Captain Jack Harkness (
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
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ambitious_woman The Bastille
Relaxed.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
Relaxed was something Jack Harkness rarely felt. In fact the concept of relaxation seemed an alien one to him. But yet here he was, that was how he felt. The muscles in his body were looser than they'd felt in far too long, and pains that had held there through stress and worry had, at least for now, melted away to nothingness.
It was morning, and he opened his eyes to a world he'd come to find he liked. A place that while it was nowhere that he belonged, he'd been surprised to discover that there was a space for him. A welcoming space with a welcoming face. He wasn't sure if it was something he deserved but for once, for a time, he wasn't going to worry about that.
When he woke, beside him he saw Reinette sound asleep. It made him smile and he pressed a delicate and small kiss to the skin at her shoulder. He stayed there a moment, just smiling and watching, and he whispered to her, "I'll be right back."
And so he rose from the bed. His intent was to find food. He'd take a morning walk, just a short one in the pleasant summer morning that he could see filtering through beyond the window, and then he'd venture to the kitchens and procure themselves something.
His clothes were near, and he dressed in them, item by item and then his coat (as if he'd go anywhere without it), and out into the corridors and halls of Versailles he went.
He wasn't on his guard, of course, why should he be? Short of clockwork what need he worry about right now? And really, should he encounter clockwork, he'd merely turn it off. No, here he felt happy, he felt safe, and so that guard he had learnt to keep up, was down.
And so it was his downfall.
He found his way to the rear gardens, nodding politely to footmen on his way (people that usually he made no effort to even acknowledge). But they had noticed him. In fact they had noticed him long before he noticed them. They had been noticing him for quite some time. They had noticed him in gardens and they had noticed him behind closed doors. And Jack had no idea.
And he wasn't prepared.
Entirely unprepared for the troupe of guards that met him in the gardens. It was as though they had been waiting, as though they had sought him out (and they had, of course). And as strong as Jack could be, he was not prepared, and so he could do nothing when he was met with a blow to the head, and another blow that knocked him to the ground. Another and another until he felt metal shackles on his wrists held behind his back and a tear of fabric between his lips to quiet his shouts.
And he was taken away.
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Her hands did not go far, drifting slowly to rest on either side of her with fingertips just catching the sheets. The actual presence of her body remained close to Jack's. He had not gone so far asthat. Ultimately, Reinette remained no further than a single intention of touch away. It was a delibrate decision. Where Jack was ready? She would be there.
Her fingers curled deeper into the sheets to prevent her from pressing him to hard. But she did speak, a point soft but clear.
"Only you just did."
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"You shouldn't be here," he said, though not cruelly. She should be in Versailles, she should be part of her time line, not here, not with him. He who'd placed himself so strongly in her timeline when he never should have brushed it at all.
He tried to move again then, to step up, and he did, but his legs faltered and he slipped almost immediately back down to the bed. He hadn't the strength for it.
He took a deep breath out then. He was still aware of her presence, how it seemed to move the air behind him, and then, finally, he looked back to her.
"Thank you," he said.
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It was the simplest, most direct to his statement. Even if he did not require one. In many ways it echoed her previous one. He did not think he could touch her, only they just had. Jack thought she should not be here, yet here she was.
It seemed the obvious answer.
Reinette's hands lifted from the bed to rest on her legs, curling tighting there to prevent her from reaching out as Jack stumbled. She was uncertain of a great many things still, but a few seemed clear. And bracing his fall in that moment? Reinette suspected it would hurt more than it would heal.
She could feel where her nails cut half moons into her skin through the fabric of her gown. It was the only evidence of the tension her body carried. Everywhere else was smooth, and relaxed.
She said nothing to his thanks. She was a great part of what had caused this and the words did not sit right with her. Instead she merely met Jack's gaze, her own warm and unwavering.
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He was well aware.
And so he watched her, thoughtful. And then seemingly from nowhere he made a decision, and he said quietly.
"I have to go. I can't stay here." And only the briefest of pauses. "Come with me."
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It worked, between them. Though Reinette would be hard pressed to say precisely how.
