for ambitious_woman Back to Earth, 1750

[quitehomoerotic]

There's something about Earth.

Out of all the places out there, all the little planets in the sky, Earth just has something special. He wanted to go back, and he hated that he wanted to go back. He'd ran away from there for a reason; he couldn't cope with it any more. It wasn't like he was even born there, sure he spent over a hundred years there, kicking his heels, saving the place on countless occasions, but it shouldn't matter so much to him! But there he was, sitting on some dirty transporter, wondering about getting back.

He couldn't go back though. He couldn't go back to there and then and the people he left and the people that left him. He'd ran so far across that planet to get away from the things that hurt, but it was just too small. Impossibly small and those troubles were right behind him, peering down from him from above. Guilt weighing down on him that he just couldn't escape.

So he stayed away. He stayed away and kept quiet. Frequented corners of dingy bars and found solace in the bottom of a bottle.

But it wasn't what he wanted, and pretend as he might that he was okay with wallowing, he wasn't. He wanted to be doing something, anything, and that damn feeling that Earth was where he should be just wouldn't quite go away.

That's when he realised; he had only one option. Go back. But not now.

It's also when he realised that he had to fix what had been broken for over a hundred years. He had to get himself back in the game.

Out in space and with the resources on the various ships he'd found himself travelling on, it was surprisingly easy to happen upon the little components and tools he might need. He'd never found them on Earth, but then he never did have that sort of luck. It took a while, but he got there, bit by bit amassing what he needed until finally he could sit down and with care take apart his vortex manipulator and put it back together again with new and renewed working technology.

He could go anywhere.

But where? Earth, of course. But not a place he'd been, not a time he'd been. Somewhere new, but somewhere that would be enough to comfort him in knowing he was 'home'. So he didn't make a decision as such, he just put in some parameters to avoid (Cardiff being the biggest), and he pressed the button and hoped for the best.

When he arrived, without even needing to check he knew he was on Earth. It had that smell, that slight mix of something in the air that always seemed to be there, no matter where or when you were. Good, he thought, good. This was good. He didn't check when or where he was, that could come later. For now he'd explore (and he'd forgotten how nice that could be).

So that's what led him to walking around a vast (and likely very private) garden, lined with intricate designs of flowers and plants. French, he suspected. That was okay, he hadn't been to France in a long time.

Maybe he'd enjoy this.

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[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Privately, on occasion, she could not help but wonder if it was time to leave this place. Not as she had so many times before, packing up their days and amusements to properly with, and guiding Louis from one moment to the next. Not as she had the very first time, fresh from meeting the king that stood so long as her ambition, sure of the knowledge that she had captured his attention. And not even as she had so recently, taking that single step away from him before he took the all more damaging first step back. Instead choosing her successor, moving her rooms and reimagining her life.

She still stood as his first companion, and she now counted him as her dearest friend. But he also represented her deepest failure. The betrayal of her own body and the one thing she was able to fully control. Every smile she still shared between them was still tinged with something bitter, just beneath her tongue. She was glad, then, they no longer shared any more lingering embraces, else he would taste it as well.

And she did not want that. For him, and the guilt he might feel. Nor for her. She was not meant to be so exposed.

Reinette loved the gardens of Versailles. They were one of the reasons that she lingered now. She knew them well, so well that she often partnered with the gardeners in their planning and design. Even now, in the winter with a distinct chill in the air that sent many of the plants to sleep, she could see what they would be. The beauty that would bloom when they reawoken.

She was still just unsure if should be there to witness it.

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

The brisk air was pleasant. A cool breeze always reminded him of the windy air in Cardiff Bay (and he reminded himself again that that was something he ought to be forgetting).

The chill touched his skin and awoke his senses. He felt a little more alive, and really that wasn't something he'd felt at all in a good many months. He supposed in it's roundabout way, that it meant something.

As he walked the gardens they appeared empty, but for the brown of the fallen leaves underfoot. It was a nice contrast against the clouded sky and the fading green of the plants and bushes. It was distinctly Earth-like, and that was nice too.

