Love is all you need [fic]
Title: Love is all you need.
Rating: PG - 13
Pairings: Jack/OMC, Jack/OMC(s), Jack/OMC, Jack/Algy, Jack/Captain Jack (hint of Jack/Toshiko), Jack & Owen, Jack/Ianto
Summary: Loves of Captain Jack
Prompt: 84. He for
fanfic100
Word Count: 5172
Spoilers: Empty Child/Dr dances, Parting of the Ways, Torchwood series one.
A/N: Dedicated to
laligin, for support, help, general larks in real life and fandom.
They got caught. They were tired and so were careless and ran right into a platoon of soldiers (probably duplicates of other prisoners that they’d killed). They were shoved into a cell and for a long time nothing happened. Then a particularly nasty looking bastard turned up at their door and just stared at them, sizing them up, comparing them. Then he pointed at Jack and for a short, terrible moment his friend felt traitorously relieved. Then the years of friendship kicked in and he thrashed madly against the cuffs, trying to kick the torturer (because that was what he is, right? There was no other reason for him to be here, looking at them like that otherwise. Not unless he was going to execute them-) away.
To no avail, of course. They dragged Jack off screaming for his friend, and he screamed back. He wouldn’t remember what when he looks back on it, probably doesn’t matter anyway. He heard the screams, only slightly muffled by the walls for the next two hours. It stopped rather suddenly and as the silence rang around him he knew they’d killed him. Jack was dead. Before he could start crying, however, the door swung open loudly (and do they let them rust deliberately, just for the effect?) and they threw Jack back in like a rag doll.
On the third day, five minutes after they took Jack away they come back and fetched his companion.
“There’s reason we picked him over you.” The torturer told him, and the boy soldier would have told him that he had a fuck ugly face if he weren’t a boy soldier saying it to a fuck ugly torturer who was about to start poking hot needles into his best friend’s face. “You want to know what that reason is?”
He didn’t.
“It’s because of the two of you, he’s the weakling. You know that, yeah? If you do, you’ll know that he’s not going to last much longer. One of you doesn’t start talking today you’ll both be dead by sun up. You hear me boy?”
It was this day that he was taken along to the torture room and made to watch. It was this day he and Jack nearly buckled. Nearly.
Their backs were turned as they unhooked Jack from the equipment, allowing his friend the opportunity to steal gun and shoot them all (they clearly haven’t had to go this far before). They made a speedy escape and then a long journey back to headquarters (they were not going to get tired or careless again) keeping each other awake and hoping with songs and stories (that all began “remember when…”) and anticipating their heroes’ welcome; they had the information in hand.
They were, therefore, understandably confused when their own side - their own comrades, for God’s sake - held them at gunpoint and then knocked them out.
When he woke up Jack wasn’t there with him. He panicked loudly enough for them to take him to the base’s CO, who informed him that traitors were and never had been tolerated. If he could have he would have screamed until he was blue in the face that Jack was not a traitor, never dropped a word or number those four days, but he was removed from the office before he got the chance.
He was taken outside the building and made to stand with the cadets and ensigns gathered there (not that there were that many of them anymore - they were dropping like flies these days). Except there were two groups; one group standing and another smaller group, sitting huddled together. It was in that group he saw Jack. He made to go to him, to find out what was wrong, but one of the sergeants grabbed him and dragged him back to stand with the others.
It was only when the Sergeants, the other officers and the CO came outside in one big rush that he and Jack realised what was happening - but then you couldn’t blame them for being slow; they’d never seen an execution before. Jack jumped up then, shoving away the hands that sought to push and pull him back down again “I didn’t do it!” he screamed “You know! Tell them! I never told anything!”
But their superiors didn’t have all day - there was a war to win - and they didn’t let two screaming, crying boy soldiers stop them getting on with things. Jack was punched in the face, which shut him up long enough for the CO to explain why Jack and the others were about to be killed. That was when Jack’s friend started to scream again “He didn’t do anything! Please, just let him go-“
The CO snapped his fingers and a handful of officers surrounded the huddle, which now huddled closer together, each soldier fighting to get be in the middle, be the last one alive surrounded by bullet riddled bodies - not much of a prize and it was no wonder some of them just gave up. On the CO’s word they shot, again and again, as many times as was necessary and for two minutes the noise was deafening. Jack’s friend froze in the sergeant’s grasp and, when the silence fell again, started to howl. He was not the only one; others amongst the crowd fell to their knees and wept and bawled for friends, siblings and lovers. It happens when you take children to war.
Years later, though in an earlier time, that same bawling boy soldier was looking for a name. From what he remembered of war the dead don’t mind you using their things (in fact, from what he remembers they beseeched you with their last breathes - along with looking after their mother, telling Margot that they loved her and would you give Simon this ring, there’s a good chap and tell him “SSDD”? He’ll know what it means - to take anything you needed from them) and so he was sure none of them will mind him trying on their name for a month or so to fool a complete stranger and then return it to them.
Checking a list of the dead the name “Jack” jumped out at him and he remembered his friend who went through torture and walked next to him for two days straight, only to be shot in cold blood by his own side and for his corpse to lie in disgrace. He checked the full name - “Captain Jack Harkness” - and got to work falsifying the documents. This way he could bring Jack along for the ride.
It was always a surprise whenever one met the amazing Barbra and Janet. Mostly because one was expecting two women. However, not long after the twins were born their mother took a fever and believing her twins to be girls had them registered as Barbra and Janet. Amazingly this was not the reason for the noticeable rift between the amazing Barbra and Janet and their mother. It was the fact that, upon recovering from the fever (and eighteen years later when the brothers took her to court) she flatly refused to change their names. With such a parent the only answer is to run away and join the circus. This was sadly out of the question for the twins as their mother owned the circus. They instead became acrobats, and the stars of the show.
