Captain Jack Harkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quitehomoerotic) wrote2009-11-26 04:28 am
quitehomoerotic) wrote2009-11-26 04:28 am
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ambitious_woman Back to Earth, 1750
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.
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.
no subject
Instead as he walked with her he kept his mind on the touch of her hand, and how pleasant it felt in his own. It made him ache in so many ways. It wasn't all bad, not at all. It was nice, to be reminded.
They stepped into the room, half lit and warmth radiating out from the fire. It was comfortable. Much more comfortable than he was used to, and much more comfortable than he had had in years.
"Cosy," he said with a smile and a sideways smirk in her direction, before, again teasingly, adding "so which side do you sleep on?"
no subject
But she was smiling, and very close to laughing again. She moved over to the bed, smoothing back the coverlet slightly. She liked the idea that it would be slept in. That it would be used and her life would be that much fuller for it.
"But do not worry, you shall not have to contort yourself awkwardly to meet my needs. I shall be in my room."
There was an ease between them, and it allowed her to tease.
"Disappointed?"
no subject
He stepped up behind her, and leaned over a little, inclining his upper body in her direction with his hands clasped together behind his back.
"Who said I don't enjoy contorting myself awkwardly?" he asked with a mock level of seriousness in his tone.
He took another step closer, enjoying the repartee. He stood right in front of her again, and looked down to her face.
"Oh I make it my business never to be disappointed."
no subject
Reinette did not say as much aloud. Things were far too new for that. And yet there was still a sense that she could. A sense that was tempting and lovely.
And dangerous.
But Reinette could not mind.
Her smile remained unaltered, and her gaze moved over the expanse of the bed before meeting his again.
"And only think how much space I am allowing you to seek your enjoyments in. Such scope for the creative mind."
One which she had no doubt Jack possessed.
no subject
"And I think," he said with a smirk, leaning in as if to share a secret, "it might surprise even you."
But for all his bravado, it had been quite the time since he'd indulged himself in such a way, and he had no real intention of doing so again, even if it was a part of him; it was a dormant part.
Well, for now.
He glanced back to the bed and her, a pointed over the top sort of gaze. "But then... creativity is nothing if you haven't got anyone to... bounce those ideas off."
no subject
"Only if I am allowed to surprise you as well."
Purposely she allowed the moment to linger. Bodies close and mouths even closer. To leave a person if the space had just grown warmer or if it was the work of the fireplace. The moment stretched on, until Reinette moved quite abruptly to return her attention to turning down the bed.
It was just another form of teasing between them.
"And you have a mattress. Surely there is no better than to bounce both your ideas and person upon?"
no subject
"Well I'm sure I could come up with hours of ideas on these springs," he said with an approving sideways grin.
"But," he said pointedly, and changed his stance, a little straighter, a little less jovial (though in no way overly serious). It was, to a degree, like that chapter was done and he was writing a new one. A new page.
"But," he started again, took a step in her direction. "Not for now."
He looked again at the bed and back to her and said quietly, "I don't sleep much." An admittance. He could sleep plenty, of course. But he didn't. He didn't like the dreams. There were always dreams.
no subject
Her eyes shuttered briefly, remembering. When she looked up her gaze found Jack's once more.
"So much light and noise and movement. We have all that here as well, true. But here it comes from the people, not the places. So bright, and artificial. It cannot be easy."
It said a great deal that she felt that way.
"When we stop, it stops Jack. It is quiet. No humming or clanking to be heard. Just quiet." Unless the Clockwork was nearby. Reinette reached up on her toes to press a brief kiss to Jack's temple.
"You will sleep."
no subject
Even the Hub had never been silent. There was always the sound of an computerised bleep somewhere, a whir from Mayfanwy as she flew around above, or the constant drip of the nearby water, leaking organic through the building.
Silent was alone. Painfully alone and the only noise then was his thoughts. His mind unleashed on thought and memory.
He nodded, and smiled though it was tight lipped. It wasn't so much an agreement as a refusal to argue. He doubted he'd sleep at all, that night.
"Rest well, Jeanne-Antoinette," he said softly, touching his hand to hers just momentarily before adding, "I'll still be here in the morning."
no subject
She watched him through the shadows.
"I shall hold you to that Jack."
And then she was gone.
But only for the night.