Fic - Love and War
Title: Love and War
Rating: K+
Pairing: JackGwen
Summary: Whilst Gwen is in an emotional crisis, war threatens both Torchwood and the world, and Gwen must put her feelings aside as she and Jack travel to Paris for a world conference. Why are the weevils so restless? What's the Louvre got to do with the rift? And who the hell is Jack Harkness really?
Author's Notes: Please R & R
4/?
Thanks to all my reviewers - I really appreciate the time you take just to drop me a line about the chapter! I hope you like this next installment:
xx
A short while later, Gwen and Jack left the hotel and walked down the street, off to explore Paris. They had decided to spend their first day exploring, as the conference was tomorrow, with an opening ball that night. Jack didn’t quite know why a conference about the future of the human race and the end of the world as we know it had to begin with a ball, but Gwen wasn’t complaining, delighted that she would get to spend the evening dressed up to the nines, like a grand lady, in Paris. So, they set off round Paris. They caught the metro to the Eiffel Tower, and climbed it, Gwen making fun of how slow Jack was as she hurried up the stairs and he walked. Huffing, he ran after her, making her scream with excitement, and he caught her on the first floor, grasping her around the waist, making her scream even more and resulting in them getting lots of disapproving glances from onlookers. They went right to the top, and looked out across the city, the wind sweeping through their hair. They saw all the sights, Notre Dame’s unmistakeable outline above the houses, the gleaming white spire of Saint Chapelle shining on the hill in front of them, and the blue ribbon that was the Seine, winding its way through Paris.
They climbed down and set off walking along the Seine, down to the île de France, where Notre Dame stood, the great cathedral of Paris. They wandered around the shops, dressed up in berets and French clothes (Jack bought Gwen a soft black beret which she wore for the rest of the day, perched jauntily on top of her silky hair), ate French food and got thrown out of a restaurant when Jack made Gwen laugh too loudly when he was telling her a story about the last time he ate snails. Chattering away, they were very happy in each other’s company, and Gwen felt truly relaxed and happy, not having time to think about Rhys and the whole break up. That afternoon, however, as they sat on a bench in some gardens, throwing bread to some ducks (or rather at some ducks, in Jack’s case), Gwen gasped, making Jack turn to her.
“What is it?” He asked her, seeing her concern. She swore under her breath and turned to him.
“We’ve got a major problem, Jack.”
“What?”
“I haven’t got a dress. And the ball’s in…” she checked her watch “four hours.”
“Damn it.” He cursed, then suddenly he looked up grinning and got to his feet, pulling her with him. “Come on.” He insisted, pulling her down the gravel path.
“Where are we going?” She asked him.
He turned back round to her and gave her a devastating smile. “Clothes shopping.”
He pulled her to a stop outside Chanel, a metro and a quick run later. “Oh no,” she said, backing away from the huge store with the grand entrance. “There’s no way I’m going in there. I don’t have anything like that kind of money.”
“Oh, who needs money.” He waved his hand around and pulled her in.
They stopped as soon as they entered and they both were stunned by their surroundings, Gwen for the second time that day. Glamorous clothes were everywhere, on stands, hung up, on models; silk, velvet, taffeta, muslin - every single type of material was there. A little old lady rushed over, and spoke in hurried French to Jack, who cleared his throat and replied to her. He gestured to Gwen in his speech, who was still standing there wondering how on Earth they were ever going to pay for something from here. The old lady listened carefully to Jack before dragging them with her to a corner of the shop where she pushed Gwen into a booth and measured her. She clicked her tongue as she fiddled with her tape measure and finally called out, and several young girls, all wearing the same smart chic black uniform came scurrying over. She spoke in rapid French and they all nodded and hurried off. Within moments they were back, all carrying armfuls of beautiful dresses. Gwen gaped as she was thrust back into the booth and Jack slowly sat down on a chair in front of the booth. Smiling he crossed his arms over his chest and swung one leg up so the foot rested on the knee. He leant back - this was going to be one hell of a shopping trip.
For the next hour or two, Gwen appeared every five minutes wearing another dress, gave him a spin, and waited to see his reaction. Jack seemed to be rather fussy, every dress she liked he hated and every dress he liked she refused to wear, usually because of the lack of it. They went on, the assistants never tiring or losing their enthusiasm, and never failing to return with another dress for Gwen to try on. Jack was looking worriedly at his watch when Gwen came out shyly, gave him a little spin, and then waited for him to say something. She would have to wait a long time, as he was a little gob smacked. She was wearing a long, tight-fitting black dress, made out of a silky material that clung to her and flowed over her curves like a river of ebony. It had a halter neck top, the black dress coming up into two straps which tied at the nape of her neck. It was full down to the floor, and when she spun the ends flew out a little. She looked up at him, her white face anxious. “What do you think?” She asked timidly.