Jack met them in a pub (the circus crowd, still in their costumes, stuck out a bit) when he helped the Incredible Mystico, hypnotist and magician, break up a fight between Janet, who was always the more physically violent of the two, and a local who has the stupidity to put “A boy named Sue” on the jukebox. Mystico drug the drunk away outside and changed the song with a wave of a hand, while Jack (as per Mystico’s frighteningly perceptive suggestion) kissed Janet. Janet, it turned out was thrilled that someone can tell him apart from Barbra by sight. Jack was yet more thrilled when he discovered just how flexible Janet is. They were alone together those first few nights, but Barbra was lonely and apparently the brothers had an agreement - if one twin met someone in a town and the other didn’t, the lonely twin masqueraded as the other for a night or two. But because Jack could tell them apart they had to ask. Jack rolled his eyes at this juvenile attempt at deceit and suggested a threesome. That went down very well.
He shed a tear, possibly two, when the circus moved on, but was happy in the knowledge he had sent them on a little more experienced, that he could now cross “threesome with twins and/or acrobats” off his list of “things to do before I die” and that there would be no more Barbra rushing in to a room to start a the music player of dramatic music for Janet to come striding in to. Or beak through windows. It had been cute at first, but it had gotten boring after a while.
A few hundred years later (or earlier, who can tell?) Jack leant against the glass and snapped his fingers “Barbra.” He says, pointing. The Weevil snarled at him and Jack remembered Janet’s teeth in his shoulder. He smiled and amended “Janet.”
Ray was (is, maybe, or will be) what many Time Agents call a ‘fugee - someone taken out of their home time by a third party (usually ends up filed as “person or persons unknown”) for whatever reason and who for whatever reason the Time Agents can’t put them back. Normally these refugees have a hard time of it in the future. Ray was like a duck in water (better than that really - a fish of some kind). There were times Jack found himself wondering if he hadn’t deliberately aided his jump forward in time. That said Ray did seem to miss his old surroundings.
Jack met him a bar, a place called “Wilde nights” (apparently because the owner claimed to be a direct descendant of the poet and playwright himself) while Jack himself was having a rather wild night with some friends, one of whom had just been promoted. The night out was partly to celebrate and partly so the others could drown their jealousy. Jack, pleasantly buzzed, ended up being ditched because he had a shift the next morning, while the rest of them were free to drink themselves into a stupor and moved on to another bar, and then another two after that. He might have felt a little sore about that had he not met a very handsome (if slightly pretentious) guy on one of the sofas.
He introduced himself as “Ramses”. Jack bit his tongue to stop the laughter, shook his hand and re-Christened him “Nice to meet you, Ray.” Because, really, what kind of name is “Ramses” to cry out in a moment of passion?
They started more as friends than possible lovers, meeting up every now and again, Jack to complain, vaguely and in a manner that wouldn’t betray his actual job, about work and Ray to complain about lack of work and the discrimination. Things changed one night when, after a rough few days trying to sort out whole groups of ‘fugees who had been placed in neutral territory and then been made to fight each other Jack decided it was high time Ray tried Absinth. Or it may have been Ray who decided Jack should try it in celebration of Ray finally getting a job - the details are still after all these years rather bit blurry. Anyway, turned out Ray was fabulous at talking dirty. Even as Jack (far from being white and an experienced man of the world, even if he said himself) listened to some of that delicious filth he blushed violently; “red as apples, as lustful sin”. Oscar Wilde eat your heart out. What happened later on goes without saying.
The next morning Jack was very late in for work and received a reprimand from the same breath Ray received a lukewarm welcome. Ray was given Jack to shadow for the next two weeks and they were dismissed to squabble amiably (simultaneous “You work here too?” “Why didn’t you tell me?”). After two weeks of showing Ray the ropes (and a good time in the evenings) they ended up living together. Jack didn’t quite work out how it happened, but it worked for him and it worked for Ray, so why quibble?
They probably weren’t in love (despite what just about everyone else seemed to think). In any case they had the strangest relationship Jack has ever known. They both brought other people back to their place, saw other people on the side without being quiet about it. At the same time they slept together, had meals together - enjoyed what their friends laughingly called “married life”. Neither of them cared - they liked living like this, getting both sides of the coin.
However, Ray got injured in the line of duty and had to spend the foreseeable future behind a desk, while Jack got promoted and was out on longer and longer missions. Ray was still having a good time and they were still friends but their “married life” suffered a bit.
And then Jack’s memories were wiped and everything came crashing down. He still remembered Ray - for all the mistakes they made they led to the wiping two years instead of two months, he hadn’t forgotten Ray. (He had forgotten someone, though. Someone amazing, apparently. Ray tried to get him to talk about her, but he didn’t even remember the planet she was from, never mind the time frame) But for all he did remember, he wasn’t willing to stay. Some three months later he dropped everything, including Ray and just disappeared.
He met Algy one night in the air raid shelter. He was a decent bloke - a bit of a stick in the mud, perhaps but that could be fun sometimes and better for his men that he was a bit of a stick in the mud than a Custer. Not that he could really do that much damage, but it always helped to be cautious. He and Jack had a few casual rendezvous (Algy had apparently heard things about Captain Jack Harkness - who was he to dispute?). They swapped stories and shared booze and as the day approached that his targets should land Jack started to feel a little bit wistful. He’d miss the old bugger when he had to make a run for it, but he had to make a living (not to mention those two years of memory he had to get back). And he’d got some great stories to tell his target over the drinks he’d buy when they discuss bombs and all life’s little unfairnesses.
