TW-DW Ficlet: To Be Ordinary
Nov. 6th, 2025 05:27 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badly_knittedTitle: To Be Ordinary
Author:
badly_knittedCharacters: Jack, Ninth Doctor, Rose, Tenth Doctor.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 825
Setting: Pre-series, up to the end of Season One.
Summary: All Jack want is to be cured of his immortality.
Written For: Weekend Challenge Page One (Take 3) at
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1_million_words.Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
Jack had never asked for this in the first place, and quite honestly, couldn’t understand why anyone would ever want to be immortal. Maybe some other kind of immortality, the kind that was more of an invulnerability, where he didn’t have to keep dying and resurrecting, healing from agonisingly painful injuries, wouldn’t be as bad, although he wouldn’t bet on that. It would still mean having to watch everyone around him age and die while he went on forever, probably unchanging, just as he did now, and that was even worse than the frequent deaths.
Most people only had to love, and potentially lose, a few times in their lives. They knew they’d most likely outlive their parents, that other relatives and loved ones might well pass away while they lived on, but Jack would lose everyone, every friend, every lover, every passing acquaintance, over and over, until the end of time. Jack would outlive any children he had, his daughter already looked his age, and in only thirty years or so, his grandson would look older than he did. Someday, he’d have to bury both of them, hopefully after they reached a ripe old age, while still looking young enough to be his grandchild’s grandson.
It wasn’t fair, and anyone who said he was lucky didn’t know what they were talking about. Immortality was the cruellest form of torture imaginable, because it would literally NEVER end. He was going to live until the end of time, maybe longer, and that was the last thing he wanted.
That was why he’d been willing to stay in Cardiff for over a century, waiting for the Doctor to cross his path again, because surely if there was anyone who could fix him, it would be the man he considered his most trusted friend, the man he’d been willing to sacrifice his life for.
Jack had hoped for more than merely the answer to how he’d come to be the way he was. He’d placed all his faith in the Time Lord, confidently expecting the Doctor to wave his sonic screwdriver and put him right again. But instead of the familiar figure in his leather jacket, there’d been a complete stranger in the TARDIS, a skinny man in a pinstriped suit and long coat. Worse, this new Doctor had not only been unable to fix him, he’d been dismissive, disgusted by Jack being ‘wrong’, barely able to look at him…
Learning WHY he was immortal now hadn’t made Jack feel any better either. It was an accident, an error Rose had made while wielding a power she couldn’t fully understand, never mind control. A simple mistake made because she hadn’t wanted him to die. Jack couldn’t hate her for that; she’d meant well, had only been trying to save his life, but he hated what she’d turned him into, hated even more that there was no way to undo what she’d done.
What he wanted more than anything else now was a miracle, the kind of miracle that would take away his immortality, the ability to survive being killed, even the fast healing. He wanted to go back to what he’d been before, an ordinary, completely mortal human being, a man who had a finite number of years to live, a man who could fall in love and spend the rest of his life with one person, perhaps get married, raise a family, and grow old together.
It was such a simple desire, the kind of thing everyone else seemed to take for granted, but for him it was out of reach, a distant dream that would never come true no matter how much he longed for it, or how hard ne wished. There was no cure for immortality, not that he’d ever heard of. People were more interested in achieving immortality than in undoing it. They were fools who simply didn’t understand the reality of living forever. They thought it would be a wonderful adventure, or a way to gain power over and above what anyone else could claim. If they only knew what he knew, how lonely and isolating it could be. Maybe then they wouldn’t be so eager.
He’d endured over a century of living, and dying, only to live again. He’d seen so many people he cared about grow old and die, or have their lives cut unfairly short because of the work they did. If he could have given them some of his life, so they could have lived their fourscore and ten years, then he would have, in a heartbeat, but he didn’t know how. They’d had less life than they’d deserved while he had more than he’d ever wanted. Fate could be cruel.
All Jack could do was hope that, in the absence of a miracle that would restore his mortality, someday he’d find a way to shorten his never-ending lifespan, so that he might someday know the peace of death.
The End
Most people only had to love, and potentially lose, a few times in their lives. They knew they’d most likely outlive their parents, that other relatives and loved ones might well pass away while they lived on, but Jack would lose everyone, every friend, every lover, every passing acquaintance, over and over, until the end of time. Jack would outlive any children he had, his daughter already looked his age, and in only thirty years or so, his grandson would look older than he did. Someday, he’d have to bury both of them, hopefully after they reached a ripe old age, while still looking young enough to be his grandchild’s grandson.
It wasn’t fair, and anyone who said he was lucky didn’t know what they were talking about. Immortality was the cruellest form of torture imaginable, because it would literally NEVER end. He was going to live until the end of time, maybe longer, and that was the last thing he wanted.
That was why he’d been willing to stay in Cardiff for over a century, waiting for the Doctor to cross his path again, because surely if there was anyone who could fix him, it would be the man he considered his most trusted friend, the man he’d been willing to sacrifice his life for.
Jack had hoped for more than merely the answer to how he’d come to be the way he was. He’d placed all his faith in the Time Lord, confidently expecting the Doctor to wave his sonic screwdriver and put him right again. But instead of the familiar figure in his leather jacket, there’d been a complete stranger in the TARDIS, a skinny man in a pinstriped suit and long coat. Worse, this new Doctor had not only been unable to fix him, he’d been dismissive, disgusted by Jack being ‘wrong’, barely able to look at him…
Learning WHY he was immortal now hadn’t made Jack feel any better either. It was an accident, an error Rose had made while wielding a power she couldn’t fully understand, never mind control. A simple mistake made because she hadn’t wanted him to die. Jack couldn’t hate her for that; she’d meant well, had only been trying to save his life, but he hated what she’d turned him into, hated even more that there was no way to undo what she’d done.
What he wanted more than anything else now was a miracle, the kind of miracle that would take away his immortality, the ability to survive being killed, even the fast healing. He wanted to go back to what he’d been before, an ordinary, completely mortal human being, a man who had a finite number of years to live, a man who could fall in love and spend the rest of his life with one person, perhaps get married, raise a family, and grow old together.
It was such a simple desire, the kind of thing everyone else seemed to take for granted, but for him it was out of reach, a distant dream that would never come true no matter how much he longed for it, or how hard ne wished. There was no cure for immortality, not that he’d ever heard of. People were more interested in achieving immortality than in undoing it. They were fools who simply didn’t understand the reality of living forever. They thought it would be a wonderful adventure, or a way to gain power over and above what anyone else could claim. If they only knew what he knew, how lonely and isolating it could be. Maybe then they wouldn’t be so eager.
He’d endured over a century of living, and dying, only to live again. He’d seen so many people he cared about grow old and die, or have their lives cut unfairly short because of the work they did. If he could have given them some of his life, so they could have lived their fourscore and ten years, then he would have, in a heartbeat, but he didn’t know how. They’d had less life than they’d deserved while he had more than he’d ever wanted. Fate could be cruel.
All Jack could do was hope that, in the absence of a miracle that would restore his mortality, someday he’d find a way to shorten his never-ending lifespan, so that he might someday know the peace of death.
The End
(no subject)
Date: 2025-11-08 12:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2025-11-08 12:27 am (UTC)Thank you!