Jack had spent last night in the rec room, watching, oh, three hours of his better footage. Not Torchwood, but it was Cardiff. He'd been here long enough and seen enough film reels of all sorts of people that he could watch them a little detached, a little less emotionally invested. A little more appreciative of his own ass. He had a great ass
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Or rather, Maureen would have been hurrying if she weren't still limping. She really should go to the clinic to see about her toe.
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And that's when he noticed him. Great. As if this week couldn't get any worse.
Jamie approached the Compound slowly, tensing at the sight of Jack. Their last meeting? Could have gone better.
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Well, maybe he was an idiot, which he knew wouldn't be very disputed by more than one person, but the guy had been sorry, and by now he had to have resolved the issue with Ace. And if not...he had nine rifles. Just having them made him grin.
Closer and closer, then he was within hearing range. Life was too amzingly long to linger on the thought of retribution that likely wasn't even warranted. Some things the Island did--you just had to let it go.
Like September.
"Hello." There. That was safe. One word, warm tone, glint in his eyes that lingered thanks to Chuck. Or was for Jamie. Who knew.
He was just saying hello.
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"...hello," said Jamie as he came to a stop.
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"How've you been?" he asked casually.
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Unfortunately, it hadn't been for the reason that Jack might assume.
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"You're up early this morning," she called.
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"You were starting to scare me," she said into his neck.
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