/WHO:/ Jack Harkness, open to all /WHAT:/ Having a good too many drinks, conversing /WHEN:/ March 22, late at night /WHERE:/ Casino -- the bar area /RATING:/ PG-13 /STATUS:/ Complete
---------------------------------------
The drinks, he had to admit. Were fantastic.
How long had he been there....? How long had time passed him since he'd wound up back on earth of all places to stumble incoherently among wreckage piled across the horizon? Finding the skies to be grey and ground torn apart only to then be gathered up by men he didn't recognize sending off those witty humored words all while being roughed up like an over sized doll? He had no idea. No idea at all. Sitting against this bar in god knows where at god knows when. The world around him a blur of sounds and static and colors. Mixing together into a wonderfully pleasant buzz at the forefront of the man's conscious. Giving away to his own charm and good natured laughs, the talks through and between strangers and the hitting on any random passer-byer that seemed up for the ride and a good chat.
Through it all deep against the fog buried underneath bitterly disappointed and bitterly, aching against depression. Hiding as only Jack Harkness could in whatever way presented to him. After all he could no longer run by foot, by transport and by the good charms of his personality. He only had one way left to run and by all of hell he'd take what he could. There was no Doctor as it always was to save him and the rest of the world--an even more bitter sentiment to go grinding into his brain even now. No Torchwood to save the world, no nothing. Was it really all that shocking it had finally ended? Really all that shocking that after everything, every single thing he'd given, everything left it would fall not just a year or so later...?
It wasn't to him.
And the bitter irony mixed in the stench of alcohol and the pleasant realization it was no longer up to him at all. Tickling guilt at the back of his mind where it always was and hopefully, he could really only pray, it would stay. Good and taught like a dog. Even though loathe he admit when at times the guilt got too much, too far and with a yell or a scream or a childish tantrum he would find himself shooting a gun straight to his head. Pow. Just like that, a flash and pain and nothing---and with a dread, a horrible sick feeling of acceptance dragged once again back to life.
It usually ended in these sorts of days...the ones where god help him he thought to much. Lingered too far on these damned thoughts and--damn was that drink strong.
The burning taste of liquor against his throat amidst a choked laugh. The man shaking his head to peer over against the lady--was it a lady? Whom he had been talking. Grinning his cheeky, disarming sort of smile and half-listening, half just sitting, existing. The two playing some sort of betting game on what he couldn't remember but she didn't seem to mind. It had been ages since he'd gotten this drunk. And even still Jack had that affect on people when he wanted to. That much hard to go missing, hard to fall away from. Finding his voice to still be full of life and energy, managing to keep his sentences straight while complimenting something on her dress, her eyes--what he couldn't really figure out but then again blessedly there wasn't much left in his mind that didn't mesh and blur against the world spinning in lights and colors all around.
"Would you like a drink? They have wonderful little margaritas, got to say earth is always good for that." His tone of voice holding that same rambunctious tone, never finding it at all striking or revealing to just how easy he could fall in behind that same old mask. Same old facade he'd use again and again. Where as once upon a time that hadn't even been a mask at all--it had just been him, simply Jack Harkness before all of this time had passed by him one life following the next. Often hard for him to pull away from it all, ever really reveal who he was. Well, when someone tried on repeat for so long to shut themselves off from the world and from people with really only one goal in mind it was hard to even think to reverse that. Finding that to be true in all situations, even in the harder ones. Moments like Ianto or his team, but especially Ianto. A deep aching wound that no matter where he ran never seemed to heal. Seemed to fade from him. Gave him any solace, whether awake or asleep he could always see him. Just before death begging him never to forget and his own voice ringing empty and terrified inside his own brain.
"Don't leave me, please, don't leave Ianto---"
It had been his fault. Here or there, that would always remain against his mind. Something unforgettable and Ianto someone utterly irreplaceable. No longer, never again was he going to have a relationship--a decided fact he'd given into not months after his death. From now on vowing that single deep burned prayer in which one-night stands were the farthest he could go. It seemed to work great too, magnificent. One day to the next--just how long had it even been since he'd first left earth? Over a year. Maybe. Maybe longer. And now here, drowning the rest of the noise with the wonderfully thick liquid meshed together with a burning taste and a sly grin.
This charm and his ability to quickly gain friendships and bonds, his old scam-artist talents coming to forefront, it always gave him the amazing talent for getting by, getting things done. Maybe why he'd been such a good leader, once upon a time. Maybe how he hadn't gone insane, who knew. All he knew now was that he was stuck, trapped here now. Barely visiting his new room at all and trying his best to see how far he could get before the alcohol ended up killing him just to revive completely sober the next morning.
A very useless, but ultimately necessary cycle he'd justify to himself throughout it all. He felt it was just heaven's luck that the Doctor really wasn't here or Jack might just have to give him a piece of his own mind. Laughing at a joke given by someone, god he didn't even know, and giving to the drink passed to him by a motion from the bar tender just beyond the counter top.