RP for mrsharker

[quitehomoerotic]

It's early evening and in the half light the Bay has a comfortable quiet. Jack sent the team off to have a little social time. They've all worked so hard lately and they could do with it. He went for a walk, somewhere with a high roof and a vantage point for him to look over the city.

He's back on his way home now, taking a slow stroll down Lloyd George Avenue and back towards Butetown and the Bay. Outside the Millennium centre are couples and people milling around, all preparing for an evening of entertainment. It makes Jack smile as he seems them all, all safe in this city he loves so much.

On his way across the Plass he takes a slight de-tour to one of the poster boards, to take a look at just what these people are waiting to see. The sight before him though is not one he expects, and one he's far from prepared for.

The face is familiar, oh so familiar, and his breath gets caught in his chest, taking him a moment or two to realise he isn't breathing at all.

"It can't be," he whispers, but there's nobody there to listen.

Jack's eyes are swimming and he's glued to the spot. This can't be right, he's sure this can't be right. Just an odd co-incidence. Someone who happens to look similar. It has to be. It can't be her.

But it doesn't hurt to make sure. So instead of back to the Hub, Jack heads into the Millennium center and with the aid of the word 'Torchwood', he goes backstage.

Comments

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

Mina is preparing for the recital: her hair and make-up are complete and there's little to do but wait for curtain in her dressing room. Her publicist was flapping in the way she always tended to, driving Mina quietly insane.

"Carolyn, please: why don't you go and see if there's anyone interesting in house tonight?"

It's a veiled attempt at some peace and quiet and it's thankfully taken up. When the woman returns, it's time for curtain and Mina takes the guiding arm to head up to the stage. Half-way there, though, she stops, catching the faintest whiff of a familiar scent. She frowns, and shakes it off, heading onto the stage to a thunder of applause.

After a gracious bow, she sits down in front of the piano and begins to play. Her fingers dance over the keys with grace and feeling and she ponders that scent. It's not one she's caught in lifetimes, which is odd. An old-fashioned men's cologne with an undertone of something impossible....

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack stands in the wings, out of the way and hidden. He's shaken to his core, and the world around him seems to pass by in a haze. He keeps to the wall, letting people pass as they will, hiding away.

And then she steps out. And then he sees her. His whole word is flipped upside down. There's no mistake now, no mistaking it at all. This is her. His Mina. His love. He doesn't know how or why, and frankly he doesn't care, not now anyway. All that matters is watching her.

He keeps his eyes on the stage from the side and smiles softly as the applause starts. He watches as the music plays, and oh does that music bring back such memories. Memories long buried away, hidden from the world. It brings tears to his eyes. Each beautiful note, perfect as always. Perfect as he always told her it was. Nothing in the world could tear him away from here in this moment.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

At the end of the concert, the Donald Gordon Theatre comes to its feet in a standing ovation and Mina flushes with pleasure. Her long life had few constants and often fewer real pleasures, but her music was both an anchor throughout the years and a true delight. Guided to centre-stage by Carolyn, she takes her bow and accepts the bouquet of flowers -- roses, lilies and something else she couldn't quite identify by scent -- before returning to play an encore.

After the encores, Carolyn takes her arm again to escort her back to her dressing room.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack stands to the side and back a little as they pass. He watches her as though she's an Angel. And to him, she is. He keeps a few feet back, as though that's respectful. Thankfully he's not bothered by the people backstage here, but they've seen him before of course when he sorted out that problem they had a few months ago.

Cautiously, he follows. Not sure he can give up this chance, and perhaps a little over confident of his ability to be someone else, he decides to go and see her.

When he sees her aide leave the dressing room he gives her a polite nod, and then taps the door, gently stepping inside.

"Hi," he smiles, "I was in the audience. Great performance there, they said I could come and say hi."

He's had so many years of practise at perfecting a front. Inside, he's falling apart.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

Mina frowns a little at someone coming into her dressing room. For a split-second, the American accent makes her think Rupert has found his way to Wales, but as the stranger continues speaking, she realises not.

She finds her cane and rises, carefully sweeping the ground before herself to cross over to the doorway. Her smile is cautious, polite. Who was 'they', she wondered, and why are 'they' sending strangers to her dressing room when there was a reception scheduled for afterwards?

"Thank you, and hello." She extends her hand in the general direction of the man's voice.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

As Jack looks at her, as he watches her rise, he looses himself a little. He almost forgets to respond, forgets to collect himself and go on.

He does though, after a pause, take her hand. The touch sends a shiver down his spine. A touch he hasn't felt in so long. A touch he left to go and fight in a war, never to see again.

"Have to say, pretty damn impressive performance." It's all filler. Lots of words just to keep in her presence, to keep looking at her. "Only popped in on the off chance. I work nearby. Have a bit of sway around here."

He realises, belatedly, he still has her hand in his own, and he drops it, with perhaps a little more urgency than he should.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"You're very kind, Mister...?"

