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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"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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"I do," he said as she stood before him. "Especially when I've got good company."
He smiled at her again and nodded, "Come on, lets go in," and he stepped up to the door, opening it and stepping inside before holding it open for her.
He certainly wouldn't forget chivalry now.
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But she could not help but think of more important, and hopefully more lasting changes since they last were there.
In returning from their drive, Reinette could see why Jack favored this place. The light was again lovely, and there was a sense of peace that inevitably followed.
She turned to face Jack.
"I must confess I like the company as well."
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"Oh is that so?" he asked with a half smile. He questioned it, of course. He wasn't utterly there to the point he'd blindly accept that as fact. After all, with all she'd seen, how could he be a pleasing companion?
"Get you anything?" he asked, stepping around her and moving to the coffee table to clear away the left over food (but not before nabbing one of the cold slices of pizza for himself).
"Was thinking maybe I'd show you the television. Trust me, you'll love it."
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She did not make a moment of the statement. Seek his eyes or insist that he understand just how true she held the words. Instead they were light, and almost casual as Reinette moved into the kitchen to turn on the modern, glittering sink.
There was no pressure in her words. To the casual ear the were the sort that got lost easily, never really again recalled when the day was over.
Under the water Reinette rinsed away the sticky remains of the ice cream from her hands. She might be out of her time, but certain expectations remained.
She looked over to Jack just in time to see Jack take a bite from pizza that in her mind was impossibly old. She might of -- indeed she did --actually wrinkle her nose at the thought of what that must entail.
"No," the word came rather abruptly as she still considered the pizza. "Thank you, no. I am fine."
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He stepped around to dispose the boxes in the bin, and paused just to lean around her, stick his hand under the tap, and splash water in her direction before departing with a triumphant grin.
Again, his eyes caught sight of his coat. His gaze lingered on it a little longer.
Often, Jack Harkness was a now or never sort of guy. And well, it was now or never. With a firm stride, he headed over to the couch and lifted his coat. He said nothing of it, in fact he said nothing at all, he merely draped it over his arm and headed from the room and up the stairs towards his bathroom.
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She and the pizza still had certain differences between them. It had ruined one of her best gowns. She did not think they would ever be friends.
However absurd her line of thought, most likely a quiet place for her mind to wander after the events of the past few days? She was abruptly pulled from it at the feel of water splashing in her face.
There was a sound of surprise at the back of her throat, almost frustration. She was always slower at this. The childlike play. She did not know how, really. She never experienced it. So before Reinette could properly make her own stand, Jack had moved.
Gaze intent, she took in his direction. She said nothing, simply watched him go.
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It didn't, of course.
He thought about the day; the little boy and what might have happened to him. He thought about the time gone and the here and now.
The here and now. And wasn't that what he should focus on?
Gently, he touched his hand to his own face. Still looking at his reflection and considering how he looked just a short few days ago. How he'd looked for so long. But that was gone, wasn't it?
He was Jack Harkness, wasn't he? He moved on. It's what he did. He'd done it before, he could do it again. And Reinette? Well, she hadn't run.
He looked down at the coat he'd settled over the sink, and with a decisive nod, he put it on. Put it on and smoothed it down as he looked at his reflection. And he smiled.
Another deep breath, and a few more moments of simply looking, and he was ready again. Ready to go downstairs, ready to move on.
Ready to be Jack.
"Hey," he called to Reinette, that wide smile still on his face, as he stepped back down the stairs. "How do I look?"
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She was not actively waiting for him. Except, of course, that she was. It was strange that for a woman that did not wait? She did not mind.
Her smile lifted her features at his appearance.
The simple answer would be that he looked no different. It really was never about how he looked. And even if it were, the more obvious change had taken place at the park. But he seemed to recognize it now. Or at least seemed to be considering the possibility? And that was important.
Reinette felt her feet walking, circling Jack in a way that was really nothing of her own. Rather an echo of how he once circled her. Her feet felt light.
When she returned to face him hands moved to brush down lines of a coat that already seemed settled. Her smile tilted more.
"Like Jack."
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"Like Jack?" he repeated with a slight sideways grin. He liked that, and he supposed he liked that more than he could entirely understand. He liked being like Jack. He wanted to feel like Jack. He wanted to be Jack and so... he would try.
He glanced down towards her hands and reached his hand out to clasp hold of one of hers before she could pull it away.
"So I look like Jack," he said, his voice lower.
"But lets see..." he lifted her hand and kissed the back of her fingers. "I think we should test that theory."
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Perhaps it was more than something merely in his mind. After all, there was still a great deal she did not know about Jack.
But there was just as much that she did.
That particular smile. The husky timber in his voice and even the way he now carried himself. Reinette's mouth tilted upward even as her fingers curled slightly where he held them.
"Theory, Jack?" She met his gaze fully. "That would imply I am not certain of what I speak."
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"But I still think," he said, lower still, "that everything should be tested." And then a whisper, "Just to make sure."
One hand then, slipped to her waist, and with it there he gently pulled her a little closer. He wasn't certain, no, and his heart raced, but this? It was more than just a test to himself.
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He pulled her close and Reinette felt herself take a half step closer still. She could be nothing but herself. Even still she naturally stopped to allow the expected room required for silks and hoops only to remember they were not there. She could actually feel each one of her fingertips against her waist.
"A test, you think."
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"Can't remember," he said idly. "Did I show you upstairs?" He smiled, slowly. "Because I could take you. If you like."
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She glanced to where his mouth had touched her hand.
"Did you know Jack? That until I met you I had never stepped foot from my own country. London. Wales. And now upstairs?" Reinette smiled and glanced at the stairs behind him.
"I am becoming a world traveler."
Her chin lifted slighted, changing the dynamic of the narrow air between them.
"Show me then, Jack."
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He grinned at her and his heart seemed to race slightly. And yes. Yes, he decided, he knew it then, he could do this. He could be Jack. And was it proving it? Did it matter if it was? Because either way, he knew that he could.
"Well," he said, and he grinned a little. "Lets see..."
And slowly, he grinned. And it was that grin that was an almost warning he was going to do something cheeky. Which of course, he was.
He paused only a moment before he shifted. One arm moved down and he shifted it under her legs, the other went around her back and he lifted her up in on movement.
And he carried her up the stairs.
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"When you were not interesting, if I recall."
Jack had been smiling before. But something in his expression changed and the air that surrounded him seemed to change with it. It brought to bind a certain ruined dressing gown.
And for a moment Reinette was caught in her mind, cataloging drenched dressing gowns and rumpled silk and all the other abuse to her clothing.
And then? She was not.
Her feet no longer touched the floor and she was given a rather intimate reintroduction to the front of Jack's coat.
"...Jack."
For a woman that lived to expect monsters in corners and under beds, he had managed to catch her off guard. He did more than most.
"My feet work quite well, thank you."
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He shot her another grin as he started up the stairs, Reinette firmly carried in his arms. He smiled at her, amused by her obvious and inevitable surprise.
"I'm sure they do," he said with a nod, "but I'm thinking you should put them up a while."
At the top of the stairs he pushed the bedroom door open with a foot and carried Reinette inside. Taking her over to the bed, he gently placed her down on the edge.
"So this is my bedroom." He grinned.
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