Seeing Toshiko getting twirled around was amusing for about fifteen seconds (poor girl was really clueless about her effect on men), then he remembered why this time was less than safe for her and the kind of thoughts her dance partner might being thinking and wandered over with a charming smile to dislodge that smug prat. They came to blows, but luckily for the prat his captain turned up before Jack landed any really nasty punches (he and Tosh then had a very couple-ish moment with her telling him off for making such a scene. Clueless).
The Captain apologised and he was very nice looking, and Jack knew what the men are like on their nights off and so felt forgiving. And then the Captain introduced himself. When he smiled he felt his face freeze. He couldn’t even curse his own stupidity - he knew Jack Harkness was in Cardiff in 1941, he knew and why the hell hadn’t he thought of that when he saw the date? Head stuck in nostalgia, a past that wasn’t really his - a name that wasn’t his, no matter how many loves have called him by it, no matter how many trusted comrades have known him by it. He was suddenly very aware of Toshiko at his elbow - and was there a worse person to be here to find out? - curious, clever Toshiko who had only just started to really trust him again, now knew that his name wasn’t Jack Harkness and he was not really a Captain. Not the way she thought, anyway.
He extended his hand and introduced himself as Captain James Harper (imagination for the little things only lives so long - his died some years ago now) and then he and Toshiko excused themselves and hurried away. He tried to dodge her questions, thinking of something normal (by his standards) to say.
“I didn’t know he was…so hot.” Shallow and sex-obsessed. That ought to do it. It didn’t though - Toshiko’s always been that bit too clever. Would be annoying if she weren’t so useful. So he told her just enough about himself and about the Captain. She seemed to be able to read what he wrote between the lines and set about getting the numbers together, leaving him with his head wedged in the clouds. He talked to the Captain and some of his men and tried to convince himself that he was being useful - he was convincing them he and Toshiko belonged. He didn’t quite realise how much the Captain was talking to him, or how he was looking at him until very late in the game.
Jack stared down at their hands, and there were suddenly a lot of little clicks in his head as pieces fell into place. Even when he came to London it turned out the [late] Captain Harkness had had a bit of a reputation. Jack hadn’t thought - well, you don’t, do you? You just play the part, get on with it and forget it. Jack looked up at Jack…he looked vulnerable all of a sudden. Just waiting for Jack to jerk his hand away and punch him. Jack just couldn’t think. This man - who Jack has pretended to be for well over a lifetime, who even as Jack shook hands and gave his name has marvelled at and in a way idolised maybe felt something for him. Maybe saw something in him that he liked, wanted, was reaching out for…and he died tomorrow. And then Jack steals his name (there was something very Greek about all this that Jack couldn’t quite place).
He should have gripped his hand back, smiled back, suggested something, say something for God’s sake, what’s wrong with you? He’s forgotten what this felt like, wanting to say this to someone but being too scared. It felt right, like it could be good, for just one night-
He waited a moment too long. It happens whenever you’ve experienced time at your beck and call, no matter how briefly - when you have to follow it in straight lines again it seems to betray you. He watched him walk away and he kicked himself. He’s never going to get that moment back and even if he gets a Time ship, even if the TARDIS ever comes back for him, he’ll never be able to put it right.
He and Toshiko sat and held hands, anchoring each other as they reflected miserably on the state of things. Then, Toshiko looked up, confused and turned to him. Jack just stared at their hands. Then there was another hand, prising his away from Toshiko’s. He looked up and Jack was there, taking his hand and leading him away, out on to the dance floor. He felt strange - happy, wonderfully happy. And yet…he felt young all of a sudden, for the first time in years.
It wouldn’t last, he thought as they slow danced around the floor. He’d feel euphoric for a few golden moments, then when (not if, but when) they left tonight, whether for Cardiff in 2009 or to find a hostel or air raid shelter, he was going to fall to pieces and probably stay that way for a long time. He knew this and found himself surprised that he didn’t care. Really didn’t.
And then he had to walk away. Then he cared. Cared so much he almost didn’t follow her, almost stayed. Even if he did die tomorrow that gave them a whole night…As he walked away and let Toshiko lead him back into Cardiff 2009 he decided that he was getting too old for this.
Of course, he didn’t get to stay miserable and mope until he got over it. No, because his team have brought about the apocalypse and as leader - well, they expected him to lead and if they didn’t like the way he’s leading, if they thought he was going about it the wrong way…
He fought the urge growing by the minute to demand how many apocalypses they’ve tried to thwart whilst feeling utterly heartbroken and then, if they have, to add to that the feeling that they have been pretending to be someone else for a whole lifetime - not someone else in the tacky “I’ve been living to please other people” way, but someone who was real, actually existed. Imagine the day before said apocalypse through the miracle that is time travel you met this person whose habits and personals you know better than your own, having lived them instead of your own for years and find that this person is nothing like you expected and that you were in what felt like love with them, but they died tomorrow and you found out at the second to last moment that they might like you in that way and you screwed that moment up royally. And sure the two of you had a little dance, but it could have been a night to really remember and instead you’ve screwed it up in a way that you can never put right, never.
Considering all that Jack felt he had a right to be having something of an off day, even if it was the fucking end of the world.
Owen had originally been meant for Torchwood One, headhunted by Yvonne’s predecessor. Yvonne herself hadn’t liked the look of him (or his work ethic) and had allowed Jack first refusal before she threw his file in the bin. Looking through Jack remembered that they needed a medic and requested an interview with him. Owen looked a bit put out when he realised the address he’d been sent was a pub and look downright suspicious when he heard Jack’s accent (obviously the way you pronounce and sometimes drop your “t”s reveals a great deal about your personality and evil intent). They chatted over a pint and as they waited in line for kebabs Jack informed him he was hired.
