Feb. 23rd, 2008

onlysayinghello: ([dead] text - boy with the thorn)
How the hell he managed this he has no clue, but his insistence that he be let out immediately has done nothing but illicit laughter from the guards. His forehead presses to the bars for a moment, the cool steel no doubt leaving pale marks in their wake and in a few moments he lifts his head to set it back against them with a resounding thunk of a noise. Which of course hurts. Yet he repeats it just to make sure he's not dreaming, because anywhere else giving his authorization code would've worked.

Just this time it didn't. This time it's odd and he's pretty sure it's some horrible trick. Or Owen's finally bribed the right person, or the wrong person and he's running Torchwood to get girls and free booze at the bar.

"Don't I get a call?" Jack calls out down the empty corridor his voice nearly echoing back at himself. "I should get a call!" He's trying again because he thought he saw a shadow near the door.

"Yeah?" states a rather rotund guard that Jack just has the itch to comment about but declines just to make sure that he's going to get at least the benefit of the doubt. "Jus' who d'think you'd call them yeah? Got your fancy authorization code for a lawyer too? Maybe you'd call up the Queen even. Phone call, please this isn't the damn United States of Free Whatever and Hot Dogs."

Jack exhales, rather loudly, and thunks his head on the bars again causing the guard to stop in his tracks. Twisting around which Jack can tell is putting a strain on the man's belt he calls out to Jack, "Oi! Stop that, you'll 'urt yourself an' I'm not callin' anyone in for you!"

There is this flicker of something in his eyes for a moment as Jack picks his head up and sails it into the metal bars even harder this time. He's seeing stars and little pops of white light as well now, and the guard is trying to see just how mad this guy is. But Jack repeats it again and he can feel the warmth of blood that has streaked from the new gash on his forehead. He knows it'll close up so he continues to bludgeon himself on the bars until he can feel the slight weakness in his knees and the dizzy of the room. His hands tighten around the cold steel now warm with his blood streaking down the sides, trying to keep his knees from failing him but it's too late.

He's down for the count and he can barely hear the muted shouting of the rotund guard, "Oi! Someone call a Doctor!!"

Jack mid-thought and nearly passing out just grins, "Call The Doctor..."
onlysayinghello: ([tw] suspenders against wall downward cl)
How do you win a war?

He's been through so many, and the worst ones he's faced are ones over his own inadequacies. His own failures and faults, because it's a battle in his heart all the time. It's a struggle over what is right, and what is clearly wrong and when he makes that choice... it's never the easy one. It's never one of left or right, it's of who will live and who has to die. He knows deep down that is how wars are won. That to win the battle you have to take that hill, and you have to put the gun to the forehead of that one person in the way and pull that trigger without remorse. It has to be your choice through and through because when the gunfire sails your direction you can't have regret on the tip of your tongue.

The deeds he's done in the past are stacking up onto him as well. All the ones he's killed, their names are stitched onto his heart. All the eyes he's looked into a moment before they go dead are forever emblazoned onto his mind. They're with him. All the time. Never fading like the wounds that he gets that always heal, this is always different. It will always be different, because he'll never forget.

A hundred years and he'll always remember. That is how wars are won. You never forget, never surrender, never give in...

He hasn't forgotten, but he knows he's losing the war. He's lost so much. His men. His time. His memories hold a gap in them so wide he can feel the void in them. As near and dear to him as the chill of death as he crawls his way back into the light. This is how the battle is winning... because everytime he gets pulled into that black, into the cold of the darkness he knows he's just going to climb back out and he's going to have to face it all over again.

He'll never die. He'll never be allowed to give in.

This is how the war will win him in the end.

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onlysayinghello

August 2010

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