A little something I worte five minutes ago after rewatching the first ten episodes of torchwood.
Disclaimer: Anything recognised from Torchwood or Buffy the Vampire Slayer is not mine
They didn’t make each other happy. They had never made each other happy, but it was ok because whatever this thing was between them, it wasn’t about happiness, it was just about being alive, it was about trying to feel with every hard thrust and bruising kiss. It was about two people so alike taking comfort in the other’s existence.
They had only really talked once, that first night they met. It was like they knew the minute they looked into each others eyes, they looked and saw themselves staring back. They talked for hours, stories of Time Agents and Vampire Slayers. That one night they opened up to each other in way they had never done to anyone else before.
When Buffy was told that there was a position in Cardiff, keeping track of the demons that were attracted by the rift she jumped at the chance, fighting the constant suggestions that she take a couple more slayers with her for back up. Eventually the new Watchers Council relented and she packed off and left alone.
And so they always seemed to be together. Two people trapped in time, never ageing, never dying. “Do you think we’ll still be like this when the world finally ends?” she asks once, lying in the bed beside him. Their limbs still entwined, the sweat still slick on their skin.
“Never been to the end of the world” he replies with a slight smile. “Always mean to though, I hear it’s a blast”
She laughs, but it’s hollow, and he wonders what sounded like before all this. Before she died and was dragged back only to be stuck here forever. He thinks her laugh would have been loud and full and infectious, and he wonders if she’ll ever laugh like that again, or maybe he can go back to hear that laugh. But he knows he never will.
He’s gone when she wakes up. He’s always gone when she wakes up. Back to his work and his team. He hunts aliens during the day and she hunts demons during the night, sometimes one world bleeds into the other but they make time, almost everyday now they find themselves together in the predawn hours.
Sometimes she looks into his eyes and sees something which isn’t in her own, the faintest shielded glimmer of hope. He mentioned it once, his certain kind of doctor, a man who’s not even a man, a man who travels through space and time and leaves beauty and destruction in his wake. Jack thinks this Doctor can fix him, and even while she hopes for his sake that one day he will, she hates him for it. Because she has no hope.
Yet she’s pleased when one day he doesn’t come to her. The next and the next and weeks go by and he’s nowhere to be seen and she hates him for it but she prays that he gets his release, that he found his doctor and his doctor set him free.
Until the day he comes back. He comes one night, in those pre-dawn hours that’s their time and he kisses her until her lips hurt, and its all harder and rougher than ever before, but she lets him do what he likes, because she’s strong and he needs it right now. Because as she stares into his eyes as he moves above her she sees that that hope is gone now. She no longer hates him, but her heart breaks for him. They lie together afterwards, their limbs still entwined, the sweat still slick on their skin and she thinks they will still be like this when the world ends, they’ll watch every world end in flames.
“I’m so tired” he says pulling her closer, and she knows he’s talking about so much more than just needing sleep.
“Me too” she whispers quietly.
And so they lie there, two people trapped in time, never ageing, never dying and never living.
Just to clarify Buffy is immortal as a result of Willow's ressurection spell (that is also the premise of my firefly series of fics and I may well use it again, I like the idea)