(no subject)
Title: incongruities 3/4?
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Alt!verse Jack & Rose
Author's notes: For allfireburns for the Jack/Rose Winter Ficathon over at available_very. The prompt will follow at the end of the story. Apologies for the wait.
Many thanks to wendymr. :)
Summary: “So that’s it, then? We just write her off - she’s gone and we aren’t even going to look for her?”
--
incongruities 3
--
“Chips?” he asks, incredulous, even as he steals one off her plate. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a chips kind of girl.”
“Full of surprises, me.” She smiles at him, all teeth and tongue and wrinkled eyes.
It’s real, then, for once.
He steals another chip and pretends he doesn’t notice. “How’d you find this place?”
“Oh, found it my first week here,” she says. “Just sort of stumbled across it, really.”
His attention caught, he tries to sound uninterested. “Your first week here?”
“Back. My first week back.” She averts her eyes, concentrating her gaze on the plate of chips in front of her.
“Ah, yes,” he says, stealing another chip with a flourish. He waves it under her face until she grins and makes a grab for it. “I’ve heard of the infamous Rose Tyler Travels.” He pops the chip in his mouth and doesn’t pretend not to notice her watch him lick the salt off his finger.
He grins and she blushes and he tells himself to ignore the way his heart skips in his chest.
--
He checks the readings, even though he knows exactly what they’ll say.
The timelines are in upheaval - twisting and folding and snapping back into place. He won’t be able to assess the damage until after the remoulding is done, and the remoulding won’t be done until they’ve left and he’s extracted her completely from the time stream.
It’s not safe to travel through, though, not with his ship in the state it’s in. He’ll have to wait - and he’s used to that - but his feet are growing itchy. He wants to leave now, while his head is still in control, but, if he’s honest, he hasn’t a clue where he should take her, his girl who doesn’t exist.
She hasn’t been any help on that account, either, maintaining an unhelpful silence in the face of his questions. His scans tell him that she’s soaked in traces of the Vortex, but she’s not a displaced person - at least, not that he can tell - she’s literally come from nowhere.
He needs to report in, he knows, now that he’s got the anomaly in isolation.
He picks up the receiver and it’s heavy in his hand. He’d lost contact with them earlier, but this is the only test he has, he knows, until he can get his ship moving through the Vortex again. It’ll tell him whether the timelines are, at least, folding back into the right shape.
He double checks the temporal coordinates before he places the call. “This is Agent four-seven-delta-nine with a field report.”
He waits, but the only reply is dead air.
Still nothing, then. Maybe he’s already too late.
--
Her hand is on his shoulder and he knows he shouldn’t find it as comforting as he does. “Is everything all right, Jack?”
He motions to the bar-stool beside him and she slides onto it. “Get you a drink?” he offers.
She shakes her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lies, turning to stare at his drink.
He’s failed. That must be it. He’s failed and, pretty soon, he’s going to fade into oblivion with the rest of his time. No, nothing wrong at all.
Her hand squeezes his shoulder and that’s all it takes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He wants to tell her, he realises. God help him. “I can’t get in contact - ring - I can’t ring anyone back home.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, leaning in closer to his side and brushing her hand through his hair. “Got friends back there?”
“Yeah, friends, family, the lot.”
He catches the surprise on her face before she manages to cover it up. “I’m glad,” she says and he frowns at her before she amends, “that you’ve people to go home to.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. He has people to return to, people who’ll miss him, but maybe not any more.
--
The mauve light flickers to life on the console and he jerks upwards. A quick look confirms that his scans are picking up advanced tech in close proximity and he curses under his breath - he has to power down most systems to conserve enough energy to effect an escape, if he should need one, but that leaves him as a sitting duck if the tech is advanced enough to pick up on his cloaking device.
The speakers crackle and he can barely make out the voices through the static. He doesn’t have enough power for a picture, but he knows who’s out there.
“This doesn’t prove anything.”
A pause. “Come on, Mickey. There’s nothing here, what else could it be?”
“The signal is too strong, I’m still picking up that bloody super phone of hers.”
“Could just be residual energy.”
“She wouldn’t have just-”
“Yeah, Mickey, she would have.”
“So that’s it, then? We just write her off - she’s gone and we aren’t even going to look for her?”
“What else can we do? It’s a dead end - there’s only one place she could have gone.”
“You going to tell that to Jackie, then? ‘Oh, Jacks, we think she might have swanned off home, but we’re not really sure.’ She’s supposed to be your daughter.”
The silence stretches. “There’s nothing we can do.”
The sound of footfalls echoes through the silence and he holds his breath until the light on the console stops flashing.
