Fic: Where all roads lead (Jack/real!Jack)
eye-sockets. Ianto feels flustered under his gaze, crossing his arms over his chest and dropping his eyes.
"Come here," Jack says, stretching himself toward him.
He takes off his Time Agent wrist strap and places it around Ianto's arm, flipping open the flap and caressing the buttons with his fingers.
"This is my freedom." He looks Ianto in the eyes, a smile in the corners of his mouth, and Ianto can't figure out if he is serious. "If this thing breaks ... well, that's unlikely, of course, but anyway ... I'd actually be stuck here for long. And for good."
He falls silent, examining Ianto's palm, tracing his lifeline, and then raises his eyes on him again. "But then, what am I saying? It's broken already."
Maybe it's just the light and the shadows, but Jack's face seems to contort with a sudden pain, and Ianto blinks in confusion … But by now, Jack is already laughing, pulling Ianto to himself by his wrist, sliding his fingers into the hair at his nape, pressing Ianto's head to his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. And Ianto, burying his nose in the spot between Jack's shoulder and neck, strokes his broad back - from the small of his back to his shoulder blades and back down again - and surprises himself by thinking of incest. An older and a younger brother, or, possibly, father and son - they can love each other, want, take, give without asking anything in return, love whithout ever becoming true lovers.
Ianto hugs Jack tighter with helpless, unfounded jealousy, kissing his neck, clinging to him, pressing himself up to him. And they try to make love, but it turns out crumpled, awkward, not right - maybe because Ianto has the impression that an invisible third person is watching them. They break their embrace and fall asleep on the narrow bed, all three of them: Jack, Ianto and the shadow of the one whose scent doesn't wish to part with Jack lately, the strong, persistent, unsettling scent of another man.
-
"I need the Doctor, Ianto," Jack says, gazing into his coffee mug. "I need my Doctor."
Ianto stops in his tracks and opens his mouth, trying to say something that would actually help Jack but can't seem to find the right words. He sighs, shaking his head, and goes back to work.
They have more work on their hands now that Owen and Tosh aren't there anymore, and Ianto reckons this is good; it's a distraction from unpleasant thoughts.
Gwen and Ianto drag out boxes full of alien stuff into the main area of the Hub, emptying them on the floor, and Gwen takes notes in a thick notebook while Ianto numbers each strange item with a black marker and then sets it back into its box gingerly. Ianto's hands are stained with indelible ink, and when he yawns, Gwen bursts out laughing: his tongue is black as well.
Jack keeps meandering between the boxes restlessly, absently, but smirks nonetheless, ruffling Ianto's hair in passing.
Ianto looks up at him: there is an expression of cautious expectation on Jack's face, as if he were trying to catch some sound only audible to him.
Ianto stifles a sigh and goes back to work.
Contrary to Jack, he hasn't yet learned to believe in unexpected miracles and the fulfillment of one's wishes.
But this absolutely doesn't prevent miracles from happening sometimes.
They wake up one morning because of a strange noise that sounds as if the skies above Cardiff were bursting at the seams. And while Ianto is still opening his bleary eyes with difficulty, shaking his head to dispel the remnants of sleep and sitting up, Jack has already managed to pull on his pants, rush out of the Hub and catch sight of a curved line, glimmering somewhere high up in the predawn sky, resembling the tail of a shooting star.
-
Either he is in too much of a hurry, or the Doctor spends a long time pondering the question whether he has calculated the time and place correctly. In any case, Jack arrives at the spot where, according to his considerations, the TARDIS will land, earlier than he thought he would and squints into the rapidly brightening sky for another half minute or so.
Finally, with an unmistakable, ear-splitting sound, the TARDIS slams into the ground, plowing up the soil, leaving a long trail of upturned grass in its wake, and comes to a halt within a few steps of Jack's car, rocking and creaking.
The door is flung open, and the Doctor tumbles out. He is on his own - apparently, it's a period of time between two companions - and Jack is secretly happy about that.
The Doctor has a new body and looks quite young, angular and lanky, all elbows and knees, his long, thin neck rising out of the collar comically. But apart from that, he is still exactly the same: disheveled and impulsive, with an intense and insane thirst for new adventures in his round, brown eyes.
He shoves his long-fingered, boyish hands into the pockets of his pants and gives Jack a cross look, raising one eyebrow.
"You again," he states in a raspy, young tenor voice. "Don't even know if I should be glad to see you. Very well then, come here."