There's something not quite right going on here. Mina's been up to her neck in enough trouble over the years that she has a nose for it. His tone is too casual, the way he held her hand too familiar -- until he dropped it as through she was burning his fingers.

And there's that naggingly familiar scent when she breathes in deeply enough.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Harkness," he responds completing her sentence. "Captain Jack Harkness." It feels odd to give her that name. A name he never did tell her, but one that for all intents and purposes, he considers his own, and has ever since he took it, since he met the Doctor. Feels odd too to use his own voice, and not the Scottish one he adopted when he created the persona of Jonathan Harker.

She's beautiful, he thinks. She always was, but now more than ever. She looks ethereal.

"Are you in Cardiff long?"

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"Harkness?" she echoes, the ghost of a smile on her ageless face. A face that hasn't changed since the day Dracula took a bite out of her. "It's nice to meet you. I've got another concert tomorrow night, and then back to London next week."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"That's right." He confirms, he notes too just how similar his own name is to the one that he chose then. Easier to pick something familiar. Less likely to slip up.

"You're playing tomorrow? I'll come and see you." His voice is a little eager, a little too quick, but he can't help it. He's doing all he can to reign himself in. He wants so much to take her in his arms.

"London? Do you live there?"

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"I do... there's a townhouse that's been in my family for more than a century."

He's over-eager, she thinks, the back of her neck prickling with a sense of foreboding. Mina's long years have given her some patience, but not much.

"Do I know you, Captain?" she asks finally, bluntly. "You seem familiar."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

She still lives in their home? That thought throws him even more, if that's even possible. Throws him even further off kilter, and he takes a heavy breath.

"Do I?" He asks, and he wants to tell her, he does, but how can he? How when what happened happened. "No. No you don't." And in a way he's not lying. She doesn't know Jack Harkness, does she? She knew Jonathan Harker.

But then he speaks again, and the words are out before he can stop himself. Soft and whispered. "You look beautiful."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

Her spine stiffens at his soft whisper. But no. No, it's impossible, she thinks. Mina plucks a glove from one hand and finds his face with her fingertips, trying very hard to 'see' him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack doesn't know what to do. He should step back. He should really, really step back. But he can't. He's stuck fast to the ground, his feet unwilling to move. His eyes fall closed as he feels her fingertips, and all he can do is try and desperately control his breathing.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"Who are you?" she demands, fingers finding the dimple in his chin, the line of his jaw. The impossible shape of his mouth.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

His hand lifts, an automatic reaction, and covers hers as it touches his face. There are tears in his eyes and he can't force them back.

"Don't you know?"

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"It's not possible."

She's trembling now, holding onto his hand, squeezing his fingers. "It's --"

Mina presses her lips into a thin line: "Say my name."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's tears are flowing down his cheeks now, refusing to do otherwise. He holds tight onto her hand, as though he expects if he doesn't, she'll just disappear.

"Mina..." he whispers through the tears. The Scottish accent isn't there, but it's clear enough.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

It's like a knife to the heart. If his grip on her hand weren't strong, it would have gone right then. Her jaw clenches, grief and joy and anger warring on her face. The impossibility fading to the reality.

"Jonathan?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's tears become more obvious now, more grounded, and he lets out a noise that he held back in his throat. A desperate sort of whimper.

The accent slips now, perhaps out of respect, or perhaps it just feels right. Back to a Scottish that he used to use. "You look as beautiful as you did the last time I saw you."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

And the last of her doubts crumble at her feet. Mina drops her hand from his cheek, turning away and clutching her cane hard. "How?" she demands. "How Jonathan?"

She's been cold for so long, and that's the only way she maintains her calm now: years of practice. Long years of practice, mourning him. Mourning her beloved husband. Her chest aches with the nearness of him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

She moves away and Jack just shatters. He does all he can to steel himself, to stay strong. The accent falls away again, too hard to be that man, buried away in the past.

"I could ask you the same thing."

He knows he has much more to answer for than she does, but how can he tell her, how could he possibly tell her the truth?

Softly, he adds. "It's good to see you."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"I can't really say the same."

It's a weak joke and Mina can barely smile. "And I believe you have some knowledge of why I'm still here." Although she'd hidden her condition as best she could from him. Hidden it away -- her hunger, her struggle. She hadn't wanted to lose him.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"If I'd have known..." Jack starts, but he trails off. He knows it's no good. And he knows too that it's not really true. He'd have always gone. He had to go.

"What happened to your sight?" It's a rather impertinent question, considering, but then Jack's become so used to being the one asking questions.

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

Mina sinks into the sofa in the corner of her dressing room and gestures that he should join her. "I've been undergoing weekly dialysis treatments for almost fifteen years now -- to cleanse my blood and make it easier to stand the -- the constant hunger. Prolonged dialysis leads to blindness while you continue the treatment."

Her turn to ask: "Where have you been? What have you been doing?"