He saw her before he heard her, a way up in front, and he ducked himself behind a brown twiggy bush, peering across through the branches. From the way she dressed he'd guess he was, what, 18th Century? He wasn't sure. He was far too rusty at this, it had been a very long time.

Across, from the place where he stood, he watched her with interest, and his attempt at hiding was spurious at that. The way she walked, the way she carried herself, it was interesting, and well, Jack always did have an eye for the interesting.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

It was not like her to have such a difficult time with a decision. Though precisely mapped, Reinette still relied greatly on instinct in the course of her days. It was most unsettling, then. And though she had never stepped foot on a ship, she felt at sea.

Something captured her attention. She would be hard pressed to state precisely what, if asked. The flutter of fabric, or a breath that was not her own. Reinette spent the course of her childhood until now attuned to the fine ticking of clocks and what might lurk unexpectedly in the shadows. She was nothing if not aware.

Her gaze moved evenly over a gentleman that was standing most absurdly behind a tree. The purpose of Versailles was to be seen, not to remain out of sight. It was the first lesson one learned.

Which made him a stranger. To both this place, and to her.

And Reinette had crafted that into an art. Knowing.

She was meant to know.

"And you are?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Though Jack could be adept at hiding if he so chose, he'd grown used to doing quite the opposite. The man with a secret organisation that he often ignored the 'secret' element of, to parade around the city like he owned it.

So when he was addressed, he didn't slink back or shy away, why would he? He stepped forward with his hands in his pockets.

Ah, so he was right, French. Well he was a little rusty, but he'd do his best. He should be fluent, if he just remembered how.

"Good question," he answered without answering at all. He looked her up and down without moving his head at all, a quick flick of eyes, appraising and analysing.

"Call me a sightseer," he added, by way of half-assed explanation.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

His accent fully cemented his casted role of stranger in their performance in miniature, and though she was adept in multiple languages herself Reinette chose not to use them. They were in her home and in her gardens. They would use her language as well.

She was accustomed to eyes being on her, both looking and judging. For all that she sat well within Louis' heart, much of the court was less kind. There was a softness amoung the throng when she was first set aside. Not pity or course, or sympathy. Rather victory sensed and the relaxation that followed. But the longer she remained the more they fell into their old ways. Her, and them.

Reinette remained just as she was, her posture unfazed by his eyes.

"A sightseer," she murmured. "Not a profession I have a great deal of admiration for."

And now it was her turn to see him. To sweep her gaze over his form, from the veriest tip to toe. It was not all together an unpleasant experience, and the courtier in her spoke again.

"A pity."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Interesting, Jack thought. He was often the subject of curiosity; the people that noticed him in Cardiff, those who watched and wondered who he was, or those that watched and passed judgement on what he did. He ignored them easily, because what they said or thought mattered little to him. Jack didn't seek approval from many people at all. Save for a rare few, people could think just what the hell they wanted about him.

For all those people that looked at him, though, they rarely looked at him, and rarely so obviously. It was something that in her way, Gwen Cooper had done when he met her. It was something he liked.

It was something that made him intrigued.

"Wouldn't call it a profession," he said with a slight backwards shrug of his shoulders, "more a hobby."

His eyes searched again, watching her pose and her poise. He could tell she had something about her, and that too was intriguing.

"Oh? And why's that then?"

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Though Reinette was attempting to take in the complete picture of the man before her, she could not help but get caught in his contradictions. The captured her like delicate fabric snagged upon a rough, unfinished surface. He stood securely in his space, easily inhabiting it and obviously not unsettled by her presence.

He was relaxed, the casual lift of his shoulders enough to cause the line her her own back to sharpen in retaliation.

And yet for all that there was a sharpness in his eyes. The color, light reflected and refracted. Caught again, but in a different manner all together.

She took a single step, to better study him.

"Because I can have little patience for those that stand on the perimeter of life. That allow of to happen to them, rather than happening to it. Sightseeing."

Her mouth smoothing into something, thought not quite a smile.