Jack doesn't need to be asked twice; he hugs the thin, bony Doctor so firmly that the other man exclaims, "Ouch ... Ribs!"
Jack laughs and buries his face in the Doctor's tousled mop of chestnut hair, lifting him up off the ground and twirling him around like a child. The Doctor's coat-tails flutter helplessly in the air like wings.
In the end, Jack falls down onto the ground, roaring with joyous laughter, but not letting him out of his embrace.
-
"Oh, no, no, no, no," the Doctor shakes his head vigorously, slamming his coffee cup onto the table, causing a good half of its contents to spill across the shiny table top.
Ianto flinches. Gwen blinks her lashes, startled, trying for a nervous smile.
Jack exhales loudly and haltingly, covering his face with his hands for a few seconds.
"No one will be caused any harm if he survives," he says quietly. "I'll handle everything ... very carefully. Please. I promise. I've thought everything through."
The Doctor leaps up and starts pacing Jack's office, sliding his fingers into the hair at his nape, muttering under his breath and casting a sidelong look at Jack.
"Okay," he says finally, coming to a halt and giving Jack a very, very serious look. "Okay ... But! ... don't you pull any stupid stunts, do you hear me?! Did you hear me?"
"I promise," Jack repeats, his voice cracking.
-
Standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, Jack turns around and looks at Ianto.
"I ..." he starts and falls silent.
Ianto is shaking his head almost imperceptibly and turns away.
"Come on, come on already!" the Doctor urges Jack, pulling him into the depths of the TARDIS by his cuff, and Jack swings the door shut, feeling a strange mix of guilt and elation.
"I'll come back," he tells the door, stupidly hoping that Ianto will know somehow what he wanted to tell him.
"Oh, you will, trust me, my friend," the Doctor mutters, running around the TARDIS console, squinting at its sensors and banging his fist onto its panels. "I'll personally see to that. I'll make sure you don't cause any trouble there."
He crawls under the console on all fours, clattering around and continuing to mutter something under his breath that Jack can't quite discern.
Jack looks at the Doctor's bony, checkered-pants-clad behind with a smile. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Oh, forget it," the Doctor replies, resurfacing and spitting out balls of dust.
The TARDIS lets out a howl, and the Doctor quickly glances at the instruments.
"All right. Come on, we're there," he pushes Jack toward the door. "You watch it, my friend. Did I tell you about the margin of error? I warned you. So, no complaints if it doesn't work out. Come on. Move."
"Thank you," Jack repeats and steps out into the night of January 20th, 1941. And before the TARDIS can even dissolve in the dank winter air with a loud roar of its engines, he catches sight of the lonely figure of a man, walking down the street, away from the lights and music streaming out of the windows of Cardiff's Ritz Dance Hall.
"Jack," Jack calls out, and for some reason, he is sure he isn't mistaking someone else for him.
Harkness flinches, stopping in his tracks, and Jack can feel it almost physically, the way the man's shoulder blades tense under his coat, the way his muscles clench and his shoulders go rigid.
"Jack," Jack repeats. Name of a stranger, stolen by him, borrowed and turned into his own, turned into honey and quinine on his tongue, and a thorny burr in his throat.
Harkness turns around, gulping for air, his whole body awkwardly jolting toward Jack, and stops in his tracks, spreading his arms clumsily as if to embrace the air.
Jack walks over to him, takes his hand, entwining their fingers, and drags him into a narrow alleyway between two houses, pressing him up against the wall and covering the man's mouth with his hand before Harkness can even utter a word.
From a distance, a female voice and the clicking sound of heels on pavement can be heard. Then a shy, youngish bass voice rings out, followed by a new bout of laughter, now nearer to where they are standing. The wind carries the sweet scent of perfume and snatches of a conversation into their hiding place. And then the sounds seem to move away again, dissolving in the dank January night.
Harkness disentangles himself and touches Jack's face, his cold fingers grazing eyebrows, cheekbones, lips, chin. He cups Jack's cheek with his palm, and Jack mirrors his gesture. Harkness's eyes betray a hope so eager, so fierce that it is akin to insanity.
"You came back," Harkness says.
I came back, Jack wants to reply, but his words get lost on the way, melting into a hoarse one-syllable word that is honey and quinine and burns his throat so much that his eyes start to sting and his vision gets blurred.
"Jack," he says.
-
They take small alleys and cross backyards to get to the house where Harkness has found lodgings, constantly speeding up their steps. In the end, they almost break into a run, not letting go of each other's hands, slipping on the thin ice patches on the pavement, out of breath because of this eager, manic happiness they both feel, and halting every few steps to kiss quickly.
