A Hero By Any Other Name
Title: A Hero By Any Other Name
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Words: 2,185
Rating,Warnings: PG
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Torchwood.
Spoilers: None
AN: Okay, I know it’s barely 1st December, but this is my first gift fic of the year; written for my wonderful emyrldlady, without whom my life would be a lot more shit. You’re a true friend and foxy as hell to go with it *g*. The prompt was “Con man Jack. Pre meeting the Doctor and Rose, but after leaving the Time Agency.” which I adored as I also believe that Jack was at his bravest before he was immortal. Hope this is okay for you sweetie.
Our hero, Jack, walks down a dark road in a strange town on distant planet. He isn't called Jack yet, but one day he will be, so we will call him Jack now.
He is dressed to suit the occasion; all sleek lines and skin-tight materials. It means he has nowhere to hide a weapon, but this is an easy deal; there won't be any trouble here.
Jack stops briefly outside the bar and stretches his shoulders. He has to remember to turn down his natural cockiness because this one likes his charms bashful. He’s arrived early as she likes that, likes the gentlemanly touch. These 34th century women are not as advanced as they like to think they are.
He buys a drink for her and one for him; hers has liquor in it, his just looks like it. Jack takes the drinks and heads to a quiet booth in the bar, where the light is just dim enough for his needs, but not so dim she will suspect anything.
Jack doesn’t have to wait long until she arrives. He smiles as he sees her at the door, but is careful to keep the smile just right; not too confident or dazzling, but showing his obvious pleasure at seeing her. She gives him a little wave and comes over to sit down.
“It’s good to see you,” she says.
“Did you doubt it?” Jack asks with a smile, but injects just enough uncertainty into his voice that she quickly apologises.
“No, not for a second. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“Me too.”
He gives her the warm smile again and picks up his drink, indicating she should do the same. She does and they clink glasses. He knows he needs to make his move, he wants to clinch this deal, but he has to be careful not to appear too pushy.
“Here’s to us,” he adds to the toast.
“So, there is an us then?” she asks.
He looks carefully taken aback again. “I would love to think there is an us. But…” he pauses for effect, once again carefully measured, “I have a rule; I never mix business with pleasure.”
She smiles at him, a winning smile, like she knows a big secret, and she leans forwards to whisper.
“Well, if we can get this little bit of business out of the way, then maybe we can move on from there and get to the pleasure.”
Oh, oh, oh, this was just perfect.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, to make sure she feels like she is the one in control.
“Yes. Do you have everything?”
“Yes.”
Jack reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a small pouch, laying it on the table. She reaches over and tries to pick it up.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling it back. “This is the awkward business bit. Do you have the money?”
“Oh, of course,” she says, suddenly flustered. She slips a card from her pocket and hands it over. Jack scans it with his wrist strap.
“30,000 credits, just as we agreed. Do you want to see the stones?” he asks generously.
“Yes please,” she agrees, remembering this is business.
Jack opens the pouch and holds is carefully, shaking out two stones onto his hand and handing them over. She takes them in her palm, holds them up to the dimmed light and looks at them. She smiles and hands them back.
Jack takes them from her, pleased she doesn’t want to see them all, even in this light. These two are actually real. They are the same two that he showed her as a sample to first get her on his hook. They are the same two that he brought for her to test. And they are the same two that were secreted in a small, hidden section of the pouch so they would be the only two that tumbled out when the pouch was held properly and shaken. They are the same two which he is palming now instead of replacing so he can use them again in the next scam in the next town.
He hands the pouch of worthless stones to her and raises his drink to her again, smiling warmly.
“So,” she says, “now that the business is over can we move onto the pleasure?”
Jack lifts his drink to his lips and a trace of one his real smiles curls around the edge of the glass. So easy.
Too easy?
Conning people out of money is one thing; can he really con someone into this? He knows he’ll be gone by morning, but he usually makes sure they know it too. He’s charmed and cajoled, but he’s never had to resort to lying to get someone into bed and he’s not about to start now. He lowers his glass.
“We can, but let’s make it another night; a night where our business isn’t still in both our pockets.” He grins like they are sharing a secret. “I’ve just come into some money. Let me take you out for dinner; we’ll dress up and do it properly. What do you say?”
