crossover fic: Damsel in Distress, Sanctuary/Torchwood, PG
disclaimer: not mine
fandoms: Sanctuary, Torchwood
characters: Helen Magnus, Jack Harkness
set: pre-series for both, I expect.
length: just 1000 words
rating: PG, some violence.
genre: zombies, vague action
notes: There's a line in 'Kush' regarding this scenario. This was supposed to be, like, a drabble. Pfft. (also, I have no Sanctuary icons, so you get Alice Carter, who would approve of Helen's attitude towards Jack, instead)
Damsel in Distress
by ALC Punk!
Dusk had stolen across the sky, and Helen Magnus was crouched behind a low wall, the top broken off long ago, the stone left behind weathered with age. The creatures were getting closer, and she waited until she could get off several accurate shots.
Unfortunately, as the last of the light faded, she clicked on empty.
Her plan had not been to become trapped alone, but one of her staff had twisted an ankle and she'd sent them back to the nearest occupied town without her, figuring she'd be fine to get back on her own. Unfortunately, walking didn't appear to be much of an option, if she even had any. She could run, and hope that they weren't swift enough to follow and that she'd reach one of the few standing buildings. She could fight them hand to hand. Or--
But the or wasn't an option she wanted. Wouldn't be an option she would ever choose. Death wasn't a particularly interesting prospect at the best of times, even less so, now. Firm in her resolve, she shifted her grip on the pistol, turning it into a slightly more suitable bludgeon, and prepared herself for the battle to come.
"Oh dear. A damsel in distress. Whatever should I do?"
The voice came from behind her, and she swung round to find an attractive man with eyes that seemed to catch the last of the light in his blue eyes. Helen raised her eyebrows at him, then glanced back at the still-shuffling zombies. "Captain Jack Harkness."
"Helen Magnus. Doctor," he corrected himself, his lips curving slightly, and his voice almost a caress, "Magnus."
"Captain. You're a bit far afield," Helen noted, bending to pull the knife in her boot free. They had met at a conference some years ago, crossing paths to take out what appeared to be an alien invasion. Since then, Helen had happily left such matters to Torchwood and their ilk, preferring the fascinating world of the human body and mind as a place of study over beings far outside that purview.
"Vacation."
"Indeed." Spilling her disbelief into her tone, she stepped back from the wall, then glanced at him again. "You wouldn't be armed by any chance?" She wasn't entirely surprised to see him, and she hoped that her memory for his propensity to be armed wasn't failing her.
"You could say that." He held out a pistol to her, "Here. You might need this before dawn."
"Thank you." Cocking it, Helen turned and fired on the zombie about to reach for her. Then there was little time for discussion as the horde descended upon them, the sound of gunfire cracking loudly in the darkness. Helen kept the Captain at her back as they worked their way out of the crowd and into one of the still-standing buildings surrounding the square. While he watched the door, she gathered wood and other oddments before starting a rather respectable fire.
They passed the night taking turns on the door and windows, throwing the occasional fire-bomb out at the encroaching zombies, and flirting. The Captain was rather practiced at it, but Helen was equally practiced at turning flattery aside. By the time dawn had arrived, they were sitting rather amicably with their backs to each other, the fire to one side.
"Full sun will make them dormant," Helen said, breaking the silence with a slight yawn.
He shifted against her back, wriggling his shoulders a little, as though waking up. "I had gathered as much."
She stretched and then slowly gathered herself together before standing and moving to the window. The zombies were gone, having shuffled away as the light began to fill the sky. It was just as well, their fire was nearly out, and she hadn't been looking forward to searching for more things in the further reaches of the ancient building, where she might find holes in the floor or zombies creeping through the walls. She wondered, if only out of scientific curiosity, just how they moved, what was animating them?
An investigation to begin once she had the zombies on her autopsy table, with the full arsenal of her equipment to bear on the matter, obviously.
There was a huge sigh from the man on the floor, "Are you certain I can't interest you in breakfast?"
Helen smiled at him, amused and cheerful in the face of their continued survival. "Quite sure. I need to check in with my people and get a larger team down here to deal with this. Besides, I'm under the impression clean-up is not your favorite task."
"Oh, you'd be surprised." He smiled back at her and got to his feet, but he didn't explain his presence, or offer his help. "If you're ever in Cardiff, Doctor."
She hadn't expected him to. "I might look you up."
"Ouch."
Helen patted his arm, then moved to the door, unbarring it and stepping out into the sunlight. She had no worries for the Captain's heart. He seemed a rather easy man, fickle in his tastes, but vibrant in his love.
But for her, her mind turned to the business of dealing with a town full of zombies. It would not be an easy task, no matter how glib her words were to the Captain. But it was certainly something that would give her interesting results--if she could replicate the re-animation of dead flesh in her lab, who knew what she could accomplish?
"I'll walk you to the next town, at least," the Captain offered with a sweep of his arm.
Helen smiled and took his elbow, "I would enjoy your company for a bit longer. Just don't believe this will lead to anything."
"You've destroyed all hope," he shot back.