Harkness ushers him in through the back entrance, and they sneak up a creaking stairway, freezing in place on every single step.
It's a small, tidy room - a patchwork quilt on a narrow bed with a wrought-iron headboard, a few water color paintings of Cardiff Bay in plain frames on walls covered in faded floral wallpaper, a bible and a water carafe on a massive Victorian table, that takes up about a third of the space in the room.
Jack takes off his greatcoat, spreading it out on the floor. He raises his gaze to Harkness, who looks thunderstruck by what is unfurling around him. Jack tries to smile, but somehow he can't; there is a salty taste in his mouth, and his eyes are stinging again.
"Lock the door," he begs, not recognizing his own voice.
Harkness obeys and freezes in the middle of the room again, not uttering a single word, begging Jack for help with his eyes.
Jack blinks away the tears and finally manages to smile at him. "Come to me."
And the other Jack makes a step.
-
They try not to hurry, but it's in vain; they are shaking with impatience, their fingers slipping off the buttons, and everything ends too quickly. Dazed, gasping and trembling, they lie face to face, not touching, not saying a single word, just looking at each other, until they both slip into a short, restless dream, in which they are searching for each other, and wake up fifteen minutes later, locked in a tight embrace, their legs entwined.
They let their whispers flow from mouth to mouth - "Jack..." "You..." "I promise..." "Yes..." - all dissolved in nervous breaths, and this time, they don't hurry at all.
Afterwards, Harkness finds Jack's hand and falls asleep again, not letting go of it until an unmistakable sound makes Jack sit up.
The roar of the TARDIS quiets down, and Harkness opens his eyes, which look as clear as if he hadn't slept at all. "You have to go."
Jack slides his arm behind Harkness's back and pulls him to himself, whispering against his temple, "I'll come back."
"Jaaack," the Doctor yells under the windows, "hey, Jack!"
Jack hurriedly puts his clothes back on.
"I'll walk you out." Harkness gets up as well, shaking out the greatcoat and throwing it around his shoulders.
Jack turns around, looking at him, then steps over to him, embracing him. And then Jack's closed, dry lips kiss the corner of Harkness's mouth, his cheekbones, his eyes, and Jack presses his face into the man's hair and releases him with a deep sigh. "Let's go."
-
The Doctor is standing next to the TARDIS, hands shoved deep into his pockets, rocking on his heels.
"Hello!" he calls out to Harkness, who only nods shyly in return.
"I ..." Jack starts, and the other Jack nods again.
"I know. I'll be waiting"
"Real soon," Jack promises, standing in the doorway of the TARDIS already, and feels his ribs clench.
Harkness raises his hand in a farewell gesture, and Jack forces himself to let the door fall shut.
"Typical," the Doctor grumbles behind his back. "Who would you fall in love at first sight with if not yourself!"
Jack makes a strange sound, something between a sigh and a short cough.
"In the morning," he says hollowly, "a Messer is going to shoot him down, and he'll die. Burn to death. If I don't ..." He falls silent.
The Doctor frowns, messing up his hair with his fingers.
"Save him," Jack pleads, his voice hollow. "Help me."
And the Doctor is really surprised to realize he can't respond to that in any other way than, "Of course, Jack. Naturally."
-
With a businesslike "Wait here!" the Doctor pushes Jack out of the TARDIS and into the cold Cardiff night, and with a loud roar, the blue phone box dissolves into thin air.
Jack leans against a wall, closes his eyes and sees a Hurricane falling from the gray winter sky, dragging a black and red trail of smoke and flames in its wake. He winces, stifling a yelp, and starts pacing the ice-covered street nervously, clenching his hands into fists in his pockets, until the Doctor reappears.
The Doctor's hair is ruffled into manic disarray, his eyes shining; he seems to be almost jumping up and down, bursting with energy.
"I've borrowed something from you," he calls out to Jack and clarifies, "from the you that's not far from here. In the same year. Do you remember?"
And Jack suddenly understands, laughs, hugs the Doctor tightly, and laughs on and on, sniffing and wiping his wet cheeks on the Doctor's trench coat.
-
Time stretches out like a rubber band, and Harkness's shot-down Hurricane is falling for an endless moment, like in slow motion.
"Any moment now," the Doctor yells, hitting the button and raising his rapturously manic gaze up into the smoke-striped sky - and nothing happens. Only time speeds up suddenly, and the plane starts falling rapidly, much too fast. And it feels like someone knocked all the breath out of Jack's lungs and is squeezing his throat shut, making it impossible for him to breathe in.
