[Fic] If the Sky Can Crack...
Title: If the Sky Can Crack...
Author: trollopfop
Characters: Jack Harkness(?), Suzie Costello
W/C: 1080
Rating: R for violence and a bit of language.
Summary: A chance meeting between !Jack and Suzie goes somewhat worse than expected.
Notes: The song that this is based on is much more hopeful than the fic is, but !Jack refused to cooperate, Suzie refused to back down, and what was meant to be a nice, quiet conversation turned into... this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fic. Just borrowing.
They were alone on the Navy Pier, the two of them, watching the clouds roll in and obscure the rising sun, a thermos full of Ianto's coffee shared between them. Coffee, not cocoa, and Suzie felt absurdly grateful for that. The last time they'd had cocoa... didn't bear thinking about.
"Are you sure you want to be out here?" said the man who had once been Jack Harkness. "Storm's coming in."
"I'm not blind," Suzie muttered, leaving off her habitual 'Captain' with some effort. "And, no matter what some might think, a good drenching won't make me melt."
The man who was once Jack almost grinned, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, then solidifying into cold neutrality again. "And of course, the fact that there are people who'd just as soon kill you out there doesn't bother you..." If there was judgement buried in his tone, it was well-hidden.
"I can handle myself. If you're so worried," Suzie told him, "you could always escort me back to the Tower." It didn't take much for her to realise that was the wrong thing to say. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the subtle withdrawal.
"That... would be a bad idea."
Suzie's lips thinned, and she took another sip of coffee before offering it back to him. "Still avoiding us, then?"
"I have my reasons." He took the coffee back with visible reluctance.
"And so do we."
"The wrong reasons." The words were too harsh, too abrupt, and even as he covered a wince, it didn't seem to stop him. "Yours, especially."
"And just what," Suzie asked, each word cold and precise, "are my reasons? And why, precisely, are yours so much better?"
"You think I can fix you," he hissed, "and you're mistaken. You fell in love with a lie and you called it your Captain, and, while it's certainly tragic, that's not my problem."
He shoved the coffee at her and started to turn away, only to have her catch his arm. "Is that what you think?" she asked, eyes blazing. "Do you really think for one minute that I, of all people, don't see you for who you are?"
And then he moved, with a speed born from Agency training.
The thermos hit the ground. In the dim light, everything darkened to the same colour -- the dark spill of coffee could just as easily have been blood. Her arm was twisted at a painful angle, his grip on her unforgiving, tight enough to make her gasp involuntarily. As harsh as his hands were, his voice was harsher still.
"Selective blindness," he said, lips curled into a snarl. "The fact that you'd try this makes that pretty fucking obvious from where I'm standing."
"Then finish it, Judas. Or whatever it is you're calling yourself now." Her snarl matched his, teeth bared, eyes wild. "Break my arm, snap my neck, leave me for dead. It wouldn't be anything new, if you're what you claim to be."
He didn't answer, just levered her arm further back, listened to her whimper with no change in expression.
"I think you're the one who's mistaken," she said, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "I think if I'd been the sort to be drawn in by a lie, I'd have fallen in love with you before I ever came here. And I think you can't sodding well accept that I can feel something for the person who's here right now, who's threatening to break my arm. It scares the hell out of you, doesn't it? That I could see you, and not--"
"It doesn't matter," he said, and then there was a crunch of bone, and a scream that lasted quite a long time.
Something like shock flickered across his face. Something like guilt, and his voice was softer when he said, "Did you really think anything you could do would be enough?" He turned to leave again, seeming confident that this time, she wouldn't be stupid enough to try and follow.
He was wrong.
The first halting steps came from behind him, and then her voice, choked with pain, but still coherent. "I know it isn't. I. Don't. Care."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the wind that followed it was cold and humid, promising rain.
"Go home, Suzie Costello. Go home and tell Torchwood I'm back. Gwen can go hunting. She won't find anything, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?" He didn't stop walking, didn't slow down, for all that her footsteps increased in pace behind him.
"I don't see why Gwen needs to know. I was mugged on my way back. Never saw his face."
That made him stop. "I thought you were supposed to be the one with more sense than sentimentality." He turned back to look at her, his expression unreadable.
Suzie made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "About that... Apparently, I was lying. It surprised me, too." She closed the remainder of the distance between them, cradling her broken arm to her chest.
He took her chin in one hand, gentle at first, tightening his grip by increments. "I could destroy you."
"You could," she said, forcing her words out around the pain in her arm, the pain in her jaw where he gripped her. "But you don't want to. Didn't want to break my arm. Don't have to see your shadow to know that much."
"You have no idea what I want."
She would have shaken her head if he allowed it. Instead, she just met his eyes through a haze of pain-induced tears. "I'm sorry. But that's not entirely true. I know you didn't want that. Not most of you, anyway. I tried to back you into a corner. You lashed out. Next time you do something like this, it'll be different. But right now, I know."
The rain began then, cold and relentless, in stark opposition to the heat that had held Chicago in thrall for days.
Neither of them moved, and if there were any more tears, the rain hid them well enough.
Finally, when they were both soaked, when Suzie shivered in a way that had nothing to do with fear, he let go.
"There won't be a next time."
Again, he turned away, and this time, she didn't follow. But as she watched him vanish into the downpour, she shook her head.
There was always a next time, and she knew that better than most.
