The brisk air was pleasant. A cool breeze always reminded him of the windy air in Cardiff Bay (and he reminded himself again that that was something he ought to be forgetting
( ... )
And he could see it, something in her eyes that told Jack he'd derailed her, and even if that was only for a moment, a mere fleeting flash before she seemed to deftly recover, he was pleased with himself
( ... )
Despite rules and his (once) importance for adhering to them and the constraints of a time period, there were always parts of his personality that would shine through, the parts that set him apart from those around him. Brazen and unhindered in the way he displayed a sexual side. So much so in fact that in many ways it became almost harmless. Almost, but never quite completely
( ... )
Despite the narrow space between them, Reinette allowed her hand to drift to her side as she took a single step forward, effectively cutting their barrier in half. Her face tilted up, studying the subtle shading of his features, where shadows were created and fell.
There was a look to him that put her own edge, though not in an unpleasant way. Awareness was perhaps a better word. She was aware of this man.
"You are standing behind my tree." And yes, to a certain degree Reinette did view it as hers. "In the most private gardens of Versailles yet do not know where you are. That is most strange."
"Mmm it is isn't it?" Jack replied, making no effort to argue or pretend otherwise. He was out of place, he knew that. But instead of allow that fact to be a crutch he'd let it be his support. Let it set him aside but perhaps positively so.
"I'm nobody," he tells her in a half whisper. "I don't exist. I never did and I never will. Figment of your imagination. I'll be gone soon."
Should she sense a slight bitter or hurt edge to his words she wouldn't be wrong. For all his bravado Jack is a damaged man. He'd recover because he always did. But this time the scars were deeper even if they didn't leave phsyical marks he wore them on his shoulders.
He was exposing himself, however minutely, Reinette recognized. A dance measure in degrees, and finely at that. There was a rawness withing him that she both recognized and understood. It spoke to something within herself.
Jack. Jark Harkness.
She repeated the name within her mind and found it somewhat lacking. It did not tell the story as she saw it. And Reinette was accustomed to seeing a great deal.
"I live in a world where men inhabit my fireplace and clockwork echos at my heels. Things that no one seems to witness, excepting myself. Yet I know that they are real, which I took great steps to prove."
Briefly her hand brushed over his own, in a manner so subtle as to might be an accident. Yes, he was standing there. As was she.
"I do not need my imagination to place you here because you already are. I see you plainly. Whatever you might wish to imagine away, I will not do it for you."
As she spoke, with or without that backbone of his own pain he found himself slowly smiling. She was sharp, more than sharp. Again he was reminded of Gwen but then Gwen never had such a well practised sophistication. She was raw emotion worn on her sleeve and this Jeanne-Antoinette seemed in that sense quite something else.
"Ohhh you're good," he grinned down at her, admiring her way with words and methods of persistance and making no attempt to hide the fact.
"Like I told you," he said, respecting of her enough to grace her with an explanation even if that in itself would be someway off the truth. "Just a traveller. Here to take a look round and see what I might find. Then I'll be off again."
Reinette did not blush or defer in the face of his compliment, rather she accepted it as the truth and kept her gaze steadily within his own.
"I am," she agreed, her features once again dressed in an almost-smile.
That was until it compressed itself into a somewhat softer, more thoughtful line. Memories again, both hers and not, swirled like the snow the bite in the air promised.
"What is it that attracts travelers so, to this place. To come and to go." And to leave behind. "You are another one, I suppose. That will take your amusements and yourleave and not be seen again."
It was the closest Reinette would come to speaking about something she held as intensely private. Not even Louis knew, though she knew he suspected there were things she held apart. She knew he was real, had the firmest evidence of that. But oddly enough speaking of his not seemed to promise to make him less so.
"Well then, sightseer of debatable interest -- Captain Harkness -- what shall we do with you today?"
Jack continued to watch Reinette with a non too veiled curiosity. She was interesting and not just on the surface. She spoke like someone who had experience of things that perhaps most people wouldn't talk about, or even believe. He wondered what that experience entailed.
"Maybe it's the scenery," Jack offered with another backwards shrug. Words entirely too casual and flippant to even possibly be meant.
He couldn't know though, not in his wildest imaginations, that the Doctor himself had been here. In his mind if he'd have known he'd have likely left immediately. The Doctor, for all that he meant to Jack was a reminder of his failings. And he was sure too that he'd been abandoned and ignored by him for a second time. He could only try so hard to impress the man, and he was just a little bit bitter that he hadn't been there when he needed him.
