TEA IN AN ENCHANTED GARDEN
A/N: This was originally prompted by the horizonssing challenge, but as it isn't Jack and Ianto, it doesn't qualify. The quote was so perfect, however, that I couldn't bear not to use it, so here it is.
Title: Tea In An Enchanted Garden
Characters: Jack, Estelle Cole
Rating: Open
Spoilers: None, unless you wish to remain ignorant of Estelle and her place in Jack's life. Set pre-series.
Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to RTD and the BBC.
Summary: Jack wonders if perhaps you can sometimes recapture at least part of the past.
But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiousity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.
- Evelyn Waugh,
Brideshead Revisited
He knew this was a mistake. He also knew that it was one he was going to make, no matter how much he went over all the reasons why he shouldn't. It had been so long, and a large part of himself was afraid of what he would find when he finally knocked on that door, but he couldn't keep away. Not now that he knew. In a way he was angry that he had seen that poster while he had been out with Dominic, since he had completely ignorant up until then. Once he knew, however, the idea that had immediately sprung into life just wouldn't go away and he had had no peace from himself.
His hand had lifted to the brass lion's head knocker and beat out a swift little rhythm before stepping back. This was a nice little house in a quiet street. Not too flashy but not too shabby, either. Just right, in fact. He started to wonder if it was too late to just turn and bolt when the door opened and he realised there was no turning back.
"Ms Estelle Cole?"
He kept his expression one of quiet interest, coupled with polite distance. So far as Estelle was concerned, this was the first time he had met her. She was gazing up at him, an expression of acute shock on her face, but that was nothing to what Jack was experiencing. He'd taken the time to locate her on the Net and had even bought one of her books, so he'd seen pictures. The fact that she had aged was not what surprised him, since over fifty years had passed. What shocked him was that the eyes that were widening now in delighted amazement were exactly the same as the ones that had looked up at him all those years ago.
"Jack?"
"Yes, ma'am, that's me," Jack said with a brash smile. "Captain Jack Harkness II. It's good to finally meet you."
It had taken him months to get up the courage to send that first letter and he'd put a lot of thought into it. In the end he had gone for the simplest option. He was the son of the man she had known and fallen in love with during World War II and since he was in the country for work purposes, he had decided to get in contact. He almost hadn't sent that first letter but when he had received a reply by return of post, he hadn't been able to resist continuing the charade. Now he was in too deep but he didn't really care.
"My goodness!" Estelle had her hand over her heart and was giving him an incredulous smile. "I suppose I'm not the first to tell you that you're the spitting image of your father?"
"No, ma'am," Jack agreed, allowing himself to be invited inside and carefully wiping his feet clean before moving further into the house, which seemed to smell of polish, lilacs and baking. He sniffed appreciatively and then blushed as she laughed. "Sorry, but I could have sworn I smelled-"
"Chocolate brownies," Estelle agreed with a small clap of her hands. "I wanted to bake something American and what could be more American than brownies?"
"What indeed?" Jack agreed, making a mental note to check and see, because for the life of him he didn't know. He supposed he really should find out a bit more about the USA since everyone was convinced he came from there. One of these days someone was going to ask him a question and he was going to look a complete idiot because he didn't know the answer.
"Come out into the garden," Estelle encouraged him. "It's a beautiful afternoon; much too nice to be cooped up inside. I have all my letters and photos waiting."
Jack allowed himself to be ruthlessly shepherded outside with a small smile, but he pulled in a deep breath when he suddenly found himself surrounded by light and colour. Estelle's garden was planted in the cottage garden style and flowers tumbled and fountained all around them as they walked down a winding path to where a tiny patio was hidden behind an arch smothered with pink roses. On the weathered stone were a table and two chairs, with the makings of a proper English tea laid out on the table.
"Do sit down, Captain Harkness," Estelle said with a smile.
"Hey, Jack, please," Jack said as he shucked off his coat and laid it over the chair before sitting down.
"Was that your father's coat?" Estelle asked, touching it gently before going to sit down herself.
"Yes, ma'am. I wear it in his honour. I joined the American Air Force and served in combat, so I figure I'm not doing it a disservice. They were brave men." My boys, he thought to himself silently, since he had joined up for real the second time around, albeit under another name, and fought to honestly earn his rank of Captain.
"He was a wonderful man," Estelle said softly as she settled down in the chair opposite him.
"That may be so, but he didn't treat you right," Jack said flatly.
