Doctor Who: Life with Theta

Dropping Bombs

Oh god.

So. Well.

Jack had... hidden it... so well.

He hadn’t realized Jack could... do that, hide himself like that. He should have guessed. More than guessed. He should have known. But he didn’t blame the man. How could he? Everything was true, in its way. He should have done so many things... like getting up. His hands were on the side of his ship, curling numbly against the wood as he struggled to rise, to push himself up and stand. He kept falling, kept slipping back down. There was water on his face. Salty water. He was crying, and the tears weren’t going to stop this time. Not like before. Not like the other times, when he’d at least had a modicum of strength. His breath stranded him, and he clung to the TARDIS like a drowning man, sick and weak and crumpled on her vestibule as though... well it was the end of the world, wasn’t it? And how many times had he survived that?

His throat grew thick as pain blossomed in his breast and branched in a thousand directions within his slight body. He was shaking, and he was certain Jack could feel him trembling through the wood. It was all he could do not to scramble up and run after the man as the quiet footsteps echoed toward the flat.

Away. He needed that word, away. Needed to be it. Yes. Running would make it better, make it less. He crawled to the twin doors, aching, his chest heaving dry sobs at the wakening sky as he dragged himself inside his ship like a dying animal. Perhaps, once he was inside, logic would return to him. Perhaps he could fill one psychodramatic hole with another, creating a moebius strip of loss with the shreds of his psyche until finally, the ends met in the middle and became one again. Whole and sick was always better than partial and healthy. Koschei had shown him that, time and again. You were right, Koschei... they don’t understand, but they can’t help it! They can’t...he managed, tossing himself on a grating near the control console. He was close to blacking out, and the TARDIS, his beauty, she was already setting herself to autopilot, lulling him with her quiet hum. She dematerialized, taking with her nothing but himself, for yet another trip amongst the stars. He could have kissed her, had he been awake. But he wasn’t.

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