Torchwood/Dr Who - fic - The Torchwood Girls, Part 9, Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, PG
Title - The Torchwood Girls, Part 9
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - 868 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: New Who to end of S3
Summary - The Hub is once again descended upon by a group of women, for a crash course in Torchwood.
Disclaimer: alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Links to previous parts of this series, art and stories set in the past and future of this 'verse behind the cut.
Part 1, including art
Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 accompanying art
Whistle, Jack/Rose, 15/R (TARDIS, some point between TDD and Boom Town) accompanying art
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Midnight at the Lost and Found (June 1917), including cover art
Pictures Tell Stories (Spring 2008)
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
End of Part 8:
“Jack?” Joan whispers.
“Yeah?” Jack replies, equally quietly.
“Show the gentlemen the rest of the book, tell them about your friends. We need something pleasant, before the darkness sets in.”
“Good idea, Joan. Thank you.” Jack smiles at her, before flipping to Rose’s pages, and pouring some more whisky for everyone.
“Guys,” he begins, regaining their attention, “the aliens are gonna have wait to be dealt with, if any of them arrive; we’re not doing any more work today. Let me tell you some more about my friends, Rose Tyler and the Doctor, instead.”
***
Part 9
After the day of truths, Jack knows he has to call the women and tell them what the real situation is. But one of them calls him, instead.
”I’ve read the news. We won’t be working within your existing team, will we, Captain?” Jennifer asks.
“No, Jenny, I don’t think you will be,” Jack eventually admits, “you’ll be the team, instead.”
”Well, Captain, you’d better get us all back to Cardiff, then, so we know how to use the equipment you have in that secret base of yours.”
She’s ahead of him. Good girl. “Just what I was planning to do, Jennifer Porter. Is the weekend OK?”
***
And so, the Hub is once again descended upon by a group of women, for a crash course in Torchwood. Eleanor, Penelope, Jennifer and Amy arrive with luggage, prepared to stay in the Hub for a couple of weeks.
Once the greetings and paperwork are out of the way, Torchwood Three has four new officers. Then the training starts. General presentations by everyone to all the new recruits, Jack had declared. Fitted in around any visiting aliens, of course. First off, Andrew details the medical lab/autopsy area. On the Monday, Michael takes the women to the archives, shows them the phone-tapping equipment. Tuesday, Simon runs them through the translation documents, programs and tech. The following day, Ioan explains some of the future tech that’s come through the Rift.
Finally, with assistance from Eleanor, Jack teaches Penelope, Jennifer and Amy how to shoot. As they haven’t failed him yet, and have occasionally earned him a night in bed with his new recruit, Jack uses his standard moves: standing close behind the other person, a hand over hers on the gun, gently manoeuvring her arms in the correct position, words of encouragement, strokes of her hair. The hand on her stomach, pressing her up against his body, getting her to focus on breathing correctly, and then, at last, letting the bullet go.
He knows exactly what it all looks and feels like, which is why he does it. Everyone smiles, in satisfaction at a job well done.
***
Once again, Jack gives his men the options; King and country, or aliens and the whole planet.
In the end, there really isn’t any question. Within a couple of weeks, all Jack’s men have joined up. With their education and the positions they’ll have just left, they’ll be subalterns in the Army. And that means being in charge of tanks.
Having figuratively (but not literally, more’s the pity, and not for want of trying) kissed his men goodbye, when they do leave him, Jack is as prepared as he’s ever going to be to let them go.
Most probably to their deaths. They all know this, but no-one’s going to admit it out loud. Even on one last evening out, all ten of them.
A night which Dr Penelope White spends most of eyeing him. “Your coat, Jack. It’s naval issue, is it not?” she finally asks.
What’s she getting at? “Yeah. I...acquired it about ten years ago, but I removed the insignia. Never really felt anything for the water.” Jack knows all the stories, and has to chuckle, despite himself. “I’m a soldier and a pilot, not a sailor.” He takes a breath, a little surprised that he revealed that.
***
Before Jack knows it, he’s left Joan and the girls running the show in Cardiff, and he’s a colonel in the Royal Flying Corps, with yet another group of men under his command. He’s charged with a de Havilland BE-2 biplane. It’s quite possibly the most ungainly machine he’s ever set eyes on.
“Feeling really guilty here, ma’am, for thinking disrespectfully of you," Jack soberly tells the plane, a hand on her main body, “but you’re really not all that pretty.”
It’s a first step, though. Twenty five years’ time, the next time this whole dreadful mess happens, the planes will be better. Spitfires, for example. Now, there was a hot little plane. Just over forty years’ time, the same kind of mindsets that made these planes will get a man into space.
“Time to start saving the world, then. Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart,” he says, as he and his navigator climb in, fire up the engines and lead the twelve aircraft of No. 3 Squadron RFC off to Europe, and then on their first recon sortie.
***
In late September 1914, Joan encounters her latest alien. Eleanor, Penelope, Jennifer and Amy encounter their first. They all thank a God that none of them are sure they still believe in that the alien isn’t hostile. It would appear to be just a lost male child, in his small spacecraft, caught up and spat out by the Rift, which left him right on their doorstep, actually in the Hub.
They establish that the boy’s from Metazonica, manipulate the Rift, and let the purple-skinned humanoid take the scapesono home with him, much to his delight.
“Won’t Jack be angry?” Amy asks her.
“No,” Joan says, after very briefly considering the question. She’s sat at Jack’s, well, her desk, now. “He’d probably have done the same thing himself. Anyway, another one may well turn up, at some point.”
