WLWI - Chapter 3
And here's Chapter 3. I figured, I might as well post it :)
CHAPTER THREE
Either Jack was an extremely lucky man or Fate had a divine plan for him; he was inclined to think the former. But whatever the reason, Jack was grateful as it took a relatively short amount of time to find Owen. It was old-fashioned detective work and Jack was reminded of his early days with Torchwood.
The little he could ascertain just by looking in shop windows and eavesdropping on bits of conversation, Jack was pretty sure he was in an alternate Earth universe. He believed the city was called Parí, as he had seen it in print a few times. While pleased that his first instincts about his location were not too far off the mark, it made him curious about the evolution of this world’s society. He heard variations of American, English, French, German and Italian accents, but the most dominant language, surprisingly, was an intermingling of French and English.
Jack kept a running list of questions and observations, the subtle changes here and there from the Paris he knew well. However, there were some things that seemed never changing and the power of the Harkness charm was one of them.
In each place he visited, Jack flirted with the waiting staff and the regulars, earning him a few free drinks, which he accepted out of politeness, as well as many offers of company. Those he turned down graciously and left a few men and women in hope of a rain check. This world was not short of beautiful people! Once he found Owen, Jack had every intention of sampling the local flavors while waiting for Tosh and Susie to rescue them.
Jack snorted. At first encounter, there didn’t seem to be much need of rescue, more like pulling him away from a mini-break. He wondered how much exploration Owen had done so far.
Jack was just leaving yet another, lovely, heavily patronized café when he was stopped by a man’s voice, addressing him.
“Hey, mate, you’re looking for Owen Harper?”
Jack turned towards the man. He was built like a former rugby player, with light brown hair and an open expression on his attractive face, which was not unlike the other people around him. What was different was the distinctly Welsh lilt in his speech.
“Do you know him?” Jack asked.
“Londoner, short, dark eyes, usually plodding around muttering something tasteless and disagreeable?”
Jack gave a laugh and a grin. “That’s him. He told me to meet him down here, but I forgot the name of the place.”
The man laughed at Jack, as if knowing how many places he would have to search to find one person, or how many he already had. “Well, you’re not too far off then. He should be at the Bleu Allée by now. It’s just round the corner there,” the man said, pointing to the left. “No proper sign though, just look for the two gas lanterns on the side of the building and go through the gate. Henri should be there to open the door.”
Jack smiled and stuck out his hand. “Thanks, friend. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Jack looked at the man again, gauging his first impression of him. He seemed genuinely nice and the few friends he had with him listened politely to the conversation. Jack trusted his instincts. “So, you’re friends with Owen?”
The man shrugged. “Not really. We work together, I guess you could say.”
Jack held in his surprise. Work? What had Owen been doing and more worryingly, for how long? “Well, I’ll probably see you around then. Thanks again.”
Jack left quickly and followed the directions he’d been given.
He entered the Bleu Allée, the door indeed held open by Henri, a tall, roguish black man with stunning, long braids secured at the back with a hair tie. Jack wouldn’t have minded chatting with him for a while, maybe twine his finger around those braids, but he refrained. He was too close to finding Owen. But, a quick glance of the crowd made Jack frown. He couldn’t see his wayward teammate, couldn’t hear his voice break through the happy chatter.
This place, this club, was not very well lit. Tea lights were set on each round table and the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were dimmed. Deciding against weaving through all of the tables and chairs in search of Owen, Jack headed to the bar and inquired there. The guy at the last café made it seem like Owen was a regular patron. Several people were waiting for service from the two barmen, so Jack used the time to assess his surroundings.
It was deceptively small, much longer than it was wide. The walls were all exposed red brick. Like an alley, Jack thought, except for the wall across from the entrance. That was made of floor-to-ceiling curtain; several gaps in the fabric created doorways to other areas of the club, probably the loops, kitchen and perhaps a backstage area for performers. Jack noticed a raised platform at the back of the room; a baby grand piano and several micas and stands stood waiting for the next musicians.
