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

[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?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack follows over. His body on auto-pilot, still unable to believe she's here. He sits down feeling as though he's in a bubble. His heart swells as she speaks of the struggle she faces everyday. And again his eyes fill.

"Oh Mina."

He shakes his head. "I went to the war. Went to fight. I fought in the battle of Ypres and the Somme. And I carried on going. Mina I- I'll always carry on going."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

When he speaks of Ypres, Mina can't help but think of their son -- their beautiful boy who had almost died at Ypres and probably should have, rather than returning to England with septic wounds and a terrified mother. The sins of his father -- abandonment -- so much less than the sins of a selfish, lonely mother.

She feels him sit down and she moves to tuck close to him; even after all these years, her head finds that same spot on his shoulder. "You can't die?" she asks, seeking confirmation that she understood him correctly. He doesn't smell of vampire, she notes. Doesn't have that undercurrent of death clinging to him. But truly, that revelation is so much less important to her than the fact that he's here. He's alive.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack's arm slinks around her. An automatic reaction, even after all this time. His head rests down, chin touching her hair. "Never," he whispers. "I've died so many times, in so many ways, but I always come back. Every time."

His arm holds close against her, pulling her ever so gently towards him. He's thought about her so many times over the years. Thought about all that happened, and how he left. One of the hardest decisions he ever made. Leaving that family. His family.

"I'm sorry."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"What are you sorry for?" she murmurs, moving closer as he draws her in. It occurs to her that if he can't die, she can't be the only wife he's ever left behind.

"Tell me one thing: was it ever real to you? Our marriage..."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"For everything," he whispers, quiet and sad. "For leaving you. For ever lying to you. For not being there when I should."

The words spear Jack through the heart, and he reaches out for her hand, squeezing it tight. "Always. It was always real. Every moment of it."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

She can almost smell his distress at her words -- one of those eerie vampiric senses that has come in handy over the years. It makes her next to impossible to lie to.

"I suppose I finally understand how you survived breaking out of his castle and fleeing his brides," she murmured, squeezing his hand right back.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"I wanted to live a normal life," Jack sighs, looking down at their hands together. "Not that our life was ever really normal. I thought maybe I could do it. Maybe it would be okay. But I realised if I stayed any longer you'd start to notice. My youthful good looks? Not just good ageing. I mean, not like a face cream can do that, right?" He tries to make light of things, act like it wasn't one the the hardest decisions he ever made.

"I should have explained it to you then."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

"Jonathan, shush." She presses her bare fingers to his lips. "I trust that you had your reasons. I had my own for asking Doctor van Helsing not to share the full extent of my condition with you."

It's so very ironic: if they had both been honest, perhaps their lives would have been so very different. So much happier...

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

He quietens himself, dutifully, at her request.

"I can't believe it's taken this long to find out. That I've never seen you before. I suppose I stayed away. The house, I never could go there. I avoided it. Too hard to remember. To see you grow old. Or well, as I thought."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

He's going to ask about Quincey any moment -- she can just taste it and the bile is rising at the back of her throat. Mina draws his head down and presses her lips to his forehead. "Perhaps we weren't ready to know yet..." (It's been lifetimes since she's been that philosophical: she blames his presence.)

"I wish I could see you," she murmurs, settling in to rest her forehead against his own. "My Jonathan."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

It's a question he's been putting off. Part of him wants to know so much it hurts, but another part, that pain is too much to unleash. So he avoids it, just a little bit longer. "Perhaps not."

He sighs slowly, releasing tension in his shoulders. "I wish you could too." He turns his head a little and lifts a hand to touch her cheek. "You look so beautiful, Mina. You always did. You know I could never believe you were mine."

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

She leans into his touch and smiles a little bashfully: she was never the great beauty nor the coquette -- that was Lucy. Mina was the sensible, practical dependable sort of young woman... who had fallen head over heels for the handsome young solicitor with the unbelievably blue eyes and warm smile.

"You flatter me, Jonathan, my love."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"I only say what I see, and you're beautiful to me. You always were." He's honest about that. She was never anything but beautiful to him.

He can't leave it any longer though. Try as he might, and the question is there, and must be said. "Mina..." he starts, hard to get the words out. "Our Son.. what happened to him?"

[mrsharker.livejournal.com]

Mina gets up from the sofa. It had to be asked -- he adored Quincey, and Quincey had adored his father -- and she knew it was coming. Distantly, it half-occurred to her to lie, but that, after all the other secrets were finally out... would be unforgivable.

"Josef enlisted to fight in the Great War," she told him quietly, keeping her back to him. Dear, brave Josef -- Abraham's grandson and Quincey's dearest friend. "He died at Ypres, Jonathan... and when word came, Quincey enlisted."

She swallows hard and bites her lip: even as long as it's been, the memories hurt. The loss of Jonathan, Josef and then gentle Quincey's decision to enlist. "He fought at Amiens and was terribly, terribly injured. They brought him home to England to a hospital. Septasemia set in.... they said it was only a matter of time before it killed him."

In some ways, it's a blessing that she can't see him. Can't see the way he's going to look at her when she chokes out her next words: "I couldn't let that happen."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Each word is like another stab to the heart. One quick after the other. He expected it really. Expected the war would take him, just as it took so many boys back then. Boys who had hardly any time at all to live their lives.

Maybe he was there, maybe he was close and knew nothing about it. The wave of guilt rushes over him like a tsunami. Too much to cope with, to imagine.

He looks up at her, his cheeks lines with tears, but then she speaks again. And his heart sinks.

He stands, rushes over to her and grabs her by the shoulders. "What did you do? Mina, what did you do?"