They’d never been particularly close, him and Owen; Owen thought Jack was a bit up himself and Jack knew that Owen was a bit up himself and they seemed to be in competition for the girls. In Jack’s mind anyway. If Owen swung that way they’d have probably competed over Ianto, too. This said they got on most of the time. They were on a level. Or at least, Jack liked to think they were. He sometimes got taken in by Owen’s shallow prick act, convinced that this stuff didn’t touch him as much as it did the others and Owen often got frustrated by Jack talking like he knew everything, talking like he knew best and all those secrets he had (not little ones, actually, but they none of them know enough to know that they’re pretty huge). But they managed to stay friends for the most part.
And then the idiot went and fell in love. Not only that, but tried to pursue it even though it was clearly doomed. Owen had more sense than that, surely. Jack would have felt more sympathetic except it had been at least fifty years since he was last in love with someone like that and he was still a bit pissed off over the whole affair with Gwen. And then when he did end up heartbroken (third time’s a charm) he skipped work at every opportunity and nearly got killed by a Weevil and a load of beer-gutted losers with more money and testosterone than sense. Jack dropped by to see him with a “buck your ideas up” talk in mind, but he never got a chance - there was something new in Owen (or maybe it had always been there, maybe that was Yvonne had shoved him Jack’s way). Something dark, like Suzie, but blunter, heavier. Jack wanted to find it out and try and sort it out, but that was when Owen started to question him. “Do you always know best, Jack?”
Jack knew he didn’t. He was pretty sure Owen knew that he knew he didn’t.
He blamed Owen for the Rift. He probably shouldn’t, but Owen was the one in command and contrary to what everyone seemed to think he and Toshiko wouldn’t have died if they had been stuck there. It didn’t really help matters that he was this close to just shooting Owen in the head for picking holes in his command - he had his heart broken last night. If he recalled correctly the day after Diane left Owen drank himself unconscious and avoided work for the next couple of weeks. Even powerless and on his knees, Jack just couldn’t resist one last poke right where it hurt -
Bad move, really.
But once it was all over and there looked like there was going to be another showdown between them, Owen broke down and hugged him. Jack hugged back, and told him he forgave him for whatever it was Owen felt so remorseful for. He didn’t care. Because really; he was alive, Cardiff wasn’t destroyed, lots of people didn’t die after all - there was plenty to feel good about at the moment. That and they probably had weeks of paperwork ahead of them and they’d need all the good feeling and morale they could get their hands on if they were going to come through it without attempting to murder each other.
And then, there’s Ianto. He didn’t love Ianto. Not really, not the way he should when he was sleeping with him like this. Not the way he had loved Estelle, or the way he loved Captain Jack. Sad thing was, he didn’t think he even loved him like he did Jack, boy soldier and best friend. He certainly didn’t love him the way he had loved (loves) the Doctor. It was almost as thought he was beyond that now - like he couldn’t love anybody that way, have that kind of feeling for anyone anymore.
It was the energy, whatever the hell he’s got that keeps the blood warm and the meat fresh those times when the heart stopped. It was something about living so long…he and Ianto would never be on equal footing. He’d felt too much, seen too much, been through too much. He was tired. He didn’t want to have to explain all this to someone, would probably find himself incapable if he ever tried. They’d none of them in this age actually lived. Not like it could be your last day, not like you need to do this to survive. Too many safety nets. There are some that had it, though, without the wars and the struggle for food. Not those too much money not enough sense weevil-beating nancy boys - people who grew up in the true sense of the term; learnt about the darker ways and didn’t going running to them for an easy ride, realised what people can do, what people were really capable of and handling it. And if Ianto ever did get to that point - experiences that they could connect in that way - he’d see Jack for who and what he really is and wouldl have the good sense to walk away. Sensible boy. That’s our Ianto.
So why was he sleeping with Ianto? He had no idea. It was probably Ianto’s fault to begin with. Not looking so pretty and so innocent or so damn good a suit (though they were all on his side, too), but talking to him about stopwatches in that coy manner when he knew damn well that he was supposed to hate Jack. Wish him dead - without actually acting on it, of course - and put on a civil front. Apparently Ianto didn’t realise what he was supposed to do. Either that or was deliberately defying him (couldn’t entirely rule that one out - sticking two fingers up by shagging the living daylights out of him. Unlike Jack, Ianto is very creative. If a bit backward).
He had hated, him though. That night when Jack had threatened to kill him, kill Lisa. He hadn’t been afraid of Jack, just hated him. And for a few, very brief moments, Jack had hated him. They tried afterward, awkwardly, to rebuild the bridges. But Ianto didn’t forget (Ianto never forgot anything - it was one of the many ways in which he was anal). He didn’t forget that Jack had killed Lisa, because he knew somehow that Jack fired the first bullet. He didn’t forget, though he didn’t mention it again for a while, that Jack had kissed him when he was unconscious. The two things happening in the same night had probably confused him no end.
It wouldn’t help either that the kiss didn’t mean very much to Jack. Not the way it would have for Ianto - all those nights when he couldn’t get to sleep, puzzling over why Jack had done it. For Jack it had meant waking Ianto up in a way that was effective and quiet. And yes, he had been curious for a quite a while now what it would be like to kiss Ianto, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. Well, not much, anyway. But whatever the reason, Ianto had come round to Jack. He even looked to be falling for him, harder than is wise for him or Jack. It has never been fun to break someone’s heart. Never. Because for all that he didn’t love him, he was very attached to him - always had been.
But then he stood up to Jack along with the rest and when Jack found the time (sometime later, after he’d drifted back and was putting on that blue shirt he loved so much) he felt proud of him - and if that was twisted, well nothing about this relationship seemed normal. That was why when Ianto just held a hand out Jack pulled him into a hug (Gwen got one, Tosh got one, Owen may get one if he was comfortable with it - Jack was that happy to be alive again) and then gave him a nice long kiss, rest of them be damned.
But all it takes is that one sound. And then nothing matters, no one matters. No one person exists to Jack but him.
