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Aftermath to a brief encounter of the sexual kind
Series: Doctor Who (Torchwood)
Pairing: Jack/Alonso, Jack/Ianto implied
Warnings: Spoilers for “End of Time” part 2
Summary: Can sex really heal any wound?
Disclaimer: This story’s mine, but I do not intend to touch the rights of the owner of the characters I’ve used. No moneymaking, no offence meant. English is not my native language, so please be patient with my mistakes. Thanks to Lady Charena for the beta. For all remaining errors, blame me.
“Who is he?”
Jack Harkness rolled over to his side, efficiently turning his back at the young man in his bed and therefore his question.
“Who?” He followed up with a question of his own, instead giving an answer and listened warily to the raw sound of his voice – raw with pain instead of lust. The wetness in his eyes, somehow suddenly threading to spill over, didn’t stem from the aftermath of just experienced pleasure... a feeling that faded rapidly. Stalling to answer a question he really didn’t want to answer, let alone think about it. He could proud himself with the fact that this had never happened before – moaning the name of a former lover while he laid with another. Until now. And even if... it... happened before, he should have never cried out ‘his’ name in the throes of passion.
“I take it he is some kind of... boyfriend of yours?”
He really felt like owing Alonso an answer, considering how he must feel now. Being hit on in a bar, flirted right into dropping his pants and into bed by someone who obviously had some other guy on his mind, judging by what just happened. He could imagine the other man felt a little used and probably not so little pissed.
He could play it light and turn it into a joke: Just an employee who turned out to be a great shag – and by the way, so are you. Maybe some other time he would have, could have... But the words wouldn’t come. He couldn’t bring himself to lie, couldn’t bring himself to belittle Ianto like this. Never. But the term ‘boyfriend’... didn’t have the right ring to it. No, not with Ianto being so much more to him... His mind took him back into another time and place and to a conversation that should be long forgotten by all rights.
‘I hate the word couple.’
He knew Ianto hadn’t meant it like this. Neither had he. Why the hell did he never had the nerve to tell him?
A single tear slid down his face, hesitantly, almost as if ‘it’ felt ashamed.
He felt a hand touching his shoulder, fleeting offering some sort of comfort or reassurance. He felt like he didn’t deserve that much understanding.
“He is dead, isn’t he?”
Probably a good moment to make some witty retort about who was the psychic, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. Closing his eyes he just gave a jerky nod. Despite his best efforts, a second tear slipped out, a third followed shortly.
“What happened?” Alonso asked.
Not an entirely unexpected question, huh. But again Jack didn’t know what to say. ‘He died because I was stupid, because I forgot that others are only human and not everyone is immortal. Because he loved me so much that he didn’t question any of my actions and so I pulled him with me and into certain death. And I never ever told him just once how much I loved him.’
Instead he just shook his head.
The mattress dipped and then bounced a little as Alonso left the bed. The soft rustle of clothes being put on again followed.
He shouldn’t really just lie here like some gigantic kind of jerk; he should offer an explanation or at least mutter some words of praise and thanks. But instead he could as easily have been born mute. Even fighting off the tears had turned into a lost battle by now.
There was no excuse for bringing Alonso here in the first place. He seemed some kind of decent guy. And a fine talent in bed for sure. Not his fault Jack wasn’t really ready to pick up old habits. At the moment he felt like he wouldn’t be for a long time. Hindsight was a terrible fine thing and he knew now he should have tore up the note the Doctor send and left the bar without a second look at the young man sitting next to him.
Or probably even better, he should have followed the Doctor and confronted him. Should have demanded an answer to why he wasn’t there when he was needed so badly. He and his claim to love mankind so much... But instead something in him shuttered off, a feeling or some kind of premonition, telling him this was the very last time he was seeing this Doctor, this incarnation that had meant so much to him... more than the one he knew before and probably more than any following after. This wasn’t the right time for confrontation; this was the Doctor saying goodbye... maybe even ‘sorry’ – and in a way, trying to help him moving on. Neither his or Alonso’s fault it didn’t quite work out as intended.
He opened his eyes to see the young man stepping into his field of vision, now fully dressed and slightly distant.
“Will I see you again?” Alonso asked.
He didn’t expect him to want a retry and any other time it would have surely stroked his ego. Instead he felt himself choking up again over this. He couldn’t come up with anything wittier than: “Who knows what the future might bring.” Perhaps it would have been kinder to be honest and just say: “No.” No need to lie when both of them already knew the truth.
“Maybe you shouldn’t think of it as your fault,” Alonso said and Jack wanted to ask if he meant the disastrous tumble down the drain their night together took or if he somehow referred to Ianto’s death... despite he couldn’t possibly know anything about it. Alonso seemed really to be some kind of understanding and receptive guy, but he wasn’t a psychic reading Jack’s mind. At least he didn’t appear hurt or something by his faux pas. At least a little thing to be grateful for.
“I hope you find your happiness.”
Words – well meant as they undoubtedly were intended – shouldn’t hurt that much. “You, too,” Jack all but croaked.
And only after the door was securely closed, he whispered what he should have answered when he was asked first... what he should have told Ianto a long time ago: “I think he might have been the love of my life.”