Written For: Challenge 591: Refuge at tw100.
Summary: Sometimes rooftops are the only places Jack feels he can breathe.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters.
A/N: Double drabble.
Rooftops are Jack’s refuge, the place he retreats to when everything is getting too much for him. He needs them more than ever now, after being buried alive for almost two thousand years and frozen in a narrow drawer for a century. Up here, above the city, he can breathe freely, whereas down in the Hub he often feels like he’s suffocating.
Claustrophobia isn’t fun, but Jack’s lived long enough to know that in time his fear of being enclosed will pass; this isn’t the first time he’s been afflicted and it probably won’t be the last. Still, while he’s in its grip it hampers his ability to do his job. He can’t afford to panic or freeze up when he needs to track a Weevil in the sewers, or go down to the cells or the archives.
Being able to escape the Hub’s confines whenever he wants to is helping; so is spending most nights at Ianto’s flat, where he can look out the windows and know he’s not trapped, that he can leave any time he wants.
His team think he’s fine. They’ve got their own troubles, he doesn’t want to burden them; he’ll deal with this alone.