Her own father isn’t going to mount a search, assuming she’s gone back to wherever she came. He’s already sure, but it’s another nail in her coffin.
--
”Mum!” Rose calls, her voice echoing off the empty walls of the entrance.
She pulls him through the doors behind her, sweaty palm clasped against his, and he can tell how nervous she is. It’s at odds with the girl he’s come to know. He’s no stranger to playing the anxious boyfriend, but she’s actually making him nervous.
“Wow,” he says, making a show of looking around. “Nice place.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
He’s never met someone so uncomfortable in their own skin, he thinks, as he pulls on their clasped hands and draws her into his arms. “Perfect for dancing,” he says, swaying with her in the silence.
“Glen Miller,” she says, smiling a genuine smile.
He’s about to ask her what she’s on about when a blonde woman bounds down the steps and Rose pulls away. “You’re home early, love,” she says, juggling a small boy on her hip and throwing one arm around Rose. “Dad of yours hasn’t fired you, has he?”
Rose hugs her back, dropping a kiss on the boy’s forehead and, Jackie Tyler, he realises, is nothing like he expected.
“Nah,” Rose says, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Jackie freezes when she sees him. “Wha-”
“Mum,” Rose interrupts, her hand tightening around his, “this is Jack. Jack Harkness. He’s a friend from work.” Her voice is deliberate and he can see the thoughts playing across her mother’s face.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Tyler,” he says, stepping forward and offering his free hand.
She takes it, even though she’s still frowning at him, and the resemblance between the two women strikes him. “You too,” she says, dropping his hand quickly and fussing over the boy in her arms. “Lunch’ll be ready soon, are you two staying?”
“Yeah,” Rose says, her grip on his hand relaxing as she throws him a smile.
He smiles back and tries not to let his confusion show. That’s definitely Rose’s mother, no mistaking it, and it throws a spanner in most of his theories.
He’s oddly relieved at their loss.
--
The tray is juggled precariously in one hand as he keys in the code to open the door. He’s breaking at least thirty-seven separate protocols by stepping into the room with her, but he’s out of options. He needs to get through to her, needs to get her to talk to him and food, he thinks, is as good a reason to approach her as any.
She jumps as the door clicks shut behind him, but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t even look in his direction.
“Rose-”
Her voice is rough, dry. “Go to hell, Jack.”
He’s already there, he thinks, as he places the tray of food down and kneels beside her bed. “Eat something,” he says, offering her a piece of fruit.
“Why now? You’ve had plenty of chances to take me before, why’d you take me now?”
“I had to be sure you were the cause of the anomaly,” he says, unsure why he’s being honest with her. “Couldn’t risk further upsetting the time lines.”
She’s angry, her shoulders shaking with the effort to keep it in. “Time is fluid, Jack, you can’t police it. You don’t even have the right to try.”
He doesn’t respond, instead asking, “Where do they think you’ve gone?”
She looks at him, finally, her eyes dark in the dim light and he has to look away. “What?”
“Your parents, your friends, where do they think you’ve gone?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s lying, he can hear it in her voice and, when he looks back at her she looks away.
“They aren’t even looking for you.”
“Leave them out of this, please, Jack. Just leave them out of this.”
“You need to talk to me, Rose.”
She doesn’t answer, pulling her knees up to her chest and looking away. It’s clear she thinks the conversation is over and it makes him angry. He wants to help her, but she, stubborn thing that she is, she won’t let him.
“Maybe I should just ask them, then? They’d tell me, wouldn’t they? They’d probably feel sorry for me - you up and leaving, going back, without a word.” He rises to his feet, folds his arms over his chest and takes a step back. “Do you think your mother would tell me? Do you think I could make her?”
He doesn’t see it coming. She moves so fast, uncurling and on her feet before he can blink. When she slaps him it’s hard.
He deserves it, he thinks, even as he grabs her wrist and holds her against him.
“Finding you made being here easier,” she confesses. “I should have realised this universe was just as cruel.”
--
It’s a bit late to be having second thoughts. Or third thoughts. Or whatever the number is he’s up to.
She curls into his side, warm with sleep and he presses a kiss to her temple. The bed smells like her, he thinks. The bed and the sheets and the whole room and it’s far too late to be having second thoughts.
He presses another kiss to her temple. One against her cheek. The corner of her mouth.
She smiles, her lips moving against his chest. “Missed you so much, Jack.”
“You too, sweetheart,” he says, though he has no idea what she’s talking about. It’s obvious she’s still asleep. He decides to wake her up.
--
TBC...
