Jack Harkness stares, rubbing his eyes open after that short blink he took just a second ago; was he still standing at her desk?
White liquid is all around, as though someone has let loose a pile of bouncing moonlight ribbons in an old attic room.
Long fingers click into place beside an alien countenance that once was yellow, angles like sunbeams that spill to a point on bottom and top, once, those lines formed the crystal face of the desk girl, Laneet.
Now the sun is gone, everything is black, and starshine, and Jack Harkness is staring at the hands of a man he has slept with.
Wondering why he ever could have done such a thing as lie with this… person.
“I’m going to bring you in, Benjamin.” Jack says softly to the rounded belly and the camel coat and the striped shirt like moonbeams against gaol bars, the free hand scruffed in alien hair like a star-blotted handkerchief dropped in a park.