Rating: PG - 13
Pairings: Jack/OMC, Jack/OMC(s), Jack/OMC, Jack/Algy, Jack/Captain Jack (hint of Jack/Toshiko), Jack & Owen, Jack/Ianto
Summary: Loves of Captain Jack
Prompt: 84. He for
fanfic100
Word Count: 5172
Spoilers: Empty Child/Dr dances, Parting of the Ways, Torchwood series one.
A/N: Dedicated to
laligin, for support, help, general larks in real life and fandom.
They got caught. They were tired and so were careless and ran right into a platoon of soldiers (probably duplicates of other prisoners that they’d killed). They were shoved into a cell and for a long time nothing happened. Then a particularly nasty looking bastard turned up at their door and just stared at them, sizing them up, comparing them. Then he pointed at Jack and for a short, terrible moment his friend felt traitorously relieved. Then the years of friendship kicked in and he thrashed madly against the cuffs, trying to kick the torturer (because that was what he is, right? There was no other reason for him to be here, looking at them like that otherwise. Not unless he was going to execute them-) away.
To no avail, of course. They dragged Jack off screaming for his friend, and he screamed back. He wouldn’t remember what when he looks back on it, probably doesn’t matter anyway. He heard the screams, only slightly muffled by the walls for the next two hours. It stopped rather suddenly and as the silence rang around him he knew they’d killed him. Jack was dead. Before he could start crying, however, the door swung open loudly (and do they let them rust deliberately, just for the effect?) and they threw Jack back in like a rag doll.
On the third day, five minutes after they took Jack away they come back and fetched his companion.
“There’s reason we picked him over you.” The torturer told him, and the boy soldier would have told him that he had a fuck ugly face if he weren’t a boy soldier saying it to a fuck ugly torturer who was about to start poking hot needles into his best friend’s face. “You want to know what that reason is?”
He didn’t.
“It’s because of the two of you, he’s the weakling. You know that, yeah? If you do, you’ll know that he’s not going to last much longer. One of you doesn’t start talking today you’ll both be dead by sun up. You hear me boy?”
It was this day that he was taken along to the torture room and made to watch. It was this day he and Jack nearly buckled. Nearly.
Their backs were turned as they unhooked Jack from the equipment, allowing his friend the opportunity to steal gun and shoot them all (they clearly haven’t had to go this far before). They made a speedy escape and then a long journey back to headquarters (they were not going to get tired or careless again) keeping each other awake and hoping with songs and stories (that all began “remember when…”) and anticipating their heroes’ welcome; they had the information in hand.
They were, therefore, understandably confused when their own side - their own comrades, for God’s sake - held them at gunpoint and then knocked them out.
When he woke up Jack wasn’t there with him. He panicked loudly enough for them to take him to the base’s CO, who informed him that traitors were and never had been tolerated. If he could have he would have screamed until he was blue in the face that Jack was not a traitor, never dropped a word or number those four days, but he was removed from the office before he got the chance.
He was taken outside the building and made to stand with the cadets and ensigns gathered there (not that there were that many of them anymore - they were dropping like flies these days). Except there were two groups; one group standing and another smaller group, sitting huddled together. It was in that group he saw Jack. He made to go to him, to find out what was wrong, but one of the sergeants grabbed him and dragged him back to stand with the others.
It was only when the Sergeants, the other officers and the CO came outside in one big rush that he and Jack realised what was happening - but then you couldn’t blame them for being slow; they’d never seen an execution before. Jack jumped up then, shoving away the hands that sought to push and pull him back down again “I didn’t do it!” he screamed “You know! Tell them! I never told anything!”
But their superiors didn’t have all day - there was a war to win - and they didn’t let two screaming, crying boy soldiers stop them getting on with things. Jack was punched in the face, which shut him up long enough for the CO to explain why Jack and the others were about to be killed. That was when Jack’s friend started to scream again “He didn’t do anything! Please, just let him go-“
The CO snapped his fingers and a handful of officers surrounded the huddle, which now huddled closer together, each soldier fighting to get be in the middle, be the last one alive surrounded by bullet riddled bodies - not much of a prize and it was no wonder some of them just gave up. On the CO’s word they shot, again and again, as many times as was necessary and for two minutes the noise was deafening. Jack’s friend froze in the sergeant’s grasp and, when the silence fell again, started to howl. He was not the only one; others amongst the crowd fell to their knees and wept and bawled for friends, siblings and lovers. It happens when you take children to war.
Years later, though in an earlier time, that same bawling boy soldier was looking for a name. From what he remembered of war the dead don’t mind you using their things (in fact, from what he remembers they beseeched you with their last breathes - along with looking after their mother, telling Margot that they loved her and would you give Simon this ring, there’s a good chap and tell him “SSDD”? He’ll know what it means - to take anything you needed from them) and so he was sure none of them will mind him trying on their name for a month or so to fool a complete stranger and then return it to them.
Checking a list of the dead the name “Jack” jumped out at him and he remembered his friend who went through torture and walked next to him for two days straight, only to be shot in cold blood by his own side and for his corpse to lie in disgrace. He checked the full name - “Captain Jack Harkness” - and got to work falsifying the documents. This way he could bring Jack along for the ride.
It was always a surprise whenever one met the amazing Barbra and Janet. Mostly because one was expecting two women. However, not long after the twins were born their mother took a fever and believing her twins to be girls had them registered as Barbra and Janet. Amazingly this was not the reason for the noticeable rift between the amazing Barbra and Janet and their mother. It was the fact that, upon recovering from the fever (and eighteen years later when the brothers took her to court) she flatly refused to change their names. With such a parent the only answer is to run away and join the circus. This was sadly out of the question for the twins as their mother owned the circus. They instead became acrobats, and the stars of the show.