There was a small, precisely managed moment of quiet. Some might think it would be more flattering if one rushed head long into his offer, seeing no other way but that. But Reinette knew Jack would understand. That she was carefully considering everything, just what it could mean.
Yet she still chose him.
"Yes," she answered, the tension in her hands abating slightly.
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"Thank you," he said with a nod.
He'd come a long way now from the man terrified to even touch her timeline. But then the last year had taken its toll on him. In his mind he assured himself he'd bring her back. He'd have her back and nobody would ever be any the wiser, no matter how long she was gone.
His head turned back again. He looked to the window and it seemed impossibly far away. He still felt tired, still ached, and the bed was what he needed, he knew that. And so he let himself shift back, pulling his legs back up, and moving in the bed to lie back again, the sheet resting gently over him.
His eyes flicked towards her.
"How do I look?" he asked.
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She wondered what he would think, if she told him that.
"You really must cease with those words, Jack," she said then, referring to his thanks. "I am not going to acknowledge them."
Part of Reinette expected Jack to catch them up then and leave, just as he said. She fully understood if he never wished to spend another minute in France. But instead he made a fine attempt of taking over her bed in the old, familiar way. She shifted to allow him to.
"Like yourself," Reinette answered, her fingers moving to push back a few strays hair that spangled on his forehead. "Like Jack."
Only, not quite.
"Except..."
Reinette carefully untangled herself from the bed, moving to a chair that sat on the far side of her room. She shifted a large bungle of grey fabric aside to find something smaller and just as familiar. Returned to the bed Reinette came to stand against the bed, near Jack.
She lifted his arm, placing a careful, quiet kiss to the top of his wrist before returning his wrist strap where it belonged.
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His eyes flicked up to Reinette's fingers as she brushed his hair back. He was incredibly aware of it, and more so than usual, but he made no effort to stop her or to draw back.
"Like Jack," he repeated on a long breath out, settling his head again against the pillow.
He soon looked up again though, watched with a furrowed brow as she moved away and back again. Watched and the realisation dawned on him. He let her take his hand, let her buckle the strap. Like every other touch, he was so much more aware of it. But this was good. He felt less naked, less withdrawn. A little more protected.
He glanced sideways towards her and nodded. He wouldn't say thanks again.
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He had no reason to thank her.
"And there is a bit of grey fabric to compliment it as well," she finally spoke, filling the silence. "When you are ready."
She realized then her hand still held Jack's, and Reinette's fingers laced with his own for a brief moment before guiding it back down to the bed. She placed it carefully there.
"You should rest now."
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"Not yet," he said quietly, and thought maybe she understood that. Her of fans and layers and masks. She knew.
His eyes flicked again, and this time down to her hand. He watched and breathed a deep and heavy breath. Measured to keep an element of control.
"I'm fine," he said, "I don't need it," some sort of weak protestation. And it was good in a way that he could protest at all. It meant he wasn't quite ready to give up.
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And so she purposefully misunderstood Jack's words, reaching for the gentle teasing they once favored.
"Not yet." The actress case just a hint of a confused light in her eyes as she echoed Jack's words. But only just. It would be inconsiderate to wear too many masks when Jack was left with none. The only thing she hid was the depth of her concern.
"What would you do with yourself instead?"
One finger traced along the muscles in his forearm with a gentle pressure.
It was nothing but words. If he followed her unmasked gaze closely enough Jack would see that immediately.
Reinette leaned in to press a kiss to Jack's forehead.
"Rest, Jack."
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His eyes ducked a moment, half lidded, and then back to her. If she might notice it, she might detect the minute shifting of the muscles in his arm, tense and the forcing himself to relax.
He looked to her again and nodded, just slightly.
"Yeah," he said, and he even tried to smile.
He continued to look at her though, not closing his eyes or turning away. "Where should you be?" he asked. Because he knew, a woman such as her had a calendar that was rich and full, and there was little time for being secreted away with him.
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But she did not speak on it.
Instead choosing to meet his smile with a soft one of her own.
"I could be a great many places, I suppose. The list is both varied and dull. Where should I be?"
There was only one answer, and she reached for it between them.
"Here."
