If I wasn’t sorry, I’d say I wasn’t.
Kinda hard to lie when you can’t.
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me

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@captainofsarcasm-blog
If I wasn’t sorry, I’d say I wasn’t.
Kinda hard to lie when you can’t.
I’m sorry that this has happened to you.
And as for life not happening to you yet? Maybe you should experience it, then. No use in sulking.
And take that from the pot that’s calling the kettle black.
You’re not sorry, Jack - you’re just glad to get me out from under you. Not that I’m a power bottom or anything. Shit. Fine. It’s cool. Have fun trying to avoid me - cause this place is small.
You really haven’t changed, have you?
That’s what we did, John. Look, I still care for you, and yes, I do still harbour love for you, but… I have lived and died a hundred times since I’ve last seen you.
Things happen and people change, it’s life.
And I’m truly sorry for the pain you’re probably feeling.
So you can hit me all you like, but that won’t reverse anything.
Well I literally came from seeing you. From telling you that I loved you. That is where I came from. So excuse me for not changing. Excuse me for not realizing how long it’s been for you.
I’m still internally trying to get over and figure out how to make amends for what I did to you. With your brother, with your team. I haven’t have time to live life and figure it out and change. Life may have happened to you, Jack Harkness, but it hasn’t happened enough for me yet.
You really shouldn’t be surprised, I’ve been telling and giving you hints ever since you’ve arrived.
Though now I see I probably should have been more blunt instead of trying to spare your feelings.
Yeah but we’ve always played hard to get with each other - that’s just....the game. That’s what we do. I was playing along.
I really want to sock you in that gorgeous jaw of yours.
JACK.
What?
I’ll show and tell with you too, all you’d have to do is ask. Since we both know that I’d literally do anything for you and it’s painfully obvious that I’ve fallen in love with you and-
….
we probably shouldn’t be talking.
Except that I don’t particularly like not talking to you.
This is hard.
You humans and your ridiculous obsession with the flesh. Can’t forget. Time Lord memory.
But very well. Keep your hands and your innuendos to yourself and we can go blow up something. I’d vote the grocery store, but the Doctor will cry and be useless if we did that.
Say the word, boss. I’d say this world is a bit too small, so let’s take out the forests, yeah? So what lies beyond those lands that nobody seems to be able to pass through. Brush fire? OH oh ho ho what about those mines? They’ve collapsed I hear, but who knows what’s lying in all of that rubble?
Because apparently otherwise everyone thinks I’m trying to hit on them when they see me in person. Ah hell, who am I kidding? They probably think I’m trying to hit on them right now. Fucking hell. I’m honestly trying to get people to relax. Does anyone honestly know me? No?
Well, this is a change. Fascinating. What would you like us to know about the real you? Or perhaps it would be more interesting to know what you wouldn’t like us to know?
I’m not an idiot, Doctor. Though nice try. Actually rubbish try - dammit truth field. You think everyone’s an idiot though, don’t you? I suppose you couldn’t resist the temptation. I’m not touching that subject, and you can try all you like.
You were a war prisoner, tortured quite badly for some time. I'd like to say at least a year, but it was some number of years ago because you've clearly worked to bury the PTSD.
You…can’t….prove any of that. ….and you’re a bloody wanker, you know that?
Have I hit a sore spot? Or did I offend Harkness? I don’t see how - is that a human thing?
Don’t think I haven’t thought of that. You very well might. Don’t think I’m not well defended.
As for what’s stopping you from ‘offing [us] fuckers’ (pictured in a right good Chav voice) is the fact that you would be far too bored without us. Honestly, what would you do? It’s hell to the nth degree. Emotional responses, anger, playthings, they keep you entertained. Honestly, one could argue that’s what life is about. If one needs to decide on a meaning of life to feel like life is worth living.
And the same happens on your end. What are you if you don’t have your audience to oooh and ahhh at your inane ramblings? Tell me, Sherlock bloody Holmes - why am I suddenly so interesting to you? I wasn’t interesting when I first arrived, or you would have been verbally poking and prodding me the entire time. And well defended? Against a veteran? You’re hilarious. I’ve got nothing to lose. The most fun will be making you wonder when it’s finally going to be the end of you.
You were a war prisoner, tortured quite badly for some time. I'd like to say at least a year, but it was some number of years ago because you've clearly worked to bury the PTSD.
You…can’t….prove any of that. ….and you’re a bloody wanker, you know that?
Oh, you seem to assume that I need to spend time on somebody to figure them out. I don’t. You were very easy to figure out. I needed ten seconds, maybe a half minute if I’m being generous.