He smiled at her, standing up and turning her round for himself. “Perfect.” He breathed at last, making Gwen sigh with relief and the assistants all clap their hands with delight. “Exactement! Belissimo!” He laughed, taking Gwen’s hands and pulling her into a hug. Gwen smiled and went back in the booth to take the dress off. However, as she stood next to Jack at the counter, she started to shuffle around as Jack opened up his wallet.
“What on Earth are you planning to do now?” She whispered in his ear. He shushed her and produced a silver card from his wallet. He gave it to the lady on duty and she swiped it through the machine and gave it back to him. Bidding the assistants and ladies farewell, Jack frog-marched Gwen out of the store, as she was still slightly aghast, holding the parcel loosely in her arms.
“What was that card, Jack?” She asked him as he hurried her down the streets. Night had crept upon the city, and so it was dark, and cars flashed by, their lights streaking along the roads.
He pulled her through a crowd of people looking in the windows of Chanel. “Something I picked up a little while ago. A friend gave it to me.”
She looked up at him and suddenly she saw his eyes had gone a little distanced and unfocussed. “But what is it?” She asked him quietly.
“Psychic paper. It shows people what you want it to tell them.” He said like clockwork, as if having said it many times before.
“And who gave it to you?” She ventured.
“A man I knew once. I travelled with him, and a girl. Long time ago now.” His voice was hushed. “But I still remember.” He shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. He looked at her and tightened his grip on her arm. “Come on, we’ll have plenty of time for reminiscing later. We’ve got a party to go to!” He noticed a brightly lit sign for the metro and pulled her down the grimy stairs to the platform.
As Gwen stood in the queue for tickets with him, she was quiet, thinking about what he had said. Poor Jack. He had obviously not quite recovered from an experience with them. And she had a clue what that experience might have something to do with - his inability to die. She shook herself. Jack was right. They had a ball to attend.
xx
R & R - hope you liked it! (NB - the fluff starts NOW!)
Rating: K+
Pairing: JackGwen
Summary: Whilst Gwen is in an emotional crisis, war threatens both Torchwood and the world, and Gwen must put her feelings aside as she and Jack travel to Paris for a world conference. Why are the weevils so restless? What's the Louvre got to do with the rift? And who the hell is Jack Harkness really?
Author's Notes: Please R & R
4/?
Thanks to all my reviewers - I really appreciate the time you take just to drop me a line about the chapter! I hope you like this next installment:
xx
A short while later, Gwen and Jack left the hotel and walked down the street, off to explore Paris. They had decided to spend their first day exploring, as the conference was tomorrow, with an opening ball that night. Jack didn’t quite know why a conference about the future of the human race and the end of the world as we know it had to begin with a ball, but Gwen wasn’t complaining, delighted that she would get to spend the evening dressed up to the nines, like a grand lady, in Paris. So, they set off round Paris. They caught the metro to the Eiffel Tower, and climbed it, Gwen making fun of how slow Jack was as she hurried up the stairs and he walked. Huffing, he ran after her, making her scream with excitement, and he caught her on the first floor, grasping her around the waist, making her scream even more and resulting in them getting lots of disapproving glances from onlookers. They went right to the top, and looked out across the city, the wind sweeping through their hair. They saw all the sights, Notre Dame’s unmistakeable outline above the houses, the gleaming white spire of Saint Chapelle shining on the hill in front of them, and the blue ribbon that was the Seine, winding its way through Paris.
They climbed down and set off walking along the Seine, down to the île de France, where Notre Dame stood, the great cathedral of Paris. They wandered around the shops, dressed up in berets and French clothes (Jack bought Gwen a soft black beret which she wore for the rest of the day, perched jauntily on top of her silky hair), ate French food and got thrown out of a restaurant when Jack made Gwen laugh too loudly when he was telling her a story about the last time he ate snails. Chattering away, they were very happy in each other’s company, and Gwen felt truly relaxed and happy, not having time to think about Rhys and the whole break up. That afternoon, however, as they sat on a bench in some gardens, throwing bread to some ducks (or rather at some ducks, in Jack’s case), Gwen gasped, making Jack turn to her.
“What is it?” He asked her, seeing her concern. She swore under her breath and turned to him.
