Love and Paradox
Jack's past (future) catches up with him with him and has long lasting consequences for the team and the Doctor.
Beta: hab318princess (major hugs)!
Warnings: A touch of slash (in a loving way !), a hint of het-slash and one moment of extreme violence.
Notes: I have not read any of the Torchwood books and only learned, after writing this, that Bilis Manager's origins are explained. And as they are totally different from my theory, on which my (flimsy) plot relies on, you will have to pretend they were never written! (Please?)
Art by idontlikegravy (LJ | e-mail | comment)
Prologue: Remembering Veronica
He watched the universe; through glass.
Many came and paid him homage, he was a pilgrimage now, yet he never claimed to be a God. He loves and has loved so many and he remembers all their names, scents and wonderful moments of joy. And then their endings in death, betrayal and sorrow; but somehow how the details, their face, always fades...
'Lars, Veronica, John, and Dilta, Meredith, Estelle, and Ianto, Lilly, Garth, Marcus and Yolanda...'
A chant inside his head as he soothed his many children that 'popped' like fat, little, buds, off his flesh.
'Lars was the first and saddest...'
'Why Daddy?"
'Because he died so Daddy could live. John was fun but mad...Dilta frail and soft, Meredith defiant and bold, Estelle full of faith and peace and Ianto, ah Ianto perfect voice and my loyal soldier. Lilly funny and gappy toothed like her mother, Garth all raging male hormones and putty in my hands, Marcus quiet and unassuming, Yolanda sharp and brittle...'
The Face of Boe would sigh after reeling off many more names and potted portraits his fledglings sighing with him. He could self-propagate now and the love he had so craved was laid upon him nation by nation, species by species all across the Universe.
His babies now all long gone and none had made it past 40. He told 'his public' it was natural 'for his kind'. Which was of course was a lie. He was the only one, his children a trick of the vortex to ease the slow, slow, slow passage of time.
He had six carers, three male, three female; only two were human the others represented races from across the Universe. He insisted they worked for him for just three years and then move on; though always welcome to visit privately. He was always fond of them.
Ollie was celebrating his last day. There would be tears. Boe was close to being in love with Ollie; he was a very, quiet presence; which put him in mind of a certain Ianto Jones. His footfall silent and voice soft and lilting; though Ollie wouldn't know anything about Wales or being Welsh. He had never even been to Earth!
Ollie had eyes that were the darkest navy, olive skin, wavy gold hair, long athletic body... he glided in a flowing manner created by his life training in Zion. A methodology of movement and spiritual enlightenment, for which at last count there were five billion followers; in universal terms a minority religion. He smiled to himself. His mind wandered more and more, but it was so full of memories and lost loves...
As they became older his little ones noticed he missed one out of his 'chants': Veronica. He would smile with his mind, but the more sensitive of his little buds would know this was a forced smile. The he would tell them her story with a soft voice.
'That is because her story is much, much longer and never to be forgotten...she was my second love, in fact she was very much part of my third, John...then she, as I saw it then betrayed me, I was so, so young just in double figures! I was so naïve and hot headed; I ran from her and everything I knew but unknowingly towards the road to redemption, to the Doctor, to becoming this...we met again when I was with my seventh love Ianto Jones...as you know I remember his voice and the warmth he gave me in a very cold time...Veronica changed him, made him realise his potential, she did that with all of us, even with me!'
His small ones would huddle around his tentacles and he would hug them back and dreamily take them on a telepathic journey. To the scattered moments he remembered of how he rebuilt Torchwood Three, after yet another disaster and more deaths...How he recruited the saviour of a lost time, Martha and a soldier from parallel universe called Mickey. He made them chuckle with his fragments of ancient speak and gasp with tales of heroism. They envied the warm family that came to be formed through their dinner parties and couplings and sighed at the loneliness of the one called Mickey.
Then Boe would tell his young about the strange dreams Ianto had started having. And how he wished it was not the clearest memory of him. How he had thrashed about the bed, but once awake could not remember any real detail, just fear and darkness and death...
Ollie cried, just as Boe predicted, while others sang his ancient songs of hope he had culled from his childhood, youth and his forever life. Ollie would be replaced by another human male the next day and he knew he would love him just as much; the vortex always chose them well. They had their own destinies to fulfil and after their time with him they seemed to speed up and surge forward on to the right path to the histories, their destinies.
Boe was the vortex's creation and he knew now he had ceased to be human when Rose gazed into the heart of the TARDIS and could not let him die. It would never happen again and when he ended, as he knew he would, 'Boekind' would be no more. He would follow his otherselves of king and hero and saviour and con-man and lover, into legend.
Of his lovers, one face had remained clear. High cheek bones; green eyes the severe hairdos and the slightly cruel lips. Veronica, his trainer, lover, betrayer, counsellor, friend...
Friendship is so precious, as precious as love, in fact it was a kind of love in its own right. Boe preached this to all minds open enough to hear his voice. Boe had seen war after war, needless death after needless death. His own friends and lovers giving themselves for the greater good, whatever that was deemed to be.
The questions, always the questions; what are you? Who are you? What does it all mean? And he would smile as best he could and would give a riddle as an answer much like her and of course him...
"Doesn't it drive you mad, Doctor, knowing all this and not letting on, not even to those you love?"
"Love and paradox, Jack, it's what the universe is made of!"