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changehistoryHe keeps insisting that he's an impossible thing. Something the Doctor said, that Jack was impossible, but it makes Adam frown slightly every time. Because if Jack is impossible, then so is he. In fact...no. That fixed point in time, unchanging, a fact of the universe? It isn't completely true, is it? He ages, albeit slowly. He changes. He ... things alter him, even if he can heal from wounds, stays alive. He isn't fixed, unchanging.
He isn't Adam.
The sort of forever it might take to pull him from him, for age to kick in and make him something different, let time finally do its work, creeping in to part them, might be the time that even at nearly 400 years Adam cannot fathom, but curled up in bed sometimes, not needing sleep often, just watching him, Adam thinks of it. He's always had a morbid tendency that way, finding the worst in the situation. Better to prepare himself, he would tell you. But the worst would be losing him, after all that time. Of still, even if it takes millions of years, watching time creep itself across Jack's face and form, as it always does, as it always has. And still he will be there, unchanged, as perfect as he was the day the arrow pierced his heart.
Will he go mad, then? Or will he already be? Will he be tired, ready to let go? The end of the universe...staring out into the void...will he be there with the children of Earth who become something else, a horror, a monstrosity? Will that destroy him as well, trillions of years from now, finally? How long will he have been back alone by then? Will it matter? Locked inside a never changing form, watching even this fall away from him eventually...what will be left of the boy who set out to make his fortune with no idea what life would hold for him?
Most nights he can brush the thought aside. It is so very far in the future, incomprehensible even for him to think of truly living that long, seeing that much, traveling that far. He doesn't need to borrow trouble millions of years before he need worry.
But other nights, he does, and he pulls Jack a bit closer, almost clinging, and wondering just which of them is the impossibility, and what happens when they finally find that out.
He isn't Adam.
The sort of forever it might take to pull him from him, for age to kick in and make him something different, let time finally do its work, creeping in to part them, might be the time that even at nearly 400 years Adam cannot fathom, but curled up in bed sometimes, not needing sleep often, just watching him, Adam thinks of it. He's always had a morbid tendency that way, finding the worst in the situation. Better to prepare himself, he would tell you. But the worst would be losing him, after all that time. Of still, even if it takes millions of years, watching time creep itself across Jack's face and form, as it always does, as it always has. And still he will be there, unchanged, as perfect as he was the day the arrow pierced his heart.
Will he go mad, then? Or will he already be? Will he be tired, ready to let go? The end of the universe...staring out into the void...will he be there with the children of Earth who become something else, a horror, a monstrosity? Will that destroy him as well, trillions of years from now, finally? How long will he have been back alone by then? Will it matter? Locked inside a never changing form, watching even this fall away from him eventually...what will be left of the boy who set out to make his fortune with no idea what life would hold for him?
Most nights he can brush the thought aside. It is so very far in the future, incomprehensible even for him to think of truly living that long, seeing that much, traveling that far. He doesn't need to borrow trouble millions of years before he need worry.
But other nights, he does, and he pulls Jack a bit closer, almost clinging, and wondering just which of them is the impossibility, and what happens when they finally find that out.