Because, when it came down to it, that was the brutal truth. Jack had been captivated by Estelle when he had first met her, her independent nature and slightly fey nature making her stand out in a crowd. They'd embarked on a whirlwind romance and before he had quite understood how it had happened, Jack had found himself on the verge of proposing to her. And where the hell would that have left her? Trapped in a marriage to a man who was nothing more than a sham, having to move and move again as she grew older and her husband remained unchanged. Horrified at the idea of what he would be asking her to do, Jack had made an excuse that he had been temporarily recalled home and that he would write once he was settled. In reality he had relocated to Malta and then come directly back to Cardiff after the war.
"I'm sure he meant well," Estelle sighed. "I won't believe it was deliberate. He was too good a man."
Jack opened his mouth to disabuse her of her misguided beliefs and to make it plain that the Jack Harkness who had left her had been a coward and a fool. Gazing across the table at her, however, he found the words dying on his lips. This woman had believed in him. She had taught him to laugh again at a time when he was close to despair and all she was asking was to have her belief in her mythical hero be left intact. Jack had lost count of the number of people he had left behind cursing his name. It would be nice to have one person remember him with joy.
"He always said he meant to come back," he finally said. "His plane was shot down towards the end of the war and he wound up crippled and badly burned. He figured it was best that you remembered the way he was."
"Oh, my poor Jack," Estelle said, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly before opening them again and busying herself with pouring the tea. "He always set himself such high standards. Impossibly high in many ways. I remember talking to Eddie, his second-in-command once, and he said Jack was always first in the air, last on the ground and he would always check with all his boys before getting some sleep. And he never let anyone write letters to the parents and wives except himself, even though doing so took a piece of him, every time."
Jack listened in wonder as she continued to reminisce, pulling out photos and clippings she had kept for years. It was almost like hearing about a total stranger, since he could barely recognise the Jack Harkness she summoned out of memory and time. A man slow to smile but full of quiet joy in the small things of life. Someone who was always there when you needed him, be it for a quick joke, an illicit trip or the silent company of a friend who understood.
She took him back to a time when the banshee wail of an air-raid siren sent your pulses racing as you wondered if this time was the one where the dice fell against you. When something so simple as a slice of cake and real coffee was a hedonistic pleasure to be savoured. When you clung to your friends and family because you never knew if they would still be alive the next week.
Jack had learned what it was to be truly human during his second time around in war-battered Britain. He had seen the very best and some of the worst of humans during that time. Selflessness and selfishness intertwined like the serpents on the wand. He had seen hearts shatter under the twin hammers of grief and despair but he had also admired the spirit that kept people living and loving in the face of seemingly impossible odds.
Estelle was a touchstone taking him back to that time and he felt the shadow that had lain over him ever since Alex had slaughtered his team and turned the gun on himself slowly lift. He found himself leading the conversation, couching his recollections as memories his supposed father had told him about, watching Estelle's face light up with laughter as she clapped her hands and took his prompts and wove bright tapestries with them. She had never known his dark side, apart from the intellectual realisation that as a pilot his duty was to kill other pilots, and he fell in love with her all over again as she used her own kind of time-travel to take him back to a brighter time when he had still had hope.
And in doing so, she reminded him why it was all right to hope, when you were in an enchanted garden filled with love.
"Do you know, you seem happier now than when you came," Estelle said, her head to one side as she studied him with impish amusement. "Was I such a frightening prospect?"
You have no idea, Jack thought ruefully. "No, ma'am-"
"Estelle!" she said imperiously.
"Estelle," he agreed with a smile. "It's just that my father thought so highly of you, I was kind of scared I wouldn't measure up against your memory of him. That I'd disappoint you."
Estelle made a scoffing sound and reached out to slap his nearest wrist playfully. "Absolute nonsense! You are the image of your father, it's true, which brings back wonderful memories, but you have your own character, which is a little sadder and wiser than his was, but we live in a colder age now, so I suppose that's to be expected. I take it that he's-"
"Yeah," Jack said, firm with himself on that score. "He died of a heart-attack about five years ago. I've been a bit of a wanderer since then but I'm here in Cardiff at the moment." He paused, knowing that this was when he should make his excuses and disengage himself. Once again his mouth proved that it had a mind of its own. "Would you mind if I maybe called again sometime?"
Estelle gave him a radiant smile. "I would be delighted, truly! And next time I might try and make coffee. Lord knows, your father drank enough of the stuff and constantly moaned that it tasted foul. Never stopped him drinking the next one, though!"
"Yeah, that's a Harkness for you," Jack said ruefully as he got to his feet. "We're always a fool for our coffee!"
He left with a spring in his step that hadn't been there before and paused halfway down the street to look back and then wave when he saw that she had remained at the gate. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
OOOO
Next story in chronological order is Breakfast at Rimini's at http://tanarian5.livejournal.com/5297.html.
