![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: A hero's welcome
Fandom: Torchwood / Doctor Who
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Set between DW - Parting of the Ways and TW LOCJ - The Year After I Died.
Author notes: Written for Challenge 162 - Hero at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Summary: All Jack wants is to quietly enjoy what’s left of his life.
‘Captain Harkness! Captain Harkness!’ The voice of a young woman called out from behind him.
Jack scowled and kept walking. ‘I told you people, I'm not interested in doing your stupid interviews.’
‘I don't want an interview. I want your help.’
Jack let out a vexed sigh. ‘I don’t do help. I’m retired from the helping business.’
Three days ago he'd finally managed to get himself off the Dalek game station and use his vortex manipulator to teleport himself back to Earth. It hadn't been easy. Something up there had been jamming signals, preventing him from getting a lock on any coordinates outside of the station. Small wonder, he thought. Once you were up there, you didn't leave until you were dead. He didn't really believe anyone left the game station a winner with all their prize money. Most never left at all. It was a death chamber in all but name.
Earth was a mess, but he’d never been so glad to see terra firma in all his life. He could have kissed it were it not for the fact that he realised the Doctor and Rose had left without him. He’d waited up there nearly a month before realising they weren’t coming back for him. They’d saved everyone from the Daleks but no one was coming back to save him.
As he began wandering down the unrecognisable streets of London, he caught glimpses of people giving him sideways glances, whispering in hushed tones once they’d passed him by. Some simply stopped and gaped at him. It made him uncomfortable. He’d cheated death and now their stares made him fear for his continued survival. He’d come so close to death up there that he never wanted to face that again. Life was all he had.
One lady grabbed his arm and he startled at the sudden touch.
‘Excuse me. Can we get your autograph? I think I've… Phil, we managed to find some paper, didn't we?’ she asked, rifling through a meagre satchel of possessions.
‘Nah, no paper. All got burned in the fires, remember?’
‘Bugger. Still, I've got a pen. Maybe you could just autograph my arm instead. We saw you on the TV on that "How to Look Good Naked" program. You blew up Trinny and Susannah.’
‘Who cares?’ her husband said. ‘We've all been wanting to blow those two up for years. They're never happy until they've removed at least six body parts. Most of those desperate hags on that show couldn't be improved. Not unless you removed their heads as well.’
Jack suddenly realised why people were staring at him. They’d seen him on their televisions and they still thought everything they’d seen was scripted. It made him mad.
‘Listen to yourselves!’ Jack cried. ‘Those people who went up there died. They were murdered and you just lap it up because it makes good television! The Daleks wanted you all dead, killing you one reality TV show at a time across hundreds of dedicated channels.’
‘Yeah, but you stopped them, didn't you?’
‘Best bad arse telly I've seen in years,’ someone else added who’d come to join the conversation. ‘Are they making a sequel?’
‘Don't you understand?’ Jack pleaded. ‘It was real. I nearly died up there.’ He should have been dead. He was sure he'd been killed, and yet here he was, alive and whole. Everything he'd been through and these people all still thought it was just for show.
‘Your ratings are, like, off the charts. Everyone's talking about you.’
He pushed past them, only to find a second, much larger surge of people headed towards him, shoving recorders and cameras in his face as they peppered him with questions.
‘Captain Harkness! How does it feel to be a hero? Tell us how many Daleks did you kill? Has the invasion been stopped? What will you do now? Will you be running for President?’ The questions all began to blur as they grew louder and more insistent, all demanding answers.
How much of what had happened on the game station had they all seen? He'd assumed it was only televising the rooms where they broadcast their shows from, but at least some of the fire fight must have been caught on camera and reached earth. It should have been a wake up call yet it seemed they were more interested in the hype they could create.
‘No comment,’ he said, trying to weave away from them but the more he did, the more people swarmed around him. ‘I said, no comment!’ He shoved someone out of his way and jogged to get away from them.
In the three days since, he’d tried and failed to find somewhere – anywhere – he could hide from them. Everyone had an opinion on him, and most seemed to think he’d saved the day. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The Doctor had saved them. Jack had merely held the fort. He swallowed hard, remembering being shot by that Dalek. I’m alive but I should be dead, his mind kept telling him.
‘Please, you have to help me,’ the young woman insisted, still following after him.
He rounded the corner, trying to shake her off. ‘No, I don't.’
‘You're my only hope.’
‘Then I suggest you give up on hope. Just be glad you're still alive. Go live your life. It’s all you have. It’s all any of us have.’
He stared out at the vista ahead of him. He’d reached the outskirts of the city; miles and miles of desolate nothing, rubble and ruin. Out there was what had once been a warzone. Now it looked like salvation. He made long strides in that direction, ignoring the rusted out signs that read "keep out" and "danger".
‘Wait!’ she called out. ‘You can't go out there! That area is no man's land. It's riddled with Dalek land mines!’
‘Good!’ he shouted back without turning his head. ‘Maybe I'll get some peace out there,’ he said to himself.