He knows exactly what she’ll say. 34th century women really aren’t any different.
“Well, okay then. Yes, that would be lovely.”
Jack leans over and squeezes her hand.
“I’ll call you, tomorrow, and we’ll start again, all business forgotten.”
She smiles back and he stands to leave. As he passes her, he pauses, stoops and kisses her. She’ll hate him by morning when she realises the stones she has are fakes, and by then he will be long gone, but he makes sure the memory of this kiss will linger.
There’s an added spring in his step as he walks quickly back to his lodgings. He just needs to pick up his few meagre belongings and he’s off. The money in his pocket will get him a ticket to anywhere. Of course, he’s planning to steal a ship to take him to anywhere, but it’s nice to know he has the option. Jack thinks he’ll treat himself to a holiday. This money will keep him going for some time. Maybe he’ll go back and visit some of the nicer sights he saw with the Agency and hope they don’t remember him there.
He’s passing the mouth of an alley when he hears a commotion. He realises that he is listening to bartering, something is being sold off. He can’t help but look and immediately wishes he hadn’t. A terrified looking teenage boy is being held roughly by a big bear of a man while a group of five men around him call out prices, each trying to outdo the other and none of them seeming to satisfy the man standing next to the muscle.
Jack clenches his fists and tells himself to keep walking past. He’s still telling himself to keep walking past as he is heading down the ally towards them.
He stumbles and bounces off the alley wall, a fake-drunken grin sliding around his face.
“Hello fellas, what’s going on here?”
He is acutely aware that he is not armed and has a sneaking suspicion that he may be about to die. Eight pairs of eyes turn towards him. Only those belonging to the boy don’t look like they would be happy to oblige him with his ‘about to die’ theory.
“Run along. You have no business here,” says the man in charge.
“I know. I keep trying to tell myself that,” Jack replies with genuine regret in his voice. But he’s close enough now to the first man and his fist lashes out with fearsome accuracy and the odds are now just six to one and one terrified kid. Jack is pretty sure he will be no use to him.
There are suddenly blades in a lot of hands that aren’t his and he remembers the rules of street slave trading at this time. As illegal as the trade itself was, traders always had a strict ‘no weapons’ rule. All types of fire arms were bulky and easily seen so it made sense that they all had secreted knives.
Dammit. Why had he not thought of that? Was he losing his touch since leaving the Agency? Probably not the time to have this particular moment of self-discovery.
But then his body moves automatically, muscle memory taking over and another man is on the ground before Jack is grabbed from behind. He twists and bucks, legs kicking out. He grits his teeth as cold steel slices through the flesh of his arm and he’s even angrier now. This leather jacket was his favourite and leather is hard to come by on this bloody planet.
The prospective clients aren’t the kind of men used to doing their own dirty work any more. Their days on the streets, fighting with knives, are mere memories and they are defeated easily and then it’s just muscle-man, the boss, the kid and him left.
Muscles throws the kid at the other man and gives Jack a lopsided and mainly toothless grin. Jack tosses back his head and returns with a devastating smile. “You know, in a phase I went through a while back, you would have been my perfect guy. Now, meh, not so much.”
The goon apparently doesn’t appreciate Jack’s humour, pulls out a pulse gun and aims it straight at Jack. Jack dives to one side and is amazed that he is alive long enough to feel the pavement greet him as he hits it. He rolls over and the man is taking aim again. Jack pulls up one of the still groaning bodies lying next to him, and hauls it over his own body. The potential buyer spasms, then lies still as the pulse hits him and Jack knows it’s now or never.
He throws the now limp body at the goon with the gun and rushes after him. Taken by surprise Mr Muscles suddenly has a blade thrust against his throat and is convinced to drop his weapon. Jack keeps a tight hold and turns them both around to face the boss man. He groans in annoyance.
The boss is standing, a smile on his own face, another damn knife in his hand. This one is pressed against the kid’s throat. It’s almost funny. Jack’s hostage is twice the size of the other man’s.