What signs? It’s in the over-confidence, the way you demand sexual attention. You like sexual attention, it gives you the power to accept or deny as you choose, not that you deny very often because the real fun for you is in the event. But why didn’t I go to child abuse or something similar? Hypersexuality is sometimes a symptom of abuse as a child, isn’t it? Because of your control problem. You avoid rules, they’re a hindrance to you. I can relate! But in your case, you reject rules because following the rules was what hurt you in the first place. I can tell because you do such a steadfast job of pretending the rules of societal convention are just silly but you break them to such a large degree that you’re really trying to make a point. A point that the rules are in place for no real reason at all. So what if someone gets hurt in the process? You’re proving your point!
Still doesn’t explain the war prisoner part, though, does it? Well, the obvious answer will be in the way your shoulders hold, the remnants of a soldier’s stance that have been readily ignored and forgotten. The way your eyes scan a new environment for potential dangers (and the way your shoulders slighty untense in relief at the sight of nothing dangerous reveals the fact that you were expecting something to harm.) You seem to treat Harkness with the respect of a general but with the familiarity of something else. Am I getting close?
Dangerously so.
You keep Jack out this, you hear me?
And if I am what you think I am, what’s to keep me from taking you out while you sleep? Since I have no rules, don’t think I’m going to let you get a chance to defend yourself. Maybe I’m just good with my surroundings? Maybe I don’t like you fuckers. What’s keeping me from offing every single one of you just for the sake of my own entertainment? Every single person who has ever denied me, talked ill of me - what is keeping me from just doing what I want with them, huh?
You were a war prisoner, tortured quite badly for some time. I'd like to say at least a year, but it was some number of years ago because you've clearly worked to bury the PTSD.
You…can’t….prove any of that. ….and you’re a bloody wanker, you know that?
Noooo, I can’t prove any of it. But I can see the signs very clearly. We’re under a truth spell and you clearly didn’t deny any of what I said, meaning that you can’t. The burden of proof is no longer on me, you see.
I’ve been called that several times before. Perhaps not in the literal sense – if you’re a bloody wanker it appears you’re probably doing it wrong – but I don’t object to being called that in the metaphorical sense. After all, who cares?
and what? So you’ve been silently watching me from the shadows since I got here? That makes you a creepy bloody wanker. Though...if you like what you see...
Signs? What signs?! You’re just making things up now to get attention! I bet you were a youngest child - or perhaps one of those “didn’t get hugged enough to feel good about himself.” So you pretend it doesn’t matter that people dislike you, even though you still put on shows to catch their eyes.
Or maybe you’re just an egotistical bastard.
You were a war prisoner, tortured quite badly for some time. I'd like to say at least a year, but it was some number of years ago because you've clearly worked to bury the PTSD.
You…can’t….prove any of that. ….and you’re a bloody wanker, you know that?
Target Practice|| Sam+ Hart
A small smile crept across Sam’s face at Heart’s comment about his height. He found himself relaxing slightly. The hunter realized he had nothing against Hart. He knew the man wasn’t a saint by any means. He could tell by simply reading Hart’s posts to the dash. While under a truth spell, he’d know if the man had anything to hide. “Trust me it has it’s advantages.”
The youngest Winchester walked backwards to give himself distance from the target. He pulled out his pistol, hitting the target dead in it’s center. The sound of a gunshot didn’t bother Sam. He had simply gotten used to it. His lips curled into a small grin. “Yeah, nice to meet you John. Gambling and stolen credit cards was how my brother and I got by. You might not get much as far as hustling me goes. Not that you’d need to in this place.”
Hart casually kept his eye on the taller man as he pulled his own pistol and hit the target dead on as if he were doing something as natural as breathing. Even the next words out of Sam’s mouth had the Rogue Time Agent grinning. “You and your brother got by with stolen credit cards and you both can shoot like that? Bloody hell I’ve been looking for friends in all of the wrong places.” John didn’t bother shooting either of his girls right this moment, and instead picked up the cloth bag that he had brought with him. Across the clearing was a rather large boulder, and Hart made his way over before letting the bag down with a clang. Inside were empty beer cans, which the man set up in a neat array across the boulder - all at different heights and with differing degrees of difficulty. When he was finished, he gave Sam a thumb’s up, reached down into the bag and pulled out two full cans of beer, tossing one to the man as he made his way back towards them. “I used to do this on boring afternoons when I was stranded on the 3rd moon of Carznak. Don’t quite remember how I ended up with a bunch of beer cans - I don’t think the place was even half as populated as this Pocket.” Cracking his own beer open, he downed about half of it before resurfacing. “Alright, now it’s time to relax.” Hart set down his beer carefully, as if it were his only son, and then turned back around, lining up one of his pistols and knocking a shot off. A single can went flying, and the Captain gave Same a huge grin while his ears were still ringing.
Nice to see that we’ve settled that.
I regret it because every time I bring up my sex life, you appear. And then you remind me of my brother, and my brother reminds me of Owen and Toshiko’s wrongful deaths… do you see where this is going?
Yeah, I’d almost wish you would have asked me something different.
Thanks for the offer, but I have someone else who’s been helping me.
There is a way around that you know - give me a chance. Is that just going to be it? I remind you of their deaths, and that will be the end of it? Give me a bloody chance to change that line of painful thinking.