Fandom: Torchwood / Doctor Who
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Set between DW - Parting of the Ways and TW LOCJ - The Year After I Died.
Author notes: Written for Challenge 162 - Hero at
fandomweekly Summary: All Jack wants is to quietly enjoy what’s left of his life.
‘Captain Harkness! Captain Harkness!’ The voice of a young woman called out from behind him.
Jack scowled and kept walking. ‘I told you people, I'm not interested in doing your stupid interviews.’
‘I don't want an interview. I want your help.’
Jack let out a vexed sigh. ‘I don’t do help. I’m retired from the helping business.’
Three days ago he'd finally managed to get himself off the Dalek game station and use his vortex manipulator to teleport himself back to Earth. It hadn't been easy. Something up there had been jamming signals, preventing him from getting a lock on any coordinates outside of the station. Small wonder, he thought. Once you were up there, you didn't leave until you were dead. He didn't really believe anyone left the game station a winner with all their prize money. Most never left at all. It was a death chamber in all but name.
Earth was a mess, but he’d never been so glad to see terra firma in all his life. He could have kissed it were it not for the fact that he realised the Doctor and Rose had left without him. He’d waited up there nearly a month before realising they weren’t coming back for him. They’d saved everyone from the Daleks but no one was coming back to save him.
As he began wandering down the unrecognisable streets of London, he caught glimpses of people giving him sideways glances, whispering in hushed tones once they’d passed him by. Some simply stopped and gaped at him. It made him uncomfortable. He’d cheated death and now their stares made him fear for his continued survival. He’d come so close to death up there that he never wanted to face that again. Life was all he had.
One lady grabbed his arm and he startled at the sudden touch.
‘Excuse me. Can we get your autograph? I think I've… Phil, we managed to find some paper, didn't we?’ she asked, rifling through a meagre satchel of possessions.
‘Nah, no paper. All got burned in the fires, remember?’
‘Bugger. Still, I've got a pen. Maybe you could just autograph my arm instead. We saw you on the TV on that "How to Look Good Naked" program. You blew up Trinny and Susannah.’
‘Who cares?’ her husband said. ‘We've all been wanting to blow those two up for years. They're never happy until they've removed at least six body parts. Most of those desperate hags on that show couldn't be improved. Not unless you removed their heads as well.’
Jack suddenly realised why people were staring at him. They’d seen him on their televisions and they still thought everything they’d seen was scripted. It made him mad.
‘Listen to yourselves!’ Jack cried. ‘Those people who went up there died. They were murdered and you just lap it up because it makes good television! The Daleks wanted you all dead, killing you one reality TV show at a time across hundreds of dedicated channels.’
‘Yeah, but you stopped them, didn't you?’
‘Best bad arse telly I've seen in years,’ someone else added who’d come to join the conversation. ‘Are they making a sequel?’
‘Don't you understand?’ Jack pleaded. ‘It was real. I nearly died up there.’ He should have been dead. He was sure he'd been killed, and yet here he was, alive and whole. Everything he'd been through and these people all still thought it was just for show.
‘Your ratings are, like, off the charts. Everyone's talking about you.’
He pushed past them, only to find a second, much larger surge of people headed towards him, shoving recorders and cameras in his face as they peppered him with questions.
‘Captain Harkness! How does it feel to be a hero? Tell us how many Daleks did you kill? Has the invasion been stopped? What will you do now? Will you be running for President?’ The questions all began to blur as they grew louder and more insistent, all demanding answers.
How much of what had happened on the game station had they all seen? He'd assumed it was only televising the rooms where they broadcast their shows from, but at least some of the fire fight must have been caught on camera and reached earth. It should have been a wake up call yet it seemed they were more interested in the hype they could create.
‘No comment,’ he said, trying to weave away from them but the more he did, the more people swarmed around him. ‘I said, no comment!’ He shoved someone out of his way and jogged to get away from them.
In the three days since, he’d tried and failed to find somewhere – anywhere – he could hide from them. Everyone had an opinion on him, and most seemed to think he’d saved the day. Nothing could have been further from the truth. The Doctor had saved them. Jack had merely held the fort. He swallowed hard, remembering being shot by that Dalek. I’m alive but I should be dead, his mind kept telling him.
‘Please, you have to help me,’ the young woman insisted, still following after him.
He rounded the corner, trying to shake her off. ‘No, I don't.’
‘You're my only hope.’
‘Then I suggest you give up on hope. Just be glad you're still alive. Go live your life. It’s all you have. It’s all any of us have.’
He stared out at the vista ahead of him. He’d reached the outskirts of the city; miles and miles of desolate nothing, rubble and ruin. Out there was what had once been a warzone. Now it looked like salvation. He made long strides in that direction, ignoring the rusted out signs that read "keep out" and "danger".
‘Wait!’ she called out. ‘You can't go out there! That area is no man's land. It's riddled with Dalek land mines!’
‘Good!’ he shouted back without turning his head. ‘Maybe I'll get some peace out there,’ he said to himself.
