(no subject)
Title: He Died.
Author: Becky_H
Character: Captain Jack
Rating: PG?
Spoilers: None
Warning: Character death.
Summary: 150 word drabble.
Author's Notes: Written for tw_flashfic Alternate Lives Challenge. A feel better mirror of this drabble can be found here
Captain Jack Harkness died on a primitive planet hurtling around a middle-aged sun.
The sky that stretched over him was slate gray. Icy rain and blood turned the ground beneath him to mud. The air was filled with the scent of charred human flesh and sound of screams.
Some of the screams belonged to Jack's men, none of them belonged to Jack. Bitter cold and deep shock protected him from pain and insulated him from fear.
When death came his eyes were wide open, turned toward the sky and searching for the stars. Set against the colorless landscape of war they were vividly blue.
Rain caught in his lashes and spilled down his cheeks like freezing crystalline tears. It washed away the filth of war until he was just another solider with pretty, dead, eyes.
The world was his. The war that killed him wasn't.
He was thirty-four years old.
Author: Becky_H
Character: Captain Jack
Rating: PG?
Spoilers: None
Warning: Character death.
Summary: 150 word drabble.
Author's Notes: Written for tw_flashfic Alternate Lives Challenge. A feel better mirror of this drabble can be found here
Captain Jack Harkness died on a primitive planet hurtling around a middle-aged sun.
The sky that stretched over him was slate gray. Icy rain and blood turned the ground beneath him to mud. The air was filled with the scent of charred human flesh and sound of screams.
Some of the screams belonged to Jack's men, none of them belonged to Jack. Bitter cold and deep shock protected him from pain and insulated him from fear.
When death came his eyes were wide open, turned toward the sky and searching for the stars. Set against the colorless landscape of war they were vividly blue.
Rain caught in his lashes and spilled down his cheeks like freezing crystalline tears. It washed away the filth of war until he was just another solider with pretty, dead, eyes.
The world was his. The war that killed him wasn't.
He was thirty-four years old.