Captain Jack Harkness (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
quitehomoerotic) wrote2010-03-20 09:04 am
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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There was a glance over her shoulder, a far too innocent smile.
"But if that is what you prefer? Of course. Lucky."
After Jack's departure Reinette turned her attention to the task at hand and could not help but be slightly overwhelmed. There were more colors and styles within the bag than outside them. A great many in fabrics and styles that were completely unknown to her.
In the end she settled on a dress. While it was still not what she was accustomed to, it at least harked to what she had already managed for London. A soft rose shade and made of prettily finished cotton it wrapped around her before tying neatly at one hip. Other than some embroidery against a finished collar, there were no other adornments.
Jack had been equally thorough with undergarments, and Reinette suspected he deliberately at least gave her some things she would find familiar. There were stockings again, the same style of belt from before. She chose those briskly as well as leather shoes with a small heel.
There might be hair pins somewhere in the bags still unexplored, but Reinette chose to keep her hair down in favor of time as she rejoined Jack in the other room.
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"Want you to be?" he asked, one eyebrow raise. "Reinette, you would be." He shot her a wink, all too knowing, and moved from the room.
He went then to the sofa, sat himself down while he waited. He clasped his hands together and then parted them again before again clasping them; fidgeting away.
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his coat. It was sitting there, abandoned and discarded at the other end of the sofa. He couldn't seem to stop looking at it.
He looked off in other directions, around the room and at spaces on the wall. But it just seemed to demand his attention, and he found himself looking back to it.
Looking back in fact until the urge became so strong that he stood and walked over to pick it up. He held it in his hands as if he were remembering the fabric, just as he was remembering himself.
He lifted it up a little, opened it slightly, but then the door opened, and like a little boy that might be caught doing something he ought not, he dropped it down and put his hands to his hips.
And he cleared his throat.
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Not his empty hands now filled -- or distracted -- with his own hips. Not his stance and the expression in his eyes.
Just Jack.
The whole of him.
Louis probably thought he was punishing him somehow, removing the man from something was was so much a part of him. But Reinette was glad of it now. Glad that it had not been with him. Damaged and most certainly by now destroyed.
It simply would not do.
Reinette chose not to comment on the matter at all, a very deliberate decision.
"Shall we?"
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His expression stayed the same for a moment, before like the flick of a switch it changed; a smile instead.
"You look great," he said, warm and genuinely meant.
Shifting his hands from his hips then, he reached one up, finger outstretched. "Almost!" he said, and dashed across the lounge to the bags of shopping he'd brought in earlier. Inside one of them, a ready made picnic lunch, ready to go. Not that he'd planned it as such, but well, he liked to be ready for all eventualities.
"Now we're ready." he said with a smile and moved towards the door, opening it and holding it for her.
His eyes only very briefly looked back to the chair and at the coat.
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She smiled briefly at the sight of Jack moving about so freely, and as she crossed the room towards the door Reinette tilted her head to study his profile. His attention was on his coat, again, and not on her. She was allowed to fully take in his expression though again he refrained from comment.
Before he could turn back towards her, Reinette stepped through the door and took in the scene before her.
She had yet to step outside, and could not help but notice the differences in the word as she was accustomed to it. The sound of the sea was ever present, breaking over the horizon past an unending line of rocky cliffs.
There was never a moment of true silence, but it was strangely peaceful all the same. She could see why Jack liked it here.
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He moved over and opened the passenger door, leaning inside to put the food on the small seat space in the back.
The car had a hard top, but at the moment it was up. Just a little surprise to show her later.
He stepped back and continued to hold the door open, gesturing towards it.
"Madame, your chariot awaits," he said in an overdone French. He held his hand out towards her, ready to assist her.
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Like something that should be in the sky. Reinette wondered how she had not taken note of it before. There was Jack, of course. The outside world as well. But there was no denying its beauty. Her fingers briefly traced along the finished lines. It was warm from the sun.
