Fic: Forgetful Sleep 1/?
Title: Forgetful Sleep
Chapter: 1/?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: Teen, will rise in later chapters
Pairing: Jack/John Smith, Unrequited Jack/Doctor
Summary: In 1913, After his search for the Night Travelers falls through, Jack finds himself stranded in a small town called Farringham, with no money, no communication, and no contacts save a peculiar local librarian by the name of John Smith.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: This story has been floating around my head, half finished for over two years...way back when I first got into Doctor Who and Torchwood and though Jack/Doctor was the Ultimate OTP...My tastes have evolved a bit since then, but I still love this story and need to get it written and out of my head.
***
Chapter One
“And for my grand finale, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to need a volunteer from the audience. How about you, little lady?”
The young woman looked around, obviously aware of the murmuring from the crowd around her.
“I don’t really think…”
“Nonsense. Come on up here.”
Accepting his hand, the servant girl nervously climbed on stage, as the audience behind her clapped sporadically.
“What’s your name?”
“Martha. Martha Jones.”
“Well, nice ta meet ‘cha Martha Jones. I’m Jack, as you probably already know…”
There was a small laugh from the audience as he gestured to the banner behind him.
“And what I need you to do for me is…here, come here. What I need is for you to take two bullets from the box, any two bullets...good. Now, here…”
He finished loading the gun and handed it to the girl. “Now, see that target in the distance?”
She nodded, holding the gun as far from her body as she could.
“Now what I need,” he began, moving up behind her, “Is for you to show these fine people that this is a live round.” He dragged his hand up along her left side, helping her steady the gun. “Just breathe out, line up the sights…” His hands came down to rest on her hips, “And slowly…”
The murmuring from the villagers was becoming actual anger, some walking away shaking their heads in disgust. One woman, hurrying her children away from the scene yelled abuse at the pair onstage, causing the girl to wince and almost fire involuntarily.
“…Squeeze.”
A shot rang out, and the distant target exploded into smoke and paper shreds. The crowd jumped as one, then burst into applause.
“All right, thank you Martha, you can jump down now. As you can see, folks…”
“What’s going on here?!”
A constable was pushing through the crowd towards the front of the stage.
“That colored girl was causing a scene!” A high pitched female voice shouted out from an unseen place in the back of the crowd.
“I was not!” Martha replied hotly. “I was just-“
But the shouting of what was quickly becoming a mob soon overwhelmed whatever defense she was able to give.
“Indecent it was!”
“Lock her up!”
“Lock ‘em all up! This whole group of vagabonds and swindlers!”
More joined in to support this sentiment and soon the entire crowd was chanting for the removal of the traveling show and the servant girl.
The constable put up his hands, trying to instill some form of order.
“All right, all right folks, that’s enough.”
He turned to Jack, who had jumped down from the stage to stand next to the rest of the assembling performers.
“You heard the people, they want you out, so I’m making it my job to throw you out. If you’re still here in the morning I’ll have to let them have you.”
The travelers began to protest, but he had already turned to Martha, hedged in from escape by the encroaching mob.
“And as for you, you’re coming down to the station with me. Now, don’t complain,” he added, when she began to protest again, “It’s as much in your interest as anyone else’s.”
Seeing the truth in this statement, she relented, and allowed herself to be dragged off to the jeers and catcalls of the crowd, only turning back to shout a final curse at Jack.
He grinned and waved her off, “Sorry doll. You’ll never see me again!”
The angry villagers dispersed, rather unsatisfied, and Jack turned back to his fellow performers.
He was met by more hostility.
“Hey, fellas, you’re not blaming me-”
“This is the fourth town we’ve been run out of because of you, Jack,” Attila, the strong man pointed out.
The other heartily chimed in their agreement, and the caller stepped forward. “We think, it would be best if you left the company, Jack. We know what you bring to us, but we think it’s just not worth it.”
Jack searched for supporters.
“Bobby? Eddie?”
The twin acrobats met him with identical glares.
“Oh, come on, is this because…”
The glares didn’t waver.