"Well," he said with a slight smirk, "how about we 'do' something to prove I'm more than interesting."
Again, Reinette studied the man before her with a hard, accessing gaze. There was a brash flippancy to him that might have caused irritation other than the quiet understanding that he was quite capable of supporting it.
He was attractive, she thought somewhat distantly. He managed his words well, which not only suggested intelligence but wit. The two did not always go hand in hand.
If he knew all these things about himself?
Well, she could hardly hold that against him. After all, she was sure of these things in herself as well.
"That is not a word I am light with, just to prepare you."
With that, her hands moved to smooth the lines of her skirt, brushing down in brisk, effective strokes that broke the planes and space between them.
"Louis has a great many daughters, and one of them is celebrating a birthday tonight. Would you be interested in trying your hand at French society?"
A little voice, a little quiet voice in the back of Jack's mind told him none to gently 'NO'. It shouted at him that this isn't why he'd come here. That he shouldn't be getting involved or joining in or having fun. He shouldn't be... well, acting like Jack Harkness.
He was here to visit, nothing more. To quench his thirst for seeing Earth again. Brush past it, but don't touch it. Don't leave a mark. Just be the shadow of a ghost. But here he was, about to grab it firmly and scrunch it up in his hand.
But then he never really was one for following his own instruction. And that little voice was very small. He could easily ignore it.
"Well French society sounds just up my alley," he grinned at her. "And I'd hate to refuse a party."
"It might be -- up your alley." Reinette tested the phrase on her tongue, threading the words together. "But you are hardly -- how should it be said -- up its."
She took another step back, this time to critically study his appearance. Everything that followed was brisk. Unaffected.
"You will need a change of clothing. Perhaps a bath."
Reinette lifted her skirts slightly to turn back in the direction of the palace. She cast a glance at the captain over her shoulder.
Jack smirked at her attempt to use his words. They didn't fit well on her lips, yet there was something strangely appealing about hearing them spoken.
"Oh do I now?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well we'll see about that." Once he might have been more eager to change clothes to fit in. To play a game of dress up for an era. But now his clothes had become his uniform; part of his identity. He was a little more reluctant.
He didn't follow her at first. He just stood and watched the lines of the elaborate fabric of her clothes. The way she stood and turned. She had it down to an art form.
Reinette easily navigated the pathways and steps of Versailles, her skirts whispering behind her in a familiar cadence. Always, she watched. The comings and the goings of court. And in turn their reaction to her, and the stranger beside her. In that, she gave them no ground.
Nothing to suggest this was out of the ordinary. Let them wonder. Let them wait. She owed them very little, after all. If anything at all.
She continued to lead the way to her suite of rooms, now located on the lower floors. In the past year she had vacated her rooms famously located just below the kings. The spiral staircase that now linked them was now closed as well, walled away.
She often felt like that staircase. Still reaching, but for something that was now undefined.
"Tell me something of yourself Monsieur Harkness. Is there anything of substance to you, beyond sightseer?"
Jack walked along behind her with a striding step. He observed the corridors and the places around them, observed the people with their half glances as they passed. He observed the woman a steady step in front of him, unwavering in her movements. Such an intriguing woman.
Jack too, past a cursory glance, paid no attention to the people they passed. No nod in greeting, no smile or mere twitch of the mouth to exchange expressions.
"Oh I've been known to have my moments," Jack replied without really replying at all.
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And Reinette was educated to recognize it.
Despite the narrow space between them, Reinette allowed her hand to drift to her side as she took a single step forward, effectively cutting their barrier in half. Her face tilted up, studying the subtle shading of his features, where shadows were created and fell.
There was a look to him that put her own edge, though not in an unpleasant way. Awareness was perhaps a better word. She was aware of this man.
"You are standing behind my tree." And yes, to a certain degree Reinette did view it as hers. "In the most private gardens of Versailles yet do not know where you are. That is most strange."
He did not have the look of clockwork.
"Who are you, Captain Jack Harkness."
Reply
"I'm nobody," he tells her in a half whisper. "I don't exist. I never did and I never will. Figment of your imagination. I'll be gone soon."
Should she sense a slight bitter or hurt edge to his words she wouldn't be wrong. For all his bravado Jack is a damaged man. He'd recover because he always did. But this time the scars were deeper even if they didn't leave phsyical marks he wore them on his shoulders.
Reply
Jack. Jark Harkness.
