Newlywed

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There was no husband on this Earth quite like Jack Harkness. We led a simple life except for my husband’s work. I lost count of the number of times he returned home to me after he had died on a mission. He would climb into bed and his body would be unnaturally cold for hours later. His recovery time depended on the severity of the experience, sometimes he would tell me how he was killed, other times he just wanted to forget. The only time I believe he found peace was when we were lying in bed and talking into the small hours. Jack told me about fantastical worlds, his family and how he had lost his brother. We would lie there listening to the tide and gazing at the stars, Jack named every constellation. During that time the nightmares and dreams of grief began to fade for me.

 I believe there was no husband who cared for their wife and attended to their comfort and pleasure as mine. For my part, the awkwardness and initial pain of intimacy on our wedding night was soon forgotten as Jack taught me how to love. This was a man who had a past full of lovers, more than I would ever know, yet Jack seemed to relive the new and wonderful experience through his virgin bride. How I still smile to myself when I remember those early years, I could see it in my face, delirious with bliss and my eyes shining with life. I wondered if our neighbours could see how happy we were, the seemingly ordinary newlyweds. I gave everything to my husband in those moments of intimacy, my senses completely lost to the thrill, on a wave of building passion about to fall from the edge at any moment. Over time and with plenty of practice we understood each other’s needs implicitly. The undulating rhythm of our bodies and our timing together which made us one. I had no notion before that such a wonderful world as this existed, how many others visited this tantalizing land of pleasure? I remember thinking it would surely not be long before I was with child but that’s how our fragile world began to unravel. That fundamental need to have a child would signal the end of our happiness.

The Wife of Captain Jack HarknessWhere stories live. Discover now