“All right, all right,” Jack put his hands down. “If that’s how it is, that’s how it is. Times are tough. Just pay me my share of the profits and you’ll never have to see me again either.”
The silence didn’t cease, but changed slightly from hostility to guilt.
“Fellas?”
Attila started to move towards Jack, followed by the rest of the group. Jack hastily started to move back.
“You really don’t want to do this…”
***
When Jack revived he could see the sun shining through the layer of leaves covering him.
Groaning, he sat up and shook off the sheet of sediment covering him and took stock of his situation. He was lying in a ditch at the edge of the deserted fairgrounds. Stretching, he felt his spine crackling and popping into place.
A broken spine. That was a new one. Not pleasant.
Getting to his feet he noticed for the first time that his wallet, watch and clothes were all gone.
Groaning again, Jack muttered a curse not known on this planet for another millennium. He didn’t mind losing the clothes so much, but the wallet had everything he had made with the troupe and some extra the Institute had given him for expenses.
Pulling himself out of the ditch, he surveyed the empty field.
He’d eventually have to make it to town, contact the Institute and get back to Cardiff, but he didn’t fancy the idea of being pulled over and thrown in jail for public indecency when he couldn’t pay the fine.
Deciding that he couldn’t simply stand around all day deciding, he started heading in the direction of town, taking a route through the fields adjacent to the fairgrounds.
It was a warm, sunny late summer morning, so he wasn’t cold. About half a mile from town he saw what looked like a cat lying on a log in the sunshine.
He walked closer and realized it wasn’t a cat, but a mess of really fantastic hair on a very skinny man. He was leaning against the log, immersed in a book, not even noticing Jack as he drew nearer.
“Ahem.”
No reply.
“Hello?”
“Stop it.”
Jack blinked. “Excuse me?”
The man still hadn’t looked up from his book, and aside from his one cross utterance hadn’t moved.
“Hello? Stop what?”
He bent down to lay a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
No sooner had Jack touched the fabric of the really quite dreadful tweed jacket the man was wearing then he jumped a mile in the air and yelled.
“Ah!”
“Whoa!” Jack laughed and backed off, hands in the air.
“Calm down there! I’m not going to hurt you.”
Breathing hard for a minute, the man shook his head and started to turn around.
“Oh, yeah, right, no, I just, AH! Why are you naked?!”
Jack laughed again. The man’s expression was simply too perfect.
“Well, I was either mugged or I had a really great night. I can’t remember too much to tell you the truth.”
He reached down to help the man to his feet.
“Jack Harkness.”
“John Smith.”
“Really? Wow. That’s an interesting name.”
“Not really.”
“It was a joke. What’re you reading there? You seemed really into it.”
“Hm? Oh, Herodotus’ Histories. Just an old favorite really. I think I dozed off a bit to be honest.”
“Ah. Sorry to scare you.”
“Oh, no, not at all. …So. We’d better find you some clothes.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Jack was hurriedly ushered through an alley door into a cramped but cozy kitchen. Nervously checking up and down the halls, John waved him up to a second story flat.
As John quickly locked the door behind them, muttering that they hadn’t been seen, Jack stared at the chaos around him. Chairs, tables, the desk, the floor, the tiny single bed shoved as an after thought into a corner, every available surface was covered with books, some thrown haphazardly, some stacked in piles taller than the men themselves, wobbling precariously at the reverberating force of the slammed door.
The room itself, from what Jack could see, was on the smallish side, but cheery, with sloping ceilings and large windows letting in the mid-morning sun.
John had turned immediately to the creaking old dresser by the door, muttering to himself as he fished even more books out of what appeared to have begun life as a sock drawer.
“Here,” he said, handing back some trousers and an undershirt blindly, still rifling through the dresser, “These should fit you well enough for now.”
Grinning at the obvious blush the man was trying to hide, Jack took the proffered articles of clothing.
“While I appreciate the optimism, I’ve got a good fifty pounds on you.”
“Well, you’ve got to wear something,” John replied sensibly, with a slight undertone of nerves as if he was afraid Jack was going to assert otherwise.
