sorry, but she can’t tell him, because it didn’t happen. She wasn’t there. She saw nothing.
She manages to convince herself that’s the truth over the next week or so.
~*~
“We’re picking up a transmission,” Tosh says, and they all look up. She hits a few keys, and starts putting the message through the translation systems, but draws a blank. It’s energy they’re picking up, and she projects it onto all their screens, showing them how it fluctuates, apparently at random.
But Jack’s seen this before, and he gasps a little, standing from his chair.
He keeps moving upwards, goes sailing over the desk with something suspiciously like a whoop of joy, somersaulting through his open door and pirouetting up into the empty space of the Hub’s central area, gliding with the ease of practice. Ianto gives a yell and tries to catch his ankles, but ends up floating away from the floor himself, slow and clumsy compared to Jack, who’s still on the rise and spiralling gracefully up like he’s done this a thousand times before.
The others don’t dare move, clinging to the furniture and staring wide-eyed at their flying comrades.
Ianto freezes for a second or two, then tries to work out how to get back down, unable to stop himself from kicking out instinctively. He keeps flying upwards, and though he knows he should be filled with wonder and amazement at this incredible experience, all he can think about is how far up he is, and how much that’s going to hurt when he falls at last.
He catches up to Jack, who’s stopped, lazily stretching out and lying back in mid-air, eyes closed, expression ecstatic and joyous, openly euphoric, and Ianto’s never seen him look so beautiful before. Halfway through a slow tumble backwards, he steadies himself, reaches out, and takes Ianto’s hand, bringing him to a halt.
Ianto can’t help clinging to his hand, his grip white-knuckled, so tight it has to hurt but Jack doesn’t seem to care, kicking off from the fountain and catching Ianto up in his arms as he spins past. Ianto gasps and pulls him tight, his terror growing as he looks down over Jack’s shoulder and sees the others, staring up at them, expressions blanked by distance, and he feels his grip on Jack get tighter, because Jack’s the only stable thing in this weightless, unreal world. But Jack’s smiling like he’ll never stop as he pulls back, then kisses Ianto until he forgets they’re standing on nothing and relaxes in Jack’s arms, feeling Jack smile against his lips.
When they part, Jack sends them rolling sideways, and Ianto lets everyday concerns take over from the things beyond his control, whispering, “The others saw that.”
“I don’t care,” Jack breathes, still wrapped up in his arms and spinning them gently through the air, avoiding the fountain and the walkways with such skill that Ianto doesn’t have time to flinch before the dangers are gone, sailing past his head, and he’s learning quickly to just relax and trust Jack to steer them right. Jack repeats, “I don’t care,” then whispers, “Let them see I love you.”
Ianto hesitates for a moment, then smiles back at him. Jack’s grin is real and full of life, and he seems giddy with delight as he pulls back from Ianto, taking his hands and drawing him into a dance. Ianto goes with him, following his lead, finding that he’s grinning too, and then laughter’s bubbling up out of him, and they’re flying and dancing and spinning, cavorting together in the air, blazing with joy, and Jack’s laughing with him, and they’re free and unfettered, pirouetting and rejoicing in three dimensions.
They spin slowly to a halt, Jack’s arms around Ianto’s waist and Ianto’s hands on Jack’s steady shoulders, and stare at each other for a few seconds before they both look at the being beside them. The closest thing Ianto can liken it to is white mist, gathered a little but barely held together despite the lack of gravity. Jack stretches out a hand to it, the gesture somewhere between a blessing and a plea, and the mist moves to touch his fingers. He stays still.
Ianto reaches out to follow suit, feels the being touch his skin like silken fog, and becomes aware of such joy it almost overwhelms him. It’s happy, he realises, because they’re happy. It basks in their pleasure, and as it withdraws again, he becomes aware of Jack saying, “Thank you, thank you,” so fervently Ianto almost joins in, but he can’t speak, still feeling the alien’s exultation. It takes such delight in spreading joy across the universe that Ianto feels like everything’s just got brighter. All the pain and death and misery that Torchwood has seen is negated by this single creature.
But the creature pulls back at last, and vanishes away, leaving their hands outstretched in silent benediction and only their own joy to sustain them. And Jack and Ianto start to sink back down from the heavens.
The look of heartbreak on Jack’s face is more than Ianto can bear. He showers kisses on Jack until their lips meet again, and that’s how they touch the floor, the pressure under their feet strange after their sudden freedom. Ianto can feel Jack trembling in his arms, though whether he’s fighting tears or simply reacting to the rush of adrenalin, he’s unable to say.
Jack pulls away at last, and Ianto’s all too aware now that the other three are staring at them. He sneaks a look from the corner of his eye, but it’s not good. Gwen’s looking stunned - and slightly envious - while Tosh has her wide-eyed look of horror, and he wonders what she’s thinking of to make her react so badly. Owen’s expression is a mixture of agony, envy, and inconsolable loss.
He doesn’t understand, and when Jack steps back and looks up, he can see him trying to comfort himself with the knowledge of what has happened rather than crumpling from the fact it’s been taken away. All of a sudden Ianto feels lost and lonely again, catches himself wondering if that alien, so sweet and loving, isn’t the most misguided creature he’s ever met. Because for a few minutes he’s known the most incredible elation, but it’s gone now and he’ll never get it back.
Jack looks back at him, holds his gaze for a moment, then brushes his fingers across Ianto’s cheek and walks away, back to his office.
The others turn back to their work, still shaken and avoiding Ianto’s eyes, but he doesn’t care. He’s just staring after Jack, wondering how much of what happened sprang purely from the dizzying, rapturous delight he was going through. He wonders if Jack even remembers what he said, or even meant it in the first place. Or just said it because, at the time, he was so filled with love for everyone and everything.
It takes him a few minutes, but he pulls himself together, tucks away the memories for when they’re needed, and goes to make some more coffee, because everyone has let their drinks get cold, too busy staring at the impossible to think of such trivialities.
~*~
Jack stands right on the edge, watching the empty street below. It’s long past midnight - he slept and dreamed hours ago. Terrible, free dreams, where he’s soaring, flying and dancing, and he’s filled with joy and sorrow because he knows it has to end, while Ianto’s captured in the moment, not understanding that knowing such heights makes the lows a little lower. It’s easy to see where his subconscious is coming from, but it still makes him wake with bitter disappointment and wonder if there’s any way out. Tonight there is no way to heal him.
And he can feel the universe pushing him towards the edge of the roof, and he sways for a moment, coat conspiring with the wind in an effort to snatch control away from him and pull him into the empty air, but this time he closes his eyes and steps back. He doesn’t look down at the street before he turns and walks away.
To jump, now, would ruin the purity of those few minutes in the Hub. He’s had time to crawl back from the crushing agony of loss that first hit him when he started falling, and now he knows better. Because those minutes were beautiful, and he won’t let anything spoil them. For a few precious moments, all was bliss - he was free, he was relieved of all his cares and duties and secrets and lies, and, best of all, he could share his paradise with someone else.
It may have made the lows a little lower, but it’s given him heights to aspire to as well.
It was so perfect that even though a little bit of him died when it was lost, he still thinks it was worth it.