quitehomoerotic: (S3 : Lost inside)
Jack sat in his office, empty and alone. The Hub seemed bigger today. It seemed colder. If he listened he could hear the cold echo of water in the distance, dripping and flowing through pipes and against cold stone. It was late and the city above was sleeping, recharging ready for a new day.

Had the day gone how he'd have expected he'd have likely been with Ianto right now. Perhaps at his flat or here. He wouldn't have been sitting trapped and lost within his own thoughts, staring at a phone on his desk as thought it were about to perform a song and dance routine for him.

He leaned back in his chair, his fingers lightly touching his lips, and he breathed out heavy and long. He'd met a young girl that day, fallen through the rift. It was an easy one. She wasn't hurt or damaged and all he had to do was send her home. But then things never were so simple.

She'd awakened memories in him. Memories of a past and of a woman he tries not to think about. And words echo in his head, "Call her."

So it's with a fistful of courage that he finally picked up the phone and dialed the London number for Mina Harker. And he waited as it rang. Waited to hear her voice.
quitehomoerotic: (Serious : Meaningful)
It's early evening and in the half light the Bay has a comfortable quiet. Jack sent the team off to have a little social time. They've all worked so hard lately and they could do with it. He went for a walk, somewhere with a high roof and a vantage point for him to look over the city.

He's back on his way home now, taking a slow stroll down Lloyd George Avenue and back towards Butetown and the Bay. Outside the Millennium centre are couples and people milling around, all preparing for an evening of entertainment. It makes Jack smile as he seems them all, all safe in this city he loves so much.

On his way across the Plass he takes a slight de-tour to one of the poster boards, to take a look at just what these people are waiting to see. The sight before him though is not one he expects, and one he's far from prepared for.

The face is familiar, oh so familiar, and his breath gets caught in his chest, taking him a moment or two to realise he isn't breathing at all.

"It can't be," he whispers, but there's nobody there to listen.

Jack's eyes are swimming and he's glued to the spot. This can't be right, he's sure this can't be right. Just an odd co-incidence. Someone who happens to look similar. It has to be. It can't be her.

But it doesn't hurt to make sure. So instead of back to the Hub, Jack heads into the Millennium center and with the aid of the word 'Torchwood', he goes backstage.


quitehomoerotic: (Default)
Captain Jack Harkness

July 2011

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