As Jack dressed, John remained standing with his back turned, fiddling with a loose knob on the dresser drawer nervously.
The clothes did indeed fit, and Jack made a note to try to get this man into something that actually fit him properly.
Finishing buttoning his shirtsleeves, Jack cleared his throat.
John turned around apprehensively, visibly relaxing when he saw his visitor was appropriately attired.
“Thanks for all this, by the way.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I couldn’t just leave you out there, could I? Actually, I think I’ve got an extra fob watch lying around somewhere, if you’d like it…”
Jack held up his hands and shook his head. “No, I’ll get my own, thanks.”
“Right.”
At a sudden knock at the door, John nearly jumped a foot in the air, and Jack suppressed a laugh.
With another quick look at his guest to reassure himself he was decent, John cautiously unbolted the door and peered around it.
“Mrs. Talbots.”
“Mr. Smith, I need to speak with you.”
“Oh, well, now really isn’t the best time…”
Before he could fully close the door, a stern looking woman with graying hair wedged herself through the frame and spun to face him in a single fluid movement even Jack had to find impressive.
“Mr. Smith, you’re now almost a month behind on the rent. I’m a very patient woman, and fancy myself quite a reasonable landlady, but now I hear that that maid of yours has gone and gotten herself arrested…”
“What?”
“And about high time, too. The cheek of that girl! Why yesterday she told me she was-”
“Martha’s been arrested?!”
“Yes. Last night, at the fairgrounds, I hear, for causing a spectacle. Mrs. Waverly told me this morning that-”
John had already grabbed his coat and pulled the door open, sprinting down the stairs.
Mrs. Talbots ran after him, nearly shouting down the stairs as he pulled the front door open.
“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith, come back here!”
“I supposed I’d better go after him," Jack said conversationally, beside her.
She gave a start. In her focus upon her renter’s folly she seemed to have missed him entirely.
“Who are you?”
Jack gave her a grin, and held out his hand. “I’m just a friend, in town for a while. And I assure you, John will have the rent in by the end of the week, with an advance on next month.”
“Yes…well…” She blustered, shaking his hand, “Good. I should hope so.”
“I’ll see to it personally, Ma’am.” He kissed the back of her hand, and gave her a wink.
“Good day.”
***
By the time he made it to the street, John was no longer in sight.
‘That man can run,’ Jack noted absently, before pulling aside the nearest townie to ask for directions to the Police Station.
Ten minutes later he arrived to find John and the Chief in what appeared to be at least the third round of an argument.
“But what, exactly, did she do?”
“Will of the people. The servant girl’s getting uppity, needs to learn her place, and I think this is just the thing to teach her. You should thank us, we’re doing you a favor.”
“I don’t need a favor like this! If you can’t come up with some decent charges, then I’m going to-”
“Bail is set at 200 pounds, Mr. Smith. If you’re willing to spend it on your maid, that’s your business.”
John sputtered for a moment. “I don’t have that kind of money! I’m a librarian!”
“A Librarian?” Jack spoke for the first time, eyeing John up and down. He definitely had the bookish look, and the books for it. Maybe with some spectacles…
“What’re you doing here?” John asked, confused.
“You!” The police chief shifted his attention to Jack. “You were there last night! I should arrest you too, you transient!”
“So sorry, officer,” Jack moved forward to shake the chief’s hand. “I just came to support my friend, but if I’m not wanted I’ll leave right now."
He turned and quickly left the building.
Fifteen minutes later, John followed, to find him sitting on the bench outside the building.
After eyeing the seat mistrustfully for a second, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not it or the man on it would burn him, he sank down next to him.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Either I come up with 200 pounds or she’s in jail for the next three months.”
They sat in silence for a moment, before Jack sighed and broke the silence.
“Well, the way I see it, you’re a good guy who’s had a crap day. Can I buy you a drink?”
John snorted, then seemed to rebuke himself for the uncouth action.
“And with what money, exactly, would you buy me this drink?”
Jack reached into his borrowed jacket and pulled out a wallet.
“Drinks are on the good Chief.”
Chapter: 1/?