“What’ll you have?”
Jack looked over at the barman, a plain looking older gentleman, but one not unworthy of the patented Harkness smile. “Actually, I’m looking for someone. You haven’t seen a guy named Owen Harper in here tonight, have you?”
The barman, unphased by Jack, just continued to pull the taps. “He’s out back, getting ready for his shift. Should be out in a few minutes.”
So, Owen worked for the club. There was no way he would be a waiter, but he might make a decent barman. “Thanks.”
“Did you want a drink?”
“Just water when you get the chance.”
The barman nodded and passed full glasses to waiting patrons.
After a few minutes, as promised, Jack saw his teammate emerge from behind the wall of curtains. Jack stood tall hoping to catch his attention, but Owen kept his head down and his eyes lowered as he made his way towards the stage.
The Captain was stunned when Owen sat down at the piano and began to play… and play well! He listened for a moment then chuckled; Owen was playing jazz. The doctor looked lost in his music as he plunked out an improvisation of, “Peel Me A Grape.” Jack always loved that tune and had seduced many a lover to it back in the day. He found himself humming and softly singing along with Owen.
Jack leaned back against the bar, sipped his water and watched the set. It was a pleasant variation of standards and new stylisations of popular songs. There were a few that Jack couldn’t place at all and he wondered is they were local favorites. Judging by the audience response to them, it was certainly a possibility.
Owen seemed to be known to the crowd as well. The patrons watched him, applauded for him, but also paid him little attention at times, choosing to chat to their neighbours instead. Owen had been in this world long enough to need a job, but not long enough to be a headlining act.
By the end of Owen’s set, Jack was getting antsy. The music was great, the atmosphere was enjoyable, but Jack’s guilt grew. Even with all the positive attention from the crowd, Owen barely smiled. He was functioning on automatic pilot, going through the motions, only showing interest when he was playing. Maybe this world was not all fun and excitement.
Owen left the stage to enthusiastic applause and came directly towards the bar. He didn’t look up as he shouted a request for a beer. It was only when he took his first big swig of his drink that he noticed person a few feet away from him.
“Hi, Owen.” Jack greeted him with a sad grin.
Owen set his glass back on the bar, a few drops splashed out and onto the shiny surface. He started to breathe heavily, his eyes widened at the sound of his Captain’s voice. “Jack?”
He nodded. “It’s me.”
Owen swallowed thickly, pushing his emotions down. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded vigorously. When he opened them again, there were tears sparkling in them. He stood up quickly and walked past Jack to the door of the club.
Jack quickly followed and found him leaning his forehead against the side of the building. “Owen? Are you okay?”
The doctor chuckled and a sneer appeared on his face. “Am I okay?” he repeated quietly. “Four weeks. Four fucking weeks, Jack!” He spun around to look at him, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. “I’ve been stuck here for almost a month and in you waltz with your fucking coat and smiles, and you want to know if I’m okay? Where the bloody hell have you been?” His shoulders started to shake as the first tears fell onto his cheeks. “Where have you been?”
Without thinking, Jack pulled his teammate into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” His voice may have sounded calm and soothing, but inside, Jack was twisted in knots.
Owen pulled away from Jack after a few moments, and scrubbed his face with his hands, wiping away the last of his tears. “So, when do we get out of here?” he asked, putting his harsh mask back in place.
“I don’t know,” Jack answered honestly.
“What do you mean you don’t know? It took you this long to find me and you’re making me stay here even longer?”
Jack weighed his options carefully. Was it best to tell Owen the truth now, while he was so raw, or should he wait until they were some place more secluded? He sighed. “Owen, it maybe have been a month for you, but it was about four days for us.”
Owen blinked his brown eyes several times as he took in that sentence. He inhaled deeply and slowly. “Fuck.”
Explanations followed. Owen went first.
