There's No Place like Home: Part Two
Title: There's No Place like Home
Chapter One: Straw & Corn
Author: Co-written with blucougar57
Summary: Jack awakens to find himself in a strange land named Oz. With Gwen hot on his trail as the Wicked Witch of the West, will Jack ever find his way home?
Rating: T, for now.
Warnings: Contains Gwen-bashing. Don't like? Don't read. Crack!fic.
Straw & Corn
There were flowers everywhere. Trees, flora of all sorts didn’t merely dot the landscape. It fucking covered it, for as far as the eye could see. Jack was starting to think that maybe he’d finally gone insane. It wouldn’t have surprised him, at any rate. Still, if he really had finally gone round the bend, he supposed there were worse places his poor, fragile mind could have taken him.
At least this place was in technicolour. Lurid, almost blinding technicolour, but technicolour all the same. And, on the bright side, he’d left the merry land of the weevils far behind him, along with their bizarre musical chorus. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was where the weevils had originated from, before being dumped on Earth by the rift. If that was so, he could understand why they were all so damned irritable.
Going from wearing brightly coloured overalls and living in cute, mushroomy houses to ugly, fashion-deprived jumpsuits and living in the sewers would piss off anyone.
Jack had no idea how far he’d gone, or how long he’d skipped along for. It never occurred to him to use the handy pedometer function that his vortex manipulator had suddenly acquired - something that he would later blame on the trauma of being confronted by Wicked Witch Gwen. That had been a sight to screw with the most stable person’s mind.
Although, he had to admit that green was definitely her colour, and if he ever got home he was definitely going to track down that 42nd century paint-ball gun that came through the rift a few years back, and paint her face a lovely snotty green. He briefly contemplated colouring Ianto red, but just as quickly dismissed that idea. Ianto wouldn’t appreciate it, and it would clash horribly with that sexy pink shirt of his.
Jack’s skipping slowed to a walk, and Coco dangled limply from his hand as he realised he’d come past the seemingly endless array of flowers, and into what looked like a cornfield. A really big cornfield that seemed to go on and on and on and on…
“Where the hell am I now?” he asked Coco. The toy didn’t reply because, well… it was just a toy. Jack huffed in annoyance. “Fat lot of good you are.”
Coco stared up at him with big, black soulful eyes, and Jack’s heart melted. He cuddled the toy to his chest, and crooned to it.
“How can I stay mad at you? You’re just too cute, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”
“You do realise that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity?”
Jack spun around, eyes wide, half-expecting to see the witch. No one was there, except a dopey looking scarecrow in the nearby cornfield.
“Who said that?”
No one replied. Shaking his head, Jack returned his attention to Coco, and the new problem at hand, which was the fact that the Yellow Brick Road branched off into three completely different directions.
“Well, where do we go now, Coco? Donna didn’t tell us what to do if we came to a fork in the road. Which way do you think we should go, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah. Definite signs of madness there.”
Jack turned swiftly, but again there was no one in sight but for the scarecrow. He approached it slowly, suspicion on his face.
“Did you say something?”
The scarecrow huffed. Loudly.
“Yes, I said something. Took you long enough to figure it out. About bloody time you came along, too. Do you know how long I’ve been stuck here, on this pole?”
Jack’s eyes glazed over slightly as he went briefly to his happy place.
“Oi!” the scarecrow shouted. “Snap out of it, come over here and get me off this thing!”
Blinking, Jack hurried over and looked for a way to to release the strange creature who looked and sounded an awful lot like Owen. He bent a large obviously-placed nail downwards, and on cue Owen-scarecrow slid off the pole and landed in a messy heap on the ground.
“Look at this,” he grouched, grabbing straw up off the ground to stuff back into his shirt. “Always losing pieces of myself.”
Jack shuddered. That was an image he didn’t need. He decided to be polite, though, and tried to initiate some easy, but carefully-constructed banter.
“So… do you hang around here a lot?”
Owen-scarecrow stood up, and propped his hands on his hips with a scowl.
“I’m a bloody scarecrow. What do you think?”
“Uh… I don’t know. What… What do you think?”
Jack was so far out of his depth by now that just about all ability to think rationally had completely shut down, and all he could do was gape. Then, as if things couldn’t get any weirder, Owen-scarecrow flopped down in the middle of the road, and spoke mournfully.
“See, that’s just it. I can’t think. I haven’t got a brain, have I? My head’s all full of bloody straw!”
Jack choked back a rude comment about hanging around with freaks. A niggling feeling warned him it wouldn’t be appreciated.
“How can you talk without a brain? Even in the 51st century, that’s pretty much an impossibility.”
“How the fuck do I know?” Owen-scarecrow bellowed his melancholy erupting into rage. “I told you, I haven’t got a brain! Are you deaf, or just stupid?”
The straw infested man paused, sighing melodramatically, and his already astonishingly big mouth opened so wide that Jack thought for a second that he could see a black hole forming in there somewhere. Then, Jack recalled his musical encounter back in weevil country, and spoke up quickly, anxious to avoid a repeat performance. If nothing else, he knew damn well that Owen-scarecrow couldn’t hold a tune to save his life or anyone else’s.