Title: Tea In An Enchanted Garden
Characters: Jack, Estelle Cole
Rating: Open
Spoilers: None, unless you wish to remain ignorant of Estelle and her place in Jack's life. Set pre-series.
Disclaimer: Not mine; they belong to RTD and the BBC.
Summary: Jack wonders if perhaps you can sometimes recapture at least part of the past.
But I was in search of love in those days, and I went full of curiousity and the faint, unrecognized apprehension that here, at last, I should find that low door in the wall, which others, I knew, had found before me, which opened on an enclosed and enchanted garden, which was somewhere, not overlooked by any window, in the heart of that grey city.
- Evelyn Waugh,
Brideshead Revisited
He knew this was a mistake. He also knew that it was one he was going to make, no matter how much he went over all the reasons why he shouldn't. It had been so long, and a large part of himself was afraid of what he would find when he finally knocked on that door, but he couldn't keep away. Not now that he knew. In a way he was angry that he had seen that poster while he had been out with Dominic, since he had completely ignorant up until then. Once he knew, however, the idea that had immediately sprung into life just wouldn't go away and he had had no peace from himself.
His hand had lifted to the brass lion's head knocker and beat out a swift little rhythm before stepping back. This was a nice little house in a quiet street. Not too flashy but not too shabby, either. Just right, in fact. He started to wonder if it was too late to just turn and bolt when the door opened and he realised there was no turning back.
"Ms Estelle Cole?"
He kept his expression one of quiet interest, coupled with polite distance. So far as Estelle was concerned, this was the first time he had met her. She was gazing up at him, an expression of acute shock on her face, but that was nothing to what Jack was experiencing. He'd taken the time to locate her on the Net and had even bought one of her books, so he'd seen pictures. The fact that she had aged was not what surprised him, since over fifty years had passed. What shocked him was that the eyes that were widening now in delighted amazement were exactly the same as the ones that had looked up at him all those years ago.
"Jack?"
"Yes, ma'am, that's me," Jack said with a brash smile. "Captain Jack Harkness II. It's good to finally meet you."
It had taken him months to get up the courage to send that first letter and he'd put a lot of thought into it. In the end he had gone for the simplest option. He was the son of the man she had known and fallen in love with during World War II and since he was in the country for work purposes, he had decided to get in contact. He almost hadn't sent that first letter but when he had received a reply by return of post, he hadn't been able to resist continuing the charade. Now he was in too deep but he didn't really care.
"My goodness!" Estelle had her hand over her heart and was giving him an incredulous smile. "I suppose I'm not the first to tell you that you're the spitting image of your father?"
"No, ma'am," Jack agreed, allowing himself to be invited inside and carefully wiping his feet clean before moving further into the house, which seemed to smell of polish, lilacs and baking. He sniffed appreciatively and then blushed as she laughed. "Sorry, but I could have sworn I smelled-"
"Chocolate brownies," Estelle agreed with a small clap of her hands. "I wanted to bake something American and what could be more American than brownies?"
"What indeed?" Jack agreed, making a mental note to check and see, because for the life of him he didn't know. He supposed he really should find out a bit more about the USA since everyone was convinced he came from there. One of these days someone was going to ask him a question and he was going to look a complete idiot because he didn't know the answer.
"Come out into the garden," Estelle encouraged him. "It's a beautiful afternoon; much too nice to be cooped up inside. I have all my letters and photos waiting."
Jack allowed himself to be ruthlessly shepherded outside with a small smile, but he pulled in a deep breath when he suddenly found himself surrounded by light and colour. Estelle's garden was planted in the cottage garden style and flowers tumbled and fountained all around them as they walked down a winding path to where a tiny patio was hidden behind an arch smothered with pink roses. On the weathered stone were a table and two chairs, with the makings of a proper English tea laid out on the table.
"Do sit down, Captain Harkness," Estelle said with a smile.
"Hey, Jack, please," Jack said as he shucked off his coat and laid it over the chair before sitting down.
"Was that your father's coat?" Estelle asked, touching it gently before going to sit down herself.
"Yes, ma'am. I wear it in his honour. I joined the American Air Force and served in combat, so I figure I'm not doing it a disservice. They were brave men." My boys, he thought to himself silently, since he had joined up for real the second time around, albeit under another name, and fought to honestly earn his rank of Captain.
"He was a wonderful man," Estelle said softly as she settled down in the chair opposite him.
"That may be so, but he didn't treat you right," Jack said flatly.
