A Jack Fic! Just Jack!
This is my first Torchwood fanfic, infact it was my first fanfic! I worte it back before I had a LJ account so I didn't ever post it here. So in answer to a meme that badfalcon posted I'm posting it now.
It's a little something that struck me about when Jack first arrived at Torchwood... with a little twist... ;)
The New Arrival
Captain Jack Harkness wakes up somewhere strange, somewhere new, somewhere important...
Rating: Gen (slight swearing)
It wasn’t the first time that Captain Jack Harkness had woken up someplace strange. It wasn’t even the first time he had woken up with his head thumping and no memory of the night before. But this was different.
Something wasn’t right.
For a start, he was wet. And when he tried to move he felt pain. Everywhere.
He could feel water, but he couldn’t see it. Everything was dark.
No, not dark, but dim. As he tried to look around he could make out vague shapes, box-like, maybe desks.
He was on his back on a cold, hard surface.
“Where the hell am I,” he thought, not moving, trying to get his bearings.
It was quite. But not silent. Somewhere he could here a low hum. A machine? A computer? He couldn’t tell. But there were definitely no voices. The loudest sound in this place was his own breathing. Or maybe his heart thumping.
“Where the hell am I,” he thought again. It was time to do something. He slowly felt around him. Nothing to knock into, nothing tying him down. He sat up slowly. Then he got to his feet.
Ok so far. Except for being wet. There was water on this floor. Some kind of abandoned building?
Moving must have triggered his through processes. Suddenly questions rushed into his mind. Am I hurt? Quick check. The pain was only a dull ache now. He would be fine. As usual.
Am I in danger? No answer. His hand went to his belt, where he used to keep a weapon. But he didn’t carry one anymore. “Why don’t I?”
He needed to remember. “Who am I?” Captain Jack Harkness. OK, his brain wasn’t all empty. “Where was I?” He could remember being in space, on a satellite, looking over the earth through a huge window, he had been pleased, something had been a success….
Then it came rushing back so fast he had to reach out and steady himself on one of those shadowy boxes.
Captain Jack Harkness. He’d been rebuilding the earth. Daleks! Goddamn Daleks! They’d left something behind. It had been like clearing a minefield after the defeat. But it had all been going so well until, until what….
Until he’d raced to deal with some kind of explosive device. Of course he raced in first. He couldn’t die anyway, might as well be him as some other poor fool who could be maimed.
But that last time it had been something different. He didn’t know what it was, but when it went up in a flash of green light he’d felt himself thrown. Thrown and spinning, and falling. And he’d landed here. In this dark pit of a place.
Right. It was time to get the hell out of here. He took a deep breath and started to make his way towards the nearest desk. The boxes, they were computer screens. Desks, computers, files, this was some kind of office.
As he moved along the wall he could make out some kind of writing. Big, solid letters, But even squinting his eyes it was too hard to make it out.
He had just made it to what seemed to be a smaller office when he heard another noise. Footsteps. There was someone here. He tensed. No. People. Voices, more than one person. Echoey, in a corridor?
Before he could find a place to hide he heard a metal grating noise and from the far side of the dark room a chink of light cracked and then widened. The voice grew louder. A man. And, and a child? He definitely heard the word ‘Daddy.’
As he’d been thinking he’d stepped backward and now his legs came in contact with a hard edge. Another desk. He went to dive behind it for cover from the spreading light but something fell over. Something that made a loud, metallic, crashing sound as it hit the wall and then the floor.
Silence. The voices stopped. Except for the one in his head cursing himself for being so bloody clumsy.
Now he was in trouble.
He felt around for something, anything he could use as a weapon. Now his heart was thumping, pounding in his ears.
“I want to stay daddy, I can...” the small voice was shushed and Jack imagined the child, whoever he was, being pushed back behind that great metal door by the belatedly protective adult.
He was straining to hear so hard that when the steps did start to close in on him he couldn’t be sure it they were real. But they were. And they were coming closer.
