Captain, My Captain

Captain, My Captain

The captain’s gone. He’s our central point, the one we all cling to. The collective sanity.

Torchwood without Captain Jack, the thought’s laughable.

Who the hell’s going to lead us? The ex cop terrified of failing,  the geek who can’t be alone more than  24 hours, Tea boy still shaking with PTSD he’s trying to hide as OCD or me the doctor who tries to drink himself to death whenever things go wrong

I’m voting for the tea boy; organised, good at falling apart invisibly and good at cleaning. At least with him we’ll leave the Hub clean for the replacements.


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