Fics: Quicksand
Four Torchwood ficlets/drabbles with the collective title Quicksand
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairings/characters: One - Jack/Gwen. Two - Jack/Ianto. Three - Toshiko and Jack. Four - Jack/Owen
Summary: There's not a lot connecting these drabbles, except for the theme that Jack's relationships are a million miles from perfect.
Length: 154 words, 188 words, 184 words, 260 words.
One:
He knows this isn’t right, knew it from the very beginning. He’s trying hard not to let himself realise the obvious truth; that that is why he’s doing it.
He’s not cut out to be the hero. This isn’t the path he set out to take. It was the Doctor who taught him how to have a conscience, how to care about the consequences of his actions, but it is the fault of the Doctor - oblivious and far away - that he has had to die alone, over and over again.
He knows this isn’t right, but he doesn’t care. Not now. He will tomorrow, when he wakes up beside her, when he realises he has taken advantage and ruined a life, but he’ll deal with that when it comes.
For now, he’ll take her, take everything this beautiful, generous mortal can give him, and he’ll pretend he’s the man he was before he died.
***
Two:
Ianto smiles as he puts Jack’s mug down on the bedside table. It’s that cheerful, almost patronising smile that’s supposed to say ‘drink your coffee and everything will be okay’. Jack can’t understand why he doesn’t hate that smile.
As Ianto comes back round to his own side of the bed, he pauses to fold the shirt Jack dumped on the chair last night. Jack shuts his eyes in a silent cringe. This whole thing is getting too fucking domestic for his liking.
Ianto settles himself on the bed, placing his own mug beside him, and watching Jack until he takes a long sip.
“Almost time to head into work,” Ianto says.
Jack bites back a snappy remark about being able to organise his own timing, and then he catches the look on Ianto’s face. He leans over Jack, pushes him back on the bed, and holds him there as he bites down on his lip, tongue working as a reassuring counterpoint to the pain.
Oh, yeah, thinks Jack, as Ianto’s sharp little nails sink into his flesh. That’s why he loves that naïve little smile so much.
***
Three:
He never did sleep with Toshiko, even though he flirted with her, and she quite clearly loved him deeply. He knew he’d lost the chance forever when that stupid, inconsequential mission went wrong and she told him she could never trust him again.
She took the amnesia pills herself, sitting opposite him in his office. The decanter of old scotch between them, Jack wanting to beg her to stop, and fearing that she might listen to him. She was completely and utterly right. The trust was gone, and so she had to go too.
Outside, in the driving November rain, she held her coat tightly around her as she looked around the bay. There was no one else there, no one daft enough to brave the weather. Hair sticking to her face, she looked at Jack with large, sad eyes, and then kissed him. She held his waist; he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but before he could, she pulled away, said Goodbye, Captain, and turned her back.
Jack stood in the rain, his arms hugging himself, and watched her walk away.
***
Four:
“Love’s a fucker, isn’t it?” Owen said, staring up at the ceiling. His hands were behind his head, the sheets rumpled around him. He had that strange whimsical expression on his face that only ever appeared after a shag, when, for some reason, he started to think deep thoughts.
Jack, on his side next to him, had no delusions that Owen was talking about him. What they had here, they would never talk about, and they would never pretend it was healthy. It was, however, all they had.
“Yep,” he said. “It really is.”
“I just… I wish I understood, that’s all. You know?”
“Oh, I know.”
Owen stared down at his feet. He kicked the sheets back and forth, making little ripple patterns in the cloth. Jack watched him, carefully.
“Why the fuck did she leave me, Jack?”
Jack shook his head. He shut his eyes, and tried not to hear the sound of retreating engines in his mind.
“I don’t know,” he said. He put a comforting hand on Owen’s arm. “Maybe… maybe she was afraid that it might have worked.”
“That’s stupid,” said Owen.
“Yeah. I suppose it is, a bit,” said Jack. But he could already see the roots of the lie taking hold in Owen’s mind.
Jack pulled the sheets up around himself, and pretended to get ready to sleep. Owen sighed, and turned onto his side, mimicking Jack’s gesture.
“She’ll come back, though,” he said. “One day, she’ll have to come back.”
Jack smiled sadly. “Yeah,” he said. “One day.”