At the sound of French pronounced with such proper care, Reinette's gaze returned to Jack with a smile following close behind.
"Thank you, Monsieur," her reply came naturally. Proper and teasing and simple. There was something for it. She placed her hand in Jack's and allowed him to assist her inside.
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For the first time, he felt a little like something was missing without coat tails swishing behind him.
At the car, he climbed inside and smiled over in her direction.
"You'll like this," he said, and he reached out and pressed a button; an electric motor started up and the roof lifted and slowly retracted until it secreted itself away into the boot.
He grinned at her. And he started the engine.
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Indeed she forgot herself so much as to twist and turn within her seat so that she might fully watch as it moved behind them.
It was remarkable.
A fact, of course, that Jack was well away of.
Something changed, then. And the car came to life in a way utterly different than London. She could not know how, or why. Only that they were in no way the same.
Her fingers brushed the seat, feeling the movement beneath.
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For that moment, as he watched her, he could think it was beautiful too.
"Pretty neat, huh?" he said to her before fastening his seat belt and gesturing for her to do the same.
"Hold on tight."
And on that, he put his foot to the pedal, and none too slowly, he careered in the car away from the drive and away from the cottage, fast along country roads and off towards somewhere else.
A journey.
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Reinette watched Jack manage the odd belt and was able to mimic him easily enough, bringing it about her tightly. It was bracing, but not in an unwelcome way. She was a woman accustomed to corsets after all.
She did not hold on, of course. She was not the sort to so that Reinette was not completely prepared for the swift manner in which Jack navigated his way to the road. It was nothing like London. Not remotely.
It was like she was driving her curricle at home. Only this, of course, was Jack. But beneath the speed and the wind there was no denying that delicate dance on the edge on control.
Reinette recognized it, and pushing her hair back from her face she laughed.
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Her laugh warmed him, and warmed him more than he could possibly explain. More really than he could possibly even understand himself.
"Enjoying it?" he asked, calling over to her.
He'd slowed down a little (just a little), a steady pace along a pleasant road. Around them there were fields, the odd house and the odd truck coming the other way.
Reaching over, Jack pressed a button on the panel in front and the speakers echoed into life with gentle music from the radio. Just something else to fascinate her with.
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"Jack --" It was all she managed in reply before thought and sound were swallowed up in mutual distraction.
The air very nearly stung her eyes but she could not bring herself to close them. Every so often another vehicle would press up fast until she was certain they would hit only to pass peacefully by.
And then there was music. Soft, but there. She pulled towards it only to be caught by the belt. But still her fingers moved over the speakers. Reinette could feel the music has it pushed through her skin, coming from a single small point.
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"You know the first time I came to this planet I was fascinated," he said to her. Perhaps for the first time letting on that he was, even if human, somewhat alien.
"To me it was all so old. Out of date technology and strange customs I didn't understand. I loved it though, all of it. Good job really considering how many years I've been forced to stay here, wouldn't you agree?"
The car turned a sharp corner and pulled along a side street where the field beside opened up on a slight hill and groups of people sat on the ground on blankets.
"Here we are," he said as the car pulled up with a little flair. "Lunch."
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"What you much think of France," the words were lightly said with obvious humor. And there was truth in them. After all, she had seen inside the Doctor's mind. And now Jack's London and even this place.
She also wondered why she was seemingly always drawn to those that were so far apart from everything else. The Doctor, the imaginary friend of her childhood. Louis, the king of all of France. No matter what was predicted for her, there was still the fact that he was a king. It was not what one normally reached for.
Then, of course, Jack.
"Is that how you think of it? Forced?"
In light of recent events she might have censored the question. But that was not the way between them.
Reinette reached for the door, curiosity overtaking her and a need to see it for herself. After only one mismanaged attempt she was able to open it and step out of the car.
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He shot her a small wink before opening his door and stepping out. He reached in for the picnic basket and took hold of it. He pulled it back out and looked over the car at her, squinting slightly in the light.