"Come on," the Doctor shouts, hammering away at the button with his fist. "Jack! Stop!"
Jack doesn't hear him; he runs, stumbling forward, and reaches the spot of the imminent plane crash a mere second before a blue tractor beam picks up the maimed, burning Hurricane and softly lowers it down to the ground, flickering and fading away.
Jack is finally able to take a breath. Then, he dashes into the smoke and fire, not sensing how the heat sears his face, not noticing how his singed hair crackles, how the smoke stings his eyes and bites his throat.
The Doctor rests his hands on his knees, catching his breath, panting, and watches Jack drag a limp Harkness out of the maimed aircraft and collapse onto the ground with him.
"Le...let's get out of the way," the Doctor gasps for air. "It could blow up ..."
Jack doesn't hear him; he is pressing Harkness to himself, burying his face in the man's hair, rocking him like a child. Jack's shoulders are shaking.
The Doctor frowns, biting his lip slightly, and lowers his gaze, noticing that Harkness's fingers are twitching almost imperceptibly.
"Jack," the Doctor calls out. "JACK!"
Jack looks up at him. His eyes shine terrifyingly bright out of his smudgy face.
"You've made it," the Doctor says softly. "It's okay. Now everything is going to be alright."
The flames licking the wreck of the Hurricane gently die away as if the plane feels that it has lost all sense and purpose. And only as the triumphant roar of the TARDIS engines already rips open the sky over 1941 Cardiff, does an explosion finally cross the name of Captain Jack Harkness off the list of the living.
-
Jack returns to the Hub, bringing with him the unsettling, bitter smell of fire and hospital hallways in his hair and clothes.
"Hi, Ianto," he says with a dull voice.
Ianto looks at Jack's dirty, soot-covered face and at the two white streaks, running from the corner of his eyes down his cheeks and hugs him silently, stroking his tense back and the singed hair on top of his head.
"I'm okay," Jack mumbles, pressing their cheeks together. "Bit tired. But everything's alright. We made it, Ianto. We ..."
"Later," Ianto says, "you can tell me later."
He undresses Jack, helps him to climb into the shower, towels him off, puts him to bed, kneads his cramped, tired back and neck muscles, makes tea for him, lies down beside him, hugging him and trying to calm him by puffing measured breaths against his nape, all the while thinking that there probably is a reason to be suspicious, angry, jealous ... In the end, he tells himself that it's all irrelevant until Jack will be coming back.
-
One month later, Jack is sitting in the stands of a school stadium beside Harkness, watching boys kick a ball around the pitch.
"So? A coach?" Jack says.
Harkness shrugs, abashed. "I'm not of that much use in your world."
"Well, this is not exactly my world. And I'm not saying it's a bad thing, am I?"
Harkness shakes his head.
"It's ... the best."
Jack can't control himself any longer and covers Harkness's hand with his own, gently stroking the sensitive, tender skin from a recently healed burn wound. "Do you like your new name?"
Harkness (Harry Newton, 35 years old, unmarried, occupation: gym teacher) gives Jack a sidelong look and lowers his lashes, hiding his embarrassment behind a smile. "I read his Hurricane was shot down ..."
"Yes. By a Dornier."
"He survived, this guy. Brought down a Dornier. But he himself survived."
Jack continues caressing his hand, entwining their fingers. "You did, too. I guess, to me, you'll always be Jack, however. That all right with you?"
"Thanks," Harkness says, his voice trembling.
Jack smiles.
"Today?" he asks with deliberate casualness, surprised his heart doesn't leap out of his throat; it's hammering against his ribcage like crazy. "Or maybe you have other plans for the evening. I could ..."
Harkness looks up at him, taken aback, and Jack wants to strangle himself a dozen times for what he has just said and for the tone in which he has uttered these words. His mouth opens of its own volition, and he starts talking, unable to stop himself as if someone else were moving his lips. He tells Harkness about Torchwood, about Ianto, about his thousand lives, tells him that he can't promise anything, tells him that there are others in his life, tells him about the Doctor and that sooner or later, people always leave him; everyone leaves him and ...
... Harkness squeezes his hand and calls him by his name ... and Jack understands that this is all completely unimportant; for wherever you might run, however long the years of travel, in the end you will always come back to yourself.
He will always be coming back to Group Captain Jack Harkness of the 133rd Squadron.