And so what? You won’t even let me help you anymore? You’re so fucking stubborn. I told you what you mean to me, Jack - don’t think I take such things lightly.
Yes, I did. But I still regret a large part of it too.
And you aren’t the only one I’ve ever slept with, you know.
Besides, it’s either talk about how I once slept with five Slitheen members to get out of a death sentence, or how crippling unhappy I am and how much I’ve been suffering from nightmares.
The first topic is better for parties and general conversation, don’t you think?
I know, Jack. And you’re not the only one I’ve ever slept with. But why did you regret it?
And out of all of the things I could have taken advantage of to ask you - like how deeply unhappy you are and all of those things in our past that I’ve never gotten answers to or know would cause you so much pain, aren’t you glad I picked a question so harmless?
And I can help with the nightmares. All you have to do is ask.
I see a lot of people are still being affected by the truth field.
I wish I could say that I’m not, but I definitely still am. Poor Gwen and Owen, had to sit through me rattling off about my sex life and everything I’ve ever experimented with…
Rose too….
Sorry, Doc.
No, not really. But I felt it was nice to say.
…
Sorry.
Anyway, point is, if anyone has anything to ask me, now would be your best opportunity to do so.
You enjoyed our time together during that 2 week/5 year time loop, didn’t you?
Also, glad to know you talk about me to your friends.
We Both Reached For The Gun // Hartness
Jack gave Hart an exceedingly tired look, enough to hopefully make the man realise that he wasn’t talking about his own personal and moral code, but that he was talking about everyone not being able to lie.
However, it was almost as if Hart was halfway through his own argument that the other man developed the dawning realisation himself. “Are you done?” The Captain blinked once before heaving out a sigh and moving to enter the store, still damn sure on trying to finish his routine.
“I was-” he stopped and had to force himself to think things through before the words tumbled out and he had to regret speaking the truth. “I don’t like being around you, John. I really don’t.” It came out harsher than he intended and before he could truly stop himself, more started to come out. “Every time I look at you, I look at Owen, or Toshiko, I see that day over and over again.”
He stopped and listened to the rest of what Hart had to say, tightening his lips into a thin line as he waited with patience and attempted to calm himself down. “Yes, actually I do. Maybe Dean’s already there and he can make me an Irish Cream or something stronger.” Sighing, Jack ran a hand through his hair.
“I guess I’ll need to be honest with you more often, I owe you an explanation and I can’t keep avoiding everyone. I told Doc that I wanted to die, but I’m scared to. That’s the truth to it, I’m scared to die, but I welcome it all at the same time.”
The day hadn’t even begun and it seemed like he was ready to turn in and give up. “Let me just-” He slid past Hart and moved inside the grocer to grab a paper before heading back out and beginning to walk the short distance to the Pub. “I’ve gotta keep some parts of my ritual going.”
It was bloody honesty hour. As the two of them went back and forth, barely registering what was happening, Hart’s chest tightened. Every time Jack saw him, he saw Owen of Tosh. The ones who had died the few hours before Hart had showed up at this place, and while he wasn’t entirely sure that could say that he loved them as much as Jack did, it was certain that they were warming up to him. Owen was clever beyond words, and he knew it. Always snarky, and Hart could see the way he did it just for attention. He was the doctor - had always been the best at everything he did, and now wasn’t used to the not being able to share it with anyone else. So utterly lonely. Tosh - brilliant as always, and though she had a quiet demeanor, she always had a way of reaching out with her actions and her eyes. Equally as lonely, but never quite sure if she could reach for her fellow Torchwood members. Just before Hart had left. Gone. And now, the Captain was standing in front of him, years in the future from Hart’s last moments before the Pocket, going on about being afraid of dying. Jack Harkness - afraid of Death! That last thing in this universe that could every touch him. “Do you blame me for their deaths?” Jack had already started walking with his paper in his hand towards the Pub, but Hart followed close behind, not sure where any of this was going now. He had been incredibly sorry that the Captain had lost such beloved members of his team, and the entire encounter was still so very fresh in his mind. Yes, perhaps it was his fault.
Oh no they’re mighty keen on it, just when it’s not me they’re flirting with. And what about you, Sweetheart? I’ve seen your flavor of flirtatious banter, and I will say it’s mighty appealing. That was a compliment don’t go all mental on me.
Oh I know. I’m not actually the sort to be insulted by such an observation. Frankly it’s a trait I’m rather proud of. The brainy banter sexy flirty bit – not specifically the impress you bit, just to clarify.
… I’m also the sort who takes a compliment where she can get it, just saying.
Finally someone with a solid head on her shoulders. It’s something I do for fun, and I have a feeling it’s the same for you. Yes I’m horny, yes I have questionable values, but that doesn’t mean I’m out to get someone around every turn. When did I suddenly turn into the scary lurking vampire? Wow truth field, thanks.