Captain Jack Harkness (
quitehomoerotic) wrote2009-04-24 01:52 am
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Entry tags:
RP for
mrsharker
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.
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.
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"All I want to see from you is smiles. Okay?" He looks down at her and brushes a strand of her hair back behind her ears.
They reach the restaurant and Jack opens the door, guiding her inside before motioning for a table. Hoping for a discreet one where they won't be spotted.
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Once inside, she unbuttons her coat, breathing in the scent of cooking and garlic: it's all delicious. The low roar of patrons indicates a small-ish establishment without a large crowd, and after a concert the size of the one Mina just played for, she's glad of the comparative quiet.
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When she sits he moves around to his own chair and sits himself down, reaching his hand over the table to take hers.
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He holds her hand tightly, his thumb stroking her fingers.
"Do you need me to read the menu to you? What would you like?"
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"What's your favourite on the menu? And where do you work? What do you do?" She has so very many questions...
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He clears his throat a little. "Here, in the Bay. It's... a little hard to explain. Lets just put it this way, I protect people. Or I try. That's the general idea. I've got a team. We look after Cardiff."
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"Although I will say you seem bolder, more confident. An alpha-wolf of your very own pack."
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"My team," he smiles, thinking of them, "They're wonderful people. They put themselves at risk every day to save this city. To save the world."
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Taking a breath he starts, hoping to explain. "Cardiff has a rift in space and time running right through the centre of it. It's my job to monitor what comes in and out of it."
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She chooses not to mention that a large part of her ability to maintain any order in London-town is the fact that most of the inhumans are deeply afraid of the monster she could become if she so chooses. That she cultivates that sense of danger among the half-life.
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"Mina you can't even see. How can you look after a city?"
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A more modern woman might have taken offense at his implication that she wasn't capable of taking care of herself. It doesn't occur to Mina to be offended.
"And... periodically if a real problem surfaces, I stop my treatments for a while." She hadn't intended to mention that, but there's something in his tone that brooks no omission. It's not a tone Jonathan used terribly often with her, but she's learned very well to respect it. "It awakens the killer in me and returns my sight."
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As he listens he tilts his head and straightens his back a little. "You do?" It's bad of him to think, or even imagine it, and even worse to voice it, but he can't seem to stop himself. "So if you wanted... you could see me?"
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Mina closes her eyes at the temptation he places before her. "It takes... a while to work through the treatments," she offers. The taste of blood, too, has the same effect, only stronger and faster. "I wouldn't want to hurt you."
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His hand grips hers a little, a gentle reassuring gesture.
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"So..." he perks, "Food?"
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She's tempted -- she's so tempted to yield to his wishes, to allow herself to stop fighting for just a little while. But she's not sure she'll manage to crawl back onto the wagon if she does. She's not sure she wouldn't do something terrible. (The fact that she managed for so long to contain herself with willpower alone doesn't ever seem argument enough to let down her guard.)
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He falls a little quiet, thinking about it. It's like scratching an open wound. He knows he shouldn't, but the urge is still there.
So instead he barges ahead with the conversation. "It's been so long, I don't know where to start."
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"It has." If they weren't still automatically at ease with one another, she'd feel this was almost awkward. It's not, but it's hard to know what to say, where to go. She doesn't want to regale him with tales of dead friends and the dead children of dead friends...
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"I could tell you about me... about who I am. If you want to know. But honestly... it's not all good, and," he laughs, weakly, "there's a lot of it."
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"I want to know." She squeezes his hand. "Jack."
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He nods a little and sighs. Wondering where to possibly start.
"I'm not from when you think I am. My name... my name isn't even Jack, that's a name I took, but it's the name I go by, have done for a long time. I'm- I'm from the future, Mina. The fifty first century. I used to be something called a Time Agent, a long time ago in a very different life. I met someone, a friend, I travelled with him, there was a battle and I died. Really died, but someone brought me back, brought be back for good. He left me there and I used this-" he takes her hand and puts it on his wrist strap. "Do you remember this? To get back to Earth. But it broke, and I got stranded in eighteen sixty nine. So I was stuck there. I had to keep going on Earth until I could find him."
It's a stream of consciousness, and difficult for him. He's so secretive at times it's just so unusual to give away so much.
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