Captain Jack Harkness

He's 19 years old and sitting in a booth in a bar in Boeshane. It's not the place it used to be. Not the place he remembers from his childhood; the place where he'd hide in the sand dunes and play games with his father and brother. A lot has changed since then. Since the creatures came. He has had to grow up too soon.

He's been to war. By the age of seventeen he'd seen his friends killed in front of him. It was never what he expected his life would be. He always thought maybe he'd work in the clockwork factory with his dad, or if he was lucky he'd get to fly a ship. If he was really lucky. But he gave up on luck a long time ago.

And now, here he is, home again. But it doesn't feel like home any more, and he isn't sure what's left here for him.

He sits in the bar with a glass in his hand, and he looks into it and at the residue of dried wine on the rim as though the stains might tell him something. As though they might be able to guide him and tell him which path he should take.

( He's been offered jobs since he got back. So many were pleased to see him return. The boy that left had become a man and he thinks he ought to be proud of that. )

Muse: Captain Jack Harkness
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Word count: 1671