“Whoa! You’re not going to start singing, are you? Seriously, my ears are still bleeding from listening to the weevils signing about this bloody Yellow Brick Road.”
Owen-scarecrow looked vaguely disappointed.
“Oh, you came from there, did you? Figures.”
“Listen, I’m heading to the Emerald City. Apparently there’s some great wizard there who can send me home. I guess you could come along, if you want. Who knows? Maybe he can give you a brain?”
“Don’t drown me in enthusiasm,” Owen-scarecrow snorted.
Jack scowled at his lack of gratitude.
“Do you want to come or not? No skin off my nose if you don’t, and frankly, Coco doesn’t like you.”
Owen-scarecrow stared at him with a very wary look.
“Your stuffed toy doesn’t like me?”
“He’s very sensitive,” Jack insisted. Owen-scarecrow shook his head.
“I’m throwing in with a nutter. Brilliant. What the hell, it’s better than staying here. So, what do I call you, anyway?”
“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack answered. “And Coco.”
“Right. I’m The Scarecrow, but you can call me Owen, because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be compared to some fruitcake out of a Batman comic.”
“Okay,” Jack agreed. “So, we’re off to see the Wizard…”
Jack yelped as Owen’s hand smacked him across the back of the head. That was happening all too frequently today.
“You wouldn’t let me sing, so you can shut up too.”
“Fine,” Jack grumbled, rubbing his head. “Oh, by the way, you don’t scare easily, do you? It’s just, I’ve got this witch after me…”
“Which one? The one from the east, or the west?”
“The west. My SUV dropped on the one from the east, and squashed him flat. The witch of the north gave me his magical muse, and the witch of the west is after me to get it back.”
Owen snorted.
“You’ve got Gwen after you, huh? You poor bastard. Once she fixates on something, she doesn’t give up, and the men who spurn her suffer terrible fates.”
“Really?” Jack asked, half curious and half worried. “How do you know?”
The question won him yet another smack across the head.
“Idiot. How do you think I ended up like this?”
“Oh…. Sorry.”
“Yeah, you will be, if she catches you. C’mon. The Emerald City is this way.”
Jack grinned and primed himself to start skipping again.
“Skip, and I’ll stuff you full of straw,” Owen threatened. Pouting, Jack tucked Coco under his arm and continued on his way with his new companion.
To be continued...
Chapter One: Straw & Corn
Author: Co-written with blucougar57
Summary: Jack awakens to find himself in a strange land named Oz. With Gwen hot on his trail as the Wicked Witch of the West, will Jack ever find his way home?
Rating: T, for now.
Warnings: Contains Gwen-bashing. Don't like? Don't read. Crack!fic.
Straw & Corn
There were flowers everywhere. Trees, flora of all sorts didn’t merely dot the landscape. It fucking covered it, for as far as the eye could see. Jack was starting to think that maybe he’d finally gone insane. It wouldn’t have surprised him, at any rate. Still, if he really had finally gone round the bend, he supposed there were worse places his poor, fragile mind could have taken him.
At least this place was in technicolour. Lurid, almost blinding technicolour, but technicolour all the same. And, on the bright side, he’d left the merry land of the weevils far behind him, along with their bizarre musical chorus. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was where the weevils had originated from, before being dumped on Earth by the rift. If that was so, he could understand why they were all so damned irritable.
Going from wearing brightly coloured overalls and living in cute, mushroomy houses to ugly, fashion-deprived jumpsuits and living in the sewers would piss off anyone.
Jack had no idea how far he’d gone, or how long he’d skipped along for. It never occurred to him to use the handy pedometer function that his vortex manipulator had suddenly acquired - something that he would later blame on the trauma of being confronted by Wicked Witch Gwen. That had been a sight to screw with the most stable person’s mind.
Although, he had to admit that green was definitely her colour, and if he ever got home he was definitely going to track down that 42nd century paint-ball gun that came through the rift a few years back, and paint her face a lovely snotty green. He briefly contemplated colouring Ianto red, but just as quickly dismissed that idea. Ianto wouldn’t appreciate it, and it would clash horribly with that sexy pink shirt of his.
Jack’s skipping slowed to a walk, and Coco dangled limply from his hand as he realised he’d come past the seemingly endless array of flowers, and into what looked like a cornfield. A really big cornfield that seemed to go on and on and on and on…
“Where the hell am I now?” he asked Coco. The toy didn’t reply because, well… it was just a toy. Jack huffed in annoyance. “Fat lot of good you are.”
Coco stared up at him with big, black soulful eyes, and Jack’s heart melted. He cuddled the toy to his chest, and crooned to it.
“How can I stay mad at you? You’re just too cute, aren’t you? Yes, you are!”
“You do realise that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity?”
Jack spun around, eyes wide, half-expecting to see the witch. No one was there, except a dopey looking scarecrow in the nearby cornfield.