His hand closed on something metallic. A desk lamp. The same damn desk lamp that had given him away. Well it would do. A well aimed blow and it might give him time to run. That is if the voice belonged to an ordinary man, like he was assuming. He was due a little luck, he though.
But then something he had not expected happened. It spoke to him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, whoever you are. Just come out here where I can see you.”
Was that a Welsh accent?
“Come on now. I know you’re in there. Don’t be frightened.”
Jack almost laughed. Did this man think he was a lost kitten? The whole situation suddenly felt surreal.
But the voice was coming closer. Time to make a decision.
“Out with you now. There’s nowhere to go in here.”
And then Jack was standing. He sprang to his feet, managing not to knock anything more from the desk, and faced his opponent, the desk lamp held high, ready to strike.
For a second, Jack thought, just the slightest trace of surprise washed across the face of the man he was now facing. But then it was gone and it was replaced with a smile.
A what?
“Well now, who are you?” came the Welsh voice.
This wasn’t expected.
He raised himself up to his full height and in his best be-awed-by-me voice boomed: “Captain Jack Harkness. Who the hell are you?”
“Captain Harkness. Well. This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of months at least. But we’ve got it wrong before.” The smile this time was genuine.
The man held out his hand in greeting and stepped forward but Jack waved his weapon, aware of how stupid and non-threathening it looked.
“Come now sir, there’s no need for that,” the man said, not looking at alarmed.
“Got what wrong before? Tell me who you are,’ Jack demanded.
“Don’t you know?” the man asked, “weren’t you sent here to help us?” He stepped back and with a sweep of his arm gestured to the letters Jack had been unable to read on the wall. In the new light of the open doorway he finally made out the writing. He gasped as he read: TORCHWOOD.
“I’m in London?”
“Oh no Sir. That’s Torchwood one. We’re Torchwood three, Cardiff this is. There’s Torchwood two, that’s in Glasgow, strange little man runs that. Torchwood four is… but don’t you know all this sir?”
Jack just stared. He was in Torchwood. He was back on earth.
“What year is this?”
“It’s 1984 sir.”
“1984,” Jack repeated. How was that possible?
The man was looking at him expectantly.
“What?”
“Well, do you want the tour, sir, or have you work to be getting on with? I can bring you some coffee…”
“Work?”
“Work sir. There’s a lot to be done to keep this place running. I believe there was another sighting of a ufo over the bay just this morning.
“Anyhow, I see you’ve found your desk. I’ll have the lamp fixed.” He took it from Jack’s hand without resistance and began to walk back toward the door.
“Oh and I’ll get these lights turned on. You don’t want to trip on these steps in the dark, do you sir.”
“By the way,” he stopped and turned back to Jack. “I couldn’t help noticing,” he nodded towards Jack’s water-stained coat. “I can take that out to the cleaners for you if you want sir.”
Jack slowly looked down and back to the man. “Cardiff?” was the most intelligent question he managed to utter.
“Yes sir. Over the rift. Well, the Doctor he thought he’d closed it, see, but the odd bit gets through ever now and again. So we’re here. To clean it up I suppose you could say,” he gave Jack an encouraging smile.
“The Doctor? He’s here,” suddenly it was the most important thing he’d heard.
“Oh no,” the man actually laughed. “He’s not here now. Don’t know when we’ll see him. But we don’t need him now, do we sir, we’ve got you to run the organisation. Now this place will really get back to work.”
Jack slumped back to sit on the, no, it was his, desk. He was back on earth. It was 1984. He was in Torchwood. He was running Torchwood.
“I’ll just see about those lights then.”
“Wait. Who are you?” Jack called after the man as he stepped back through the round door.
“Oh you can just call me Jones sir,” the man smiled.
Jack looked around. Torchwood. Cardiff.
He had no idea how he got here. But he was here now. And he had been expected. Had the Doctor planned this for him? All he had were questions. Where was he going to find the answers?
In the silence of the dim Torchwood he could just about make out someone else who had questions. It was the child’s voice again. “Who was that daddy? Is it one of your spacemen?”
