Sophie happens to be opening those doors when she sees the man in the winter coat pitching a fit into his bluetooth after beating what looked like a over sized and over glamorized watch.
Well then.
She'll stand there for a moment, letting him pitch his fit, and trying to figure out just what exactly he's ranting about before opening her mouth and actually deciding to be helpful. It's really the least she can do for the poor man.
"It's April thirtieth, two thousand eleven," she says in her usual clipped accent. "About five-fifteen in the afternoon if that helps."
Aand there's a person. Right there. It's enough to derail Jack's nascent rant, and kick in the circuits that say Oh, yeah, put on a respectable face. There's a beat of silence.
"Ah," he says. "...then I should probably take off this coat."
And he does so.
He's just bundling it over his arm when he looks back up, tacks on a smile, and says "Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry; you caught me on a bad day. Pleased to meet you. Just shy of May Day, huh?"
"Relatively, yeah," Jack says. "Relative to things like... I don't know. Days."
He sticks out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sophie Deveraux. Unfortunately I'm an old resident of the Windy City, at least so far as these things go. The city just finds it funny to bounce me around, and I get no say in when, why, or for how long."
"April 30, 2011," Mio's responds a few seconds later. "And it depends on your definition of 'collapsed.'" Her tone is so dry it's practically cracked and bleeding. The last few months have been rough on her--on everyone, really--but she's always been a survivor. Though it may not seem so to Jack, she's actually back on the upswing now, though not without a few more scars to remember by.
"If you want to come up to my office, I can give you a debriefing on everything that's been going on recently. And....welcome back. I'd appreciate it if you stayed this time."
For a moment, Jack closes his eyes, lets that voice wash over him. Tastes every note, every crack, every flicker of inflection. There's a story there, and he's not sure he wants to know it. He just needs to.
"Mio," he says, and pushes the door back open. "Good to hear your voice, and believe me, I'd appreciate that too. The minute we get a Rift stabilizer."
The door swings shut behind him, and he steps back into the lobby. There are no new bullet holes, he notes; no fresh blood on the laminate floor. That's a good sign. He thinks.
"I'm on my way up now," he says, and breaks into a jog.
"I'll get right on that," Mio says drolly. Of course they both know that the probability of actually finding a Rift stabilizer is slim to none, but sometimes black humor is the only way to cope
( ... )
Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, for both of them, Jack's doing very little shielding of his own at the moment. In his mind he's just come down from speaking with Iris, keeping himself as perceptive and connecting as he could, and while the sudden jump forward through time has him on high threat, it's not a psychic threat. He's practically thrumming with strong emotion, concern and futile anger and trepidation, all of which is held down with one strong hand under the insouciant mask but not partitioned or repressed.
"Tea would be lovely," he says. "Apparently I haven't eaten in a few months." Or... you know, existed to eat, but an echo tells as much as a light.
Martha Jones is walking back into the Tower. On any given day, she could run into any number of people in front of the Kashtta's main doors. However, Jack is the absolute last person that she expected to see on her way into the Tower.
She pauses before she's even reached the main doors and not because she's seen him. It's the winter coat that she sees first, and she's wondering why on Earth someone is wearing on in the middle of April when she looks at his face and she's freezing for another reason entirely.
There's the briefest of moments where she wonders if she's gone crazy and she's hallucinating.
"I thought... you were gone," Martha says as she releases a breath. Her voice catches in her throat, but she speaks through it. "It is... you, isn't it?"
This is Chicago after all. It could very well be a version of Jack from another universe that doesn't know Chicago or yet another someone that shares his face.
And, back away from the Tower doors Jack spins again. He's still in rapid-processing mode, taking in Martha's voice, her tone, her expression, her presence...
He'd thought for a moment, one brief, terrifying moment, that the Rift might have spit him out into the sort of false future he's heard about from others. That there would be nothing left of the people he's sticking this out for.
"...it's me," he says, and there's palpable relief in his voice, and palpable worry. "It's good to see you. I didn't know I was gone. I-"
He looks at his coat. Looks at the sky. Looks back at Martha, trying to read the story of the city on her face.
It's me, he says, and some heavy emotion slides itself through Martha at the knowledge. It's him. He may have been gone, but he's back again. She cannot imagine how frustrating it must be for him to be forced away from her and thrown back whenever the Rift feels like it.