“Mine’s bigger than yours,” Jack grins. “I bet you hear that a lot. I certainly do. From this side of the conversation of course.”
“Enough. This boy clearly means far more to you than the man in your hands does to me. But maybe we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“An agreement?”
“I didn’t come here tonight to make trouble, just to make money. I have a slave to sell. You want him so badly, you can pay like everyone else.”
“I don’t want him. He’s not a slave, he’s just a kid that’s been stolen from somewhere.”
“Same difference. Either way; you want him and to leave this ally alive? Then you pay.”
“Do I look like I have money?”
“No. Looks like I win either way.”
“Fine. Fine. I have some money.”
“I won’t take any less than 40,000 credits.”
“40,000! He’s a scrawny kid!”
“Yes, but he’s an alive scrawny kid and you are still in not much of a position to barter.”
Jack looks at him, and glances at the henchman still in his grip. The man looks frightened now and Jack takes this as a sign that the boss is clearly willing to give up his own man.
“Fine. I have 30,000 in my pocket.”
“Isn’t it handy that the price has just been lowered then? Hand it to my man.”
Jack keeps the knife pressed against the man’s throat and fishes in his pocket, handing his card to the goon. The goon takes it and slips a reader from his pocket.
“It’s good boss. It says 30,000.”
“Then we have a deal,” smiles the other man. He lets go of the kid and pushes him at Jack. Jack pushes the goon away and grabs the kid, dragging him to the end of the ally, running as fast as he can get them both to go.
Finally deciding he is far enough away, he stops and pulls the kid under a light to look at him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No… no. Not really. Hungry though. I want to go home.”
“Do you know where home is kid?”
He receives another wide-eyed nod.
“Fine. We’ll get some food in you and figure out a way to get you home. Come on.”
He starts to walk again and the kid keeps to his side.
“What’s your name?” the teenager asks.
“I don't intend for us to be together for long, kid, so call me whatever the hell you like.”
Our hero, Jack, walks down a dark road in a strange town on distant planet. He isn't called a hero yet, but one day he will be, so we will call him a hero now.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Words: 2,185
Rating,Warnings: PG
Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Torchwood.
Spoilers: None
AN: Okay, I know it’s barely 1st December, but this is my first gift fic of the year; written for my wonderful emyrldlady, without whom my life would be a lot more shit. You’re a true friend and foxy as hell to go with it *g*. The prompt was “Con man Jack. Pre meeting the Doctor and Rose, but after leaving the Time Agency.” which I adored as I also believe that Jack was at his bravest before he was immortal. Hope this is okay for you sweetie.
Our hero, Jack, walks down a dark road in a strange town on distant planet. He isn't called Jack yet, but one day he will be, so we will call him Jack now.
He is dressed to suit the occasion; all sleek lines and skin-tight materials. It means he has nowhere to hide a weapon, but this is an easy deal; there won't be any trouble here.
Jack stops briefly outside the bar and stretches his shoulders. He has to remember to turn down his natural cockiness because this one likes his charms bashful. He’s arrived early as she likes that, likes the gentlemanly touch. These 34th century women are not as advanced as they like to think they are.
He buys a drink for her and one for him; hers has liquor in it, his just looks like it. Jack takes the drinks and heads to a quiet booth in the bar, where the light is just dim enough for his needs, but not so dim she will suspect anything.
Jack doesn’t have to wait long until she arrives. He smiles as he sees her at the door, but is careful to keep the smile just right; not too confident or dazzling, but showing his obvious pleasure at seeing her. She gives him a little wave and comes over to sit down.
“It’s good to see you,” she says.
“Did you doubt it?” Jack asks with a smile, but injects just enough uncertainty into his voice that she quickly apologises.
“No, not for a second. I’ve been looking forward to it all day.”
“Me too.”
He gives her the warm smile again and picks up his drink, indicating she should do the same. She does and they clink glasses. He knows he needs to make his move, he wants to clinch this deal, but he has to be careful not to appear too pushy.
“Here’s to us,” he adds to the toast.
“So, there is an us then?” she asks.
He looks carefully taken aback again. “I would love to think there is an us. But…” he pauses for effect, once again carefully measured, “I have a rule; I never mix business with pleasure.”