"I thought you might prove interesting."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

As she moved, Jack didn't step aside. Not backwards away or forwards towards. But in no way was he passive. One eyebrow hitched up a little, almost imperceptibly so, a slight change of expression before he shifted his stance back to that of his previous; hands down and in his pockets, pushing back the sides of his heavy greatcoat.

The corner of his mouth twisted up in vague amusement and he nodded slightly, "Oh don't you worry, no fear there. I've always been one to--" he gave her another glance, as if he was willing somehow for her to take another step, "--get involved."

He twisted an edge to his words that was effortless and natural. A tease that wasn't really tease, just a part of who he is.

"I've been called it, once or twice."

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Reinette did take the following step. Not at his urging or even the subtle taunt of the noted eyebrow. Rather because she wished it. It was an important distinction.

"But not called it by me. And ultimately, you would surely forgive me for holding my own opinion as having the greatest weight."

She was quite close to judging him unfit to meet the challenges and pitfalls within the tiled hallways of Versailles. But then he teased. Carefully, and light. Though she must also admit somewhat artfully. He might just do after all, if that was his goal in coming here.

Though his wardrobe simply would not do.

"Involved or no, you surely must agree that it is ultimately actions that matter. And thus far I have only seen you hiding -- rather ineffectively I must add -- behind a tree. A poor sightseer at that."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Oh now that was interesting. A woman with a mind of her own, he liked that. Opinions were always best when they were formed by yourself and not by the ideas of others, passed down and whispered along. It was sadly all too rare a quality for someone to believe themselves over words of another. Not that it wasn't useful at times. It made lying very easy because if you said something with enough conviction, people were inclined to believe.

He wasn't sure that was the case with this woman. And that was rather exciting.

His expression changed again, a minute difference. Something that was very almost approving, but not quite.

With just a glance back over his side to the tree he looked back to her and wore a smirk. "Who said I was hiding?" he challenged, "I was just checking out the trees. Seems to me like you've got a case of paranoia. Now why's that then?"

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

"And it seems to me that you are most defensive. Why is that?"

Reinette was not paranoid, she was a realist. But her acceptance of what her role meant and the consequences of her choices was not something she viewed as a negative. Rather it was a key component to her success.


A single golden eyebrow arched.

"What did you learn, then. From the tree that you were examining so diligently."

There, then, was a smile.

"Was it the bark that was most enlightening. Or the branches?"

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Me? Defensive? Not at all."

It was rare, he thought, that you could have a conversation without the words really relating to what you were actually talking about. It was a game he enjoyed playing. He indulged with it frequently with Ianto before, when things were better.

His face broke a little at her dry humour (something else he was accustomed to), a smile that turned into a laugh, and a laugh that involved his whole face; little creases appearing as his eyes as he glances down at the ground and back up at her.

"Oh I think it's what was behind the tree that's a little more interesting," he said with a lift of his chin and a pointed look in her direction.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

The laugh?

Was disarming. Dangerously so. Enough that for the whole of it she simply stood there watching him. And for a full, full second after. She would not go so far as to use the word captivating. But it was something, however vague and undefined.

She was quite aware that mostly likely she was caught looking.

Her own chin lifted slightly.

"I am afraid, sir, that I remain unable to return the compliment. As of yet."

And with that she sank into a curtsy. There was something playful in it, almost mocking.

"Jeanne-Antionette Poisson."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack didn't miss a trick. Despite the odd mix of casual yet solid attitude and stance, he was watching, and watching for every little detail. He was watching and waiting and looking to see what he might find or what he might learn about the woman standing in front of him.

It was a little like he treated people when working out if he thought they were 'Torchwood material', though that at the same time was far from what he was doing.

"Nice to meet you, Jeanne-Antoinette Poisson," he said with a smirk, parroting her name back to her as he watched her move. It was familiar, and in the back of his head he thought he should know it.

He didn't give his name.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Well, then.

As she stood Reinette kept her gaze level on Jack, steady during the entire journey upwards. It was simply yet another perspective to view him in.