Fandom: Doctor Who
Rating: Teen, will rise in later chapters
Pairing: Jack/John Smith, Unrequited Jack/Doctor
Summary: In 1913, After his search for the Night Travelers falls through, Jack finds himself stranded in a small town called Farringham, with no money, no communication, and no contacts save a peculiar local librarian by the name of John Smith.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
A/N: This story has been floating around my head, half finished for over two years...way back when I first got into Doctor Who and Torchwood and though Jack/Doctor was the Ultimate OTP...My tastes have evolved a bit since then, but I still love this story and need to get it written and out of my head.
***
Chapter One
“And for my grand finale, ladies and gentlemen, I’m going to need a volunteer from the audience. How about you, little lady?”
The young woman looked around, obviously aware of the murmuring from the crowd around her.
“I don’t really think…”
“Nonsense. Come on up here.”
Accepting his hand, the servant girl nervously climbed on stage, as the audience behind her clapped sporadically.
“What’s your name?”
“Martha. Martha Jones.”
“Well, nice ta meet ‘cha Martha Jones. I’m Jack, as you probably already know…”
There was a small laugh from the audience as he gestured to the banner behind him.
“And what I need you to do for me is…here, come here. What I need is for you to take two bullets from the box, any two bullets...good. Now, here…”
He finished loading the gun and handed it to the girl. “Now, see that target in the distance?”
She nodded, holding the gun as far from her body as she could.
“Now what I need,” he began, moving up behind her, “Is for you to show these fine people that this is a live round.” He dragged his hand up along her left side, helping her steady the gun. “Just breathe out, line up the sights…” His hands came down to rest on her hips, “And slowly…”
The murmuring from the villagers was becoming actual anger, some walking away shaking their heads in disgust. One woman, hurrying her children away from the scene yelled abuse at the pair onstage, causing the girl to wince and almost fire involuntarily.
“…Squeeze.”
A shot rang out, and the distant target exploded into smoke and paper shreds. The crowd jumped as one, then burst into applause.
“All right, thank you Martha, you can jump down now. As you can see, folks…”
“What’s going on here?!”
A constable was pushing through the crowd towards the front of the stage.
“That colored girl was causing a scene!” A high pitched female voice shouted out from an unseen place in the back of the crowd.
“I was not!” Martha replied hotly. “I was just-“
But the shouting of what was quickly becoming a mob soon overwhelmed whatever defense she was able to give.
“Indecent it was!”
“Lock her up!”
“Lock ‘em all up! This whole group of vagabonds and swindlers!”
More joined in to support this sentiment and soon the entire crowd was chanting for the removal of the traveling show and the servant girl.
The constable put up his hands, trying to instill some form of order.
“All right, all right folks, that’s enough.”
He turned to Jack, who had jumped down from the stage to stand next to the rest of the assembling performers.
“You heard the people, they want you out, so I’m making it my job to throw you out. If you’re still here in the morning I’ll have to let them have you.”
The travelers began to protest, but he had already turned to Martha, hedged in from escape by the encroaching mob.
“And as for you, you’re coming down to the station with me. Now, don’t complain,” he added, when she began to protest again, “It’s as much in your interest as anyone else’s.”
Seeing the truth in this statement, she relented, and allowed herself to be dragged off to the jeers and catcalls of the crowd, only turning back to shout a final curse at Jack.
He grinned and waved her off, “Sorry doll. You’ll never see me again!”
The angry villagers dispersed, rather unsatisfied, and Jack turned back to his fellow performers.
He was met by more hostility.
“Hey, fellas, you’re not blaming me-”
“This is the fourth town we’ve been run out of because of you, Jack,” Attila, the strong man pointed out.
The other heartily chimed in their agreement, and the caller stepped forward. “We think, it would be best if you left the company, Jack. We know what you bring to us, but we think it’s just not worth it.”
Jack searched for supporters.
“Bobby? Eddie?”
The twin acrobats met him with identical glares.
“Oh, come on, is this because…”
The glares didn’t waver.
“All right, all right,” Jack put his hands down. “If that’s how it is, that’s how it is. Times are tough. Just pay me my share of the profits and you’ll never have to see me again either.”