They settled back into silence for the walk, at the end of which, Helen saw him off at the small hotel before returning to her rooms and finding her staff still abed, none of them worried about her. She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed, and finally settled on a combination of both as well as adding a few new rules to field trips: no one went anywhere alone.
fandoms: Sanctuary, Torchwood
characters: Helen Magnus, Jack Harkness
set: pre-series for both, I expect.
length: just 1000 words
rating: PG, some violence.
genre: zombies, vague action
notes: There's a line in 'Kush' regarding this scenario. This was supposed to be, like, a drabble. Pfft. (also, I have no Sanctuary icons, so you get Alice Carter, who would approve of Helen's attitude towards Jack, instead)
Damsel in Distress
by ALC Punk!
Dusk had stolen across the sky, and Helen Magnus was crouched behind a low wall, the top broken off long ago, the stone left behind weathered with age. The creatures were getting closer, and she waited until she could get off several accurate shots.
Unfortunately, as the last of the light faded, she clicked on empty.
Her plan had not been to become trapped alone, but one of her staff had twisted an ankle and she'd sent them back to the nearest occupied town without her, figuring she'd be fine to get back on her own. Unfortunately, walking didn't appear to be much of an option, if she even had any. She could run, and hope that they weren't swift enough to follow and that she'd reach one of the few standing buildings. She could fight them hand to hand. Or--
But the or wasn't an option she wanted. Wouldn't be an option she would ever choose. Death wasn't a particularly interesting prospect at the best of times, even less so, now. Firm in her resolve, she shifted her grip on the pistol, turning it into a slightly more suitable bludgeon, and prepared herself for the battle to come.
"Oh dear. A damsel in distress. Whatever should I do?"
The voice came from behind her, and she swung round to find an attractive man with eyes that seemed to catch the last of the light in his blue eyes. Helen raised her eyebrows at him, then glanced back at the still-shuffling zombies. "Captain Jack Harkness."
"Helen Magnus. Doctor," he corrected himself, his lips curving slightly, and his voice almost a caress, "Magnus."
"Captain. You're a bit far afield," Helen noted, bending to pull the knife in her boot free. They had met at a conference some years ago, crossing paths to take out what appeared to be an alien invasion. Since then, Helen had happily left such matters to Torchwood and their ilk, preferring the fascinating world of the human body and mind as a place of study over beings far outside that purview.
"Vacation."
"Indeed." Spilling her disbelief into her tone, she stepped back from the wall, then glanced at him again. "You wouldn't be armed by any chance?" She wasn't entirely surprised to see him, and she hoped that her memory for his propensity to be armed wasn't failing her.
"You could say that." He held out a pistol to her, "Here. You might need this before dawn."
"Thank you." Cocking it, Helen turned and fired on the zombie about to reach for her. Then there was little time for discussion as the horde descended upon them, the sound of gunfire cracking loudly in the darkness. Helen kept the Captain at her back as they worked their way out of the crowd and into one of the still-standing buildings surrounding the square. While he watched the door, she gathered wood and other oddments before starting a rather respectable fire.
They passed the night taking turns on the door and windows, throwing the occasional fire-bomb out at the encroaching zombies, and flirting. The Captain was rather practiced at it, but Helen was equally practiced at turning flattery aside. By the time dawn had arrived, they were sitting rather amicably with their backs to each other, the fire to one side.
"Full sun will make them dormant," Helen said, breaking the silence with a slight yawn.
He shifted against her back, wriggling his shoulders a little, as though waking up. "I had gathered as much."
She stretched and then slowly gathered herself together before standing and moving to the window. The zombies were gone, having shuffled away as the light began to fill the sky. It was just as well, their fire was nearly out, and she hadn't been looking forward to searching for more things in the further reaches of the ancient building, where she might find holes in the floor or zombies creeping through the walls. She wondered, if only out of scientific curiosity, just how they moved, what was animating them?
An investigation to begin once she had the zombies on her autopsy table, with the full arsenal of her equipment to bear on the matter, obviously.
There was a huge sigh from the man on the floor, "Are you certain I can't interest you in breakfast?"
Helen smiled at him, amused and cheerful in the face of their continued survival. "Quite sure. I need to check in with my people and get a larger team down here to deal with this. Besides, I'm under the impression clean-up is not your favorite task."
"Oh, you'd be surprised." He smiled back at her and got to his feet, but he didn't explain his presence, or offer his help. "If you're ever in Cardiff, Doctor."
She hadn't expected him to. "I might look you up."
"Ouch."
Helen patted his arm, then moved to the door, unbarring it and stepping out into the sunlight. She had no worries for the Captain's heart. He seemed a rather easy man, fickle in his tastes, but vibrant in his love.
But for her, her mind turned to the business of dealing with a town full of zombies. It would not be an easy task, no matter how glib her words were to the Captain. But it was certainly something that would give her interesting results--if she could replicate the re-animation of dead flesh in her lab, who knew what she could accomplish?
"I'll walk you to the next town, at least," the Captain offered with a sweep of his arm.
Helen smiled and took his elbow, "I would enjoy your company for a bit longer. Just don't believe this will lead to anything."
"You've destroyed all hope," he shot back.
They settled back into silence for the walk, at the end of which, Helen saw him off at the small hotel before returning to her rooms and finding her staff still abed, none of them worried about her. She didn't know whether to be flattered or annoyed, and finally settled on a combination of both as well as adding a few new rules to field trips: no one went anywhere alone.