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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She pressed her mouth together slightly to keep from laughing at the sight of Jack struggling -- though it might very well be intentional -- with the sauce.
Perhaps it was not intentional at all. For Reinette found when she first tried the ice cream herself she did little better. She could feel the around her fingers as well, already compromised by the sun. But it was also delicious, and much different than the ices she was accustomed to.
"It is a good one. Which I suspect you knew."
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He shot her a slight wink and looked away to the side. A group of children were playing with a ball and one of them kicked it out and sent it off towards the road. A young boy ran after it.
A car was heading down the road.
Jack's next thoughts all seemed to go in slow motion. He could see the car coming, see the child running out, and he could see just what would happen.
And so he ran.
He dropped his ice cream and ran. Ran towards the child and pushed him out of the way just in time for the child to push down to the ground and for Jack to be hit firmly by the car and thrown right over the top of it.
He landed on the concrete ground, feet away.
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There was the ice cream, tumbling and her natural instinct was to catch it somehow. She was too slow and her fingers just crazed the sweet, sticky stop before it fell at her feet. Hers joined it.
Her eyes looked up to see Jack running. And though slower than him she still understood what was about to happen.
Not to the child.
But to Jack.
For some reason there was no doubt in Reinette's mind that he would be there. That he would make it. For all their stops and starts, arguments and separations? The past year? She had no doubt Jack would protect the boy.
Reinette moved to lift her skirts to run and follow only to find they were not there. Her fingers grasped at air even as her feet moved. She was close enough to feel the air and heat created by the collision and Reinette put herself between the car and the child. He was already on his feet, obviously unharmed and doing his best not to cry.
"It will be all right."
That was for them both.
She looked him over briskly, and then her eyes moved towards Jack with far more concern.
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That's what happened here.
His leg was broken, and as he pushed up on the ground, he could feel it. It burned inside like a heat and he'd have to wait to get up. Wait just a little though, because it was mending, and he could feel it.
But there was the boy. Had he saved him? As soon as he could, he looked up. He looked up and saw Reinette with the boy. And he smiled.
A smile that soon faded as feeling started to come back to the pained leg.
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Someone? Reinette presumed her to be the mother. There was a rather sharp tongue lashing intermingled with tears and and embrace that seemed to dare the boy to pull himself from it.
Reinette was pushed from them, and as she looked back at the pair she did not expect he would be allowed from his mother's sight for quite some time. The child seemed to sense them but though he was squirming he was not vocally protesting the matter.
Yet.
Jack.
Navigating the chaos Reinette pushed through the small crowd across to the pavement where Jack had landed. She came to rest on her knees just next to him, the stone rough beneath them. Her hands were sticky but after a moment of chiding herself for the absurd direction of her thoughts, one hand moved to rest on his shoulder. She caught the pained line of his mouth.
"Be still, Jack. Are you all right?"
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"Broken leg," he said next, following up his previous comment. He nodded and pressed a hand to the pavement. He stopped almost immediately. He wouldn't be moving anywhere soon.
"Need to stay here a while," he said, "try and look inconspicuous and it'll heal. I can't have them getting me an ambulance. Just make sure they don't okay? Don't let anyone call."
He ducked his head again and grit his teeth.
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"Call," she repeated, reaching for the meaning even as she did. Yes, she remembered. The phone. "Of course."
A glance over her shoulder proved exactly what Jack meant. Already the driver was out of his car, and working with a small device in his hand. Wasting no time Reinette pushed herself up off the ground and strode over to the other man.
He was obviously distressed. And a great deal taller than Reinette. She had to place one hand on the offending arm and eventually place herself directly in front of him when he tried to walk over to Jack.
He was fine, she assured him. He just needed a moment to catch his breath. The statement was said loud enough for the full crowd to understand and only her insistence to accept no other outcome carried the moment.
Finally the driver reluctantly returned to his car, which was somehow undamaged, and Reinette returned to Jack's side.
"You did not leave a mark, Jack. But he insisted in leaving his information all the same. His insurance?" She glanced back at his leg, concerned, even if her words were light. "Not even a mark. I though you to have a harder head than that."
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As she returned he nodded, insurance details, well he could sort that. He shifted again and turned, attempting to move a little from the road to a move comfortable position.
She spoke and he laughed gently, "I bounce," he said, rubbing his hand against the side of his leg. It hurt. It hurt quite a bit, but it'd be okay.
Glancing over, he looked at the family, the little boy was okay, he was alive and unharmed. And God that made him feel good.
With a smile, he looked back to her. "Just a few minutes and it'll be fine," he said, shooting her a wink.
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Her expression was again one of not quite something or the other. It was not a mask precisely. Nor was it confusion. Merely she was still determining how she would feel. It did warm somewhat as Jack winked at her, but only slightly. There was still concern.
"If that was your rendition of bouncing, Jack? Then I paint watercolors with a most deft and delicate hand."
Which they both knew she did not.
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"He's fine," he said, waving a hand towards him. "I know which I prefer."