“We’ve got a major problem, Jack.”
“What?”
“I haven’t got a dress. And the ball’s in…” she checked her watch “four hours.”
“Damn it.” He cursed, then suddenly he looked up grinning and got to his feet, pulling her with him. “Come on.” He insisted, pulling her down the gravel path.
“Where are we going?” She asked him.
He turned back round to her and gave her a devastating smile. “Clothes shopping.”
He pulled her to a stop outside Chanel, a metro and a quick run later. “Oh no,” she said, backing away from the huge store with the grand entrance. “There’s no way I’m going in there. I don’t have anything like that kind of money.”
“Oh, who needs money.” He waved his hand around and pulled her in.
They stopped as soon as they entered and they both were stunned by their surroundings, Gwen for the second time that day. Glamorous clothes were everywhere, on stands, hung up, on models; silk, velvet, taffeta, muslin - every single type of material was there. A little old lady rushed over, and spoke in hurried French to Jack, who cleared his throat and replied to her. He gestured to Gwen in his speech, who was still standing there wondering how on Earth they were ever going to pay for something from here. The old lady listened carefully to Jack before dragging them with her to a corner of the shop where she pushed Gwen into a booth and measured her. She clicked her tongue as she fiddled with her tape measure and finally called out, and several young girls, all wearing the same smart chic black uniform came scurrying over. She spoke in rapid French and they all nodded and hurried off. Within moments they were back, all carrying armfuls of beautiful dresses. Gwen gaped as she was thrust back into the booth and Jack slowly sat down on a chair in front of the booth. Smiling he crossed his arms over his chest and swung one leg up so the foot rested on the knee. He leant back - this was going to be one hell of a shopping trip.
For the next hour or two, Gwen appeared every five minutes wearing another dress, gave him a spin, and waited to see his reaction. Jack seemed to be rather fussy, every dress she liked he hated and every dress he liked she refused to wear, usually because of the lack of it. They went on, the assistants never tiring or losing their enthusiasm, and never failing to return with another dress for Gwen to try on. Jack was looking worriedly at his watch when Gwen came out shyly, gave him a little spin, and then waited for him to say something. She would have to wait a long time, as he was a little gob smacked. She was wearing a long, tight-fitting black dress, made out of a silky material that clung to her and flowed over her curves like a river of ebony. It had a halter neck top, the black dress coming up into two straps which tied at the nape of her neck. It was full down to the floor, and when she spun the ends flew out a little. She looked up at him, her white face anxious. “What do you think?” She asked timidly.
He smiled at her, standing up and turning her round for himself. “Perfect.” He breathed at last, making Gwen sigh with relief and the assistants all clap their hands with delight. “Exactement! Belissimo!” He laughed, taking Gwen’s hands and pulling her into a hug. Gwen smiled and went back in the booth to take the dress off. However, as she stood next to Jack at the counter, she started to shuffle around as Jack opened up his wallet.
“What on Earth are you planning to do now?” She whispered in his ear. He shushed her and produced a silver card from his wallet. He gave it to the lady on duty and she swiped it through the machine and gave it back to him. Bidding the assistants and ladies farewell, Jack frog-marched Gwen out of the store, as she was still slightly aghast, holding the parcel loosely in her arms.
“What was that card, Jack?” She asked him as he hurried her down the streets. Night had crept upon the city, and so it was dark, and cars flashed by, their lights streaking along the roads.
He pulled her through a crowd of people looking in the windows of Chanel. “Something I picked up a little while ago. A friend gave it to me.”
She looked up at him and suddenly she saw his eyes had gone a little distanced and unfocussed. “But what is it?” She asked him quietly.
“Psychic paper. It shows people what you want it to tell them.” He said like clockwork, as if having said it many times before.
“And who gave it to you?” She ventured.
“A man I knew once. I travelled with him, and a girl. Long time ago now.” His voice was hushed. “But I still remember.” He shook his head, as if coming out of a trance. He looked at her and tightened his grip on her arm. “Come on, we’ll have plenty of time for reminiscing later. We’ve got a party to go to!” He noticed a brightly lit sign for the metro and pulled her down the grimy stairs to the platform.
As Gwen stood in the queue for tickets with him, she was quiet, thinking about what he had said. Poor Jack. He had obviously not quite recovered from an experience with them. And she had a clue what that experience might have something to do with - his inability to die. She shook herself. Jack was right. They had a ball to attend.
xx
R & R - hope you liked it! (NB - the fluff starts NOW!)