Jack and the Reaper

mymindpalaceisatardis:

Summary: Jack Harkness meets death, and finds they get on far better than he thought they would.

***

Jack groaned as the bullet tore through his neck and the blood gurgled up from the wound. He used to scream, gasp, try to breathe through it until the end, but these days, Jack Harkness finds that it’s easier to not cough, to inhale the blood and let it drown him before he dies because it’s not going to his brain. It’s so much nicer to die before your brain starts sparking, he’s discovered.

Still, this one should be quick. Not much damage, injury-wise, so he should be penny-new soon enough. Penny-new. Sounds like something the Doctor would say, he thought, as he sank into that all-too-familiar darkness.

Suddenly, the darkness began to recede a little. What the hell? Jack knew from copious experience that he would only go back when he began to lose himself in the lack of being, when it became to much and he was sure he would fly apart because he lacked a body to contain him. So why was it changing now?

Blinking in the empty space, he realized with a shock that light was beginning to flood it. And not the kind people warned loved ones away from- no, this light was thin, yellow, almost… sickly. Jack fought the impulse to run, though the changes to- well, to being dead terrified him, dammed if he was going to run away on his one chance to go on to the next life, or lack thereof, as the case may be.

From the light came a silhouette, and then an old man stood there, silver-topped cane clutched in one hand. His face was drawn and narrow, wrinkling slightly around his eyes and mouth, and his sunken cheeks only proved to accentuate his long nose. He wore his hair slicked back against his skull, and a bespoke black suit. “Hello, Jack.”

Jack swallowed, or would have if he was still in possession of a body. Something told him that this wasn’t just another dead guy, just another ghost flashing through the aethers of the after-place. Think so, genius? he thought mockingly.

The man ran his eyes over Jack, taking him in. “Oh, I suppose you may have a body, for this at least,” he said with a put-upon sigh, and waved his hand. Jack crashed to the floor on his hands and knees, naked as the day he was born.

Jack stumbled to his feet and took a few deep breaths while the man watched, then shook his head. “Who are you?” he asked at last, when he had got his bearings.

The man smiled. “I am Death, Jack Harkness, and I wanted to come see the man I can never seem to keep. Usually people are with my by now. Humans, anyways. Let us walk.” He turned, and set of in an indeterminable direction, not looking back to make sure that Jack fell into step behind him. He did.

“How is it you keep escaping me?” Death asked, tapping his cane against the hard floor as they went. He didn’t seem angry, simply curious. “Humans, angels, demons, they come to me when they die. But you constantly leave, and I can’t say I understand it.”

Jack sighed. He hated explaining. “Do you know of the Time Lords?” He went on to explain about the Doctor, Bad Wolf, the Time Vortex and Platform 500, and how Rose had inadvertently used the power of the time vortex to make him permanent. Death listened to the story with a look of mild interest, swinging his cane, other hand tucked into his pocket. “I’m a permanent part of space time,” Jack finally finished with a sigh. “I can’t die. At least, nothing I’ve tried or has been tried on me works.”

Finally, after a long time more, just when Jack was beginning to feel the darkness press in on him again, Death spoke. “You will die, Jack. Not yet, but some day.” His wrinkled lips spread into a small grin. “It appears that the universe has a sense of humor. I presume you don’t sleep?” When Jack answered with a shake of his head, Death continued. “You’re not tired enough. Every time you die, you start over. If you ever stop dying, you will simply keep going. Never sleeping, just existing. And then, when you are very old, and very tired, you’re last day will come.” 

Death turned to Jack, set a hand on his shoulder. “You will have your rest, Jack. It will simply be long in coming.” Jack shivered at the words. Death smiled. “We will see each other again- even you know that. Farewell, Jack Harkness. For now.” With that, the weak light which had been filling the space they walked through disappeared, and so did Death.

Jack stared after him, and then suddenly he was jerking upright, gasping, gulping in air as much as he could. As he rolled onto his side to spit out a steel bullet casing, he felt a rare hope rising in him. Someday, this would end. Someday, he would finally die. It was the best news he’d ever heard.