He smiled over to her and reached a hand out. "Hey," he said. "I'll be up and walking in no time. This is... this is good. I feel good."
And surprisingly, he meant it.
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Watching mother and son walk away together Reinette could not help but think of how both the Doctor and Jack had intervened in her life on different occasions. Perhaps she might have managed without them. But then yet? Perhaps not.
Her face settled once more into a smile as Reinette reached out to meet Jack's hand with her own. Relief tilted the expression into something far less practiced. She nodded slightly, conceding.
"Very well Jack. You feel good. And? You do indeed bounce. I stand corrected."
And remained a miserable watercolorist.
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"I lost my ice cream," he said, all mock solemn.
He laughed.
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"I lost mine as well."
Though remnants still remained, sticky between their clasped hands.
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He looked down at his leg and evaluated in his mind how much it would have healed. Enough, he suspected. He hoped.
"Lets give this limb a test drive," he said, and pushed a hand against the floor to try and stand. The other, he reached out towards her, automatic, for her support.
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It was his body, and he would hold domain over it.
Their hands clasped Reinette stood first, offering herself as a point for Jack to use as leverage while standing.
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Admittedly, he stood with a slightly shaky foothold, but he stood nonetheless. For a moment he remained in one place, giving his body time to align with the discomfort.
He gripped her hand slightly and shot her a sideways smile before taking a step.
And remarkably, his leg was healed. And perhaps? Just perhaps, so was he.
He stood with his back slightly straighter, a little taller and almost prouder. And he nodded. "Lets go back."
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It only not to bring something self conscious towhat seemed most natural. And right.
If Jack was not aware of it yet? He soon would be.
He did not need her to make that particular point.
"Yes," she agreed to something, if not the ice cream. "We should."
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"We'll have the top down," he said, "air in our lungs and wind in our hair. Can't quite beat the Welsh country air."
Again, he smiled at her, and still holding her arm, he started walking back to the car. When they reached it, he released her arm and walked around, opening up her door for her.
"I'll have to make up for that lost ice cream," he said with a wink. And was that very nearly suggestive?
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Very well indeed. Especially now. There was something knowing and affectionate in her expression.
Her hands were sticky, hr hair already windblown and a part of her breath had yet to return from the initial moment of seeing Jack struck. But none of that bothered her. It failed to even register. And for a woman raised to be nothing if self aware? It said a great deal.
"I am certain there will be more ice cream, Jack," she teased. "You seemed far to enamored of it otherwise."
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"Oh you bet there will," he said, "life's too short not to have ice cream." Beat. "And if I'm saying that? It's gotta be good."
Turning his head back he started up the engine and revved it a little. Somewhat over the top, but somehow that was good.
He set off, driving a little too fast down the tight country roads. "You know that kid?" he said, calling out, "that kid, a week from now? A month? Won't even remember that. But if that car had hit him it could have killed him. Now he'll have a life. Just one little moment like that. Life is full of them, Reinette. Full of them, little tiny moments."
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She laughed softly against it. It could hardly be heard.
Reinette tilted her face to listen to Jack against the wind, tucking her hair efficiently behind her ear. It was instinctual more than habit.
"And that was you, Jack."
She was not entirely certain that he needed to hear it said. But if it did, it was there? If he did not? Just mere words to be consumed by the wind. Reinette turned her face forward again, watching the world speed by.
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He looked forward at the road, deep in thought and thoughtful over the events. Thoughtful over that little boy and how he had felt before. How he felt now. It was nothing precise, but maybe, just maybe, he realised, Reinette was right.
"Yeah," he said, looking back to her, "yeah it was."
Turning the corner, Jack headed back towards the cottage. He felt a little more alive now. It was as though he'd had a kick start. Jump leads connected to his heart.
"So how'd you like the Welsh countryside?"
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Reinette took a breath and tasted the words. All before deciding not to speak at all. To simply let that particular moment be.
At Jack's prompting Reinette refocused her attention on the horizon before her. She thought about France, and more particularly Versailles. Of her gardens. Lovely yes, but also the work required. There was nothing natural there.
"It is beautiful," she finally answered, not removing her gaze. "It is -- it simply is I suppose. It makes no apologies. It is wild and strong and it dares you to change it because it knows you will fail."
She did laugh then.
"I suppose that means I like it."
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"And good," he added, "don't say I never take you anywhere nice. Or anywhen for that matter."
The cottage was close now, and before long he was pulling up the car with a pleasing crunch on the gravel ground underneath.
He climbed from his side quickly and moved to hers, opening her door for her and offering his hand.
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As for the rest?
"Strong, Jack? There is no question. But wild?" Her voice was light and teasing, and then was a smile painted across her features to accompany it. But there was also the briskness that had seen everything -- good and bad -- the French court had to offer.
Not that she had any doubts Jack had experienced the same.
More than she enjoyed this. Being able to tease him again. Did he yet recognize the change?
Once again, Reinette effectively brushed the hair from her face to before accepting Jack's hand and coming up to stand next to him.
"You like driving, I think. A great deal."
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