The silence didn’t cease, but changed slightly from hostility to guilt.
“Fellas?”
Attila started to move towards Jack, followed by the rest of the group. Jack hastily started to move back.
“You really don’t want to do this…”
***
When Jack revived he could see the sun shining through the layer of leaves covering him.
Groaning, he sat up and shook off the sheet of sediment covering him and took stock of his situation. He was lying in a ditch at the edge of the deserted fairgrounds. Stretching, he felt his spine crackling and popping into place.
A broken spine. That was a new one. Not pleasant.
Getting to his feet he noticed for the first time that his wallet, watch and clothes were all gone.
Groaning again, Jack muttered a curse not known on this planet for another millennium. He didn’t mind losing the clothes so much, but the wallet had everything he had made with the troupe and some extra the Institute had given him for expenses.
Pulling himself out of the ditch, he surveyed the empty field.
He’d eventually have to make it to town, contact the Institute and get back to Cardiff, but he didn’t fancy the idea of being pulled over and thrown in jail for public indecency when he couldn’t pay the fine.
Deciding that he couldn’t simply stand around all day deciding, he started heading in the direction of town, taking a route through the fields adjacent to the fairgrounds.
It was a warm, sunny late summer morning, so he wasn’t cold. About half a mile from town he saw what looked like a cat lying on a log in the sunshine.
He walked closer and realized it wasn’t a cat, but a mess of really fantastic hair on a very skinny man. He was leaning against the log, immersed in a book, not even noticing Jack as he drew nearer.
“Ahem.”
No reply.
“Hello?”
“Stop it.”
Jack blinked. “Excuse me?”
The man still hadn’t looked up from his book, and aside from his one cross utterance hadn’t moved.
“Hello? Stop what?”
He bent down to lay a hand on the man’s shoulder. “Are you all right?”
No sooner had Jack touched the fabric of the really quite dreadful tweed jacket the man was wearing then he jumped a mile in the air and yelled.
“Ah!”
“Whoa!” Jack laughed and backed off, hands in the air.
“Calm down there! I’m not going to hurt you.”
Breathing hard for a minute, the man shook his head and started to turn around.
“Oh, yeah, right, no, I just, AH! Why are you naked?!”
Jack laughed again. The man’s expression was simply too perfect.
“Well, I was either mugged or I had a really great night. I can’t remember too much to tell you the truth.”
He reached down to help the man to his feet.
“Jack Harkness.”
“John Smith.”
“Really? Wow. That’s an interesting name.”
“Not really.”
“It was a joke. What’re you reading there? You seemed really into it.”
“Hm? Oh, Herodotus’ Histories. Just an old favorite really. I think I dozed off a bit to be honest.”
“Ah. Sorry to scare you.”
“Oh, no, not at all. …So. We’d better find you some clothes.”
***
Fifteen minutes later, Jack was hurriedly ushered through an alley door into a cramped but cozy kitchen. Nervously checking up and down the halls, John waved him up to a second story flat.
As John quickly locked the door behind them, muttering that they hadn’t been seen, Jack stared at the chaos around him. Chairs, tables, the desk, the floor, the tiny single bed shoved as an after thought into a corner, every available surface was covered with books, some thrown haphazardly, some stacked in piles taller than the men themselves, wobbling precariously at the reverberating force of the slammed door.
The room itself, from what Jack could see, was on the smallish side, but cheery, with sloping ceilings and large windows letting in the mid-morning sun.
John had turned immediately to the creaking old dresser by the door, muttering to himself as he fished even more books out of what appeared to have begun life as a sock drawer.
“Here,” he said, handing back some trousers and an undershirt blindly, still rifling through the dresser, “These should fit you well enough for now.”
Grinning at the obvious blush the man was trying to hide, Jack took the proffered articles of clothing.
“While I appreciate the optimism, I’ve got a good fifty pounds on you.”
“Well, you’ve got to wear something,” John replied sensibly, with a slight undertone of nerves as if he was afraid Jack was going to assert otherwise.
