Jack

Jack took a step back with each one that was pulled forward. He shook his head, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to deny each accusation. All of them were supposed to be alive. He’d just seen the Doctor not long before. The Doctor had shot him. He wanted so badly to just speak to him. That’s how he got himself out of trouble—he talked his way out of it. But now, he couldn’t utter a word.

His back hit something solid and cold, like frozen metal. There was nothing visually different, just more blackness behind him. He pressed back against it, slowly sinking down to the darkness that served as the floor for this place. His eyes welled up, not quite spilling onto his cheeks yet.

His faces was tense with torment, wanting to ask each of them why—why were they there when they should be alive. Wanted to explain to them that he only did what had to be done. His head began to ache as the buried memories fought to reach the surface. The 456. Everything he’d done to stop them. Remembering it after the gods had buried it for him cut him more deeply than he thought possible.

How could he explain to them? He’d tried to save Ianto, but he should never have brought him into that building. He hadn’t wanted to sacrifice his grandson, but it was the only option to save millions of children across the world. He couldn’t go back for Gray after the explosion, anything that deep in the Hub was unreachable.

And the Doctor. How could he save—

He pressed his hands harder to his head. He didn’t want to find what sort of memories had been buried there. He didn’t want anymore.

Slowly, he lifted his head, staring at them all, silently pleading. He’d done all he could do. But how could he make it right being trapped in this place forever?