And then she took another step. And then another. Followed by and another and even another still until she she had fully circled around his form. To the casual observer it might have looked as if they were dancing.

From near his shoulder she spoke.

"That was most impolite."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Jack moved his arms, dropped them and clasped his hands behind his back. He felt a little as though he were back in the military and lined up being inspected by a superior. So he stood as if he were.

His head turned just so to watch her as she moved, looking at her through half veiled eyelids.

Over the years Jack had adopted many a persona, and there were many he could slip into at a moments notice. And that's what he did now, a sudden yet fluid shift into a suave, chivalrous demeanour.

He turned now, his body animating as he shifted to face her, his hand directed out towards her as though he might shake it.

"Then let me correct that," he said, even his tone containing a smirk, "Captain Jack Harkness."

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

For a moment Reinette stared at the offered hand. That was the second time in mere moments this man had caught her off guard, whittling away at the upper hand her language and her home offered her. For all accounts it might have been happenstance, mere accidents he stumbled into. But something in his gaze made her think not.

Truthfully, he could not have known how his action might effect her. But it was a casual interaction rarely seen in Versailles. And oddly intimate as well. Hand to hand, skin to skin. It was the sort of touch one grew to both suspect and leverage.

But there it was, in his expression. The accompanying voice. Something in it whispered threw her, waking up memories and thoughts that were not entirely her own. Through the years she had come to understand why. But that still made it no less disconcerting.

Reinette slipped her hand into his own.

"Captain Harkness."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

And he could see it, something in her eyes that told Jack he'd derailed her, and even if that was only for a moment, a mere fleeting flash before she seemed to deftly recover, he was pleased with himself.

He hadn't travelled like this in a long time. Flitting between time and place at the push of a button. The last time he had he'd adhered to strict rules in his mind. Fitting in was one of them. Sure, he broke those rules on more than one occasion because what are rules for if not to be broken, but he kept to a code. Fitting in: wearing dress of the period being of primary importance.

But here all that fell to the wayside, and he found himself, in many a way, still copying the man he built his character around for over a hundred years. It ought to infuriate him, he was annoyed with him, abandoned again when he needed him most.

But it didn't, and purely for the reason that he didn't even notice. Had no idea at all how time had turned him into a mimic.

He took her hand, but twisted it in his own to shift the greeting from a handshake to something else. Holding it palm up he took his own step towards her, though there was barely room to, and he lifted the upturned hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against her knuckles.

"So," he said with the start of a smile, "don't suppose you could tell a guy exactly where he is."

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

It was all rather forward of him.

It was much more accepted to kiss the air just above her hand. The actual feel of his lips, warm against her skin was again unexpected. She had not expected to be outdoors so long, and as such her fingers were ungloved. Heat traveled through her fingertips and up her arm. At the very least he had not kissed the inside of her wrist. Then he would have truly not understood accepted standards. Or perhaps flaunted his actions, despite them.

Reinette's gaze flickered to his own again.

Yes, she thought. Flaunted them.

She should be weary of such advances. For all that they could not like her, the men at court also comprehended her position and power. When she first left Louis she had been overrun with both calculated offers and the inept attempt to catch her in dark, shadowed corners. She would do much for their status, they understood. Until it became clear that she would have none of it, and even more? Nor would Louis.

It all left her tired. But she found that in this moment, she did not mind. Perhaps it was the playful, teasing undertones. His almost smile. Or perhaps it was merely that she was a stranger.

She did not know him. But then neither did he know her. It was liberating.

"Versailles, France. The court of Louis XV. Did you not know?"

Her smile tilted then. Something of her own teasing, less practiced.

"Or are we back to your skills as a sightseer. Surely, sure, if it is your aim you should at least be more accomplished in it."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

Despite rules and his (once) importance for adhering to them and the constraints of a time period, there were always parts of his personality that would shine through, the parts that set him apart from those around him. Brazen and unhindered in the way he displayed a sexual side. So much so in fact that in many ways it became almost harmless. Almost, but never quite completely.

