Chapter Six, Part One: Radio SnowMature

Jack Harkness falls through the dark. 

It is dark, because he can’t see. 

His eyes are open; his hand scrabbles out away from him. 

His body is dead weight in what feels… soft… he feels like a rasher of bacon, wrapped in the exquisite texture of scrambled eggs in a place that should have nothing like that at all. 

For he is on Gallifrey. 

 He remembers that much. 

When a hand reaches down, he flinches as the fingers touch; he cannot help it. They are squarish, but long. They are cold, like all of them here. 

The End

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