m_findlow

Title: Desperate times
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 450 words
Content notes: Written for Challenge 17 - Proof at beattheblackdog
Summary: In his hour of greatest need, someone will be there for him.

Forethought was a wonderful thing, he thought ruefully, as another sharp pain lanced through the top of his skull. Had he gotten around to it earlier, he wouldn't be in the situation he found himself in now. He'd left it too late, and now he'd pay the price.

Jack applied as much strength as he could muster but still it didn't budge. Please, sweet gods, just this once, he prayed for a bit of luck. His head was pounding brutally, and the force of what he was trying to do was making things worse. His vision began to swim wildly and there were tiny pricks of light dancing across his face.

He was desperate now, gripping the object tighter with one hand and twisting with all his might with the other. He had to get it open at any cost. He could feel the beads of sweat forming on his brow as he tried to direct his concentration into the task, and not think about how painfully his head was throbbing. He wasn't sure what would happen if he failed, but it felt like life or death.

It twisted uselessly in his hand, spinning but never conceding an inch. Twisting and twisting and twisting, exhausted by his efforts, he could feel himself beginning to slip away. His hand grew loose around the cap and lost its grip entirely as he felt himself collapse onto the surface in front of him, no longer with enough energy to go on.

He heard footsteps just as his eyes were closing, having conceded defeat. Someone was coming to his rescue.

'Come on. You're not dead yet,' came the voice.

Jack cracked an eyelid open with effort. An angel, he thought, seeing the vision standing before him. He hadn't really ever believed they existed, but here was the proof, standing right there in front of him.

'Honestly, if I thought you'd have this much trouble, I'd have done it myself in the first place.'

Jack let himself relax, slumping forward, knowing that he could let this angelic being take over. His short-lived peaceful repose was broken by a sharp cracking sound, forcing both his eyes open.

'Here, takes these,' the angel said, holding out two white objects in its ethereal palm, followed by a glass of water. Jack took them gratefully, making the effort to sit up and swallow them, before resting his head back in his arms once more, eyes drifting closed as he could feel the pain in his head receding already.

The angel ran a hand through his hair in a soothing motion.

'Battled against daleks in the year 200,100 but can't get the childproof cap off a bottle of painkillers.'