Jack met them in a pub (the circus crowd, still in their costumes, stuck out a bit) when he helped the Incredible Mystico, hypnotist and magician, break up a fight between Janet, who was always the more physically violent of the two, and a local who has the stupidity to put “A boy named Sue” on the jukebox. Mystico drug the drunk away outside and changed the song with a wave of a hand, while Jack (as per Mystico’s frighteningly perceptive suggestion) kissed Janet. Janet, it turned out was thrilled that someone can tell him apart from Barbra by sight. Jack was yet more thrilled when he discovered just how flexible Janet is. They were alone together those first few nights, but Barbra was lonely and apparently the brothers had an agreement - if one twin met someone in a town and the other didn’t, the lonely twin masqueraded as the other for a night or two. But because Jack could tell them apart they had to ask. Jack rolled his eyes at this juvenile attempt at deceit and suggested a threesome. That went down very well.
He shed a tear, possibly two, when the circus moved on, but was happy in the knowledge he had sent them on a little more experienced, that he could now cross “threesome with twins and/or acrobats” off his list of “things to do before I die” and that there would be no more Barbra rushing in to a room to start a the music player of dramatic music for Janet to come striding in to. Or beak through windows. It had been cute at first, but it had gotten boring after a while.
A few hundred years later (or earlier, who can tell?) Jack leant against the glass and snapped his fingers “Barbra.” He says, pointing. The Weevil snarled at him and Jack remembered Janet’s teeth in his shoulder. He smiled and amended “Janet.”
Ray was (is, maybe, or will be) what many Time Agents call a ‘fugee - someone taken out of their home time by a third party (usually ends up filed as “person or persons unknown”) for whatever reason and who for whatever reason the Time Agents can’t put them back. Normally these refugees have a hard time of it in the future. Ray was like a duck in water (better than that really - a fish of some kind). There were times Jack found himself wondering if he hadn’t deliberately aided his jump forward in time. That said Ray did seem to miss his old surroundings.
Jack met him a bar, a place called “Wilde nights” (apparently because the owner claimed to be a direct descendant of the poet and playwright himself) while Jack himself was having a rather wild night with some friends, one of whom had just been promoted. The night out was partly to celebrate and partly so the others could drown their jealousy. Jack, pleasantly buzzed, ended up being ditched because he had a shift the next morning, while the rest of them were free to drink themselves into a stupor and moved on to another bar, and then another two after that. He might have felt a little sore about that had he not met a very handsome (if slightly pretentious) guy on one of the sofas.
He introduced himself as “Ramses”. Jack bit his tongue to stop the laughter, shook his hand and re-Christened him “Nice to meet you, Ray.” Because, really, what kind of name is “Ramses” to cry out in a moment of passion?
They started more as friends than possible lovers, meeting up every now and again, Jack to complain, vaguely and in a manner that wouldn’t betray his actual job, about work and Ray to complain about lack of work and the discrimination. Things changed one night when, after a rough few days trying to sort out whole groups of ‘fugees who had been placed in neutral territory and then been made to fight each other Jack decided it was high time Ray tried Absinth. Or it may have been Ray who decided Jack should try it in celebration of Ray finally getting a job - the details are still after all these years rather bit blurry. Anyway, turned out Ray was fabulous at talking dirty. Even as Jack (far from being white and an experienced man of the world, even if he said himself) listened to some of that delicious filth he blushed violently; “red as apples, as lustful sin”. Oscar Wilde eat your heart out. What happened later on goes without saying.
The next morning Jack was very late in for work and received a reprimand from the same breath Ray received a lukewarm welcome. Ray was given Jack to shadow for the next two weeks and they were dismissed to squabble amiably (simultaneous “You work here too?” “Why didn’t you tell me?”). After two weeks of showing Ray the ropes (and a good time in the evenings) they ended up living together. Jack didn’t quite work out how it happened, but it worked for him and it worked for Ray, so why quibble?
They probably weren’t in love (despite what just about everyone else seemed to think). In any case they had the strangest relationship Jack has ever known. They both brought other people back to their place, saw other people on the side without being quiet about it. At the same time they slept together, had meals together - enjoyed what their friends laughingly called “married life”. Neither of them cared - they liked living like this, getting both sides of the coin.
However, Ray got injured in the line of duty and had to spend the foreseeable future behind a desk, while Jack got promoted and was out on longer and longer missions. Ray was still having a good time and they were still friends but their “married life” suffered a bit.
And then Jack’s memories were wiped and everything came crashing down. He still remembered Ray - for all the mistakes they made they led to the wiping two years instead of two months, he hadn’t forgotten Ray. (He had forgotten someone, though. Someone amazing, apparently. Ray tried to get him to talk about her, but he didn’t even remember the planet she was from, never mind the time frame) But for all he did remember, he wasn’t willing to stay. Some three months later he dropped everything, including Ray and just disappeared.
He met Algy one night in the air raid shelter. He was a decent bloke - a bit of a stick in the mud, perhaps but that could be fun sometimes and better for his men that he was a bit of a stick in the mud than a Custer. Not that he could really do that much damage, but it always helped to be cautious. He and Jack had a few casual rendezvous (Algy had apparently heard things about Captain Jack Harkness - who was he to dispute?). They swapped stories and shared booze and as the day approached that his targets should land Jack started to feel a little bit wistful. He’d miss the old bugger when he had to make a run for it, but he had to make a living (not to mention those two years of memory he had to get back). And he’d got some great stories to tell his target over the drinks he’d buy when they discuss bombs and all life’s little unfairnesses.
Seeing Toshiko getting twirled around was amusing for about fifteen seconds (poor girl was really clueless about her effect on men), then he remembered why this time was less than safe for her and the kind of thoughts her dance partner might being thinking and wandered over with a charming smile to dislodge that smug prat. They came to blows, but luckily for the prat his captain turned up before Jack landed any really nasty punches (he and Tosh then had a very couple-ish moment with her telling him off for making such a scene. Clueless).