She smiles at him, a winning smile, like she knows a big secret, and she leans forwards to whisper.
“Well, if we can get this little bit of business out of the way, then maybe we can move on from there and get to the pleasure.”
Oh, oh, oh, this was just perfect.
“Is that what you want?” he asks, to make sure she feels like she is the one in control.
“Yes. Do you have everything?”
“Yes.”
Jack reaches into his trouser pocket and pulls out a small pouch, laying it on the table. She reaches over and tries to pick it up.
“Sorry,” he says, pulling it back. “This is the awkward business bit. Do you have the money?”
“Oh, of course,” she says, suddenly flustered. She slips a card from her pocket and hands it over. Jack scans it with his wrist strap.
“30,000 credits, just as we agreed. Do you want to see the stones?” he asks generously.
“Yes please,” she agrees, remembering this is business.
Jack opens the pouch and holds is carefully, shaking out two stones onto his hand and handing them over. She takes them in her palm, holds them up to the dimmed light and looks at them. She smiles and hands them back.
Jack takes them from her, pleased she doesn’t want to see them all, even in this light. These two are actually real. They are the same two that he showed her as a sample to first get her on his hook. They are the same two that he brought for her to test. And they are the same two that were secreted in a small, hidden section of the pouch so they would be the only two that tumbled out when the pouch was held properly and shaken. They are the same two which he is palming now instead of replacing so he can use them again in the next scam in the next town.
He hands the pouch of worthless stones to her and raises his drink to her again, smiling warmly.
“So,” she says, “now that the business is over can we move onto the pleasure?”
Jack lifts his drink to his lips and a trace of one his real smiles curls around the edge of the glass. So easy.
Too easy?
Conning people out of money is one thing; can he really con someone into this? He knows he’ll be gone by morning, but he usually makes sure they know it too. He’s charmed and cajoled, but he’s never had to resort to lying to get someone into bed and he’s not about to start now. He lowers his glass.
“We can, but let’s make it another night; a night where our business isn’t still in both our pockets.” He grins like they are sharing a secret. “I’ve just come into some money. Let me take you out for dinner; we’ll dress up and do it properly. What do you say?”
He knows exactly what she’ll say. 34th century women really aren’t any different.
“Well, okay then. Yes, that would be lovely.”
Jack leans over and squeezes her hand.
“I’ll call you, tomorrow, and we’ll start again, all business forgotten.”
She smiles back and he stands to leave. As he passes her, he pauses, stoops and kisses her. She’ll hate him by morning when she realises the stones she has are fakes, and by then he will be long gone, but he makes sure the memory of this kiss will linger.
There’s an added spring in his step as he walks quickly back to his lodgings. He just needs to pick up his few meagre belongings and he’s off. The money in his pocket will get him a ticket to anywhere. Of course, he’s planning to steal a ship to take him to anywhere, but it’s nice to know he has the option. Jack thinks he’ll treat himself to a holiday. This money will keep him going for some time. Maybe he’ll go back and visit some of the nicer sights he saw with the Agency and hope they don’t remember him there.
He’s passing the mouth of an alley when he hears a commotion. He realises that he is listening to bartering, something is being sold off. He can’t help but look and immediately wishes he hadn’t. A terrified looking teenage boy is being held roughly by a big bear of a man while a group of five men around him call out prices, each trying to outdo the other and none of them seeming to satisfy the man standing next to the muscle.
Jack clenches his fists and tells himself to keep walking past. He’s still telling himself to keep walking past as he is heading down the ally towards them.
He stumbles and bounces off the alley wall, a fake-drunken grin sliding around his face.
“Hello fellas, what’s going on here?”
He is acutely aware that he is not armed and has a sneaking suspicion that he may be about to die. Eight pairs of eyes turn towards him. Only those belonging to the boy don’t look like they would be happy to oblige him with his ‘about to die’ theory.
“Run along. You have no business here,” says the man in charge.
“I know. I keep trying to tell myself that,” Jack replies with genuine regret in his voice. But he’s close enough now to the first man and his fist lashes out with fearsome accuracy and the odds are now just six to one and one terrified kid. Jack is pretty sure he will be no use to him.