“Who said that?”
No one replied. Shaking his head, Jack returned his attention to Coco, and the new problem at hand, which was the fact that the Yellow Brick Road branched off into three completely different directions.
“Well, where do we go now, Coco? Donna didn’t tell us what to do if we came to a fork in the road. Which way do you think we should go, hmm?”
“Oh, yeah. Definite signs of madness there.”
Jack turned swiftly, but again there was no one in sight but for the scarecrow. He approached it slowly, suspicion on his face.
“Did you say something?”
The scarecrow huffed. Loudly.
“Yes, I said something. Took you long enough to figure it out. About bloody time you came along, too. Do you know how long I’ve been stuck here, on this pole?”
Jack’s eyes glazed over slightly as he went briefly to his happy place.
“Oi!” the scarecrow shouted. “Snap out of it, come over here and get me off this thing!”
Blinking, Jack hurried over and looked for a way to to release the strange creature who looked and sounded an awful lot like Owen. He bent a large obviously-placed nail downwards, and on cue Owen-scarecrow slid off the pole and landed in a messy heap on the ground.
“Look at this,” he grouched, grabbing straw up off the ground to stuff back into his shirt. “Always losing pieces of myself.”
Jack shuddered. That was an image he didn’t need. He decided to be polite, though, and tried to initiate some easy, but carefully-constructed banter.
“So… do you hang around here a lot?”
Owen-scarecrow stood up, and propped his hands on his hips with a scowl.
“I’m a bloody scarecrow. What do you think?”
“Uh… I don’t know. What… What do you think?”
Jack was so far out of his depth by now that just about all ability to think rationally had completely shut down, and all he could do was gape. Then, as if things couldn’t get any weirder, Owen-scarecrow flopped down in the middle of the road, and spoke mournfully.
“See, that’s just it. I can’t think. I haven’t got a brain, have I? My head’s all full of bloody straw!”
Jack choked back a rude comment about hanging around with freaks. A niggling feeling warned him it wouldn’t be appreciated.
“How can you talk without a brain? Even in the 51st century, that’s pretty much an impossibility.”
“How the fuck do I know?” Owen-scarecrow bellowed his melancholy erupting into rage. “I told you, I haven’t got a brain! Are you deaf, or just stupid?”
The straw infested man paused, sighing melodramatically, and his already astonishingly big mouth opened so wide that Jack thought for a second that he could see a black hole forming in there somewhere. Then, Jack recalled his musical encounter back in weevil country, and spoke up quickly, anxious to avoid a repeat performance. If nothing else, he knew damn well that Owen-scarecrow couldn’t hold a tune to save his life or anyone else’s.
“Whoa! You’re not going to start singing, are you? Seriously, my ears are still bleeding from listening to the weevils signing about this bloody Yellow Brick Road.”
Owen-scarecrow looked vaguely disappointed.
“Oh, you came from there, did you? Figures.”
“Listen, I’m heading to the Emerald City. Apparently there’s some great wizard there who can send me home. I guess you could come along, if you want. Who knows? Maybe he can give you a brain?”
“Don’t drown me in enthusiasm,” Owen-scarecrow snorted.
Jack scowled at his lack of gratitude.
“Do you want to come or not? No skin off my nose if you don’t, and frankly, Coco doesn’t like you.”
Owen-scarecrow stared at him with a very wary look.
“Your stuffed toy doesn’t like me?”
“He’s very sensitive,” Jack insisted. Owen-scarecrow shook his head.
“I’m throwing in with a nutter. Brilliant. What the hell, it’s better than staying here. So, what do I call you, anyway?”
“Captain Jack Harkness,” Jack answered. “And Coco.”
“Right. I’m The Scarecrow, but you can call me Owen, because I’ll be damned if I’m gonna be compared to some fruitcake out of a Batman comic.”
“Okay,” Jack agreed. “So, we’re off to see the Wizard…”
Jack yelped as Owen’s hand smacked him across the back of the head. That was happening all too frequently today.
“You wouldn’t let me sing, so you can shut up too.”
“Fine,” Jack grumbled, rubbing his head. “Oh, by the way, you don’t scare easily, do you? It’s just, I’ve got this witch after me…”
“Which one? The one from the east, or the west?”
“The west. My SUV dropped on the one from the east, and squashed him flat. The witch of the north gave me his magical muse, and the witch of the west is after me to get it back.”
Owen snorted.
“You’ve got Gwen after you, huh? You poor bastard. Once she fixates on something, she doesn’t give up, and the men who spurn her suffer terrible fates.”
“Really?” Jack asked, half curious and half worried. “How do you know?”
The question won him yet another smack across the head.
“Idiot. How do you think I ended up like this?”
“Oh…. Sorry.”
“Yeah, you will be, if she catches you. C’mon. The Emerald City is this way.”
Jack grinned and primed himself to start skipping again.
“Skip, and I’ll stuff you full of straw,” Owen threatened. Pouting, Jack tucked Coco under his arm and continued on his way with his new companion.
To be continued...