| Date: 15 December 2007
Characters: Rowan Tyler, Jack Harkness Location: a club, outside Link to IJ: thread #7291 |
 Rowan walked through his office door, munching on a piece of toast, juggling his coffee, and a report.
Unfortunately the door he walked through did not lead him into his office. It led him into a brightly lit room with disco balls and thrumming music. Piece of toast still in his mouth, Rowan looked right. Rowan looked left. Rowan sighed around the toast and muttered "Bugger" |
 The club wasn't one of Jack's regular haunts, but Tosh's reports had indicated heightened rift activity in the area, and hey, might as well make the most of being there. Dancing was never - well, almost never - a bad thing, and...okay, the guy with the toast wasn't usual, but he was stunning.
Flashing his best smile, Jack made his way closer, just in time to hear the muttered word that widened his smile into a grin, and then laughter. "Is that an offer or an invitation?" |
| Rowan switched the toast from his mouth to the hand holding his coffee and stared at Jack, with recognition but complete surprise, "Jack?" |
| O....kay. Jack's smile froze for a second while he searched his memory, but, no, definitely not got any recollection of this one. And he'd remember this guy, because he was really cute.
"That's me." |
| Rowan grinned suddenly, "That answers my second question. Sorry, I knew you in. Hard to explain, but. Really glad to see you."
He put down his papers, showing the Torchwood symbol on the top of the grey folder. He put his coffee and toast on top of the folder and held his hand out to Jack. "I'd hug you, but I've met you." |
| "And that's meant to stop you?" The flirt level was on automatic while Jack's brain tried to reconcile the complete stranger with Torchwood - and coffee and toast in a Cardiff nightclub - and failed completely.
He took the hand anyway, because, hey, still cute. "Sorry, I really, definitely don't remember you." |
| "Only because you grabbing my arse would be awkward," he bit his lip flirtaously, smiling and still really warm, "No, you wouldn't, we met. I'm not fro- Well. I'm not from th-" He tilted his head at Jack, "I'm Rowan Tyler, it's nice to meet you." |
| "Awkward for who, exactly?" Not for Jack, except the stranger was turning into complicated with every word, and okay, maybe awkward after all. "Captain Jack Harkness, though you know that, you say. Got the advantage over me." |
| "I do. Which is why I have to ask- what are you doin' here? In this time, I mean. Wait. What time is it? I was just heading into my office in London." |
| London. Shit, the rift activity really was stepping up. Jack made a mental note to tell Tosh that her reports were getting more accurate. "The year of our lord 2007, last I check - or, you know, someone's lord."
Wait. He'd missed something. "Tyler?" |
| "2008," he frowned more, "Why did you leave 1941?" He made a face then, "Yeah, Pete Tyler's my father." |
| This was definitely not a conversation to be having in the corner of a club, music pounding in time with his heartbeat. Kind of handy the DJ had switched to a faster pace, because that announcement had Jack completely thrown for a loop. "I think we're gonna need to move this someplace quieter. Back to my place?" |
| "Sure," he frowned, picking up his papers and food. He finished the toast swiftly, swallowing before asking, "Where are we?" |
| "Good question. I came in from Cardiff, but now...anyone's guess." And a guess that Jack intended to turn to knowledge as soon as he could, grateful he'd not bothered checking his coat in at the cloakroom. "Wanna come find out, Rowan Tyler?" |
| "There's a rift in Cardiff in the other..." He frowned, then grinned at Jack, "You have no idea how much I want to find out, Captain." |
| Jack sternly told his libido that it wasn't time to come out and play, and slung an arm around Rowan's shoulders. "There's a rift in Cardiff. Let's go find out where it landed us."
Good job the door was this side of the dance floor, too, because as much as Jack wanted to get Rowan on a dance floor, that would lead to serious distractions and not many answers. |
| "There isn't a rift in Cardiff," Rowan frowned, leaning into Jack automatically because it was comfortable and familiar, "Not on this side of the Void." |
| "That depends which side of the Void we're on," Jack told him sternly, skirting a couple that were going to get tripping over sooner or later, and leaving the immediacy of noise behind them as they found the corridor. |
| "Well. No. You have to be from this side of the void or you'd recognize me," Rowan started to worry, wrapping an arm around Jack's waist to get closer and lowering his voice. "Unless this is before you met us in which case...why are you in 2007?" |
| "Trust me, there's one where I came from," Jack repeated. "And I've not met you before tonight, I know that, because I'd definitely remember you." |
| "Stop flirting with me, I'm trying to be serious," he dismissed, ignoring the blush that covered his face, "Do you know the Doctor?" |
| "The one you sounded like just now?" Jack grinned, not letting the twist at the sound of the Doctor's name into his voice, choosing to dwell instead on that blush, and wow, this man hadn't known him long if that was all it took to get a blush. "I knew him. A long time ago, now." |
| "Then why don't you know me?" he asked slowly, "I met you first. During the Blitz. You taught me to dance." He reached for Jack's wrist computer. |
| "Not me." The denial was as instinctive as withdrawing his wrist, out of reach. "Not that I wouldn't love to have taught you to dance, but the Blitz? No. That was Algy, and then there was the Doctor." His voice softened. "And Rose."
