Ficlet_zone Challenge 2 - What doesn't kill you

[m_findlow]

Title: What doesn't kill you
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: none
Author notes: Written for Challenge 2 - M*A*S*H Episode Titles - Sometimes you hear the bullet at ficlet_zone
Summary: Jack has never been truly beaten by a gun.

Gunpowder has been around for hundreds of years. The Chinese first used it to produce their sparkling fireworks that light up the sky. Like most things of scientific wonder and beauty, someone then had to come along and figure out how to turn it into a weapon. They made canons and explosives to thwart their enemies. Then at some point gunpowder, and the secret of how to make it, travelled along the Silk Road and into Europe. The dark ages slowed the pace of weaponry. Who needed guns when the world's population was crumbling to nothing? A gun couldn't save you from the wrath of the gods, anymore than burning incense and praying could. Then the black death ended, populations slowly grew again and the need to defend oneself against invading forces became  a primary concern once more.

They say the first pistols were French, derived from the French word pistole but then, don't the French lay claim to being first in everything? What a marvel they must have been, those first musket ball guns and handheld pistols. The ability to kill one's enemy with a single shot. You needn't even be standing close to them. Not like with a sword, where getting close enough to skewer them could land you skewered yourself. I never did master the sword, though I did become very good at swallowing them. But that's another story.

The advent of the pistol was a fine thing, changing the rules of engagement. The Germans of course, being famous for their efficiency, found the single ball pistol lacking. They invented the first revolver, capable of holding multiple bullets. Of course, their ingenuity didn't go unnoticed and many more European nations began developing similar designs. Unfortunately like all things European, they were hideously expensive. It wasn't until an American by the name of Colt came along and changed everything. His original designs are still used today, though I still prefer the Webley Mk IV.

Guns were meant to be the solution to bloody warfare. A quick painless death for the enemy. One bullet to kill instantly. How wrong they were.

They say you don't hear the bullet that kills you. In the heat of a battle how can you? There's hundreds of them all around you. You hear them killing indiscriminately, friends, enemies, young men, older men, men caught in the cross fire, trying to save their fellows. There's no more clash of steel against steel, sword against helm. There's no chivalry in knowing the face of the man that strikes you down. Now all you have is that bullet, shot from a distance by a faceless man. You don't see him, but he sees you. He hears the gun fire, but you won't.

Death is not the worst part. It's the dying that's the worst. A bullet to the head or the heart will kill you in less time than it takes to realise you've been shot. Call it brutal if you will, but it's a mercy. A bullet anywhere else will leave you bleeding and in agony for minutes or even hours. I lay in a muddy hole in France for three and a half hours once. The bullet tore through my lower back, hit from behind and ripped open a hole in my stomach. Those good old .45 bullets really know how to tear a body apart good and proper. It was all I could do to put my hand over it and try to keep all my internal organs inside me. I didn't hear it, but I heard plenty as I lay there. Gunfire, mortars exploding, young boys crying out for their mothers. I didn't even scream for the medic. There was nothing he could do. Better that he spend his time trying to save someone else, and not to risk bringing him out here where there was no protection from more bullets. We lost more medics that campaign than any other company on the Western Front. They become sitting ducks for artillery fire and they know it, but they still go out there. Every last one of them should have been given the Victoria Cross.

How many time since then has it been? A hundred? A thousand. So many deaths, and so few of them quick and merciful. Just like now.

Remember what I said earlier? I was wrong. Sometimes you do hear the bullet. Perhaps I didn't so much hear it as sense it was coming. Just enough time to step in front of Ianto before I heard it, that awful sound that marks you for death.

Not straight through the heart, but near enough. You don't have to be a doctor  to know. After that first bullet in the heart on Ellis Island, I've become a bit of an expert. A nick to the side of a major artery is enough to bleed out quickly, but the heart will give up long before then. Some say it's the shock that stops the heart, and that it has nothing at all to do to with the blood loss or the damage caused. Maybe that's why it takes me so long to die. It's no longer a shock to me, being pierced by that tiny fragment of red hot metal. Every time is like being back in those mud filled battlefields, waiting for death to come for us all.

Perhaps just this once it will be quick and merciful, if not for me, then for the man who has to lean over me and watch it all unfold. Please be quick for his sake. Did he hear it, the way I did? Did he know that in that one split second, a choice was made as to which of us would have to say goodbye? What good is speed when so much is left unsaid? Just wish there was enough time left to say it was okay and that I'd be back. They haven't invented a gun yet that can kill me permanently.

Comments

[ukdramafan.livejournal.com]

I love Jack introspection, and there's not enough of it. This was great and so in character. Interesting thought that shock kills faster, and that for someone who dies over and over it's no longer a shock in the way mere mortals know it. Thank you for sharing.

[m-findlow.livejournal.com]

Thank you! I never think to write in the first person - it's so fraught with peril if you get it wrong - but I do like occasionally doing a narrative piece. In fact I wrote two Jack POV fics that week. He was in my head being very opinionated and talkative! :)

[bk_forever]

Oh, ow! Jack's memories really flashed through his mind after the bullet hit. I hope Ianto got the shooter so he can give Jack all his attention now and be beside him when he revives. Better Jack than Ianto I guess, but it still hurts them both so much.

[m-findlow.livejournal.com]

There'll be time for retribution later but right now all that matters is that they have each other for support.