~ the end
__________________________________________________________________________________
*T/N: Song of Solomon 8:6
"Come here," Jack says, stretching himself toward him.
He takes off his Time Agent wrist strap and places it around Ianto's arm, flipping open the flap and caressing the buttons with his fingers.
"This is my freedom." He looks Ianto in the eyes, a smile in the corners of his mouth, and Ianto can't figure out if he is serious. "If this thing breaks ... well, that's unlikely, of course, but anyway ... I'd actually be stuck here for long. And for good."
He falls silent, examining Ianto's palm, tracing his lifeline, and then raises his eyes on him again. "But then, what am I saying? It's broken already."
Maybe it's just the light and the shadows, but Jack's face seems to contort with a sudden pain, and Ianto blinks in confusion … But by now, Jack is already laughing, pulling Ianto to himself by his wrist, sliding his fingers into the hair at his nape, pressing Ianto's head to his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. And Ianto, burying his nose in the spot between Jack's shoulder and neck, strokes his broad back - from the small of his back to his shoulder blades and back down again - and surprises himself by thinking of incest. An older and a younger brother, or, possibly, father and son - they can love each other, want, take, give without asking anything in return, love whithout ever becoming true lovers.
Ianto hugs Jack tighter with helpless, unfounded jealousy, kissing his neck, clinging to him, pressing himself up to him. And they try to make love, but it turns out crumpled, awkward, not right - maybe because Ianto has the impression that an invisible third person is watching them. They break their embrace and fall asleep on the narrow bed, all three of them: Jack, Ianto and the shadow of the one whose scent doesn't wish to part with Jack lately, the strong, persistent, unsettling scent of another man.
-
"I need the Doctor, Ianto," Jack says, gazing into his coffee mug. "I need my Doctor."
Ianto stops in his tracks and opens his mouth, trying to say something that would actually help Jack but can't seem to find the right words. He sighs, shaking his head, and goes back to work.
They have more work on their hands now that Owen and Tosh aren't there anymore, and Ianto reckons this is good; it's a distraction from unpleasant thoughts.
Gwen and Ianto drag out boxes full of alien stuff into the main area of the Hub, emptying them on the floor, and Gwen takes notes in a thick notebook while Ianto numbers each strange item with a black marker and then sets it back into its box gingerly. Ianto's hands are stained with indelible ink, and when he yawns, Gwen bursts out laughing: his tongue is black as well.
Jack keeps meandering between the boxes restlessly, absently, but smirks nonetheless, ruffling Ianto's hair in passing.
Ianto looks up at him: there is an expression of cautious expectation on Jack's face, as if he were trying to catch some sound only audible to him.
Ianto stifles a sigh and goes back to work.
Contrary to Jack, he hasn't yet learned to believe in unexpected miracles and the fulfillment of one's wishes.
But this absolutely doesn't prevent miracles from happening sometimes.
They wake up one morning because of a strange noise that sounds as if the skies above Cardiff were bursting at the seams. And while Ianto is still opening his bleary eyes with difficulty, shaking his head to dispel the remnants of sleep and sitting up, Jack has already managed to pull on his pants, rush out of the Hub and catch sight of a curved line, glimmering somewhere high up in the predawn sky, resembling the tail of a shooting star.
-
Either he is in too much of a hurry, or the Doctor spends a long time pondering the question whether he has calculated the time and place correctly. In any case, Jack arrives at the spot where, according to his considerations, the TARDIS will land, earlier than he thought he would and squints into the rapidly brightening sky for another half minute or so.
Finally, with an unmistakable, ear-splitting sound, the TARDIS slams into the ground, plowing up the soil, leaving a long trail of upturned grass in its wake, and comes to a halt within a few steps of Jack's car, rocking and creaking.
The door is flung open, and the Doctor tumbles out. He is on his own - apparently, it's a period of time between two companions - and Jack is secretly happy about that.
The Doctor has a new body and looks quite young, angular and lanky, all elbows and knees, his long, thin neck rising out of the collar comically. But apart from that, he is still exactly the same: disheveled and impulsive, with an intense and insane thirst for new adventures in his round, brown eyes.
He shoves his long-fingered, boyish hands into the pockets of his pants and gives Jack a cross look, raising one eyebrow.
"You again," he states in a raspy, young tenor voice. "Don't even know if I should be glad to see you. Very well then, come here."
Jack doesn't need to be asked twice; he hugs the thin, bony Doctor so firmly that the other man exclaims, "Ouch ... Ribs!"
