Fandomweekly Challenge 213 - Vulnerable
Jan. 1st, 2025 12:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: Vulnerable
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, OC
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Pre-canon
Author notes: Written for Challenge 213 - Protection at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
fandomweekly
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack, OC
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 1,000 words
Content notes: Pre-canon
Author notes: Written for Challenge 213 - Protection at
fandomweeklySummary: Jack is on the run and in more trouble than he imagined.
As the bullet whipped past Jack’s ear, just an inch or two from hitting its intended target, he paused just long enough to whip his head around and make an angry point of acknowledging it. ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Is this anyway to treat a pregnant man?’ Another bullet forced him to duck to avoid it taking him in the neck. ‘Apparently it is.’
He pushed himself harder to build up a distance between himself and his pursuers but the gap seemed to be getting shorter, not wider. ‘Who knew a few extra pounds would slow you down this much?’ he said, puffing the words out in between gulps of air, clutching the underside of his belly as if lifting it up might reduce his overall gravitational pull towards the earth. Apparently it didn’t, neither did it make him any more aerodynamic as a bullet clipped the side of his arm and he growled as it tore through the flesh, exiting out the other side. Miraculously that did speed him up. Impending death was funny like that.
‘Over here,’ came a hiss. Jack barely had time to register the sound, nor the person who uttered it. Squinting through the shadows cast by the tall brick buildings he caught sight of a scrappy looking girl huddling in a patch of darkness, only poking out just enough for him to see. Rather than worry about whether they were aligned with the goons currently shooting bullets at him, he ran towards the waif, ducking around a corner and into the shadows before realising the stupidity of having followed her. It was a dead end alleyway. He felt embittered that she was probably going to get paid for having lulled him into a trap.
‘Down here, stupid!’ she hissed at him, already crouching half inside a gap between the base of the building and a small grate. He took one look at the size of the gap, then at his belly, knowing it was a fifty-fifty he was going to squeeze through, but fifty-fifty was better than nothing. With a lot of wriggling and grunting, he managed to navigate his stomach through the aperture and dropped down into blackness as he heard the grate being shoved back into place and then a ‘Shhh!’ as he was commanded into silence. He held his breath as he listened to the heavy footfalls of the gunmen pass by the alley and then disappear off into the distance.
‘Thanks,’ he finally said to the unnamed girl.
‘Are you nuts?’ she replied, switching on a small torchlight and using it to illuminate the immediate area around them.
He shrugged off the comment. ‘I’ve been called worse. Better question though, why were they shooting at me?’ He subconsciously placed a hand on his bulge. ‘Like I don't have enough problems already.’
‘Well, that's obvious, don't you think?’ she said, still quite rude for someone who'd just saved his bacon. ‘Or did you just come down in the last shower?’ His look of confusion must have answered that. ‘You do know it's a crime for any man other than the King to bear a child, don’t you?’
Ah, well that did explain quite a lot. ‘Okay, so firstly, no, I didn't know that. And secondly,’ – more importantly as far as he was concerned – ‘I didn't do this. Three days ago when I arrived I was fine, and now…’ He gesticulated at his belly. ‘Well, let's just say this isn’t fine.’
‘You can't just get pregnant in three days.’
‘Apparently you can. Though the way things are going, it's not something I'll have to worry about for much longer.’ In a few days, or less, he’d be ready to pop, and then being pregnant wouldn't be a problem.
‘What will you do when it’s born?’
What would he do? What kind of question was that? ‘Find a nice family and leave it with them,’ he replied.
She frowned in puzzlement at him. ‘What do you mean? You aren’t keeping it?’
‘Nope.’
‘But it's your child! It must be a gift from the gods to have been bestowed upon you. Only the King–’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, cutting her off. Big deal about the King being the only man allowed to conceive. Didn't mean it didn't happen. Just meant that they hunted you down and shot you the minute they saw you, if his lived experience was anything to go by.
He couldn’t picture himself bringing up a child in this world, giving it every ounce of love and devotion he had within him, reading it bedtime stories and holding it close, and constantly reiterating the words, “I’m here for you, no matter what,” into its ear.
Did he feel guilty at his complete lack of paternal instincts? Sure, but he was also inherently practical most of the time. Jack Harkness, purveyor of the universe, intergalactically recognised conman and general miscreant was not single dad material. He was barely monogamous couple material, and scarcely more the complete antithesis of the perfect family man.
The girl’s expression softened. ‘Well, you can stay here until it’s born. You’ll be safe here.’
He looked around. ‘Where is here?’
‘The subway. No one has used it in a hundred years. Not since they invented anti-gravity pods.’ Jack had noticed a lot of aerial traffic but very few places he visited had dispensed with alternative forms of transport altogether. Even the most advanced civilizations still had their lower classes who couldn’t afford such luxuries. ‘I can stay with you,’ she offered. ‘Keep you safe until then.’
Jack bristled. ‘I don't need anyone’s protection.’ Even as he said it he slumped heavily back against the brickwork, sliding down it. He was suddenly exhausted, all his adrenaline having dissipated.
