![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: No rest for the wicked
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Minor spoilers for Big Finish audioplay “Lives of Captain Jack - The Year After I Died”
Author notes: Written for Challenge 185 - Recklessness at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Summary: Jack was hoping to live out the rest of his life in quiet, relative safety.
At first, Jack had synchronised his cursing with the tempo of his footsteps, thinking it might be a good way to stop his anger and frustration from boiling over, but it didn't last. Soon he had a whole string of endless cursing going on, moving way faster than even his long strides could keep up with. So much for keeping a level head, he thought bitterly between curses, even if there was no one around to hear any of it. How could Silo be so reckless and stupid? Hadn't he already saved her life – twice in fact! – and now she was headed off determined not to thank her lucky stars she was still alive.
She was headed into trouble, that much Jack was sure of. He felt it in his guts, even if he didn’t have any proof, yet he was madder still that he was chasing after her. If she got herself killed, it wasn't his fault. Not really.
‘I mean, how can it be my fault?’ Jack said. ‘I didn't make her go. Okay, so I wasn’t exactly the most gracious of hosts,’ he admitted. He'd made her breakfast – though if you could call reconstituted eggs any kind of meal you were more desperate than he thought. But then as soon as she'd started trying to call him a hero for what he'd done in saving the planet from the Daleks, he'd dropped his plate on the porch and slammed the door, sealing himself back inside his rickety little cabin. She was right, he really was sulking, but not for the reasons she must have thought. She was just a kid, really. What did she know about life and how fragile it was?
He wasn’t a hero, no matter what anyone said. That he'd been up on that game station when The Doctor had destroyed the Daleks was just a consequence of proximity. He'd held off maybe a half dozen Daleks for an hour or two, and that was it. Then he'd been shot by one. He was dead, or should have been. Dalek weaponry wasn't designed to merely injure. It was fatal, and intentionally so. Daleks didn’t take prisoners. They killed their enemies, and everything that wasn't a Dalek, was an enemy.
But here he was, alive. He could feel it in the way his chest heaved from the frustrated way he tried to get his breath under control and the burn in his calves from walking miles back towards the city. Despite the pain, it was a good feeling, this being alive, and he planned on keeping it that way. Someone somewhere had given him a second chance, and this time he wouldn't blow it. He wasn't about to throw himself headlong into danger again. Not like how it had been with The Doctor and Rose, always looking for adventure and finding it – and more – wherever they went. He'd live a quiet life, a solitary life, where trouble and life threatening danger couldn't find him.
‘Like that was ever going to happen,’ he told himself, stomping his steps for emphasis. He couldn't let Silo go and investigate the Hope Foundation; not in the way she planned. Getting on one of their ships to evacuate planet Earth in search of a better life was the thing that worried Jack most. People who left on those ships were never heard from again, so the reports went. At least, if you chose to listen to the reports, which most people didn't. Wasn't that why Silo was so hell bent? She wanted to bring back reporting – real news reporting – and blow the whole thing wide open for everyone to see. You had to admire that.
Still, Jack cringed at the huge cluster of Hope Foundation ships that made up its fleet. Even from this distance he could smell the stench of desperation from the human refugees, mingling with the smoke of burning city ruins, clustered there in their thousands, all hoping to find a space on board. If his hunch – and Silo’s – was right, they were providing anything but hope.
A bot stepped out in front of him, appearing out of nowhere. ‘Name?’
‘Captain Jack Harkness.’
‘Take a ticket from the dispenser and sign the form,’ it said, producing a small paper docket from its chest, along with a data screen and a million miles of fine print with a space to pen his name.
‘Yeah, I don't think so,’ Jack replied, seeing the mile long queue of ticket holders, hoping the lottery would call up their ticket. There was no such thing as a free lunch, Jack knew. There had to be a catch. He wasn't about to sign anything. He hoped Silo hadn’t either, but if he knew her, she already had.
‘Suit yourself,’ the bot intoned, ‘but please refrain from cluttering up the queue,’ it added, hovering away.
Jack stuck his hands on his hips and studied the ship. How to get on board without being a passenger? Shouldn't be too hard. Not like he hadn't stowed away before. Then again… This felt like a really quick way to get himself killed.
‘I don't wanna die,’ he said out loud. But all these people… He smacked himself in the head and groaned vexatiously. ‘This is no time for stillness! We need action! Come on, Harkness. There's brave and stupid or there's…’ He sighed heavily. ‘Nope. Just brave and stupid.’
He marched towards the ship, grimacing at what came next. The waste vents were the one part of the ship that wouldn't be guarded. Plus how many people were crazy enough to want to climb up through there? Not when you could get a real ticket aboard for free. He sucked in a deep breath and reconciled himself with his own fate. There was no such thing as a quiet life. Only sticking your nose in where it didn't belong regardless of the consequences. It's what The Doctor always did.
‘Oh, Doctor, what have you done to me?’