Because, when it came down to it, that was the brutal truth. Jack had been captivated by Estelle when he had first met her, her independent nature and slightly fey nature making her stand out in a crowd. They'd embarked on a whirlwind romance and before he had quite understood how it had happened, Jack had found himself on the verge of proposing to her. And where the hell would that have left her? Trapped in a marriage to a man who was nothing more than a sham, having to move and move again as she grew older and her husband remained unchanged. Horrified at the idea of what he would be asking her to do, Jack had made an excuse that he had been temporarily recalled home and that he would write once he was settled. In reality he had relocated to Malta and then come directly back to Cardiff after the war.
"I'm sure he meant well," Estelle sighed. "I won't believe it was deliberate. He was too good a man."
Jack opened his mouth to disabuse her of her misguided beliefs and to make it plain that the Jack Harkness who had left her had been a coward and a fool. Gazing across the table at her, however, he found the words dying on his lips. This woman had believed in him. She had taught him to laugh again at a time when he was close to despair and all she was asking was to have her belief in her mythical hero be left intact. Jack had lost count of the number of people he had left behind cursing his name. It would be nice to have one person remember him with joy.
"He always said he meant to come back," he finally said. "His plane was shot down towards the end of the war and he wound up crippled and badly burned. He figured it was best that you remembered the way he was."
"Oh, my poor Jack," Estelle said, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly before opening them again and busying herself with pouring the tea. "He always set himself such high standards. Impossibly high in many ways. I remember talking to Eddie, his second-in-command once, and he said Jack was always first in the air, last on the ground and he would always check with all his boys before getting some sleep. And he never let anyone write letters to the parents and wives except himself, even though doing so took a piece of him, every time."
Jack listened in wonder as she continued to reminisce, pulling out photos and clippings she had kept for years. It was almost like hearing about a total stranger, since he could barely recognise the Jack Harkness she summoned out of memory and time. A man slow to smile but full of quiet joy in the small things of life. Someone who was always there when you needed him, be it for a quick joke, an illicit trip or the silent company of a friend who understood.
She took him back to a time when the banshee wail of an air-raid siren sent your pulses racing as you wondered if this time was the one where the dice fell against you. When something so simple as a slice of cake and real coffee was a hedonistic pleasure to be savoured. When you clung to your friends and family because you never knew if they would still be alive the next week.
Jack had learned what it was to be truly human during his second time around in war-battered Britain. He had seen the very best and some of the worst of humans during that time. Selflessness and selfishness intertwined like the serpents on the wand. He had seen hearts shatter under the twin hammers of grief and despair but he had also admired the spirit that kept people living and loving in the face of seemingly impossible odds.
Estelle was a touchstone taking him back to that time and he felt the shadow that had lain over him ever since Alex had slaughtered his team and turned the gun on himself slowly lift. He found himself leading the conversation, couching his recollections as memories his supposed father had told him about, watching Estelle's face light up with laughter as she clapped her hands and took his prompts and wove bright tapestries with them. She had never known his dark side, apart from the intellectual realisation that as a pilot his duty was to kill other pilots, and he fell in love with her all over again as she used her own kind of time-travel to take him back to a brighter time when he had still had hope.
And in doing so, she reminded him why it was all right to hope, when you were in an enchanted garden filled with love.
"Do you know, you seem happier now than when you came," Estelle said, her head to one side as she studied him with impish amusement. "Was I such a frightening prospect?"
You have no idea, Jack thought ruefully. "No, ma'am-"
"Estelle!" she said imperiously.
"Estelle," he agreed with a smile. "It's just that my father thought so highly of you, I was kind of scared I wouldn't measure up against your memory of him. That I'd disappoint you."
Estelle made a scoffing sound and reached out to slap his nearest wrist playfully. "Absolute nonsense! You are the image of your father, it's true, which brings back wonderful memories, but you have your own character, which is a little sadder and wiser than his was, but we live in a colder age now, so I suppose that's to be expected. I take it that he's-"
"Yeah," Jack said, firm with himself on that score. "He died of a heart-attack about five years ago. I've been a bit of a wanderer since then but I'm here in Cardiff at the moment." He paused, knowing that this was when he should make his excuses and disengage himself. Once again his mouth proved that it had a mind of its own. "Would you mind if I maybe called again sometime?"
Estelle gave him a radiant smile. "I would be delighted, truly! And next time I might try and make coffee. Lord knows, your father drank enough of the stuff and constantly moaned that it tasted foul. Never stopped him drinking the next one, though!"
"Yeah, that's a Harkness for you," Jack said ruefully as he got to his feet. "We're always a fool for our coffee!"
He left with a spring in his step that hadn't been there before and paused halfway down the street to look back and then wave when he saw that she had remained at the gate. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.
OOOO
Next story in chronological order is Breakfast at Rimini's at http://tanarian5.livejournal.com/5297.html.