DVD extras, part 1
Ok, I had two people so far respond to my DVD extras meme, where you pick a short fic, or a chapter of a long fic, and I do a sort of "commentary" to it. garpu chose A Long Way Home, a short, angsty Jack-fic written near the end of series 1 of Torchwood.
Many thanks to earlgreytea68, whose own commentary helped me figure out how to format this! Also, if you still want to play, feel free to go back to the original meme post (linked above) and tell me so. :)
This was originally written for the tw_wotd community. The word of the day was 'sonorous.' I remember looking at the entry and thinking, "Sonorous…. Bells. What sorts of bells are sonorous? Funeral bells. What sorts of funeral bells? Jack's friend!"
It wasn't long after episode 1x12, "Captain Jack Harkness," had aired, and it was still fresh in my mind… so this is what came out of it.
The bell rang, deep and sonorous. Once, twice, three times. A pause, then another three rings. And another. Tolling the death of one more prisoner; milking the despair of the occupied village below. Their so-vaunted defenders from off-world were not invulnerable.
Here's where I admit to my absolute adoration for world-building. I could have made this into a chaptered fic easily; I can picture the enemy in my head (actually, the same enemy in my current chaptered fic, Children's Crusade); they're psychic "vampires" of a sort, living on the despair and anguish they create when they invade. They don't care about the planets themselves, per se; they want the emotions. So they allowed the Time Agency to bring in reinforcements, just to ram home the fact that nothing will help the people of this world-nothing. Remember when Jack said the enemy in this war was "the worst creatures you could imagine," or words to that effect? This was the worst thing I could imagine having to endure.
He lay in the mud, throat raw from screaming, eyes sore from weeping. His own body was undamaged; not so much as a bruise except his wrists, which were raw and painful where he'd been shackled to the wall. They'd not touched him, not once, though he begged for it. Once he'd been secured, they never went near him, no matter how much he pleaded. Take me instead. Torture me. Kill me. Just leave him alone. I'll do anything. Please!
This sounds so much like Jack to my mind's ear. (Is that a phrase? It is now, I guess.) I see him as the sort who was always protective of those whom he cared about or who were less capable than he was. His becoming a con man was purely reactionary, imho-a way to get back at the Agency, that's all. And we see that protectiveness in "Bad Wolf" / "Parting of the Ways", when he says, "Doctor, she's safe. Keep working." No matter that we're going to die-Rose is safe, that's all that matters. I think that reflex goes all the way back to Gray but was definitely visible here too. Poor Jack-he keeps losing the ones he most wants/needs to protect.
Beside him lay a broken, bloody, filthy body: a lump of flesh now, nothing more. Green eyes stared at the sky; a youthful mouth hung slack; smooth, hairless cheeks spoke of years yet unlived. He knew it was there, had heard the squish of the mud as it had landed beside him, thrown as unceremoniously out the door as he had been, accompanied by laughter-laughter that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
I teared up writing this.
He closed his eyes and tried hard to picture their home planet. Long summer afternoons fishing on the lake; evenings studying together for their school exams; idle hours spent laughing and talking and planning. Their first dates. Their first kisses. The fateful afternoon when he'd gone to his friend's house with glossy brochures. "We're old enough to join up now! We should go. We can make a difference in this war. Besides, it'll get us off-world. It'll be an adventure!"
And this was how the adventure had ended: in torture and screams and death, and the knowledge that the debt of his best friend's life now lay on his soul.
And the guilt descends, to join with the guilt of losing Gray and all the rest of the guilt that will continue to pile on top of his shoulders for the rest of his life. Poor Jack.
I'll have to tell his mother.
That was the thought that dragged him out of his lethargy. He had to get home; he had to tell the woman who had been a second mother to him that her only blood son was dead. He had to beg her forgiveness. Without his urging, his best friend would never have been here. Would never have been tortured. Would never have died. He'd still be alive, probably at university, where he'd wanted to go in the first place. Studying the law, maybe. Or medicine. Or chemistry.
Not this. Not here, battered and cold and unmoving. Not gone, forever.
I was trying to imagine telling alueua's parents that she'd been killed, after I'd talked her into something, and it was just about the most awful thing I could imagine doing in my life.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and then looked. Took in the sight of his best friend, his brother in all but blood. With a shaking hand, he reached over and closed the green eyes for the last time.
"I'll never forget you, James Harper," he whispered.
This line was the reason I wrote the fic. The first thing in my head when Jack introduced himself as "Captain James Harper" was "Oh, that was his friend's name," because he'd just told the real Jack about having to watch his friend die. I figured that would be in the front of his mind. And frankly, I didn't much like Owen in series 1, so I didn't want him to call himself after the bastard.
He climbed slowly to his feet and began walking toward the spaceport, not caring that he was deserting. It was a long way home.
This is also very Jack, imho: once he's made up his mind to do something, he's going to do it no matter whether it'll get him in trouble or not. He has to tell James's mother, so he's off to do that, whatever it takes, even if it means deserting and being court-martialed.