He heard a soft laugh. “That’s the new boss, Ianto.”
It's a little something that struck me about when Jack first arrived at Torchwood... with a little twist... ;)
The New Arrival
Captain Jack Harkness wakes up somewhere strange, somewhere new, somewhere important...
Rating: Gen (slight swearing)
It wasn’t the first time that Captain Jack Harkness had woken up someplace strange. It wasn’t even the first time he had woken up with his head thumping and no memory of the night before. But this was different.
Something wasn’t right.
For a start, he was wet. And when he tried to move he felt pain. Everywhere.
He could feel water, but he couldn’t see it. Everything was dark.
No, not dark, but dim. As he tried to look around he could make out vague shapes, box-like, maybe desks.
He was on his back on a cold, hard surface.
“Where the hell am I,” he thought, not moving, trying to get his bearings.
It was quite. But not silent. Somewhere he could here a low hum. A machine? A computer? He couldn’t tell. But there were definitely no voices. The loudest sound in this place was his own breathing. Or maybe his heart thumping.
“Where the hell am I,” he thought again. It was time to do something. He slowly felt around him. Nothing to knock into, nothing tying him down. He sat up slowly. Then he got to his feet.
Ok so far. Except for being wet. There was water on this floor. Some kind of abandoned building?
Moving must have triggered his through processes. Suddenly questions rushed into his mind. Am I hurt? Quick check. The pain was only a dull ache now. He would be fine. As usual.
Am I in danger? No answer. His hand went to his belt, where he used to keep a weapon. But he didn’t carry one anymore. “Why don’t I?”
He needed to remember. “Who am I?” Captain Jack Harkness. OK, his brain wasn’t all empty. “Where was I?” He could remember being in space, on a satellite, looking over the earth through a huge window, he had been pleased, something had been a success….
Then it came rushing back so fast he had to reach out and steady himself on one of those shadowy boxes.
Captain Jack Harkness. He’d been rebuilding the earth. Daleks! Goddamn Daleks! They’d left something behind. It had been like clearing a minefield after the defeat. But it had all been going so well until, until what….
Until he’d raced to deal with some kind of explosive device. Of course he raced in first. He couldn’t die anyway, might as well be him as some other poor fool who could be maimed.
But that last time it had been something different. He didn’t know what it was, but when it went up in a flash of green light he’d felt himself thrown. Thrown and spinning, and falling. And he’d landed here. In this dark pit of a place.
Right. It was time to get the hell out of here. He took a deep breath and started to make his way towards the nearest desk. The boxes, they were computer screens. Desks, computers, files, this was some kind of office.
As he moved along the wall he could make out some kind of writing. Big, solid letters, But even squinting his eyes it was too hard to make it out.
He had just made it to what seemed to be a smaller office when he heard another noise. Footsteps. There was someone here. He tensed. No. People. Voices, more than one person. Echoey, in a corridor?
Before he could find a place to hide he heard a metal grating noise and from the far side of the dark room a chink of light cracked and then widened. The voice grew louder. A man. And, and a child? He definitely heard the word ‘Daddy.’
As he’d been thinking he’d stepped backward and now his legs came in contact with a hard edge. Another desk. He went to dive behind it for cover from the spreading light but something fell over. Something that made a loud, metallic, crashing sound as it hit the wall and then the floor.
Silence. The voices stopped. Except for the one in his head cursing himself for being so bloody clumsy.
Now he was in trouble.
He felt around for something, anything he could use as a weapon. Now his heart was thumping, pounding in his ears.
“I want to stay daddy, I can...” the small voice was shushed and Jack imagined the child, whoever he was, being pushed back behind that great metal door by the belatedly protective adult.
He was straining to hear so hard that when the steps did start to close in on him he couldn’t be sure it they were real. But they were. And they were coming closer.
His hand closed on something metallic. A desk lamp. The same damn desk lamp that had given him away. Well it would do. A well aimed blow and it might give him time to run. That is if the voice belonged to an ordinary man, like he was assuming. He was due a little luck, he though.
