donutsweeper (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
donutsweeper) wrote2007-07-21 11:13 pm
donutsweeper) wrote2007-07-21 11:13 pm
The Laugh of a Dead Man
Title: The Laugh of a Dead Man
Pairings/Rating/Warning: None, rated G
Summary: What would you do if you saw a man you knew was dead?
Word Count: 473
Author's Notes: In a way this is a follow up to the story The Incident At Ellis Island but only vaguely
Pairings/Rating/Warning: None, rated G
Summary: What would you do if you saw a man you knew was dead?
Word Count: 473
Author's Notes: In a way this is a follow up to the story The Incident At Ellis Island but only vaguely
Common sense told her it couldn't be him. The man she knew had died. He had been shot through the heart and died in her arms and you couldn’t get much more dead than that. But there he was. Walking around. Walking and talking. Walking and talking and laughing. It was the laugh that made her so sure it really was him. He had the most infectious laugh, you couldn’t help but joining in. That’s how she had met him, drawn in by that laugh. She’d only known him for six days, just as long as it took to cross the Atlantic, but he managed to worm his way into her family and into her heart. And then he’d been killed, trying to help her. It’d been three months since that fateful day but the sound of him gasping his last breath still haunted her. He was dead. She knew he was dead. But there he was, strolling across Fifth Avenue. How could that be possible? It couldn’t be, it wasn’t him, it was just a man that looked like him. And talked like him. And laughed like him. But there was no way the man up ahead was Jack Harkness.
She wanted to run up and grab him, to spin him around and get a good look at his face. Then she could look in his eyes and know for certain. Either she would see that ever present twinkle paired with that rakish smile, or she wouldn’t. Either it was him, or it wasn’t. She increased her pace trying to catch up with him, but then he turned onto 33rd Avenue and disappeared into the crowds and the moment, her chance, slipped away.
She should have called his name. But she hadn’t. One did not call out to strangers on the street, it was unseemly. Of course, if it had been Jack it wouldn’t have been a stranger, but since it wasn’t, and it couldn’t have been, she’d been right not to embarrass herself. Since she knew Jack was dead and that man just held an uncanny resemblance, she’d been right not to shout his name, but she still wished she had, if only to prove to herself that he wouldn’t have instinctively turned when he heard it.
She knew she was being ridiculous. She had seen him die. Jack was dead. No matter how much she wished for it to not be true it was. That wonderfully kind man, who had been so full of life, so energetic, so amicable, was dead. She had been mistaken, it was simply impossible and it was foolish to think otherwise.
Foolishness or not, she found herself returning to that corner over and over again, hoping for a glimpse of that familiar looking man, for a second chance to prove that sometimes, wishes came true.
She wanted to run up and grab him, to spin him around and get a good look at his face. Then she could look in his eyes and know for certain. Either she would see that ever present twinkle paired with that rakish smile, or she wouldn’t. Either it was him, or it wasn’t. She increased her pace trying to catch up with him, but then he turned onto 33rd Avenue and disappeared into the crowds and the moment, her chance, slipped away.
She should have called his name. But she hadn’t. One did not call out to strangers on the street, it was unseemly. Of course, if it had been Jack it wouldn’t have been a stranger, but since it wasn’t, and it couldn’t have been, she’d been right not to embarrass herself. Since she knew Jack was dead and that man just held an uncanny resemblance, she’d been right not to shout his name, but she still wished she had, if only to prove to herself that he wouldn’t have instinctively turned when he heard it.
She knew she was being ridiculous. She had seen him die. Jack was dead. No matter how much she wished for it to not be true it was. That wonderfully kind man, who had been so full of life, so energetic, so amicable, was dead. She had been mistaken, it was simply impossible and it was foolish to think otherwise.
Foolishness or not, she found herself returning to that corner over and over again, hoping for a glimpse of that familiar looking man, for a second chance to prove that sometimes, wishes came true.