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG.
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Minor spoilers for Big Finish audioplay “Lives of Captain Jack - The Year After I Died”
Author notes: Written for Challenge 185 - Recklessness at
fandomweeklySummary: Jack was hoping to live out the rest of his life in quiet, relative safety.
At first, Jack had synchronised his cursing with the tempo of his footsteps, thinking it might be a good way to stop his anger and frustration from boiling over, but it didn't last. Soon he had a whole string of endless cursing going on, moving way faster than even his long strides could keep up with. So much for keeping a level head, he thought bitterly between curses, even if there was no one around to hear any of it. How could Silo be so reckless and stupid? Hadn't he already saved her life – twice in fact! – and now she was headed off determined not to thank her lucky stars she was still alive.
She was headed into trouble, that much Jack was sure of. He felt it in his guts, even if he didn’t have any proof, yet he was madder still that he was chasing after her. If she got herself killed, it wasn't his fault. Not really.
‘I mean, how can it be my fault?’ Jack said. ‘I didn't make her go. Okay, so I wasn’t exactly the most gracious of hosts,’ he admitted. He'd made her breakfast – though if you could call reconstituted eggs any kind of meal you were more desperate than he thought. But then as soon as she'd started trying to call him a hero for what he'd done in saving the planet from the Daleks, he'd dropped his plate on the porch and slammed the door, sealing himself back inside his rickety little cabin. She was right, he really was sulking, but not for the reasons she must have thought. She was just a kid, really. What did she know about life and how fragile it was?
He wasn’t a hero, no matter what anyone said. That he'd been up on that game station when The Doctor had destroyed the Daleks was just a consequence of proximity. He'd held off maybe a half dozen Daleks for an hour or two, and that was it. Then he'd been shot by one. He was dead, or should have been. Dalek weaponry wasn't designed to merely injure. It was fatal, and intentionally so. Daleks didn’t take prisoners. They killed their enemies, and everything that wasn't a Dalek, was an enemy.
But here he was, alive. He could feel it in the way his chest heaved from the frustrated way he tried to get his breath under control and the burn in his calves from walking miles back towards the city. Despite the pain, it was a good feeling, this being alive, and he planned on keeping it that way. Someone somewhere had given him a second chance, and this time he wouldn't blow it. He wasn't about to throw himself headlong into danger again. Not like how it had been with The Doctor and Rose, always looking for adventure and finding it – and more – wherever they went. He'd live a quiet life, a solitary life, where trouble and life threatening danger couldn't find him.
‘Like that was ever going to happen,’ he told himself, stomping his steps for emphasis. He couldn't let Silo go and investigate the Hope Foundation; not in the way she planned. Getting on one of their ships to evacuate planet Earth in search of a better life was the thing that worried Jack most. People who left on those ships were never heard from again, so the reports went. At least, if you chose to listen to the reports, which most people didn't. Wasn't that why Silo was so hell bent? She wanted to bring back reporting – real news reporting – and blow the whole thing wide open for everyone to see. You had to admire that.
Still, Jack cringed at the huge cluster of Hope Foundation ships that made up its fleet. Even from this distance he could smell the stench of desperation from the human refugees, mingling with the smoke of burning city ruins, clustered there in their thousands, all hoping to find a space on board. If his hunch – and Silo’s – was right, they were providing anything but hope.
A bot stepped out in front of him, appearing out of nowhere. ‘Name?’
‘Captain Jack Harkness.’
‘Take a ticket from the dispenser and sign the form,’ it said, producing a small paper docket from its chest, along with a data screen and a million miles of fine print with a space to pen his name.
‘Yeah, I don't think so,’ Jack replied, seeing the mile long queue of ticket holders, hoping the lottery would call up their ticket. There was no such thing as a free lunch, Jack knew. There had to be a catch. He wasn't about to sign anything. He hoped Silo hadn’t either, but if he knew her, she already had.
‘Suit yourself,’ the bot intoned, ‘but please refrain from cluttering up the queue,’ it added, hovering away.
Jack stuck his hands on his hips and studied the ship. How to get on board without being a passenger? Shouldn't be too hard. Not like he hadn't stowed away before. Then again… This felt like a really quick way to get himself killed.
‘I don't wanna die,’ he said out loud. But all these people… He smacked himself in the head and groaned vexatiously. ‘This is no time for stillness! We need action! Come on, Harkness. There's brave and stupid or there's…’ He sighed heavily. ‘Nope. Just brave and stupid.’
He marched towards the ship, grimacing at what came next. The waste vents were the one part of the ship that wouldn't be guarded. Plus how many people were crazy enough to want to climb up through there? Not when you could get a real ticket aboard for free. He sucked in a deep breath and reconciled himself with his own fate. There was no such thing as a quiet life. Only sticking your nose in where it didn't belong regardless of the consequences. It's what The Doctor always did.
‘Oh, Doctor, what have you done to me?’
