quitehomoerotic | RP for mrsharker

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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.

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Jack breathes hot air against her lips and smiles. Carefully, he whispers, "You all right?"

He's trying to find a synergy with himself. Trying to be the person he is when he's not holding back. It's almost unfortunate that he has to draw on recent experience with Ianto to be able to reach it. Only highlighting to him just how much the man means and how much he's betraying him right now.

That dawning on him, he's not sure he can go on. His kisses slow and his hold on her relaxes as he lets her go, puts her down.

Catching his breath he pauses and rests his forehead against hers.

"You're not," Mina points out. "Talk to me."

She trails her fingertips across his cheek and moves away from him. It's easier, in a way, for her. Easier to find that motherly, friendly place and retreat firmly there (his wouldn't be the first advances she's escaped like this).

She turns her back and makes short work of her corselet, replacing it with a men's cut pajama shirt in black silk. It skims her curves, highlighting without accentuating. Over her cream-coloured silk knickers, she pulls the pajama pants. The arms and legs of her pajamas have been hemmed to account for her short stature.

There's nothing Jack can say for a moment. He shakes his head and closes his eyes tight. His hands rest forward against the wall and he doesn't turn to look at her now.

After a moment he gathers himself, and almost to his surprise he finds that there are tears forming in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispers under his breath, finally turning back to her.

"For what?"

There's no blame in her voice. No condemnation. Perhaps there's disappointment somewhere, but Mina doesn't show it.

"There's nothing to be sorry for. Life goes on. People change."

Jack shakes his head a little. Sighs. In so many ways he hasn't changed. So much of what he is now was part of what he was then, she just never knew it. Never knew that side of him.

"It not that I don't want you. Believe me, I want you. But..." his voice softens, almost sad sounding. "It would hurt him. He's been hurt enough, and he means a lot to me. More than he probably knows."

"You're a good man," Mina says quietly. A good man she feels like she barely knows anymore. She'd like to have the chance to get to know him... and, deep down, she's rather glad he stopped them from proceeding because it felt like a stranger -- like many different strangers -- touching her. And she didn't have the heart to stop him because she'd asked him to, she'd told him to be himself. She doesn't have it in her to reject that sort of vulnerability.

She fetches her hairbrush from the bathroom and returns with it. Climbs carefully into bed and starts brushing her hair out: one hundred strokes every night. It's a routine she's had since childhood and she busies herself with it because she doesn't know what to say to him.

"Am I?" He asks with a shake of the head. "I'm not so sure about that. I try to be, but I don't think it always works."

He's tired and it shows. Too many emotions all at once, hitting him from different directions. "This has all been a lot. For both of us." He sighs.

"I think I should probably go. This isn't fair on anyone."

She's not sure he'll come back if he leaves. She's not sure he should. She's not sure of much.

"Good night, Jack," Mina takes what could be one last look at him. (He's still so beautiful it makes her heart hurt.)

It's so hard. Hard to be here, hard to leave. He takes a breath and steps towards the side table, reaching for the pad and pen sitting atop a pointless ink-blotter. He jots a number. His private line at Torchwood. The page rips as he pulls it from the pad and he folds it up while walking over to her.

"Take this. It's my number. Call me. Please."

He leans over and places a gentle kiss to her cheek. "Goodnight, Mina."

It's a real shock that he leaves the ball in her court. Mina truly didn't expect that and she doesn't know what to think. She doesn't know if she'll ever be able to make that telephone call. She's disrupted them both more than enough now. No more concerts in Cardiff...

Another shock: the kiss. She stalls in brushing out her hair as he kisses her, and it's almost enough to crack the ice she's already wrapping herself in. She takes the offered paper and sets it just under the edge of the lamp.

"Goodnight," she echoes.

Jack moves away and stays in silence as he takes his shoes and gently re-laces them. He stands and takes his coat, slipping back into it.

For just a brief moment he turns and watches her. His heart clenching a little.

And then he leaves.

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