The Captain apologised and he was very nice looking, and Jack knew what the men are like on their nights off and so felt forgiving. And then the Captain introduced himself. When he smiled he felt his face freeze. He couldn’t even curse his own stupidity - he knew Jack Harkness was in Cardiff in 1941, he knew and why the hell hadn’t he thought of that when he saw the date? Head stuck in nostalgia, a past that wasn’t really his - a name that wasn’t his, no matter how many loves have called him by it, no matter how many trusted comrades have known him by it. He was suddenly very aware of Toshiko at his elbow - and was there a worse person to be here to find out? - curious, clever Toshiko who had only just started to really trust him again, now knew that his name wasn’t Jack Harkness and he was not really a Captain. Not the way she thought, anyway.
He extended his hand and introduced himself as Captain James Harper (imagination for the little things only lives so long - his died some years ago now) and then he and Toshiko excused themselves and hurried away. He tried to dodge her questions, thinking of something normal (by his standards) to say.
“I didn’t know he was…so hot.” Shallow and sex-obsessed. That ought to do it. It didn’t though - Toshiko’s always been that bit too clever. Would be annoying if she weren’t so useful. So he told her just enough about himself and about the Captain. She seemed to be able to read what he wrote between the lines and set about getting the numbers together, leaving him with his head wedged in the clouds. He talked to the Captain and some of his men and tried to convince himself that he was being useful - he was convincing them he and Toshiko belonged. He didn’t quite realise how much the Captain was talking to him, or how he was looking at him until very late in the game.
Jack stared down at their hands, and there were suddenly a lot of little clicks in his head as pieces fell into place. Even when he came to London it turned out the [late] Captain Harkness had had a bit of a reputation. Jack hadn’t thought - well, you don’t, do you? You just play the part, get on with it and forget it. Jack looked up at Jack…he looked vulnerable all of a sudden. Just waiting for Jack to jerk his hand away and punch him. Jack just couldn’t think. This man - who Jack has pretended to be for well over a lifetime, who even as Jack shook hands and gave his name has marvelled at and in a way idolised maybe felt something for him. Maybe saw something in him that he liked, wanted, was reaching out for…and he died tomorrow. And then Jack steals his name (there was something very Greek about all this that Jack couldn’t quite place).
He should have gripped his hand back, smiled back, suggested something, say something for God’s sake, what’s wrong with you? He’s forgotten what this felt like, wanting to say this to someone but being too scared. It felt right, like it could be good, for just one night-
He waited a moment too long. It happens whenever you’ve experienced time at your beck and call, no matter how briefly - when you have to follow it in straight lines again it seems to betray you. He watched him walk away and he kicked himself. He’s never going to get that moment back and even if he gets a Time ship, even if the TARDIS ever comes back for him, he’ll never be able to put it right.
He and Toshiko sat and held hands, anchoring each other as they reflected miserably on the state of things. Then, Toshiko looked up, confused and turned to him. Jack just stared at their hands. Then there was another hand, prising his away from Toshiko’s. He looked up and Jack was there, taking his hand and leading him away, out on to the dance floor. He felt strange - happy, wonderfully happy. And yet…he felt young all of a sudden, for the first time in years.
It wouldn’t last, he thought as they slow danced around the floor. He’d feel euphoric for a few golden moments, then when (not if, but when) they left tonight, whether for Cardiff in 2009 or to find a hostel or air raid shelter, he was going to fall to pieces and probably stay that way for a long time. He knew this and found himself surprised that he didn’t care. Really didn’t.
And then he had to walk away. Then he cared. Cared so much he almost didn’t follow her, almost stayed. Even if he did die tomorrow that gave them a whole night…As he walked away and let Toshiko lead him back into Cardiff 2009 he decided that he was getting too old for this.
Of course, he didn’t get to stay miserable and mope until he got over it. No, because his team have brought about the apocalypse and as leader - well, they expected him to lead and if they didn’t like the way he’s leading, if they thought he was going about it the wrong way…
He fought the urge growing by the minute to demand how many apocalypses they’ve tried to thwart whilst feeling utterly heartbroken and then, if they have, to add to that the feeling that they have been pretending to be someone else for a whole lifetime - not someone else in the tacky “I’ve been living to please other people” way, but someone who was real, actually existed. Imagine the day before said apocalypse through the miracle that is time travel you met this person whose habits and personals you know better than your own, having lived them instead of your own for years and find that this person is nothing like you expected and that you were in what felt like love with them, but they died tomorrow and you found out at the second to last moment that they might like you in that way and you screwed that moment up royally. And sure the two of you had a little dance, but it could have been a night to really remember and instead you’ve screwed it up in a way that you can never put right, never.
Considering all that Jack felt he had a right to be having something of an off day, even if it was the fucking end of the world.
Owen had originally been meant for Torchwood One, headhunted by Yvonne’s predecessor. Yvonne herself hadn’t liked the look of him (or his work ethic) and had allowed Jack first refusal before she threw his file in the bin. Looking through Jack remembered that they needed a medic and requested an interview with him. Owen looked a bit put out when he realised the address he’d been sent was a pub and look downright suspicious when he heard Jack’s accent (obviously the way you pronounce and sometimes drop your “t”s reveals a great deal about your personality and evil intent). They chatted over a pint and as they waited in line for kebabs Jack informed him he was hired.