It's a short fic, but I was going for the 'punch in the gut' feeling, and I'm really pretty proud of it.
Many thanks to earlgreytea68, whose own commentary helped me figure out how to format this! Also, if you still want to play, feel free to go back to the original meme post (linked above) and tell me so. :)
This was originally written for the tw_wotd community. The word of the day was 'sonorous.' I remember looking at the entry and thinking, "Sonorous…. Bells. What sorts of bells are sonorous? Funeral bells. What sorts of funeral bells? Jack's friend!"
It wasn't long after episode 1x12, "Captain Jack Harkness," had aired, and it was still fresh in my mind… so this is what came out of it.
The bell rang, deep and sonorous. Once, twice, three times. A pause, then another three rings. And another. Tolling the death of one more prisoner; milking the despair of the occupied village below. Their so-vaunted defenders from off-world were not invulnerable.
Here's where I admit to my absolute adoration for world-building. I could have made this into a chaptered fic easily; I can picture the enemy in my head (actually, the same enemy in my current chaptered fic, Children's Crusade); they're psychic "vampires" of a sort, living on the despair and anguish they create when they invade. They don't care about the planets themselves, per se; they want the emotions. So they allowed the Time Agency to bring in reinforcements, just to ram home the fact that nothing will help the people of this world-nothing. Remember when Jack said the enemy in this war was "the worst creatures you could imagine," or words to that effect? This was the worst thing I could imagine having to endure.
He lay in the mud, throat raw from screaming, eyes sore from weeping. His own body was undamaged; not so much as a bruise except his wrists, which were raw and painful where he'd been shackled to the wall. They'd not touched him, not once, though he begged for it. Once he'd been secured, they never went near him, no matter how much he pleaded. Take me instead. Torture me. Kill me. Just leave him alone. I'll do anything. Please!
This sounds so much like Jack to my mind's ear. (Is that a phrase? It is now, I guess.) I see him as the sort who was always protective of those whom he cared about or who were less capable than he was. His becoming a con man was purely reactionary, imho-a way to get back at the Agency, that's all. And we see that protectiveness in "Bad Wolf" / "Parting of the Ways", when he says, "Doctor, she's safe. Keep working." No matter that we're going to die-Rose is safe, that's all that matters. I think that reflex goes all the way back to Gray but was definitely visible here too. Poor Jack-he keeps losing the ones he most wants/needs to protect.
Beside him lay a broken, bloody, filthy body: a lump of flesh now, nothing more. Green eyes stared at the sky; a youthful mouth hung slack; smooth, hairless cheeks spoke of years yet unlived. He knew it was there, had heard the squish of the mud as it had landed beside him, thrown as unceremoniously out the door as he had been, accompanied by laughter-laughter that would haunt his nightmares for years to come.
I teared up writing this.
He closed his eyes and tried hard to picture their home planet. Long summer afternoons fishing on the lake; evenings studying together for their school exams; idle hours spent laughing and talking and planning. Their first dates. Their first kisses. The fateful afternoon when he'd gone to his friend's house with glossy brochures. "We're old enough to join up now! We should go. We can make a difference in this war. Besides, it'll get us off-world. It'll be an adventure!"
And this was how the adventure had ended: in torture and screams and death, and the knowledge that the debt of his best friend's life now lay on his soul.
And the guilt descends, to join with the guilt of losing Gray and all the rest of the guilt that will continue to pile on top of his shoulders for the rest of his life. Poor Jack.
I'll have to tell his mother.
That was the thought that dragged him out of his lethargy. He had to get home; he had to tell the woman who had been a second mother to him that her only blood son was dead. He had to beg her forgiveness. Without his urging, his best friend would never have been here. Would never have been tortured. Would never have died. He'd still be alive, probably at university, where he'd wanted to go in the first place. Studying the law, maybe. Or medicine. Or chemistry.
Not this. Not here, battered and cold and unmoving. Not gone, forever.
I was trying to imagine telling alueua's parents that she'd been killed, after I'd talked her into something, and it was just about the most awful thing I could imagine doing in my life.
Slowly, he pushed himself to his knees and then looked. Took in the sight of his best friend, his brother in all but blood. With a shaking hand, he reached over and closed the green eyes for the last time.
"I'll never forget you, James Harper," he whispered.
This line was the reason I wrote the fic. The first thing in my head when Jack introduced himself as "Captain James Harper" was "Oh, that was his friend's name," because he'd just told the real Jack about having to watch his friend die. I figured that would be in the front of his mind. And frankly, I didn't much like Owen in series 1, so I didn't want him to call himself after the bastard.
He climbed slowly to his feet and began walking toward the spaceport, not caring that he was deserting. It was a long way home.
This is also very Jack, imho: once he's made up his mind to do something, he's going to do it no matter whether it'll get him in trouble or not. He has to tell James's mother, so he's off to do that, whatever it takes, even if it means deserting and being court-martialed.
It's a short fic, but I was going for the 'punch in the gut' feeling, and I'm really pretty proud of it.