Having retrieved the younger man’s coat from the club, the two walked towards his flat. On the way, he told Jack everything that had happened to him. He landed in the same place as Jack, at that strange gate with the plaque. He stumbled around, trying to find out where and when he was, only growing more confused at the similarities to his own universe. Feeling tired and frustrated, he found himself in the Bleu Allée. It was dark, had alcohol and music to distract him for a few moments. He ordered a drink and asked for the barman to keep them coming.
It was slow so the barman kept talking to him, but Owen made all of his answers vague. After a few glasses, he was preparing to run out on the bill when he noticed several notes of currency fall off the bar. He bent to pick it up and noticed that they looked very similar to the English pounds in his wallet. He wondered if the barman would pay enough attention to Owen’s money or if he would just accept it.
Owen’s instinct was right; no one noticed the subtle difference.
“So, I asked the barman if he knew of a place to stay for the night, somewhere cheap. He gave me the name of a place, even rung them up to see if they had a room for me. A few days later, I came back. The barman there, Tony’s his name, was a nice bloke and I felt like some mindless conversation. Well, that night, there was this guy playing the piano in a band. I thought he was shit and said so. Tony asked if I could do better. I said yes I could. Then he told me about a job opening at the club. I played for the owner, got the job, moved into a flat and that’s about it.”
“Have you figured anything out about this place? The history of it?”
Owen shrugged. “I read some bits of history about it in the local bookstore, but it doesn’t help. There’s no talk of aliens or magical paintings that transport unsuspecting people into their world. It reads like the history of Earth, but with a few major differences.”
“I noticed. No Eiffel Tower that I can see.”
“Not yet. They’re still finishing up the plans for it. It’s going to be a focal point at the Summer Olympics here in a few years,” Owen said, his voice slightly disdainful. “No Euro either, at least not in this country.” Jack didn’t have a comment for that, so he just nodded.
As the two men entered Owen’s building and climbed the stone stairs to the fourth floor, Jack couldn’t help but notice the distressed beauty of the place and the quaint street they left behind. “This is a nice area.”
“There aren’t that many bad areas around here, or didn’t you notice? The city is bloody postcard. This building is an all artists’ dwelling. Small space, cheap rent, but it looks oh so pretty and inspiring.”
Jack laughed at Owen’s mocking. Yet, he couldn’t help agree with the description.
“So, your turn, Harkness. What have you been doing for the last few days?”
Jack told him everything he knew about the painting, the little he knew about the planet that owned it and the plan to get them out. Owen was not very impressed.
“We wait? That’s your master rescue plan? Strand both of us here and while away the days waiting for Tosh and Susie to figure this out? You’re brilliant you are.”
“Would you rather I have waited a few more days? A week? If every day in our world is a week for you, it could have been half a year before I came here.”
“But, at least then we could have left here immediately!” Owen shouted, unlocking his door and letting them both inside.
“Well, then I’m sorry that I was worried about you! I thought it would be better if you weren’t alone.”
Owen snorted. “Sure, you care. Thank you, Captain, for your concern, but I was able to survive without you!”
“You were still alone, Owen.”
A tense silence filled the tiny space. Neither one wanted give in to the other. It was a typical dance for them. They got along well until they butted heads over something. Owen rarely gave in so Jack was forced to use the “I’m the boss” card and make him relent. But, stranded in a strange world, it didn’t matter who was the boss.
Owen grunted and moved to his single bed. Grabbing a pillow and an extra blanket, he threw them on the floor. “You’re not taking my bed. You can sleep on the floor. And tomorrow we’ll sort out future arrangements. Do you have any money on you?”
Jack smiled. “A little.”
“You’ll need more because I’m not giving you mine. You’re getting a job.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Shut it, Harkness. Go to sleep.” With that, Owen threw himself on top of his duvet and let out a long sigh, full of relief and a bit of frustration.
As Jack settled into his makeshift bed, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is this place really so bad?”
Owen didn’t answer immediately, but Jack could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. Finally he said, “S’not the point, is it?”
