Sealed (1/1)
Title: Sealed
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Gen tag (hints of Jack/Martha if you squint)
Rating: PG-13 (swearing. Jack's internal monologue. a lot.)
Spoilers: EPISODE TAG FOR CHILDREN OF EARTH DAY TWO. HUGE MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR DAYS ONE AND TWO.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Because I demand explanation for why, in the midst of global crisis, Martha is STILL ON HER HONEYMOON? (It's Chekhov's Gun. You can't mention her in Act I and then not have her burst onto the scene in Act II.) This is not the Martha we know and love. Hence, explanatory episode tag.
Summary: Jack's second (first) concern is a phone call.
After finding pants for himself (which Jack actually isn't remotely concerned about, but Ianto is, so there you go), Jack's first concern is finding a phone. Rhys has change from steak pies, chips, and tea, enough for the phone booth outside the clothing store, and Jack's so worried he doesn't even think about saying "thanks" before he's dialing the number.
If they aren't already after her, he doubts this would set them off--she's legitimate, a proper public figure, but he's so worried that she might already-- He has to hear her voice.
It barely rings once before (he imagines it's snatched up desperately and) a woman answers frantically, "Hello?"
He has to lean against the glass wall, the relief is so crushingly overpowering. "Martha. Are you okay?"
He hears the huge gasp, the choked sound like she's trying not to cry. "Jack, Jack, oh God, the explosion was on television even here, are you okay, are Gwen and Ianto--"
"We're fine," and it's a fluent and swift lie because no they fucking well are not but Martha really doesn't need to know that. "We've had...some problems, but we're okay." It's so good hearing her voice that it's making him dizzy (although he's been a little dizzy for half an hour which may or may not have something to do with growing a new body and being sealed in concrete), and he leans on the booth and tries to focus. "Martha, what about you? Are you okay, is Tom okay?"
Martha takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. She's trying to be calm and professional, and he's so goddamn proud of her sometimes. "We're fine, but we're grounded, Jack. Planes aren't flying, boats aren't moving, everyone everywhere's sealing their borders. The whole world's terrified." He hears the sound of things being moved, something being looked for. "I've been on the phone for hours off and on--trying to find out what the bloody hell's going on--hang on, there was something--"
"Hurry, I don't have time." Gwen is lounging against the wall of the store, looking boredly casual to the untrained eye (he can see how jumpy she is, the tension in every line of her body, the panicky dart of her eyes), and she flashes him a look and taps her watch. "They might be tapping every phone in London trying to find us."
Martha pauses. If she were in the room with him, he'd be able to taste the worry in her voice. It's still tangible even from thousands of miles away. "Jack, what is going on? No one at UNIT is telling me anything, but I had a friend--Jack, there's an order of execution out for you, why?"
"I have no fucking idea." His throat tightens with stupid blinding impotent furious rage, and he has to swallow--hard--around it before he can talk. "Martha, our own government blew us up. They want Torchwood gone. You need to stay safe, do you hear me? Drop off the radar, hide, fake your own death or something, I don't care, but you were nearly Torchwood once and I don't know what they want."
"Jack, I'm fine, I've talked to my bosses and they just told me to shut up, keep my head down, and keep telling them about all the children--"
He resists the urge to punch the wall. Or shout. "Martha." It's an effort to keep his voice level. "Promise me you'll stay safe."
Her tiny sigh is static in his ear. "Jack, I'm trying to talk to them, trying to tell them you aren't the enemy, but they're not--"
"Martha Jones, don't you dare stick your neck out on my behalf." A lot of things in the past few days have been really (impossibly, painfully, agonizingly) hard, but this is the easiest thing in the world. "I appreciate it, but don't." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Gwen stiffen and freeze, and unfamiliar, confused panicfearshitshitshit shoots up his spine. He hates this. He hates being on the run, hates not knowing where to go or who to trust, hates that he can't fucking tell anyone that because he's supposed to be the leader. "Martha--" His throat closes again, and he takes a deep breath. "I have to go. Promise me, Martha."
There's a short silence. He doesn't even hear her breathe. Then, finally, slowly, "Promise. Jack, be careful, please--"
"I'll try." He's almost gentle as he puts the phone back in its cradle.
Then he's running again.