There are suddenly blades in a lot of hands that aren’t his and he remembers the rules of street slave trading at this time. As illegal as the trade itself was, traders always had a strict ‘no weapons’ rule. All types of fire arms were bulky and easily seen so it made sense that they all had secreted knives.
Dammit. Why had he not thought of that? Was he losing his touch since leaving the Agency? Probably not the time to have this particular moment of self-discovery.
But then his body moves automatically, muscle memory taking over and another man is on the ground before Jack is grabbed from behind. He twists and bucks, legs kicking out. He grits his teeth as cold steel slices through the flesh of his arm and he’s even angrier now. This leather jacket was his favourite and leather is hard to come by on this bloody planet.
The prospective clients aren’t the kind of men used to doing their own dirty work any more. Their days on the streets, fighting with knives, are mere memories and they are defeated easily and then it’s just muscle-man, the boss, the kid and him left.
Muscles throws the kid at the other man and gives Jack a lopsided and mainly toothless grin. Jack tosses back his head and returns with a devastating smile. “You know, in a phase I went through a while back, you would have been my perfect guy. Now, meh, not so much.”
The goon apparently doesn’t appreciate Jack’s humour, pulls out a pulse gun and aims it straight at Jack. Jack dives to one side and is amazed that he is alive long enough to feel the pavement greet him as he hits it. He rolls over and the man is taking aim again. Jack pulls up one of the still groaning bodies lying next to him, and hauls it over his own body. The potential buyer spasms, then lies still as the pulse hits him and Jack knows it’s now or never.
He throws the now limp body at the goon with the gun and rushes after him. Taken by surprise Mr Muscles suddenly has a blade thrust against his throat and is convinced to drop his weapon. Jack keeps a tight hold and turns them both around to face the boss man. He groans in annoyance.
The boss is standing, a smile on his own face, another damn knife in his hand. This one is pressed against the kid’s throat. It’s almost funny. Jack’s hostage is twice the size of the other man’s.
“Mine’s bigger than yours,” Jack grins. “I bet you hear that a lot. I certainly do. From this side of the conversation of course.”
“Enough. This boy clearly means far more to you than the man in your hands does to me. But maybe we can come to some sort of agreement.”
“An agreement?”
“I didn’t come here tonight to make trouble, just to make money. I have a slave to sell. You want him so badly, you can pay like everyone else.”
“I don’t want him. He’s not a slave, he’s just a kid that’s been stolen from somewhere.”
“Same difference. Either way; you want him and to leave this ally alive? Then you pay.”
“Do I look like I have money?”
“No. Looks like I win either way.”
“Fine. Fine. I have some money.”
“I won’t take any less than 40,000 credits.”
“40,000! He’s a scrawny kid!”
“Yes, but he’s an alive scrawny kid and you are still in not much of a position to barter.”
Jack looks at him, and glances at the henchman still in his grip. The man looks frightened now and Jack takes this as a sign that the boss is clearly willing to give up his own man.
“Fine. I have 30,000 in my pocket.”
“Isn’t it handy that the price has just been lowered then? Hand it to my man.”
Jack keeps the knife pressed against the man’s throat and fishes in his pocket, handing his card to the goon. The goon takes it and slips a reader from his pocket.
“It’s good boss. It says 30,000.”
“Then we have a deal,” smiles the other man. He lets go of the kid and pushes him at Jack. Jack pushes the goon away and grabs the kid, dragging him to the end of the ally, running as fast as he can get them both to go.
Finally deciding he is far enough away, he stops and pulls the kid under a light to look at him.
“Are you hurt?”
“No… no. Not really. Hungry though. I want to go home.”
“Do you know where home is kid?”
He receives another wide-eyed nod.
“Fine. We’ll get some food in you and figure out a way to get you home. Come on.”
He starts to walk again and the kid keeps to his side.
“What’s your name?” the teenager asks.
“I don't intend for us to be together for long, kid, so call me whatever the hell you like.”
Our hero, Jack, walks down a dark road in a strange town on distant planet. He isn't called a hero yet, but one day he will be, so we will call him a hero now.