But then something he had not expected happened. It spoke to him.
“I don’t want to hurt you, whoever you are. Just come out here where I can see you.”
Was that a Welsh accent?
“Come on now. I know you’re in there. Don’t be frightened.”
Jack almost laughed. Did this man think he was a lost kitten? The whole situation suddenly felt surreal.
But the voice was coming closer. Time to make a decision.
“Out with you now. There’s nowhere to go in here.”
And then Jack was standing. He sprang to his feet, managing not to knock anything more from the desk, and faced his opponent, the desk lamp held high, ready to strike.
For a second, Jack thought, just the slightest trace of surprise washed across the face of the man he was now facing. But then it was gone and it was replaced with a smile.
A what?
“Well now, who are you?” came the Welsh voice.
This wasn’t expected.
He raised himself up to his full height and in his best be-awed-by-me voice boomed: “Captain Jack Harkness. Who the hell are you?”
“Captain Harkness. Well. This is a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of months at least. But we’ve got it wrong before.” The smile this time was genuine.
The man held out his hand in greeting and stepped forward but Jack waved his weapon, aware of how stupid and non-threathening it looked.
“Come now sir, there’s no need for that,” the man said, not looking at alarmed.
“Got what wrong before? Tell me who you are,’ Jack demanded.
“Don’t you know?” the man asked, “weren’t you sent here to help us?” He stepped back and with a sweep of his arm gestured to the letters Jack had been unable to read on the wall. In the new light of the open doorway he finally made out the writing. He gasped as he read: TORCHWOOD.
“I’m in London?”
“Oh no Sir. That’s Torchwood one. We’re Torchwood three, Cardiff this is. There’s Torchwood two, that’s in Glasgow, strange little man runs that. Torchwood four is… but don’t you know all this sir?”
Jack just stared. He was in Torchwood. He was back on earth.
“What year is this?”
“It’s 1984 sir.”
“1984,” Jack repeated. How was that possible?
The man was looking at him expectantly.
“What?”
“Well, do you want the tour, sir, or have you work to be getting on with? I can bring you some coffee…”
“Work?”
“Work sir. There’s a lot to be done to keep this place running. I believe there was another sighting of a ufo over the bay just this morning.
“Anyhow, I see you’ve found your desk. I’ll have the lamp fixed.” He took it from Jack’s hand without resistance and began to walk back toward the door.
“Oh and I’ll get these lights turned on. You don’t want to trip on these steps in the dark, do you sir.”
“By the way,” he stopped and turned back to Jack. “I couldn’t help noticing,” he nodded towards Jack’s water-stained coat. “I can take that out to the cleaners for you if you want sir.”
Jack slowly looked down and back to the man. “Cardiff?” was the most intelligent question he managed to utter.
“Yes sir. Over the rift. Well, the Doctor he thought he’d closed it, see, but the odd bit gets through ever now and again. So we’re here. To clean it up I suppose you could say,” he gave Jack an encouraging smile.
“The Doctor? He’s here,” suddenly it was the most important thing he’d heard.
“Oh no,” the man actually laughed. “He’s not here now. Don’t know when we’ll see him. But we don’t need him now, do we sir, we’ve got you to run the organisation. Now this place will really get back to work.”
Jack slumped back to sit on the, no, it was his, desk. He was back on earth. It was 1984. He was in Torchwood. He was running Torchwood.
“I’ll just see about those lights then.”
“Wait. Who are you?” Jack called after the man as he stepped back through the round door.
“Oh you can just call me Jones sir,” the man smiled.
Jack looked around. Torchwood. Cardiff.
He had no idea how he got here. But he was here now. And he had been expected. Had the Doctor planned this for him? All he had were questions. Where was he going to find the answers?
In the silence of the dim Torchwood he could just about make out someone else who had questions. It was the child’s voice again. “Who was that daddy? Is it one of your spacemen?”
He heard a soft laugh. “That’s the new boss, Ianto.”