As Jack dressed, John remained standing with his back turned, fiddling with a loose knob on the dresser drawer nervously.
The clothes did indeed fit, and Jack made a note to try to get this man into something that actually fit him properly.
Finishing buttoning his shirtsleeves, Jack cleared his throat.
John turned around apprehensively, visibly relaxing when he saw his visitor was appropriately attired.
“Thanks for all this, by the way.”
“Oh, it’s no problem. I couldn’t just leave you out there, could I? Actually, I think I’ve got an extra fob watch lying around somewhere, if you’d like it…”
Jack held up his hands and shook his head. “No, I’ll get my own, thanks.”
“Right.”
At a sudden knock at the door, John nearly jumped a foot in the air, and Jack suppressed a laugh.
With another quick look at his guest to reassure himself he was decent, John cautiously unbolted the door and peered around it.
“Mrs. Talbots.”
“Mr. Smith, I need to speak with you.”
“Oh, well, now really isn’t the best time…”
Before he could fully close the door, a stern looking woman with graying hair wedged herself through the frame and spun to face him in a single fluid movement even Jack had to find impressive.
“Mr. Smith, you’re now almost a month behind on the rent. I’m a very patient woman, and fancy myself quite a reasonable landlady, but now I hear that that maid of yours has gone and gotten herself arrested…”
“What?”
“And about high time, too. The cheek of that girl! Why yesterday she told me she was-”
“Martha’s been arrested?!”
“Yes. Last night, at the fairgrounds, I hear, for causing a spectacle. Mrs. Waverly told me this morning that-”
John had already grabbed his coat and pulled the door open, sprinting down the stairs.
Mrs. Talbots ran after him, nearly shouting down the stairs as he pulled the front door open.
“Mr. Smith! Mr. Smith, come back here!”
“I supposed I’d better go after him," Jack said conversationally, beside her.
She gave a start. In her focus upon her renter’s folly she seemed to have missed him entirely.
“Who are you?”
Jack gave her a grin, and held out his hand. “I’m just a friend, in town for a while. And I assure you, John will have the rent in by the end of the week, with an advance on next month.”
“Yes…well…” She blustered, shaking his hand, “Good. I should hope so.”
“I’ll see to it personally, Ma’am.” He kissed the back of her hand, and gave her a wink.
“Good day.”
***
By the time he made it to the street, John was no longer in sight.
‘That man can run,’ Jack noted absently, before pulling aside the nearest townie to ask for directions to the Police Station.
Ten minutes later he arrived to find John and the Chief in what appeared to be at least the third round of an argument.
“But what, exactly, did she do?”
“Will of the people. The servant girl’s getting uppity, needs to learn her place, and I think this is just the thing to teach her. You should thank us, we’re doing you a favor.”
“I don’t need a favor like this! If you can’t come up with some decent charges, then I’m going to-”
“Bail is set at 200 pounds, Mr. Smith. If you’re willing to spend it on your maid, that’s your business.”
John sputtered for a moment. “I don’t have that kind of money! I’m a librarian!”
“A Librarian?” Jack spoke for the first time, eyeing John up and down. He definitely had the bookish look, and the books for it. Maybe with some spectacles…
“What’re you doing here?” John asked, confused.
“You!” The police chief shifted his attention to Jack. “You were there last night! I should arrest you too, you transient!”
“So sorry, officer,” Jack moved forward to shake the chief’s hand. “I just came to support my friend, but if I’m not wanted I’ll leave right now."
He turned and quickly left the building.
Fifteen minutes later, John followed, to find him sitting on the bench outside the building.
After eyeing the seat mistrustfully for a second, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not it or the man on it would burn him, he sank down next to him.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Either I come up with 200 pounds or she’s in jail for the next three months.”
They sat in silence for a moment, before Jack sighed and broke the silence.
“Well, the way I see it, you’re a good guy who’s had a crap day. Can I buy you a drink?”
John snorted, then seemed to rebuke himself for the uncouth action.
“And with what money, exactly, would you buy me this drink?”
Jack reached into his borrowed jacket and pulled out a wallet.
“Drinks are on the good Chief.”