Jack laughs and buries his face in the Doctor's tousled mop of chestnut hair, lifting him up off the ground and twirling him around like a child. The Doctor's coat-tails flutter helplessly in the air like wings.
In the end, Jack falls down onto the ground, roaring with joyous laughter, but not letting him out of his embrace.
-
"Oh, no, no, no, no," the Doctor shakes his head vigorously, slamming his coffee cup onto the table, causing a good half of its contents to spill across the shiny table top.
Ianto flinches. Gwen blinks her lashes, startled, trying for a nervous smile.
Jack exhales loudly and haltingly, covering his face with his hands for a few seconds.
"No one will be caused any harm if he survives," he says quietly. "I'll handle everything ... very carefully. Please. I promise. I've thought everything through."
The Doctor leaps up and starts pacing Jack's office, sliding his fingers into the hair at his nape, muttering under his breath and casting a sidelong look at Jack.
"Okay," he says finally, coming to a halt and giving Jack a very, very serious look. "Okay ... But! ... don't you pull any stupid stunts, do you hear me?! Did you hear me?"
"I promise," Jack repeats, his voice cracking.
-
Standing in the doorway of the TARDIS, Jack turns around and looks at Ianto.
"I ..." he starts and falls silent.
Ianto is shaking his head almost imperceptibly and turns away.
"Come on, come on already!" the Doctor urges Jack, pulling him into the depths of the TARDIS by his cuff, and Jack swings the door shut, feeling a strange mix of guilt and elation.
"I'll come back," he tells the door, stupidly hoping that Ianto will know somehow what he wanted to tell him.
"Oh, you will, trust me, my friend," the Doctor mutters, running around the TARDIS console, squinting at its sensors and banging his fist onto its panels. "I'll personally see to that. I'll make sure you don't cause any trouble there."
He crawls under the console on all fours, clattering around and continuing to mutter something under his breath that Jack can't quite discern.
Jack looks at the Doctor's bony, checkered-pants-clad behind with a smile. "Thank you, Doctor."
"Oh, forget it," the Doctor replies, resurfacing and spitting out balls of dust.
The TARDIS lets out a howl, and the Doctor quickly glances at the instruments.
"All right. Come on, we're there," he pushes Jack toward the door. "You watch it, my friend. Did I tell you about the margin of error? I warned you. So, no complaints if it doesn't work out. Come on. Move."
"Thank you," Jack repeats and steps out into the night of January 20th, 1941. And before the TARDIS can even dissolve in the dank winter air with a loud roar of its engines, he catches sight of the lonely figure of a man, walking down the street, away from the lights and music streaming out of the windows of Cardiff's Ritz Dance Hall.
"Jack," Jack calls out, and for some reason, he is sure he isn't mistaking someone else for him.
Harkness flinches, stopping in his tracks, and Jack can feel it almost physically, the way the man's shoulder blades tense under his coat, the way his muscles clench and his shoulders go rigid.
"Jack," Jack repeats. Name of a stranger, stolen by him, borrowed and turned into his own, turned into honey and quinine on his tongue, and a thorny burr in his throat.
Harkness turns around, gulping for air, his whole body awkwardly jolting toward Jack, and stops in his tracks, spreading his arms clumsily as if to embrace the air.
Jack walks over to him, takes his hand, entwining their fingers, and drags him into a narrow alleyway between two houses, pressing him up against the wall and covering the man's mouth with his hand before Harkness can even utter a word.
From a distance, a female voice and the clicking sound of heels on pavement can be heard. Then a shy, youngish bass voice rings out, followed by a new bout of laughter, now nearer to where they are standing. The wind carries the sweet scent of perfume and snatches of a conversation into their hiding place. And then the sounds seem to move away again, dissolving in the dank January night.
Harkness disentangles himself and touches Jack's face, his cold fingers grazing eyebrows, cheekbones, lips, chin. He cups Jack's cheek with his palm, and Jack mirrors his gesture. Harkness's eyes betray a hope so eager, so fierce that it is akin to insanity.
"You came back," Harkness says.
I came back, Jack wants to reply, but his words get lost on the way, melting into a hoarse one-syllable word that is honey and quinine and burns his throat so much that his eyes start to sting and his vision gets blurred.
"Jack," he says.
-
They take small alleys and cross backyards to get to the house where Harkness has found lodgings, constantly speeding up their steps. In the end, they almost break into a run, not letting go of each other's hands, slipping on the thin ice patches on the pavement, out of breath because of this eager, manic happiness they both feel, and halting every few steps to kiss quickly.
