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fic_promptly's Torchwood, Jack, He often wonders if he's even human anymore. Set some millenia post-canon.
Because he needed less sleep than most people, this meant that Jack often lay beside companion for the night while they slept, watching them. Some nights he slipped out to find other diversions, but usually he stayed put beside his companion of the night, returning in the morning before they awakened, sometimes leaving them entirely, leaving a note on the pillow.
He caught himself envying people for being able to sleep, not just for their ability to die and stay dead, but for the other things that they could experience, even the ones they hated. He had not had a hangover in ages, not since the time he had gone to Kyoto in the company of the Doctor and Rose, so many ages ago: the Heian Court sure knew what good sake tasted like. Had not had the luxury of a real sick for even a sniffle: Torchwood never relinquished its watch and he wondered if they had hired him because he did not need to sleep. He got tired like any man his age (by appearance), but he not had the luxury of eight hours on the mattress in forever.
Humans experienced all these things, but all these things escaped him, something that made him wonder how much humanity he had left. He had started to show his age, after about a hundred thousand years, which he partly welcomed and partly dreaded: the grey in his hair had gotten harder to cover up and the lines around his eyes and mouth had started deepen. How much longer would this go on, how much more would he age before he started to lose his looks. And if he lived on without dying, how much more would he age? Would he even continue to look human? He shuddered at the thought, as he stood by the window, gazing out on the rooftops of the mega-city below, then up at the reflection of the young Silurian curled up on the large heating rock that served the lizard-woman as a bed. She had the luxury of belonging to a race that aged slowly by nature -- much as he admired their long term hibernation facilities that allowed them to suspend their lives for ages, he had no desire to hole up in one of those -- but he would likely outlive even her.
He heard the rustle of scales and he saw the shadow of Madame Stegra rise up behind him. "Already tiring of me, Harkness?" she asked.
He turned away from the window and gave her a grin. "Tire of you? Hardly: you're the only one who can one up me on bragging about my age," he said, returning to the heating rock -- surprisingly more comfortable than it sounded -- and sitting down beside her.
"And with good reason: you have less to brag about, human," she replied, pulling him closer. "There, you warm me better than this rock: I should keep you just for that purpose."
"Nah, I get grumpy when I can't get out to explore the places in the universe that I haven't seen yet," he said, letting her hold him down as she laid herself atop him.
"I thought you said that you had started to run out of places to visit," Madame Stegra replied, her slit-pupiled eyes narrowing.
"I was referring to this age: the universe is still expanding, new planets being born," he said, running a fingertip along her scaly arm. "I won't be running off to them yet."
"Good, because I am not finished with you," she said, laying a finger on his mouth, silencing him.
fic_promptly's Torchwood, Jack, He often wonders if he's even human anymore. Set some millenia post-canon.Because he needed less sleep than most people, this meant that Jack often lay beside companion for the night while they slept, watching them. Some nights he slipped out to find other diversions, but usually he stayed put beside his companion of the night, returning in the morning before they awakened, sometimes leaving them entirely, leaving a note on the pillow.
He caught himself envying people for being able to sleep, not just for their ability to die and stay dead, but for the other things that they could experience, even the ones they hated. He had not had a hangover in ages, not since the time he had gone to Kyoto in the company of the Doctor and Rose, so many ages ago: the Heian Court sure knew what good sake tasted like. Had not had the luxury of a real sick for even a sniffle: Torchwood never relinquished its watch and he wondered if they had hired him because he did not need to sleep. He got tired like any man his age (by appearance), but he not had the luxury of eight hours on the mattress in forever.
Humans experienced all these things, but all these things escaped him, something that made him wonder how much humanity he had left. He had started to show his age, after about a hundred thousand years, which he partly welcomed and partly dreaded: the grey in his hair had gotten harder to cover up and the lines around his eyes and mouth had started deepen. How much longer would this go on, how much more would he age before he started to lose his looks. And if he lived on without dying, how much more would he age? Would he even continue to look human? He shuddered at the thought, as he stood by the window, gazing out on the rooftops of the mega-city below, then up at the reflection of the young Silurian curled up on the large heating rock that served the lizard-woman as a bed. She had the luxury of belonging to a race that aged slowly by nature -- much as he admired their long term hibernation facilities that allowed them to suspend their lives for ages, he had no desire to hole up in one of those -- but he would likely outlive even her.
He heard the rustle of scales and he saw the shadow of Madame Stegra rise up behind him. "Already tiring of me, Harkness?" she asked.
He turned away from the window and gave her a grin. "Tire of you? Hardly: you're the only one who can one up me on bragging about my age," he said, returning to the heating rock -- surprisingly more comfortable than it sounded -- and sitting down beside her.
"And with good reason: you have less to brag about, human," she replied, pulling him closer. "There, you warm me better than this rock: I should keep you just for that purpose."
"Nah, I get grumpy when I can't get out to explore the places in the universe that I haven't seen yet," he said, letting her hold him down as she laid herself atop him.
"I thought you said that you had started to run out of places to visit," Madame Stegra replied, her slit-pupiled eyes narrowing.
"I was referring to this age: the universe is still expanding, new planets being born," he said, running a fingertip along her scaly arm. "I won't be running off to them yet."
"Good, because I am not finished with you," she said, laying a finger on his mouth, silencing him.
