Current mood:	tired
Entry tags:	fic, fic: tw

Fic: Destiny Can Wait
Title: Destiny Can Wait
Fandoms: Torchwood/Doctor Who, Sandman
Summary: Seven times Jack met the Endless
Rating: None
Spoilers: Up to End of Days
Notes: 6 drabbles, 700 words. Just a small plot bunny that wanted out. Unbetaed, so feel free to nitpick.
Fic Masterlist: Here.



Destiny; Satellite 5, 200,100 A.D.

The tall figure doesn't leave footprints, casts no shadow. Destiny waits. He's seen many stories, lives that twist, lead into his realm. He opens his book, reading without eyes.

Jack's dead and in heaven/hell, he's sure, but an empty garden with a lonely keeper isn't what he expected at all.
"Your story doesn't end here," the figure says, a bony hand pointing at one of the many paths back towards life, dirty, painful. Jack doesn't want to walk that way, yet knows he has no choice. He was better off as a coward, he thinks.

Destiny closes his book, pleased.


Delirium; Destruction, New Earth, 5.5/Apple/53

Death is claiming him again and it's unbelievably beautiful. There's something in the air, some drug or virus, certainly lethal, but Jack doesn't care. He's happy.
This is bliss he thinks, as he walks on streets made of rainbows, watches butterflies transform reality with the flap of their wings. The rational part of his brain died a few minutes ago, and now bliss is all he knows.

He's staring up at the sky, when strangely coloured eyes focus on him.

"Help me find my doggie?" their owner asks, dreamily flicking colourful fish out of her fingers. He's too far gone to speak.

"It's time for you to go, sister," another one answers, leading the girl away, until she's barely visible in the swirl of reality. The parts of Jack's brain that would've cared about these two strangers are long dead now.

"I'll be along in a short while," the brother adds.

Seven minutes later, everyone in the Upper City is dead. Eight minutes later, Jack alone gets up on all fours again, retching, tears mingling with sweat and blood and puke.

Destruction follows Delirium, his work here is done. He kindly greets Despair, who eyes him from a reflecting window.


Dream; New York, 1929

He lies in bed out of habit at first, later to avoid work or questions. He never sleeps again, no matter how he longs for, needs rest.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to remember dreams he once had.

From the shadows Dream watches the sleepless human, sees the wanderer on the edge of his realm, yet can't help. But he can guide him to one of the Soft Places, where reality and Dreaming touch. It's his duty and only a minor interference. It should be a relief for this wanderer.

Cardiff, Jack suddenly realizes and gets up in a hurry.


Death; Cardiff, 2006

She's sitting on the waterfront, feeding the birds. The CCTV didn't show her and Jack's wary of such details. It's routine, flirting with the unknown. He points at the Ankh around her neck, but she ignores his anecdote about Ramses.

It's not often that people notice her, she replies. Jack frowns, she's dangerously attractive, with hair darker than midnight. He feels like he should know her.

He's tired of mysteries, demanding to know who and what she is. She doesn't answer, but he lets her go.

"We'll see each other again one day," she smiles. Jack finds that oddly comforting.


Despair; Torchwood Three, 2007

She bathes in his pain, his anger giving it a rare sharp edge. It's delicious.

He almost gave up on the Game Station, nearly drowning in abandonment. Since then Despair always followed him, watching. She was never disappointed. He always brings his friends along.

It's always his fault, Jack knows, as he holds a crying Gwen, no matter how far he travels. The coldness of the autopsy room creeps into his heart, as his team betray him one by one, like everybody else he ever trusted.

Despair watches all those lives shatter around Jack Harkness, and it's beautiful.


Desire; Cardiff, 2007

Jack refuses to need anymore, it's become too painful. He only wants answers, never the Doctor. He left him behind; Jack thinks he gets the message.

The TARDIS doors close behind him and Jack finds himself staring at a regenerated Doctor, feels the familiar stab of desire. He only wanted answers, now he yearns for all he left behind in here.

Jack knows the moment the Doctor smiles at him that he'll - once again - trust this man with his life, although that means very little at the moment.

Desire chuckles, knowing that - once again - she won.


***


In the stillness of his garden, Destiny closes his book, leaving the end of the story of Captain Jack Harkness unread for now. Destiny can wait.