TBC
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
dwfiction
new_who
galactic_conman
john_joan
Teaspoon
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs
Rating - PG
Length - 868 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: New Who to end of S3
Summary - The Hub is once again descended upon by a group of women, for a crash course in Torchwood.
Disclaimer: alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Links to previous parts of this series, art and stories set in the past and future of this 'verse behind the cut.
Part 1, including art
Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5 accompanying art
Whistle, Jack/Rose, 15/R (TARDIS, some point between TDD and Boom Town) accompanying art
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Midnight at the Lost and Found (June 1917), including cover art
Pictures Tell Stories (Spring 2008)
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
End of Part 8:
“Jack?” Joan whispers.
“Yeah?” Jack replies, equally quietly.
“Show the gentlemen the rest of the book, tell them about your friends. We need something pleasant, before the darkness sets in.”
“Good idea, Joan. Thank you.” Jack smiles at her, before flipping to Rose’s pages, and pouring some more whisky for everyone.
“Guys,” he begins, regaining their attention, “the aliens are gonna have wait to be dealt with, if any of them arrive; we’re not doing any more work today. Let me tell you some more about my friends, Rose Tyler and the Doctor, instead.”
***
Part 9
After the day of truths, Jack knows he has to call the women and tell them what the real situation is. But one of them calls him, instead.
”I’ve read the news. We won’t be working within your existing team, will we, Captain?” Jennifer asks.
“No, Jenny, I don’t think you will be,” Jack eventually admits, “you’ll be the team, instead.”
”Well, Captain, you’d better get us all back to Cardiff, then, so we know how to use the equipment you have in that secret base of yours.”
She’s ahead of him. Good girl. “Just what I was planning to do, Jennifer Porter. Is the weekend OK?”
***
And so, the Hub is once again descended upon by a group of women, for a crash course in Torchwood. Eleanor, Penelope, Jennifer and Amy arrive with luggage, prepared to stay in the Hub for a couple of weeks.
Once the greetings and paperwork are out of the way, Torchwood Three has four new officers. Then the training starts. General presentations by everyone to all the new recruits, Jack had declared. Fitted in around any visiting aliens, of course. First off, Andrew details the medical lab/autopsy area. On the Monday, Michael takes the women to the archives, shows them the phone-tapping equipment. Tuesday, Simon runs them through the translation documents, programs and tech. The following day, Ioan explains some of the future tech that’s come through the Rift.
Finally, with assistance from Eleanor, Jack teaches Penelope, Jennifer and Amy how to shoot. As they haven’t failed him yet, and have occasionally earned him a night in bed with his new recruit, Jack uses his standard moves: standing close behind the other person, a hand over hers on the gun, gently manoeuvring her arms in the correct position, words of encouragement, strokes of her hair. The hand on her stomach, pressing her up against his body, getting her to focus on breathing correctly, and then, at last, letting the bullet go.
He knows exactly what it all looks and feels like, which is why he does it. Everyone smiles, in satisfaction at a job well done.
***
Once again, Jack gives his men the options; King and country, or aliens and the whole planet.
In the end, there really isn’t any question. Within a couple of weeks, all Jack’s men have joined up. With their education and the positions they’ll have just left, they’ll be subalterns in the Army. And that means being in charge of tanks.
Having figuratively (but not literally, more’s the pity, and not for want of trying) kissed his men goodbye, when they do leave him, Jack is as prepared as he’s ever going to be to let them go.
Most probably to their deaths. They all know this, but no-one’s going to admit it out loud. Even on one last evening out, all ten of them.
A night which Dr Penelope White spends most of eyeing him. “Your coat, Jack. It’s naval issue, is it not?” she finally asks.
What’s she getting at? “Yeah. I...acquired it about ten years ago, but I removed the insignia. Never really felt anything for the water.” Jack knows all the stories, and has to chuckle, despite himself. “I’m a soldier and a pilot, not a sailor.” He takes a breath, a little surprised that he revealed that.
***
Before Jack knows it, he’s left Joan and the girls running the show in Cardiff, and he’s a colonel in the Royal Flying Corps, with yet another group of men under his command. He’s charged with a de Havilland BE-2 biplane. It’s quite possibly the most ungainly machine he’s ever set eyes on.
“Feeling really guilty here, ma’am, for thinking disrespectfully of you," Jack soberly tells the plane, a hand on her main body, “but you’re really not all that pretty.”
It’s a first step, though. Twenty five years’ time, the next time this whole dreadful mess happens, the planes will be better. Spitfires, for example. Now, there was a hot little plane. Just over forty years’ time, the same kind of mindsets that made these planes will get a man into space.
“Time to start saving the world, then. Let’s see what you’ve got, sweetheart,” he says, as he and his navigator climb in, fire up the engines and lead the twelve aircraft of No. 3 Squadron RFC off to Europe, and then on their first recon sortie.
***
In late September 1914, Joan encounters her latest alien. Eleanor, Penelope, Jennifer and Amy encounter their first. They all thank a God that none of them are sure they still believe in that the alien isn’t hostile. It would appear to be just a lost male child, in his small spacecraft, caught up and spat out by the Rift, which left him right on their doorstep, actually in the Hub.
They establish that the boy’s from Metazonica, manipulate the Rift, and let the purple-skinned humanoid take the scapesono home with him, much to his delight.
“Won’t Jack be angry?” Amy asks her.
“No,” Joan says, after very briefly considering the question. She’s sat at Jack’s, well, her desk, now. “He’d probably have done the same thing himself. Anyway, another one may well turn up, at some point.”
TBC
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
dwfiction
new_who
galactic_conman
john_joan
Teaspoon