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Yesterday had been going so well. Jack had his pimp on, curled up with the Doctor, Izzie, and Jaime, and so many people had joined in watching Casablanca. But afterward...

He didn't want to think about it.

They had fought. It seemed like it began with the Doctor not approving of Jaime, but eventually it was clear that wasn't what it was about at all. He knew he shouldn't dwell on the missing time, knew that it didn't do any good. Knew it was eating him up.

Jack flopped back on the sofa and put his feet up as the jukebox ever-so-appropriately began to play the blues. Some of the songs, Jack even knew already.

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June 2013

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