CHAPTER THREE
Either Jack was an extremely lucky man or Fate had a divine plan for him; he was inclined to think the former. But whatever the reason, Jack was grateful as it took a relatively short amount of time to find Owen. It was old-fashioned detective work and Jack was reminded of his early days with Torchwood.
The little he could ascertain just by looking in shop windows and eavesdropping on bits of conversation, Jack was pretty sure he was in an alternate Earth universe. He believed the city was called Parí, as he had seen it in print a few times. While pleased that his first instincts about his location were not too far off the mark, it made him curious about the evolution of this world’s society. He heard variations of American, English, French, German and Italian accents, but the most dominant language, surprisingly, was an intermingling of French and English.
Jack kept a running list of questions and observations, the subtle changes here and there from the Paris he knew well. However, there were some things that seemed never changing and the power of the Harkness charm was one of them.
In each place he visited, Jack flirted with the waiting staff and the regulars, earning him a few free drinks, which he accepted out of politeness, as well as many offers of company. Those he turned down graciously and left a few men and women in hope of a rain check. This world was not short of beautiful people! Once he found Owen, Jack had every intention of sampling the local flavors while waiting for Tosh and Susie to rescue them.
Jack snorted. At first encounter, there didn’t seem to be much need of rescue, more like pulling him away from a mini-break. He wondered how much exploration Owen had done so far.
Jack was just leaving yet another, lovely, heavily patronized café when he was stopped by a man’s voice, addressing him.
“Hey, mate, you’re looking for Owen Harper?”
Jack turned towards the man. He was built like a former rugby player, with light brown hair and an open expression on his attractive face, which was not unlike the other people around him. What was different was the distinctly Welsh lilt in his speech.
“Do you know him?” Jack asked.
“Londoner, short, dark eyes, usually plodding around muttering something tasteless and disagreeable?”
Jack gave a laugh and a grin. “That’s him. He told me to meet him down here, but I forgot the name of the place.”
The man laughed at Jack, as if knowing how many places he would have to search to find one person, or how many he already had. “Well, you’re not too far off then. He should be at the Bleu Allée by now. It’s just round the corner there,” the man said, pointing to the left. “No proper sign though, just look for the two gas lanterns on the side of the building and go through the gate. Henri should be there to open the door.”
Jack smiled and stuck out his hand. “Thanks, friend. I appreciate it.”
“No problem.”
Jack looked at the man again, gauging his first impression of him. He seemed genuinely nice and the few friends he had with him listened politely to the conversation. Jack trusted his instincts. “So, you’re friends with Owen?”
The man shrugged. “Not really. We work together, I guess you could say.”
Jack held in his surprise. Work? What had Owen been doing and more worryingly, for how long? “Well, I’ll probably see you around then. Thanks again.”
Jack left quickly and followed the directions he’d been given.
He entered the Bleu Allée, the door indeed held open by Henri, a tall, roguish black man with stunning, long braids secured at the back with a hair tie. Jack wouldn’t have minded chatting with him for a while, maybe twine his finger around those braids, but he refrained. He was too close to finding Owen. But, a quick glance of the crowd made Jack frown. He couldn’t see his wayward teammate, couldn’t hear his voice break through the happy chatter.
This place, this club, was not very well lit. Tea lights were set on each round table and the light fixtures hanging from the ceiling were dimmed. Deciding against weaving through all of the tables and chairs in search of Owen, Jack headed to the bar and inquired there. The guy at the last café made it seem like Owen was a regular patron. Several people were waiting for service from the two barmen, so Jack used the time to assess his surroundings.
It was deceptively small, much longer than it was wide. The walls were all exposed red brick. Like an alley, Jack thought, except for the wall across from the entrance. That was made of floor-to-ceiling curtain; several gaps in the fabric created doorways to other areas of the club, probably the loops, kitchen and perhaps a backstage area for performers. Jack noticed a raised platform at the back of the room; a baby grand piano and several micas and stands stood waiting for the next musicians.
“What’ll you have?”