It was what hooked people in. One of the many reasons people followed him and didn't stop. It wasn't always a conscious move (though it once had been), but it's who he was, and he wasn't sure he knew how to be any different. It was his identity in a way even his name wasn't. A constant. Without it, he wouldn't be sure he knew who he was.

Gently, and after a longer pause than necessary, Jack released her hand.

"Louis XV? Nice. Very nice. Never been here before," he said with an appreciative smile back down at her.

"Oh I prefer to surprise myself. What's the fun if you know exactly what's coming? Where's the excitement in that?"

His smile widened, and there was a glint in his eye as he looked at her. A glint of expectant adventure, or the tell tale signs of a man that's never too far from trouble.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Oh but that was strange.

And Reinette was educated to recognize it.

Despite the narrow space between them, Reinette allowed her hand to drift to her side as she took a single step forward, effectively cutting their barrier in half. Her face tilted up, studying the subtle shading of his features, where shadows were created and fell.

There was a look to him that put her own edge, though not in an unpleasant way. Awareness was perhaps a better word. She was aware of this man.

"You are standing behind my tree." And yes, to a certain degree Reinette did view it as hers. "In the most private gardens of Versailles yet do not know where you are. That is most strange."

He did not have the look of clockwork.

"Who are you, Captain Jack Harkness."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

"Mmm it is isn't it?" Jack replied, making no effort to argue or pretend otherwise. He was out of place, he knew that. But instead of allow that fact to be a crutch he'd let it be his support. Let it set him aside but perhaps positively so.

"I'm nobody," he tells her in a half whisper. "I don't exist. I never did and I never will. Figment of your imagination. I'll be gone soon."

Should she sense a slight bitter or hurt edge to his words she wouldn't be wrong. For all his bravado Jack is a damaged man. He'd recover because he always did. But this time the scars were deeper even if they didn't leave phsyical marks he wore them on his shoulders.

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

He was exposing himself, however minutely, Reinette recognized. A dance measure in degrees, and finely at that. There was a rawness withing him that she both recognized and understood. It spoke to something within herself.

Jack. Jark Harkness.

She repeated the name within her mind and found it somewhat lacking. It did not tell the story as she saw it. And Reinette was accustomed to seeing a great deal.

"I live in a world where men inhabit my fireplace and clockwork echos at my heels. Things that no one seems to witness, excepting myself. Yet I know that they are real, which I took great steps to prove."

Briefly her hand brushed over his own, in a manner so subtle as to might be an accident. Yes, he was standing there. As was she.

"I do not need my imagination to place you here because you already are. I see you plainly. Whatever you might wish to imagine away, I will not do it for you."

[quitehomoerotic.livejournal.com]

As she spoke, with or without that backbone of his own pain he found himself slowly smiling. She was sharp, more than sharp. Again he was reminded of Gwen but then Gwen never had such a well practised sophistication. She was raw emotion worn on her sleeve and this Jeanne-Antoinette seemed in that sense quite something else.

"Ohhh you're good," he grinned down at her, admiring her way with words and methods of persistance and making no attempt to hide the fact.

"Like I told you," he said, respecting of her enough to grace her with an explanation even if that in itself would be someway off the truth. "Just a traveller. Here to take a look round and see what I might find. Then I'll be off again."

[ambitious-woman.livejournal.com]

Reinette did not blush or defer in the face of his compliment, rather she accepted it as the truth and kept her gaze steadily within his own.

"I am," she agreed, her features once again dressed in an almost-smile.

That was until it compressed itself into a somewhat softer, more thoughtful line. Memories again, both hers and not, swirled like the snow the bite in the air promised.

"What is it that attracts travelers so, to this place. To come and to go." And to leave behind. "You are another one, I suppose. That will take your amusements and yourleave and not be seen again."

It was the closest Reinette would come to speaking about something she held as intensely private. Not even Louis knew, though she knew he suspected there were things she held apart. She knew he was real, had the firmest evidence of that. But oddly enough speaking of his not seemed to promise to make him less so.

"Well then, sightseer of debatable interest -- Captain Harkness -- what shall we do with you today?"