‘You need rest,’ she replied, shucking off her coat and easing him down until he was lying with it propped under his head. ‘Sleep,’ she insisted. ‘We’ll figure out the rest later,’ and without argument, he felt his eyes slip gratefully shut.
As the bullet whipped past Jack’s ear, just an inch or two from hitting its intended target, he paused just long enough to whip his head around and make an angry point of acknowledging it. ‘Hey!’ he shouted. ‘Is this anyway to treat a pregnant man?’ Another bullet forced him to duck to avoid it taking him in the neck. ‘Apparently it is.’
He pushed himself harder to build up a distance between himself and his pursuers but the gap seemed to be getting shorter, not wider. ‘Who knew a few extra pounds would slow you down this much?’ he said, puffing the words out in between gulps of air, clutching the underside of his belly as if lifting it up might reduce his overall gravitational pull towards the earth. Apparently it didn’t, neither did it make him any more aerodynamic as a bullet clipped the side of his arm and he growled as it tore through the flesh, exiting out the other side. Miraculously that did speed him up. Impending death was funny like that.
‘Over here,’ came a hiss. Jack barely had time to register the sound, nor the person who uttered it. Squinting through the shadows cast by the tall brick buildings he caught sight of a scrappy looking girl huddling in a patch of darkness, only poking out just enough for him to see. Rather than worry about whether they were aligned with the goons currently shooting bullets at him, he ran towards the waif, ducking around a corner and into the shadows before realising the stupidity of having followed her. It was a dead end alleyway. He felt embittered that she was probably going to get paid for having lulled him into a trap.
‘Down here, stupid!’ she hissed at him, already crouching half inside a gap between the base of the building and a small grate. He took one look at the size of the gap, then at his belly, knowing it was a fifty-fifty he was going to squeeze through, but fifty-fifty was better than nothing. With a lot of wriggling and grunting, he managed to navigate his stomach through the aperture and dropped down into blackness as he heard the grate being shoved back into place and then a ‘Shhh!’ as he was commanded into silence. He held his breath as he listened to the heavy footfalls of the gunmen pass by the alley and then disappear off into the distance.
‘Thanks,’ he finally said to the unnamed girl.
‘Are you nuts?’ she replied, switching on a small torchlight and using it to illuminate the immediate area around them.
He shrugged off the comment. ‘I’ve been called worse. Better question though, why were they shooting at me?’ He subconsciously placed a hand on his bulge. ‘Like I don't have enough problems already.’
‘Well, that's obvious, don't you think?’ she said, still quite rude for someone who'd just saved his bacon. ‘Or did you just come down in the last shower?’ His look of confusion must have answered that. ‘You do know it's a crime for any man other than the King to bear a child, don’t you?’
Ah, well that did explain quite a lot. ‘Okay, so firstly, no, I didn't know that. And secondly,’ – more importantly as far as he was concerned – ‘I didn't do this. Three days ago when I arrived I was fine, and now…’ He gesticulated at his belly. ‘Well, let's just say this isn’t fine.’
‘You can't just get pregnant in three days.’
‘Apparently you can. Though the way things are going, it's not something I'll have to worry about for much longer.’ In a few days, or less, he’d be ready to pop, and then being pregnant wouldn't be a problem.
‘What will you do when it’s born?’
What would he do? What kind of question was that? ‘Find a nice family and leave it with them,’ he replied.
She frowned in puzzlement at him. ‘What do you mean? You aren’t keeping it?’
‘Nope.’
‘But it's your child! It must be a gift from the gods to have been bestowed upon you. Only the King–’
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, cutting her off. Big deal about the King being the only man allowed to conceive. Didn't mean it didn't happen. Just meant that they hunted you down and shot you the minute they saw you, if his lived experience was anything to go by.
He couldn’t picture himself bringing up a child in this world, giving it every ounce of love and devotion he had within him, reading it bedtime stories and holding it close, and constantly reiterating the words, “I’m here for you, no matter what,” into its ear.
Did he feel guilty at his complete lack of paternal instincts? Sure, but he was also inherently practical most of the time. Jack Harkness, purveyor of the universe, intergalactically recognised conman and general miscreant was not single dad material. He was barely monogamous couple material, and scarcely more the complete antithesis of the perfect family man.
The girl’s expression softened. ‘Well, you can stay here until it’s born. You’ll be safe here.’
He looked around. ‘Where is here?’
‘The subway. No one has used it in a hundred years. Not since they invented anti-gravity pods.’ Jack had noticed a lot of aerial traffic but very few places he visited had dispensed with alternative forms of transport altogether. Even the most advanced civilizations still had their lower classes who couldn’t afford such luxuries. ‘I can stay with you,’ she offered. ‘Keep you safe until then.’
Jack bristled. ‘I don't need anyone’s protection.’ Even as he said it he slumped heavily back against the brickwork, sliding down it. He was suddenly exhausted, all his adrenaline having dissipated.
‘You need rest,’ she replied, shucking off her coat and easing him down until he was lying with it propped under his head. ‘Sleep,’ she insisted. ‘We’ll figure out the rest later,’ and without argument, he felt his eyes slip gratefully shut.