Jack looked over at the barman, a plain looking older gentleman, but one not unworthy of the patented Harkness smile. “Actually, I’m looking for someone. You haven’t seen a guy named Owen Harper in here tonight, have you?”
The barman, unphased by Jack, just continued to pull the taps. “He’s out back, getting ready for his shift. Should be out in a few minutes.”
So, Owen worked for the club. There was no way he would be a waiter, but he might make a decent barman. “Thanks.”
“Did you want a drink?”
“Just water when you get the chance.”
The barman nodded and passed full glasses to waiting patrons.
After a few minutes, as promised, Jack saw his teammate emerge from behind the wall of curtains. Jack stood tall hoping to catch his attention, but Owen kept his head down and his eyes lowered as he made his way towards the stage.
The Captain was stunned when Owen sat down at the piano and began to play… and play well! He listened for a moment then chuckled; Owen was playing jazz. The doctor looked lost in his music as he plunked out an improvisation of, “Peel Me A Grape.” Jack always loved that tune and had seduced many a lover to it back in the day. He found himself humming and softly singing along with Owen.
Jack leaned back against the bar, sipped his water and watched the set. It was a pleasant variation of standards and new stylisations of popular songs. There were a few that Jack couldn’t place at all and he wondered is they were local favorites. Judging by the audience response to them, it was certainly a possibility.
Owen seemed to be known to the crowd as well. The patrons watched him, applauded for him, but also paid him little attention at times, choosing to chat to their neighbours instead. Owen had been in this world long enough to need a job, but not long enough to be a headlining act.
By the end of Owen’s set, Jack was getting antsy. The music was great, the atmosphere was enjoyable, but Jack’s guilt grew. Even with all the positive attention from the crowd, Owen barely smiled. He was functioning on automatic pilot, going through the motions, only showing interest when he was playing. Maybe this world was not all fun and excitement.
Owen left the stage to enthusiastic applause and came directly towards the bar. He didn’t look up as he shouted a request for a beer. It was only when he took his first big swig of his drink that he noticed person a few feet away from him.
“Hi, Owen.” Jack greeted him with a sad grin.
Owen set his glass back on the bar, a few drops splashed out and onto the shiny surface. He started to breathe heavily, his eyes widened at the sound of his Captain’s voice. “Jack?”
He nodded. “It’s me.”
Owen swallowed thickly, pushing his emotions down. He squeezed his eyes shut and nodded vigorously. When he opened them again, there were tears sparkling in them. He stood up quickly and walked past Jack to the door of the club.
Jack quickly followed and found him leaning his forehead against the side of the building. “Owen? Are you okay?”
The doctor chuckled and a sneer appeared on his face. “Am I okay?” he repeated quietly. “Four weeks. Four fucking weeks, Jack!” He spun around to look at him, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. “I’ve been stuck here for almost a month and in you waltz with your fucking coat and smiles, and you want to know if I’m okay? Where the bloody hell have you been?” His shoulders started to shake as the first tears fell onto his cheeks. “Where have you been?”
Without thinking, Jack pulled his teammate into a fierce hug. “I’m so sorry, Owen. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” His voice may have sounded calm and soothing, but inside, Jack was twisted in knots.
Owen pulled away from Jack after a few moments, and scrubbed his face with his hands, wiping away the last of his tears. “So, when do we get out of here?” he asked, putting his harsh mask back in place.
“I don’t know,” Jack answered honestly.
“What do you mean you don’t know? It took you this long to find me and you’re making me stay here even longer?”
Jack weighed his options carefully. Was it best to tell Owen the truth now, while he was so raw, or should he wait until they were some place more secluded? He sighed. “Owen, it maybe have been a month for you, but it was about four days for us.”
Owen blinked his brown eyes several times as he took in that sentence. He inhaled deeply and slowly. “Fuck.”
Explanations followed. Owen went first.