Author: trollopfop
Characters: Jack Harkness(?), Suzie Costello
W/C: 1080
Rating: R for violence and a bit of language.
Summary: A chance meeting between !Jack and Suzie goes somewhat worse than expected.
Notes: The song that this is based on is much more hopeful than the fic is, but !Jack refused to cooperate, Suzie refused to back down, and what was meant to be a nice, quiet conversation turned into... this.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in this fic. Just borrowing.
They were alone on the Navy Pier, the two of them, watching the clouds roll in and obscure the rising sun, a thermos full of Ianto's coffee shared between them. Coffee, not cocoa, and Suzie felt absurdly grateful for that. The last time they'd had cocoa... didn't bear thinking about.
"Are you sure you want to be out here?" said the man who had once been Jack Harkness. "Storm's coming in."
"I'm not blind," Suzie muttered, leaving off her habitual 'Captain' with some effort. "And, no matter what some might think, a good drenching won't make me melt."
The man who was once Jack almost grinned, the corners of his lips twitching slightly, then solidifying into cold neutrality again. "And of course, the fact that there are people who'd just as soon kill you out there doesn't bother you..." If there was judgement buried in his tone, it was well-hidden.
"I can handle myself. If you're so worried," Suzie told him, "you could always escort me back to the Tower." It didn't take much for her to realise that was the wrong thing to say. She could read the tension in his shoulders, the subtle withdrawal.
"That... would be a bad idea."
Suzie's lips thinned, and she took another sip of coffee before offering it back to him. "Still avoiding us, then?"
"I have my reasons." He took the coffee back with visible reluctance.
"And so do we."
"The wrong reasons." The words were too harsh, too abrupt, and even as he covered a wince, it didn't seem to stop him. "Yours, especially."
"And just what," Suzie asked, each word cold and precise, "are my reasons? And why, precisely, are yours so much better?"
"You think I can fix you," he hissed, "and you're mistaken. You fell in love with a lie and you called it your Captain, and, while it's certainly tragic, that's not my problem."
He shoved the coffee at her and started to turn away, only to have her catch his arm. "Is that what you think?" she asked, eyes blazing. "Do you really think for one minute that I, of all people, don't see you for who you are?"
And then he moved, with a speed born from Agency training.
The thermos hit the ground. In the dim light, everything darkened to the same colour -- the dark spill of coffee could just as easily have been blood. Her arm was twisted at a painful angle, his grip on her unforgiving, tight enough to make her gasp involuntarily. As harsh as his hands were, his voice was harsher still.
"Selective blindness," he said, lips curled into a snarl. "The fact that you'd try this makes that pretty fucking obvious from where I'm standing."
"Then finish it, Judas. Or whatever it is you're calling yourself now." Her snarl matched his, teeth bared, eyes wild. "Break my arm, snap my neck, leave me for dead. It wouldn't be anything new, if you're what you claim to be."
He didn't answer, just levered her arm further back, listened to her whimper with no change in expression.
"I think you're the one who's mistaken," she said, forcing the words through clenched teeth. "I think if I'd been the sort to be drawn in by a lie, I'd have fallen in love with you before I ever came here. And I think you can't sodding well accept that I can feel something for the person who's here right now, who's threatening to break my arm. It scares the hell out of you, doesn't it? That I could see you, and not--"
"It doesn't matter," he said, and then there was a crunch of bone, and a scream that lasted quite a long time.
Something like shock flickered across his face. Something like guilt, and his voice was softer when he said, "Did you really think anything you could do would be enough?" He turned to leave again, seeming confident that this time, she wouldn't be stupid enough to try and follow.
He was wrong.
The first halting steps came from behind him, and then her voice, choked with pain, but still coherent. "I know it isn't. I. Don't. Care."
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the wind that followed it was cold and humid, promising rain.
"Go home, Suzie Costello. Go home and tell Torchwood I'm back. Gwen can go hunting. She won't find anything, but it's the thought that counts, isn't it?" He didn't stop walking, didn't slow down, for all that her footsteps increased in pace behind him.
"I don't see why Gwen needs to know. I was mugged on my way back. Never saw his face."
That made him stop. "I thought you were supposed to be the one with more sense than sentimentality." He turned back to look at her, his expression unreadable.
Suzie made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. "About that... Apparently, I was lying. It surprised me, too." She closed the remainder of the distance between them, cradling her broken arm to her chest.
He took her chin in one hand, gentle at first, tightening his grip by increments. "I could destroy you."
"You could," she said, forcing her words out around the pain in her arm, the pain in her jaw where he gripped her. "But you don't want to. Didn't want to break my arm. Don't have to see your shadow to know that much."
"You have no idea what I want."
She would have shaken her head if he allowed it. Instead, she just met his eyes through a haze of pain-induced tears. "I'm sorry. But that's not entirely true. I know you didn't want that. Not most of you, anyway. I tried to back you into a corner. You lashed out. Next time you do something like this, it'll be different. But right now, I know."
The rain began then, cold and relentless, in stark opposition to the heat that had held Chicago in thrall for days.
Neither of them moved, and if there were any more tears, the rain hid them well enough.
Finally, when they were both soaked, when Suzie shivered in a way that had nothing to do with fear, he let go.
"There won't be a next time."
Again, he turned away, and this time, she didn't follow. But as she watched him vanish into the downpour, she shook her head.
There was always a next time, and she knew that better than most.