She repeated the name within her mind and found it somewhat lacking. It did not tell the story as she saw it. And Reinette was accustomed to seeing a great deal.
"I live in a world where men inhabit my fireplace and clockwork echos at my heels. Things that no one seems to witness, excepting myself. Yet I know that they are real, which I took great steps to prove."
Briefly her hand brushed over his own, in a manner so subtle as to might be an accident. Yes, he was standing there. As was she.
"I do not need my imagination to place you here because you already are. I see you plainly. Whatever you might wish to imagine away, I will not do it for you."
Reply
"Ohhh you're good," he grinned down at her, admiring her way with words and methods of persistance and making no attempt to hide the fact.
"Like I told you," he said, respecting of her enough to grace her with an explanation even if that in itself would be someway off the truth. "Just a traveller. Here to take a look round and see what I might find. Then I'll be off again."
Reply
"I am," she agreed, her features once again dressed in an almost-smile.
That was until it compressed itself into a somewhat softer, more thoughtful line. Memories again, both hers and not, swirled like the snow the bite in the air promised.
"What is it that attracts travelers so, to this place. To come and to go." And to leave behind. "You are another one, I suppose. That will take your amusements and yourleave and not be seen again."
It was the closest Reinette would come to speaking about something she held as intensely private. Not even Louis knew, though she knew he suspected there were things she held apart. She knew he was real, had the firmest evidence of that. But oddly enough speaking of his not seemed to promise to make him less so.
"Well then, sightseer of debatable interest -- Captain Harkness -- what shall we do with you today?"
Reply
"Maybe it's the scenery," Jack offered with another backwards shrug. Words entirely too casual and flippant to even possibly be meant.
He couldn't know though, not in his wildest imaginations, that the Doctor himself had been here. In his mind if he'd have known he'd have likely left immediately. The Doctor, for all that he meant to Jack was a reminder of his failings. And he was sure too that he'd been abandoned and ignored by him for a second time. He could only try so hard to impress the man, and he was just a little bit bitter that he hadn't been there when he needed him.
"Well," he said with a slight smirk, "how about we 'do' something to prove I'm more than interesting."
Reply
He was attractive, she thought somewhat distantly. He managed his words well, which not only suggested intelligence but wit. The two did not always go hand in hand.
If he knew all these things about himself?
Well, she could hardly hold that against him. After all, she was sure of these things in herself as well.
"That is not a word I am light with, just to prepare you."
With that, her hands moved to smooth the lines of her skirt, brushing down in brisk, effective strokes that broke the planes and space between them.
"Louis has a great many daughters, and one of them is celebrating a birthday tonight. Would you be interested in trying your hand at French society?"
Reply
He was here to visit, nothing more. To quench his thirst for seeing Earth again. Brush past it, but don't touch it. Don't leave a mark. Just be the shadow of a ghost. But here he was, about to grab it firmly and scrunch it up in his hand.
But then he never really was one for following his own instruction. And that little voice was very small. He could easily ignore it.
"Well French society sounds just up my alley," he grinned at her. "And I'd hate to refuse a party."
Reply
She took another step back, this time to critically study his appearance. Everything that followed was brisk. Unaffected.
"You will need a change of clothing. Perhaps a bath."
Reinette lifted her skirts slightly to turn back in the direction of the palace. She cast a glance at the captain over her shoulder.
"Shall we?"
Reply
"Oh do I now?" he asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well we'll see about that." Once he might have been more eager to change clothes to fit in. To play a game of dress up for an era. But now his clothes had become his uniform; part of his identity. He was a little more reluctant.
He didn't follow her at first. He just stood and watched the lines of the elaborate fabric of her clothes. The way she stood and turned. She had it down to an art form.
"Oh I think we shall."
And he took a step, following next to her.
Reply
Nothing to suggest this was out of the ordinary. Let them wonder. Let them wait. She owed them very little, after all. If anything at all.
She continued to lead the way to her suite of rooms, now located on the lower floors. In the past year she had vacated her rooms famously located just below the kings. The spiral staircase that now linked them was now closed as well, walled away.
She often felt like that staircase. Still reaching, but for something that was now undefined.
"Tell me something of yourself Monsieur Harkness. Is there anything of substance to you, beyond sightseer?"
Reply
Jack too, past a cursory glance, paid no attention to the people they passed. No nod in greeting, no smile or mere twitch of the mouth to exchange expressions.
"Oh I've been known to have my moments," Jack replied without really replying at all.
Reply
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