Having retrieved the younger man’s coat from the club, the two walked towards his flat. On the way, he told Jack everything that had happened to him. He landed in the same place as Jack, at that strange gate with the plaque. He stumbled around, trying to find out where and when he was, only growing more confused at the similarities to his own universe. Feeling tired and frustrated, he found himself in the Bleu Allée. It was dark, had alcohol and music to distract him for a few moments. He ordered a drink and asked for the barman to keep them coming.
It was slow so the barman kept talking to him, but Owen made all of his answers vague. After a few glasses, he was preparing to run out on the bill when he noticed several notes of currency fall off the bar. He bent to pick it up and noticed that they looked very similar to the English pounds in his wallet. He wondered if the barman would pay enough attention to Owen’s money or if he would just accept it.
Owen’s instinct was right; no one noticed the subtle difference.
“So, I asked the barman if he knew of a place to stay for the night, somewhere cheap. He gave me the name of a place, even rung them up to see if they had a room for me. A few days later, I came back. The barman there, Tony’s his name, was a nice bloke and I felt like some mindless conversation. Well, that night, there was this guy playing the piano in a band. I thought he was shit and said so. Tony asked if I could do better. I said yes I could. Then he told me about a job opening at the club. I played for the owner, got the job, moved into a flat and that’s about it.”
“Have you figured anything out about this place? The history of it?”
Owen shrugged. “I read some bits of history about it in the local bookstore, but it doesn’t help. There’s no talk of aliens or magical paintings that transport unsuspecting people into their world. It reads like the history of Earth, but with a few major differences.”
“I noticed. No Eiffel Tower that I can see.”
“Not yet. They’re still finishing up the plans for it. It’s going to be a focal point at the Summer Olympics here in a few years,” Owen said, his voice slightly disdainful. “No Euro either, at least not in this country.” Jack didn’t have a comment for that, so he just nodded.
As the two men entered Owen’s building and climbed the stone stairs to the fourth floor, Jack couldn’t help but notice the distressed beauty of the place and the quaint street they left behind. “This is a nice area.”
“There aren’t that many bad areas around here, or didn’t you notice? The city is bloody postcard. This building is an all artists’ dwelling. Small space, cheap rent, but it looks oh so pretty and inspiring.”
Jack laughed at Owen’s mocking. Yet, he couldn’t help agree with the description.
“So, your turn, Harkness. What have you been doing for the last few days?”
Jack told him everything he knew about the painting, the little he knew about the planet that owned it and the plan to get them out. Owen was not very impressed.
“We wait? That’s your master rescue plan? Strand both of us here and while away the days waiting for Tosh and Susie to figure this out? You’re brilliant you are.”
“Would you rather I have waited a few more days? A week? If every day in our world is a week for you, it could have been half a year before I came here.”
“But, at least then we could have left here immediately!” Owen shouted, unlocking his door and letting them both inside.
“Well, then I’m sorry that I was worried about you! I thought it would be better if you weren’t alone.”
Owen snorted. “Sure, you care. Thank you, Captain, for your concern, but I was able to survive without you!”
“You were still alone, Owen.”
A tense silence filled the tiny space. Neither one wanted give in to the other. It was a typical dance for them. They got along well until they butted heads over something. Owen rarely gave in so Jack was forced to use the “I’m the boss” card and make him relent. But, stranded in a strange world, it didn’t matter who was the boss.
Owen grunted and moved to his single bed. Grabbing a pillow and an extra blanket, he threw them on the floor. “You’re not taking my bed. You can sleep on the floor. And tomorrow we’ll sort out future arrangements. Do you have any money on you?”
Jack smiled. “A little.”
“You’ll need more because I’m not giving you mine. You’re getting a job.”
“Yes, Mother.”
“Shut it, Harkness. Go to sleep.” With that, Owen threw himself on top of his duvet and let out a long sigh, full of relief and a bit of frustration.
As Jack settled into his makeshift bed, he couldn’t help but ask, “Is this place really so bad?”
Owen didn’t answer immediately, but Jack could tell from his breathing that he was still awake. Finally he said, “S’not the point, is it?”