(no subject)
Oct. 13th, 2008 05:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
more_flexibleIt was one thing to find someone gone after the fact. It was another thing to witness it happen, like Aziraphale and Crowley. And then there was this morning.
He'd been in bed, sore and tired and used in the best ways. They had been sleeping close, but only because the bed was small. Certainly not because there was trust being rebuilt one punch at a time. Not because something deeper was growing with every brutal kiss. Jack had woken with the first gray light and looked at John sleeping for a while, then curled his arm to bring him closer. He'd closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss him, to get him to wake up, to catch him in that brief moment before he was a Time Agent and was only a man. A wife.
But his lips met nothing but air. The weight of the man was gone from his body. Jack's eyes flew open and he looked around, hoping it had just been a trick. Hoping John had bolted from the bed. His heart all but stopped when he realized the coat was gone, that badge he wore proudly to denote he was a god among Agents. His guns were gone, the cold intimacy of death in a holster. His things, his body, and then Jack laid back down. His scent was gone from the pillow and the blood that had dotted the sheets and the floor were gone, too.
Jack realized suddenly just what a mercy it had been for the Agency to wipe those last memories...and laid still next to the vacant reminder of just how cruel the island was.
He had no clue how long he'd laid next to a body that no longer filled the space before he got up and dressed and started to run. There was nowhere to run to, as the Doctor was fond of pointing out, but he had to go. He had to get away.
He wasn't even entirely sure he could go back to his hut. Not to have it be empty and quiet once again.
He'd been in bed, sore and tired and used in the best ways. They had been sleeping close, but only because the bed was small. Certainly not because there was trust being rebuilt one punch at a time. Not because something deeper was growing with every brutal kiss. Jack had woken with the first gray light and looked at John sleeping for a while, then curled his arm to bring him closer. He'd closed his eyes and leaned down to kiss him, to get him to wake up, to catch him in that brief moment before he was a Time Agent and was only a man. A wife.
But his lips met nothing but air. The weight of the man was gone from his body. Jack's eyes flew open and he looked around, hoping it had just been a trick. Hoping John had bolted from the bed. His heart all but stopped when he realized the coat was gone, that badge he wore proudly to denote he was a god among Agents. His guns were gone, the cold intimacy of death in a holster. His things, his body, and then Jack laid back down. His scent was gone from the pillow and the blood that had dotted the sheets and the floor were gone, too.
Jack realized suddenly just what a mercy it had been for the Agency to wipe those last memories...and laid still next to the vacant reminder of just how cruel the island was.
He had no clue how long he'd laid next to a body that no longer filled the space before he got up and dressed and started to run. There was nowhere to run to, as the Doctor was fond of pointing out, but he had to go. He had to get away.
He wasn't even entirely sure he could go back to his hut. Not to have it be empty and quiet once again.