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He looked up at the ceiling again, glancing to the cornices and to the walls and the intricacy of the patterns upon it. He noticed them more now.
And then, from nowhere, a realisation and a statement.
"You know what?" he said. "I'm starving."
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Her smile grew notably as she considered. Something less to do with Jack, yet entirely to do with him all the same. One less designed so that he might see it and be assured, but because something in his behavior assured her.
Here was something she could do. Something Reinette could manage, and accomplish.
She moved to sit just on the edge of the bed, adjacent to Jack. It was odd, considering she would soon be in movement again. Taking action. But she was weary of looking down at him. And Reinette knew the comfort in being on the same level as another, especially considering the competitive edge they both honed. It might not be at the forefront with Jack then, but she was certain it never left him.
"What would you like?"
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"Chocolate Eclairs," he said, somewhat defiantly. "Lots of cream, with the chocolate just dripping off the edge."
He let out a small laugh, but it pulled inside, a little uncomfortable, and it faded away to silence.
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Though she logically understood, it made it no less difficult to witness. Why her own view of him was so firm, Reinette was not certain. By the strictest measure their acquaintance was still brief.
She remained perched on the narrow strip of bed adjacent to Jack. There was a fine demonstration of not noticing the way his laugh faded into nothingness, and a hand continued to rest just near his own. Carefully planned but casually done, fingers just touched.
"Pastry it shall be then."
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Usually, perhaps, he'd have some sort of awareness. The way she moved could be so like him. There was a comparison they could draw that they both knew was there. But yet perhaps it was his tiredness, or still cloudy mind, but he couldn't note it now.
And so maybe because he couldn't note it (or maybe his action would have been the same either way), his hand shifted to hold Reinette's close to his. The hand that just touching gently was enough to coax him a little more.
And he smiled.
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In the space of a breath she shifted. It was hardly much. The turn of a wrist. The gentle rearranging of what was already there. Very little changed, other than Reinette quietly and purposefully placed her hand below Jack's. Even though they still touched, Jack's own hand had renewed access to air. His kin might breathe.
"I really should see about your food."
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"Yeah," he said, but there was no conviction behind his voice.
He didn't want her to go.
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"Eclairs," she announced. "Breads and crepes and chocolate and creme."
Her tone was warm. It was not truly what Jack needed, she suspected. But it was a start. Reinette stood then, carefully untangling herself and moving towards the door.
"I will return shortly."
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But then he wasn't sure how possible that might be.
His heart seemed to speed a little, and all because she'd gone. Because she'd stepped away and it was hardly any distance at all. But then he was worried, and were he honest with himself he'd admit that. What if the kings men came here? What if he got taken back again? 14 months in a room alone was a long time, and the prospect of repeating that, even for a moment, wasn't a welcome one.
And so he found himself talking, perhaps even before thinking.
"Don't go," he said on an urgent breath out.
"Lets go," he added, "Lets go now. From here."
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Again, they spoke in words that were questions but not quite. Which left them answers that were clear but not entirely.
Reinette crossed the space between them in three precise strides, half as many as it took to walk away.
"Of course, Jack," she replied quietly, but leaving no questions at all. "We can go now."
How could he wish to remain here, after everything that happened?
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Ne nodded, and tried not to notice how weak he might appear for asking the question in the first place.
At that though, he sat up a little more, the sheet over him falling down a little. He nodded to her a second time and took a deep breath.
"Get anything you need," he said, and with slightly fumbling fingers, he opened his wrist strap to program in the location.
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Anything she might need, he said.
She was a woman accustomed to needed a great many things. Not want. Need. She needed to prove to herself the man from the fireplace was real. She needed to know that she was better than the people of court that would judge her as lacking. And she needed Louis. For a great many reasons. Some complicated, others something more than that.
But it occurred to her then, standing there in nothing but her nightgown that she could think of absolutely nothing in that particular moment that she needed.
Other than to go with him.
Self aware as always, she immediately checked herself. Was she losing herself, somehow. So consumed in his own self and hurts and was disregarding herself? But no, it was what she wanted. And needed.
To go with him.
Still silent Reinette went to gather Jack's coat into her arms, the heaving fabric draping where she held it as she returned to his side.
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