Harkness ushers him in through the back entrance, and they sneak up a creaking stairway, freezing in place on every single step.
It's a small, tidy room - a patchwork quilt on a narrow bed with a wrought-iron headboard, a few water color paintings of Cardiff Bay in plain frames on walls covered in faded floral wallpaper, a bible and a water carafe on a massive Victorian table, that takes up about a third of the space in the room.
Jack takes off his greatcoat, spreading it out on the floor. He raises his gaze to Harkness, who looks thunderstruck by what is unfurling around him. Jack tries to smile, but somehow he can't; there is a salty taste in his mouth, and his eyes are stinging again.
"Lock the door," he begs, not recognizing his own voice.
Harkness obeys and freezes in the middle of the room again, not uttering a single word, begging Jack for help with his eyes.
Jack blinks away the tears and finally manages to smile at him. "Come to me."
And the other Jack makes a step.
-
They try not to hurry, but it's in vain; they are shaking with impatience, their fingers slipping off the buttons, and everything ends too quickly. Dazed, gasping and trembling, they lie face to face, not touching, not saying a single word, just looking at each other, until they both slip into a short, restless dream, in which they are searching for each other, and wake up fifteen minutes later, locked in a tight embrace, their legs entwined.
They let their whispers flow from mouth to mouth - "Jack..." "You..." "I promise..." "Yes..." - all dissolved in nervous breaths, and this time, they don't hurry at all.
Afterwards, Harkness finds Jack's hand and falls asleep again, not letting go of it until an unmistakable sound makes Jack sit up.
The roar of the TARDIS quiets down, and Harkness opens his eyes, which look as clear as if he hadn't slept at all. "You have to go."
Jack slides his arm behind Harkness's back and pulls him to himself, whispering against his temple, "I'll come back."
"Jaaack," the Doctor yells under the windows, "hey, Jack!"
Jack hurriedly puts his clothes back on.
"I'll walk you out." Harkness gets up as well, shaking out the greatcoat and throwing it around his shoulders.
Jack turns around, looking at him, then steps over to him, embracing him. And then Jack's closed, dry lips kiss the corner of Harkness's mouth, his cheekbones, his eyes, and Jack presses his face into the man's hair and releases him with a deep sigh. "Let's go."
-
The Doctor is standing next to the TARDIS, hands shoved deep into his pockets, rocking on his heels.
"Hello!" he calls out to Harkness, who only nods shyly in return.
"I ..." Jack starts, and the other Jack nods again.
"I know. I'll be waiting"
"Real soon," Jack promises, standing in the doorway of the TARDIS already, and feels his ribs clench.
Harkness raises his hand in a farewell gesture, and Jack forces himself to let the door fall shut.
"Typical," the Doctor grumbles behind his back. "Who would you fall in love at first sight with if not yourself!"
Jack makes a strange sound, something between a sigh and a short cough.
"In the morning," he says hollowly, "a Messer is going to shoot him down, and he'll die. Burn to death. If I don't ..." He falls silent.
The Doctor frowns, messing up his hair with his fingers.
"Save him," Jack pleads, his voice hollow. "Help me."
And the Doctor is really surprised to realize he can't respond to that in any other way than, "Of course, Jack. Naturally."
-
With a businesslike "Wait here!" the Doctor pushes Jack out of the TARDIS and into the cold Cardiff night, and with a loud roar, the blue phone box dissolves into thin air.
Jack leans against a wall, closes his eyes and sees a Hurricane falling from the gray winter sky, dragging a black and red trail of smoke and flames in its wake. He winces, stifling a yelp, and starts pacing the ice-covered street nervously, clenching his hands into fists in his pockets, until the Doctor reappears.
The Doctor's hair is ruffled into manic disarray, his eyes shining; he seems to be almost jumping up and down, bursting with energy.
"I've borrowed something from you," he calls out to Jack and clarifies, "from the you that's not far from here. In the same year. Do you remember?"
And Jack suddenly understands, laughs, hugs the Doctor tightly, and laughs on and on, sniffing and wiping his wet cheeks on the Doctor's trench coat.
-
Time stretches out like a rubber band, and Harkness's shot-down Hurricane is falling for an endless moment, like in slow motion.
"Any moment now," the Doctor yells, hitting the button and raising his rapturously manic gaze up into the smoke-striped sky - and nothing happens. Only time speeds up suddenly, and the plane starts falling rapidly, much too fast. And it feels like someone knocked all the breath out of Jack's lungs and is squeezing his throat shut, making it impossible for him to breathe in.