They’d never been particularly close, him and Owen; Owen thought Jack was a bit up himself and Jack knew that Owen was a bit up himself and they seemed to be in competition for the girls. In Jack’s mind anyway. If Owen swung that way they’d have probably competed over Ianto, too. This said they got on most of the time. They were on a level. Or at least, Jack liked to think they were. He sometimes got taken in by Owen’s shallow prick act, convinced that this stuff didn’t touch him as much as it did the others and Owen often got frustrated by Jack talking like he knew everything, talking like he knew best and all those secrets he had (not little ones, actually, but they none of them know enough to know that they’re pretty huge). But they managed to stay friends for the most part.
And then the idiot went and fell in love. Not only that, but tried to pursue it even though it was clearly doomed. Owen had more sense than that, surely. Jack would have felt more sympathetic except it had been at least fifty years since he was last in love with someone like that and he was still a bit pissed off over the whole affair with Gwen. And then when he did end up heartbroken (third time’s a charm) he skipped work at every opportunity and nearly got killed by a Weevil and a load of beer-gutted losers with more money and testosterone than sense. Jack dropped by to see him with a “buck your ideas up” talk in mind, but he never got a chance - there was something new in Owen (or maybe it had always been there, maybe that was Yvonne had shoved him Jack’s way). Something dark, like Suzie, but blunter, heavier. Jack wanted to find it out and try and sort it out, but that was when Owen started to question him. “Do you always know best, Jack?”
Jack knew he didn’t. He was pretty sure Owen knew that he knew he didn’t.
He blamed Owen for the Rift. He probably shouldn’t, but Owen was the one in command and contrary to what everyone seemed to think he and Toshiko wouldn’t have died if they had been stuck there. It didn’t really help matters that he was this close to just shooting Owen in the head for picking holes in his command - he had his heart broken last night. If he recalled correctly the day after Diane left Owen drank himself unconscious and avoided work for the next couple of weeks. Even powerless and on his knees, Jack just couldn’t resist one last poke right where it hurt -
Bad move, really.
But once it was all over and there looked like there was going to be another showdown between them, Owen broke down and hugged him. Jack hugged back, and told him he forgave him for whatever it was Owen felt so remorseful for. He didn’t care. Because really; he was alive, Cardiff wasn’t destroyed, lots of people didn’t die after all - there was plenty to feel good about at the moment. That and they probably had weeks of paperwork ahead of them and they’d need all the good feeling and morale they could get their hands on if they were going to come through it without attempting to murder each other.
And then, there’s Ianto. He didn’t love Ianto. Not really, not the way he should when he was sleeping with him like this. Not the way he had loved Estelle, or the way he loved Captain Jack. Sad thing was, he didn’t think he even loved him like he did Jack, boy soldier and best friend. He certainly didn’t love him the way he had loved (loves) the Doctor. It was almost as thought he was beyond that now - like he couldn’t love anybody that way, have that kind of feeling for anyone anymore.
It was the energy, whatever the hell he’s got that keeps the blood warm and the meat fresh those times when the heart stopped. It was something about living so long…he and Ianto would never be on equal footing. He’d felt too much, seen too much, been through too much. He was tired. He didn’t want to have to explain all this to someone, would probably find himself incapable if he ever tried. They’d none of them in this age actually lived. Not like it could be your last day, not like you need to do this to survive. Too many safety nets. There are some that had it, though, without the wars and the struggle for food. Not those too much money not enough sense weevil-beating nancy boys - people who grew up in the true sense of the term; learnt about the darker ways and didn’t going running to them for an easy ride, realised what people can do, what people were really capable of and handling it. And if Ianto ever did get to that point - experiences that they could connect in that way - he’d see Jack for who and what he really is and wouldl have the good sense to walk away. Sensible boy. That’s our Ianto.
So why was he sleeping with Ianto? He had no idea. It was probably Ianto’s fault to begin with. Not looking so pretty and so innocent or so damn good a suit (though they were all on his side, too), but talking to him about stopwatches in that coy manner when he knew damn well that he was supposed to hate Jack. Wish him dead - without actually acting on it, of course - and put on a civil front. Apparently Ianto didn’t realise what he was supposed to do. Either that or was deliberately defying him (couldn’t entirely rule that one out - sticking two fingers up by shagging the living daylights out of him. Unlike Jack, Ianto is very creative. If a bit backward).
He had hated, him though. That night when Jack had threatened to kill him, kill Lisa. He hadn’t been afraid of Jack, just hated him. And for a few, very brief moments, Jack had hated him. They tried afterward, awkwardly, to rebuild the bridges. But Ianto didn’t forget (Ianto never forgot anything - it was one of the many ways in which he was anal). He didn’t forget that Jack had killed Lisa, because he knew somehow that Jack fired the first bullet. He didn’t forget, though he didn’t mention it again for a while, that Jack had kissed him when he was unconscious. The two things happening in the same night had probably confused him no end.
It wouldn’t help either that the kiss didn’t mean very much to Jack. Not the way it would have for Ianto - all those nights when he couldn’t get to sleep, puzzling over why Jack had done it. For Jack it had meant waking Ianto up in a way that was effective and quiet. And yes, he had been curious for a quite a while now what it would be like to kiss Ianto, but that didn’t have anything to do with it. Well, not much, anyway. But whatever the reason, Ianto had come round to Jack. He even looked to be falling for him, harder than is wise for him or Jack. It has never been fun to break someone’s heart. Never. Because for all that he didn’t love him, he was very attached to him - always had been.
But then he stood up to Jack along with the rest and when Jack found the time (sometime later, after he’d drifted back and was putting on that blue shirt he loved so much) he felt proud of him - and if that was twisted, well nothing about this relationship seemed normal. That was why when Ianto just held a hand out Jack pulled him into a hug (Gwen got one, Tosh got one, Owen may get one if he was comfortable with it - Jack was that happy to be alive again) and then gave him a nice long kiss, rest of them be damned.
But all it takes is that one sound. And then nothing matters, no one matters. No one person exists to Jack but him.