But it's-- "It's good to see you too," she says, and there's equal parts relief and worry in her voice as well at the sight of him. There is a part of her that wants to rush forward and a part of her that stays where she's standing. Martha looks away. "I know."
A year ago, they were practically all that was left of the Conrad at its start. A month ago, she wrote to him in a private entry because she was certain that she'd never see him again.
"I know you didn't." Martha walks forward then, shoving all uncertainties aside and wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Are you alright?"
Jack returns the hug, sliding himself into a more solid posture. He's here, he's steady, and he can block out the whole damn world if he needs to - or, if that's not all precisely true, at least he can make it seem that way. Besides, it's good to feel Martha against him, the warmth of her body and the beating of her heart. It grounds him in the moment. Makes this feel a little more real.
"Blinked and I missed it," he says. He's fine. Yeah, there's a gravity well where his gut should be, and his heart hasn't stopped hammering yet, but even when the Rift is cruel or capricious it seems to have an odd tinge of consideration, and it could have done a lot worse than dropping him off where and when Martha would find him. He lets his arms settle a bit closer around her shoulders. "...you?"
Comments 37
Well then.
She'll stand there for a moment, letting him pitch his fit, and trying to figure out just what exactly he's ranting about before opening her mouth and actually deciding to be helpful. It's really the least she can do for the poor man.
"It's April thirtieth, two thousand eleven," she says in her usual clipped accent. "About five-fifteen in the afternoon if that helps."
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"Ah," he says. "...then I should probably take off this coat."
And he does so.
He's just bundling it over his arm when he looks back up, tacks on a smile, and says "Captain Jack Harkness. Sorry; you caught me on a bad day. Pleased to meet you. Just shy of May Day, huh?"
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However, if handsome men were going to appear out of nowhere every day, she might grow to like this Chicago more and more.
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He sticks out a hand.
"Pleasure to meet you, Sophie Deveraux. Unfortunately I'm an old resident of the Windy City, at least so far as these things go. The city just finds it funny to bounce me around, and I get no say in when, why, or for how long."
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"If you want to come up to my office, I can give you a debriefing on everything that's been going on recently. And....welcome back. I'd appreciate it if you stayed this time."
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"Mio," he says, and pushes the door back open. "Good to hear your voice, and believe me, I'd appreciate that too. The minute we get a Rift stabilizer."
The door swings shut behind him, and he steps back into the lobby. There are no new bullet holes, he notes; no fresh blood on the laminate floor. That's a good sign. He thinks.
"I'm on my way up now," he says, and breaks into a jog.
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"Tea would be lovely," he says. "Apparently I haven't eaten in a few months." Or... you know, existed to eat, but an echo tells as much as a light.
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She pauses before she's even reached the main doors and not because she's seen him. It's the winter coat that she sees first, and she's wondering why on Earth someone is wearing on in the middle of April when she looks at his face and she's freezing for another reason entirely.
There's the briefest of moments where she wonders if she's gone crazy and she's hallucinating.
"I thought... you were gone," Martha says as she releases a breath. Her voice catches in her throat, but she speaks through it. "It is... you, isn't it?"
This is Chicago after all. It could very well be a version of Jack from another universe that doesn't know Chicago or yet another someone that shares his face.
Reply
He'd thought for a moment, one brief, terrifying moment, that the Rift might have spit him out into the sort of false future he's heard about from others. That there would be nothing left of the people he's sticking this out for.
"...it's me," he says, and there's palpable relief in his voice, and palpable worry. "It's good to see you. I didn't know I was gone. I-"
He looks at his coat. Looks at the sky. Looks back at Martha, trying to read the story of the city on her face.
"I didn't mean to go."
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But it's-- "It's good to see you too," she says, and there's equal parts relief and worry in her voice as well at the sight of him. There is a part of her that wants to rush forward and a part of her that stays where she's standing. Martha looks away. "I know."
A year ago, they were practically all that was left of the Conrad at its start. A month ago, she wrote to him in a private entry because she was certain that she'd never see him again.
"I know you didn't." Martha walks forward then, shoving all uncertainties aside and wrapping her arms around him tightly. "Are you alright?"
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"Blinked and I missed it," he says. He's fine. Yeah, there's a gravity well where his gut should be, and his heart hasn't stopped hammering yet, but even when the Rift is cruel or capricious it seems to have an odd tinge of consideration, and it could have done a lot worse than dropping him off where and when Martha would find him. He lets his arms settle a bit closer around her shoulders. "...you?"
Reply
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