Chapters:
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
Author: christn7
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Alt!verse Jack & Rose
Author's notes: For allfireburns for the Jack/Rose Winter Ficathon over at available_very. The prompt will follow at the end of the story. Apologies for the wait.
Many thanks to wendymr. :)
Summary: “So that’s it, then? We just write her off - she’s gone and we aren’t even going to look for her?”
--
incongruities 3
--
“Chips?” he asks, incredulous, even as he steals one off her plate. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a chips kind of girl.”
“Full of surprises, me.” She smiles at him, all teeth and tongue and wrinkled eyes.
It’s real, then, for once.
He steals another chip and pretends he doesn’t notice. “How’d you find this place?”
“Oh, found it my first week here,” she says. “Just sort of stumbled across it, really.”
His attention caught, he tries to sound uninterested. “Your first week here?”
“Back. My first week back.” She averts her eyes, concentrating her gaze on the plate of chips in front of her.
“Ah, yes,” he says, stealing another chip with a flourish. He waves it under her face until she grins and makes a grab for it. “I’ve heard of the infamous Rose Tyler Travels.” He pops the chip in his mouth and doesn’t pretend not to notice her watch him lick the salt off his finger.
He grins and she blushes and he tells himself to ignore the way his heart skips in his chest.
--
He checks the readings, even though he knows exactly what they’ll say.
The timelines are in upheaval - twisting and folding and snapping back into place. He won’t be able to assess the damage until after the remoulding is done, and the remoulding won’t be done until they’ve left and he’s extracted her completely from the time stream.
It’s not safe to travel through, though, not with his ship in the state it’s in. He’ll have to wait - and he’s used to that - but his feet are growing itchy. He wants to leave now, while his head is still in control, but, if he’s honest, he hasn’t a clue where he should take her, his girl who doesn’t exist.
She hasn’t been any help on that account, either, maintaining an unhelpful silence in the face of his questions. His scans tell him that she’s soaked in traces of the Vortex, but she’s not a displaced person - at least, not that he can tell - she’s literally come from nowhere.
He needs to report in, he knows, now that he’s got the anomaly in isolation.
He picks up the receiver and it’s heavy in his hand. He’d lost contact with them earlier, but this is the only test he has, he knows, until he can get his ship moving through the Vortex again. It’ll tell him whether the timelines are, at least, folding back into the right shape.
He double checks the temporal coordinates before he places the call. “This is Agent four-seven-delta-nine with a field report.”
He waits, but the only reply is dead air.
Still nothing, then. Maybe he’s already too late.
--
Her hand is on his shoulder and he knows he shouldn’t find it as comforting as he does. “Is everything all right, Jack?”
He motions to the bar-stool beside him and she slides onto it. “Get you a drink?” he offers.
She shakes her head. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” he lies, turning to stare at his drink.
He’s failed. That must be it. He’s failed and, pretty soon, he’s going to fade into oblivion with the rest of his time. No, nothing wrong at all.
Her hand squeezes his shoulder and that’s all it takes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
He wants to tell her, he realises. God help him. “I can’t get in contact - ring - I can’t ring anyone back home.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, leaning in closer to his side and brushing her hand through his hair. “Got friends back there?”
“Yeah, friends, family, the lot.”
He catches the surprise on her face before she manages to cover it up. “I’m glad,” she says and he frowns at her before she amends, “that you’ve people to go home to.”
“Yeah,” he agrees. He has people to return to, people who’ll miss him, but maybe not any more.
--
The mauve light flickers to life on the console and he jerks upwards. A quick look confirms that his scans are picking up advanced tech in close proximity and he curses under his breath - he has to power down most systems to conserve enough energy to effect an escape, if he should need one, but that leaves him as a sitting duck if the tech is advanced enough to pick up on his cloaking device.
The speakers crackle and he can barely make out the voices through the static. He doesn’t have enough power for a picture, but he knows who’s out there.
“This doesn’t prove anything.”
A pause. “Come on, Mickey. There’s nothing here, what else could it be?”
“The signal is too strong, I’m still picking up that bloody super phone of hers.”
“Could just be residual energy.”
“She wouldn’t have just-”
“Yeah, Mickey, she would have.”
“So that’s it, then? We just write her off - she’s gone and we aren’t even going to look for her?”
“What else can we do? It’s a dead end - there’s only one place she could have gone.”
“You going to tell that to Jackie, then? ‘Oh, Jacks, we think she might have swanned off home, but we’re not really sure.’ She’s supposed to be your daughter.”
The silence stretches. “There’s nothing we can do.”
The sound of footfalls echoes through the silence and he holds his breath until the light on the console stops flashing.
