Torchwood: Fanfic: Out of the ordinary
Jan. 10th, 2026 08:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
m_findlowTitle: Out of the ordinary
Fandom: Torchwood
Character: Jack
Author: m_findlow
Rating: PG
Length: 365 words
Content notes: None
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Summary: Jack has conditioned himself to expect the unexpected.
When it came to Torchwood, no two days were ever the same. Some days could be downright boring, buried in a pile of administration or collating data for an ongoing investigation; other days were pounding the pavements in search of clues or someone who'd seen something. Something that they probably shouldn't have. Something that was going to require retcon.
Many days were trudging around the city looking for things that had slipped through the rift, not always easily to find in account of their size, or, perhaps the fact that they had three hundred legs and had wriggled away long before the SUV had turned up at the spot where they should have been.
Other days it was life or death, potential end of the world stuff, that required them to put their lives on the line or risk the entire city – perhaps even the entire planet – from suffering a terrible fate.
Jack was rushing towards the scene, having been on another case when the alert came through. He was still a good ten minutes away as the rest of the team had mobilised and arrived on the scene. Not being there with them always made him anxious. They could be facing something deadly and need backup, or desperately need his specialised knowledge. Or perhaps they really just need someone who could go in as canon fodder, which Jack would willingly, if not gladly, do in order to keep the rest of his team safe and alive.
He was caught in a traffic jam, which only served to make him more anxious, delaying him getting where he needed to be. He tapped his earpiece, requesting a sit-rep. ‘What is it? Alien?’ Jack asked, holding his breath as he waited for a response to filter through his Bluetooth headset.
‘It's a horse,’ came the reply.
‘A horse?’ That took him by surprise. ‘What kind of horse?’
‘Brown. Black mane. Soaked in rift radiation. A bit scruffy but seems to have a gentle nature about it. Don't think it'll be winning the Grand National anytime soon.’
‘Huh.’ The disappointment was evident in Jack's voice. ‘You do this job for over a century and I still expect zebras.’
When it came to Torchwood, no two days were ever the same. Some days could be downright boring, buried in a pile of administration or collating data for an ongoing investigation; other days were pounding the pavements in search of clues or someone who'd seen something. Something that they probably shouldn't have. Something that was going to require retcon.
Many days were trudging around the city looking for things that had slipped through the rift, not always easily to find in account of their size, or, perhaps the fact that they had three hundred legs and had wriggled away long before the SUV had turned up at the spot where they should have been.
Other days it was life or death, potential end of the world stuff, that required them to put their lives on the line or risk the entire city – perhaps even the entire planet – from suffering a terrible fate.
Jack was rushing towards the scene, having been on another case when the alert came through. He was still a good ten minutes away as the rest of the team had mobilised and arrived on the scene. Not being there with them always made him anxious. They could be facing something deadly and need backup, or desperately need his specialised knowledge. Or perhaps they really just need someone who could go in as canon fodder, which Jack would willingly, if not gladly, do in order to keep the rest of his team safe and alive.
He was caught in a traffic jam, which only served to make him more anxious, delaying him getting where he needed to be. He tapped his earpiece, requesting a sit-rep. ‘What is it? Alien?’ Jack asked, holding his breath as he waited for a response to filter through his Bluetooth headset.
‘It's a horse,’ came the reply.
‘A horse?’ That took him by surprise. ‘What kind of horse?’
‘Brown. Black mane. Soaked in rift radiation. A bit scruffy but seems to have a gentle nature about it. Don't think it'll be winning the Grand National anytime soon.’
‘Huh.’ The disappointment was evident in Jack's voice. ‘You do this job for over a century and I still expect zebras.’