"Well that's what it was. I was stuck. Stuck with nobody I knew and nowhere I knew and I couldn't get out. This thing burned out and I couldn't get away. That and he'd left me. So pretty much, yeah, forced is about right."
He stepped around the car then and offered his arm out for her to hook onto.
"I'm not bitter about it," he said. "It's just how things went. Doubt I'd be who I am now if they didn't."
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It was her only observation at Jack's words, brisk and brief but even some warmth there as she pressed her door closed. A satisfying click followed, and her fingers lingered there again briefly.
But like Jack, Reinette found she was not bitter. Or angry. For all the path was slow it had afforded her a great deal of opportunities and experiences she would not have known otherwise. And like Jack again, she would not be who she was now without them.
She walked around the car to join him.
"That is most opportune, then. As I do seem to have an affinity for you, as you are."
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"Course you do," he said, with some flippancy. "You're a clever woman, you know a good thing when you see it."
He shot her a wink then and started walking with her over to the field. He nodded up ahead. "Pick a spot."
He smiled at her then, and it was all a little freer, slightly less forced and put upon. It was a degree of change though that Jack himself wasn't noticing.
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"Of course, I could be mistaken."
There was an ease about Jack that had not been there before. Reinette wondered if he was even aware of it. She suspected not. If he was she rather thought he would begin to try, again. To push. To push himself that much further and then, hopefully, past it.
Critically Reinette surveyed the scene. It was remarkable in its own way. In France there could never have been such a gathering. People were all together completely careless in the way they presented themselves. Children playing and sprawled on blankets and even to one side a woman exposing herself to the sun in rather large amounts.
Still she found a spot that seemed quieter than most but still afforded a view of the people about them.
"Here, I think."
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"As if I'd ever do such a thing," he said with a wink.
As they arrived at her chosen location Jack nodded. He nodded and placed down the basket, opening it and pulling free a chequered blanket. He lay it down on the grass and offered out his hand to assist her down.
"We've got sandwiches, bits and pieces. Help yourself," he said, being none too helpful with his descriptions.
He sat himself then and pulled from his pocket a pair of sunglasses, propping them up onto his face.
"All these people," he said, "and none of them have any idea. You know that never really grows old."
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Reinette accepted Jack's hand and found it quite simple to settle onto the blanket with out her usual hoops and skirts. It also startled her to realize she had not once longed for them of late. Not in the way she did in London. It was a strange thought.
At Jack's direction she explored the basket briefly, filling a small place and setting it next to her on the blanket. For the moment she did not eat, her gaze instead returning to Jack. She had seen glasses like his once before. They made it difficult to see his eyes but she found she did not mind.
"If you are not from here, Jack, where are you from?"
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Funny.
"Bit of everywhere," he answered almost dismissively. "Nowhere."
And while that in a sense held quite a lot of truth, it wasn't the truth.
He watched her a moment longer and nodded.
"Long time from now," he said, "and a long way too. Tiny little place. Golden beaches as far as the eye could see. The Boeshane Peninsula, it was called."
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Reinette wondered if he even suspected.
Every word. Why that word might have been chosen over another. The tone in Jack's voice. They way they settled in lines about his mouth. What was said and what was not. And she held it all, piecing it together into something that accounted for the man before her."
"The Boeshane Peninsula," she repeated, tasted the way it sounded.
The place where the posters were from, she suspected. But those were mentioned in a moment of distress and she would not mention them now. It remained as it was before. Just another piece.
Reinette allowed herself a small portion of her sandwich.
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He laughed, glancing off, caught in nostalgia.
"Long time ago," he said, shaking his head.
"Where was home for you, Reinette?" he asked. "Back before Versailles."
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She wondered what that much be like.
"Paris," she answered after a moment. "It has never been anything but Paris. It is all I knew, all I have ever known."
Even after her father left they remained there, despite the scandal that it caused. Her mother refused to leave.
"I was sent to attend school, briefly. At a convent some distance away. But I was not allowed to remain there long."
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