Her own father isn’t going to mount a search, assuming she’s gone back to wherever she came. He’s already sure, but it’s another nail in her coffin.
--
”Mum!” Rose calls, her voice echoing off the empty walls of the entrance.
She pulls him through the doors behind her, sweaty palm clasped against his, and he can tell how nervous she is. It’s at odds with the girl he’s come to know. He’s no stranger to playing the anxious boyfriend, but she’s actually making him nervous.
“Wow,” he says, making a show of looking around. “Nice place.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
He’s never met someone so uncomfortable in their own skin, he thinks, as he pulls on their clasped hands and draws her into his arms. “Perfect for dancing,” he says, swaying with her in the silence.
“Glen Miller,” she says, smiling a genuine smile.
He’s about to ask her what she’s on about when a blonde woman bounds down the steps and Rose pulls away. “You’re home early, love,” she says, juggling a small boy on her hip and throwing one arm around Rose. “Dad of yours hasn’t fired you, has he?”
Rose hugs her back, dropping a kiss on the boy’s forehead and, Jackie Tyler, he realises, is nothing like he expected.
“Nah,” Rose says, “I’ve got someone I want you to meet.”
Jackie freezes when she sees him. “Wha-”
“Mum,” Rose interrupts, her hand tightening around his, “this is Jack. Jack Harkness. He’s a friend from work.” Her voice is deliberate and he can see the thoughts playing across her mother’s face.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs Tyler,” he says, stepping forward and offering his free hand.
She takes it, even though she’s still frowning at him, and the resemblance between the two women strikes him. “You too,” she says, dropping his hand quickly and fussing over the boy in her arms. “Lunch’ll be ready soon, are you two staying?”
“Yeah,” Rose says, her grip on his hand relaxing as she throws him a smile.
He smiles back and tries not to let his confusion show. That’s definitely Rose’s mother, no mistaking it, and it throws a spanner in most of his theories.
He’s oddly relieved at their loss.
--
The tray is juggled precariously in one hand as he keys in the code to open the door. He’s breaking at least thirty-seven separate protocols by stepping into the room with her, but he’s out of options. He needs to get through to her, needs to get her to talk to him and food, he thinks, is as good a reason to approach her as any.
She jumps as the door clicks shut behind him, but otherwise doesn’t move, doesn’t even look in his direction.
“Rose-”
Her voice is rough, dry. “Go to hell, Jack.”
He’s already there, he thinks, as he places the tray of food down and kneels beside her bed. “Eat something,” he says, offering her a piece of fruit.
“Why now? You’ve had plenty of chances to take me before, why’d you take me now?”
“I had to be sure you were the cause of the anomaly,” he says, unsure why he’s being honest with her. “Couldn’t risk further upsetting the time lines.”
She’s angry, her shoulders shaking with the effort to keep it in. “Time is fluid, Jack, you can’t police it. You don’t even have the right to try.”
He doesn’t respond, instead asking, “Where do they think you’ve gone?”
She looks at him, finally, her eyes dark in the dim light and he has to look away. “What?”
“Your parents, your friends, where do they think you’ve gone?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She’s lying, he can hear it in her voice and, when he looks back at her she looks away.
“They aren’t even looking for you.”
“Leave them out of this, please, Jack. Just leave them out of this.”
“You need to talk to me, Rose.”
She doesn’t answer, pulling her knees up to her chest and looking away. It’s clear she thinks the conversation is over and it makes him angry. He wants to help her, but she, stubborn thing that she is, she won’t let him.
“Maybe I should just ask them, then? They’d tell me, wouldn’t they? They’d probably feel sorry for me - you up and leaving, going back, without a word.” He rises to his feet, folds his arms over his chest and takes a step back. “Do you think your mother would tell me? Do you think I could make her?”
He doesn’t see it coming. She moves so fast, uncurling and on her feet before he can blink. When she slaps him it’s hard.
He deserves it, he thinks, even as he grabs her wrist and holds her against him.
“Finding you made being here easier,” she confesses. “I should have realised this universe was just as cruel.”
--
It’s a bit late to be having second thoughts. Or third thoughts. Or whatever the number is he’s up to.
She curls into his side, warm with sleep and he presses a kiss to her temple. The bed smells like her, he thinks. The bed and the sheets and the whole room and it’s far too late to be having second thoughts.
He presses another kiss to her temple. One against her cheek. The corner of her mouth.
She smiles, her lips moving against his chest. “Missed you so much, Jack.”
“You too, sweetheart,” he says, though he has no idea what she’s talking about. It’s obvious she’s still asleep. He decides to wake her up.
--
TBC...
Chapters:
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three