"Come on," the Doctor shouts, hammering away at the button with his fist. "Jack! Stop!"
Jack doesn't hear him; he runs, stumbling forward, and reaches the spot of the imminent plane crash a mere second before a blue tractor beam picks up the maimed, burning Hurricane and softly lowers it down to the ground, flickering and fading away.
Jack is finally able to take a breath. Then, he dashes into the smoke and fire, not sensing how the heat sears his face, not noticing how his singed hair crackles, how the smoke stings his eyes and bites his throat.
The Doctor rests his hands on his knees, catching his breath, panting, and watches Jack drag a limp Harkness out of the maimed aircraft and collapse onto the ground with him.
"Le...let's get out of the way," the Doctor gasps for air. "It could blow up ..."
Jack doesn't hear him; he is pressing Harkness to himself, burying his face in the man's hair, rocking him like a child. Jack's shoulders are shaking.
The Doctor frowns, biting his lip slightly, and lowers his gaze, noticing that Harkness's fingers are twitching almost imperceptibly.
"Jack," the Doctor calls out. "JACK!"
Jack looks up at him. His eyes shine terrifyingly bright out of his smudgy face.
"You've made it," the Doctor says softly. "It's okay. Now everything is going to be alright."
The flames licking the wreck of the Hurricane gently die away as if the plane feels that it has lost all sense and purpose. And only as the triumphant roar of the TARDIS engines already rips open the sky over 1941 Cardiff, does an explosion finally cross the name of Captain Jack Harkness off the list of the living.
-
Jack returns to the Hub, bringing with him the unsettling, bitter smell of fire and hospital hallways in his hair and clothes.
"Hi, Ianto," he says with a dull voice.
Ianto looks at Jack's dirty, soot-covered face and at the two white streaks, running from the corner of his eyes down his cheeks and hugs him silently, stroking his tense back and the singed hair on top of his head.
"I'm okay," Jack mumbles, pressing their cheeks together. "Bit tired. But everything's alright. We made it, Ianto. We ..."
"Later," Ianto says, "you can tell me later."
He undresses Jack, helps him to climb into the shower, towels him off, puts him to bed, kneads his cramped, tired back and neck muscles, makes tea for him, lies down beside him, hugging him and trying to calm him by puffing measured breaths against his nape, all the while thinking that there probably is a reason to be suspicious, angry, jealous ... In the end, he tells himself that it's all irrelevant until Jack will be coming back.
-
One month later, Jack is sitting in the stands of a school stadium beside Harkness, watching boys kick a ball around the pitch.
"So? A coach?" Jack says.
Harkness shrugs, abashed. "I'm not of that much use in your world."
"Well, this is not exactly my world. And I'm not saying it's a bad thing, am I?"
Harkness shakes his head.
"It's ... the best."
Jack can't control himself any longer and covers Harkness's hand with his own, gently stroking the sensitive, tender skin from a recently healed burn wound. "Do you like your new name?"
Harkness (Harry Newton, 35 years old, unmarried, occupation: gym teacher) gives Jack a sidelong look and lowers his lashes, hiding his embarrassment behind a smile. "I read his Hurricane was shot down ..."
"Yes. By a Dornier."
"He survived, this guy. Brought down a Dornier. But he himself survived."
Jack continues caressing his hand, entwining their fingers. "You did, too. I guess, to me, you'll always be Jack, however. That all right with you?"
"Thanks," Harkness says, his voice trembling.
Jack smiles.
"Today?" he asks with deliberate casualness, surprised his heart doesn't leap out of his throat; it's hammering against his ribcage like crazy. "Or maybe you have other plans for the evening. I could ..."
Harkness looks up at him, taken aback, and Jack wants to strangle himself a dozen times for what he has just said and for the tone in which he has uttered these words. His mouth opens of its own volition, and he starts talking, unable to stop himself as if someone else were moving his lips. He tells Harkness about Torchwood, about Ianto, about his thousand lives, tells him that he can't promise anything, tells him that there are others in his life, tells him about the Doctor and that sooner or later, people always leave him; everyone leaves him and ...
... Harkness squeezes his hand and calls him by his name ... and Jack understands that this is all completely unimportant; for wherever you might run, however long the years of travel, in the end you will always come back to yourself.
He will always be coming back to Group Captain Jack Harkness of the 133rd Squadron.
~ the end
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*T/N: Song of Solomon 8:6