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Gen tag (hints of Jack/Martha if you squint)
Rating: PG-13 (swearing. Jack's internal monologue. a lot.)
Spoilers: EPISODE TAG FOR CHILDREN OF EARTH DAY TWO. HUGE MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR DAYS ONE AND TWO.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Notes: Because I demand explanation for why, in the midst of global crisis, Martha is STILL ON HER HONEYMOON? (It's Chekhov's Gun. You can't mention her in Act I and then not have her burst onto the scene in Act II.) This is not the Martha we know and love. Hence, explanatory episode tag.
Summary: Jack's second (first) concern is a phone call.
After finding pants for himself (which Jack actually isn't remotely concerned about, but Ianto is, so there you go), Jack's first concern is finding a phone. Rhys has change from steak pies, chips, and tea, enough for the phone booth outside the clothing store, and Jack's so worried he doesn't even think about saying "thanks" before he's dialing the number.
If they aren't already after her, he doubts this would set them off--she's legitimate, a proper public figure, but he's so worried that she might already-- He has to hear her voice.
It barely rings once before (he imagines it's snatched up desperately and) a woman answers frantically, "Hello?"
He has to lean against the glass wall, the relief is so crushingly overpowering. "Martha. Are you okay?"
He hears the huge gasp, the choked sound like she's trying not to cry. "Jack, Jack, oh God, the explosion was on television even here, are you okay, are Gwen and Ianto--"
"We're fine," and it's a fluent and swift lie because no they fucking well are not but Martha really doesn't need to know that. "We've had...some problems, but we're okay." It's so good hearing her voice that it's making him dizzy (although he's been a little dizzy for half an hour which may or may not have something to do with growing a new body and being sealed in concrete), and he leans on the booth and tries to focus. "Martha, what about you? Are you okay, is Tom okay?"
Martha takes a deep breath. Lets it out slowly. She's trying to be calm and professional, and he's so goddamn proud of her sometimes. "We're fine, but we're grounded, Jack. Planes aren't flying, boats aren't moving, everyone everywhere's sealing their borders. The whole world's terrified." He hears the sound of things being moved, something being looked for. "I've been on the phone for hours off and on--trying to find out what the bloody hell's going on--hang on, there was something--"
"Hurry, I don't have time." Gwen is lounging against the wall of the store, looking boredly casual to the untrained eye (he can see how jumpy she is, the tension in every line of her body, the panicky dart of her eyes), and she flashes him a look and taps her watch. "They might be tapping every phone in London trying to find us."
Martha pauses. If she were in the room with him, he'd be able to taste the worry in her voice. It's still tangible even from thousands of miles away. "Jack, what is going on? No one at UNIT is telling me anything, but I had a friend--Jack, there's an order of execution out for you, why?"
"I have no fucking idea." His throat tightens with stupid blinding impotent furious rage, and he has to swallow--hard--around it before he can talk. "Martha, our own government blew us up. They want Torchwood gone. You need to stay safe, do you hear me? Drop off the radar, hide, fake your own death or something, I don't care, but you were nearly Torchwood once and I don't know what they want."
"Jack, I'm fine, I've talked to my bosses and they just told me to shut up, keep my head down, and keep telling them about all the children--"
He resists the urge to punch the wall. Or shout. "Martha." It's an effort to keep his voice level. "Promise me you'll stay safe."
Her tiny sigh is static in his ear. "Jack, I'm trying to talk to them, trying to tell them you aren't the enemy, but they're not--"
"Martha Jones, don't you dare stick your neck out on my behalf." A lot of things in the past few days have been really (impossibly, painfully, agonizingly) hard, but this is the easiest thing in the world. "I appreciate it, but don't." Out of the corner of his eye he sees Gwen stiffen and freeze, and unfamiliar, confused panicfearshitshitshit shoots up his spine. He hates this. He hates being on the run, hates not knowing where to go or who to trust, hates that he can't fucking tell anyone that because he's supposed to be the leader. "Martha--" His throat closes again, and he takes a deep breath. "I have to go. Promise me, Martha."
There's a short silence. He doesn't even hear her breathe. Then, finally, slowly, "Promise. Jack, be careful, please--"
"I'll try." He's almost gentle as he puts the phone back in its cradle.
Then he's running again.