Rating: PG-13 for language
Pairings/characters: One - Jack/Gwen. Two - Jack/Ianto. Three - Toshiko and Jack. Four - Jack/Owen
Summary: There's not a lot connecting these drabbles, except for the theme that Jack's relationships are a million miles from perfect.
Length: 154 words, 188 words, 184 words, 260 words.
One:
He knows this isn’t right, knew it from the very beginning. He’s trying hard not to let himself realise the obvious truth; that that is why he’s doing it.
He’s not cut out to be the hero. This isn’t the path he set out to take. It was the Doctor who taught him how to have a conscience, how to care about the consequences of his actions, but it is the fault of the Doctor - oblivious and far away - that he has had to die alone, over and over again.
He knows this isn’t right, but he doesn’t care. Not now. He will tomorrow, when he wakes up beside her, when he realises he has taken advantage and ruined a life, but he’ll deal with that when it comes.
For now, he’ll take her, take everything this beautiful, generous mortal can give him, and he’ll pretend he’s the man he was before he died.
***
Two:
Ianto smiles as he puts Jack’s mug down on the bedside table. It’s that cheerful, almost patronising smile that’s supposed to say ‘drink your coffee and everything will be okay’. Jack can’t understand why he doesn’t hate that smile.
As Ianto comes back round to his own side of the bed, he pauses to fold the shirt Jack dumped on the chair last night. Jack shuts his eyes in a silent cringe. This whole thing is getting too fucking domestic for his liking.
Ianto settles himself on the bed, placing his own mug beside him, and watching Jack until he takes a long sip.
“Almost time to head into work,” Ianto says.
Jack bites back a snappy remark about being able to organise his own timing, and then he catches the look on Ianto’s face. He leans over Jack, pushes him back on the bed, and holds him there as he bites down on his lip, tongue working as a reassuring counterpoint to the pain.
Oh, yeah, thinks Jack, as Ianto’s sharp little nails sink into his flesh. That’s why he loves that naïve little smile so much.
***
Three:
He never did sleep with Toshiko, even though he flirted with her, and she quite clearly loved him deeply. He knew he’d lost the chance forever when that stupid, inconsequential mission went wrong and she told him she could never trust him again.
She took the amnesia pills herself, sitting opposite him in his office. The decanter of old scotch between them, Jack wanting to beg her to stop, and fearing that she might listen to him. She was completely and utterly right. The trust was gone, and so she had to go too.
Outside, in the driving November rain, she held her coat tightly around her as she looked around the bay. There was no one else there, no one daft enough to brave the weather. Hair sticking to her face, she looked at Jack with large, sad eyes, and then kissed him. She held his waist; he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but before he could, she pulled away, said Goodbye, Captain, and turned her back.
Jack stood in the rain, his arms hugging himself, and watched her walk away.
***
Four:
“Love’s a fucker, isn’t it?” Owen said, staring up at the ceiling. His hands were behind his head, the sheets rumpled around him. He had that strange whimsical expression on his face that only ever appeared after a shag, when, for some reason, he started to think deep thoughts.
Jack, on his side next to him, had no delusions that Owen was talking about him. What they had here, they would never talk about, and they would never pretend it was healthy. It was, however, all they had.
“Yep,” he said. “It really is.”
“I just… I wish I understood, that’s all. You know?”
“Oh, I know.”
Owen stared down at his feet. He kicked the sheets back and forth, making little ripple patterns in the cloth. Jack watched him, carefully.
“Why the fuck did she leave me, Jack?”
Jack shook his head. He shut his eyes, and tried not to hear the sound of retreating engines in his mind.
“I don’t know,” he said. He put a comforting hand on Owen’s arm. “Maybe… maybe she was afraid that it might have worked.”
“That’s stupid,” said Owen.
“Yeah. I suppose it is, a bit,” said Jack. But he could already see the roots of the lie taking hold in Owen’s mind.
Jack pulled the sheets up around himself, and pretended to get ready to sleep. Owen sighed, and turned onto his side, mimicking Jack’s gesture.
“She’ll come back, though,” he said. “One day, she’ll have to come back.”
Jack smiled sadly. “Yeah,” he said. “One day.”