Stepping through the door into the cold night air, he was somewhat relieved to see that the street at least still looked like Cardiff. |
| Rowan looked around, frowning, "Not London." he sniffed the air, making a face, "Cardiff? Look it. ...Who the hell is Rose? I remember Algy." |
| Jack pushed his free hand into his pocket, not letting go of Rowan. Not looking at him, either. "Rose was travelling with the Doctor." He swallowed, eyes fixed on the middle distance. "She's dead." |
| "How?" he asked softly, rubbing Jack's waist soothingly with the arm around him. He was worried; both for Jack and for the Doctor. |
| It should have felt stranger to feel Rowan trying to soothe him, but where Rose was concerned, Jack wasn't going to object. Hell, he wasn't going to object to Rowan touching him at all. "Torchwood Tower, the Battle of Canary Wharf. Her name was on the list..." |
| Rowan stopped stroking Jack and went a little still, face going a little blank, "Sucked into the void, along with a parent? Jack Tyler?" |
| That was a possibility Jack hadn't even let himself hope for, but...no. He still wouldn't. Couldn't. "Jackie Tyler was her mother, she...that's what I wanted to talk to you about." |
| "Jackie Tyler was my mum. What about her?" |
| "Let's get out of this cold, okay?" That was getting too much to discuss in public, and if this was Jack's Cardiff, the SUV wouldn't be far away. |
| Rowan wrapped his arms around himself, empty coffee cup turned on it's side. He lifted his chin, squared his shoulders and nodded, "Right. Where are we going, Captain?" |
| "If I'm in luck, I've got a car nearby." Jack let go, a little reluctantly, and pushed his other hand into his pocket. "If I'm not, we're heading to the tourist information office." |
| Rowan snorted, "I think if you're not in luck then we're a little more lost than the Tourist Information Center is going to be able to help us with." |
| "You'd be surprised." Though hopefully he wouldn't need to be. |
| "Why would I be surprised?" |
| "If I told you that, you wouldn't be surprised." |
| "Jack," he warned lightly, hand going to Jack's wrist with familiarity. |
| Jack blinked, looking down at that hand. He couldn't even remember last time someone had said his name that way. With a warning they meant, not flavoured with laughter that just said 'oh, it's Jack being Jack again'.
He had a suspicion that it had been the Doctor. "It's not just for terrestrial tourists." |
| "Extra- terrestial ones too?" he inquired, sounding genuinely pleased. |
| "Unofficially," Jack agreed, and then stopped at the corner of the street, looking first one way, then the other.
No sign of the SUV. No sign of anything he'd recognize as Cardiff. |
| "Not where you were hoping?" Rowan followed Jack's gaze. He tossed his coffee cup in a nearby bin, "All right. Tourist information center, then?" |
| "Little hitch," Jack said slowly. "That was Cardiff. This...isn't." |
| "What is this then?" |
| "Good question." Jack checked his wrist computer, and came up with nothing. Not that he'd expected much, functionality was strictly limited and he'd never been able to fix it fully.
Well, since it didn't seem likely they'd be getting anywhere more private any time soon...He swung around, facing Rowan directly. "Okay, Rowan Tyler, here's my reality. I was in 1941 for the second time running a con, and I picked up this fantastic girl - literally picked up - hanging from a barrage balloon wearing a Union Jack shirt in the middle of an air raid." He chuckled. "Now, that's style." |
| Rowan ran his free hand through his hair, mussing it up. "First time I was in 1941 I got separated from the Doctor, got picked up by a barrage balloon during an air raid and rescued by this guy in a Chulan Warship. Jack." |
| "Okay. I'm gonna go out on a limb here and guess that's me, right?" Jack arched an eyebrow, and waited. It made sense, in a twisted kind of way, and in another, it really, really didn't. Because that meant that Rowan was - is - would be - Rose. Kind of. |
| "Yeah. Or. Alternate version of you, I'm guessing. Like I"m guessing your Rose is an alternate version of me." He was looking both disconcerted and amused by that. "The dancing makes more sense that way." |
| "The dancing makes sense any way, don't tell me I never taught you that one." Jack grinned, on far more comfortable ground with flirting. That was something he knew, anyway. "And that was Rose. Only child of Jackie and Pete Tyler." |
| "Only after I argued I wasn't a girl," Rowan grinned back, then shook his head, "I lived after Torchwood Tower, Jack. Maybe she did too." |
| "If I mistook you for a girl, I'm not as good as I know I am." And there was a sentence a guy didn't get to say often.
He still wasn't going to let himself hope that Rose had survived, though. Humanity was fragile, he'd learned that one too well. That and not to hope. Not long term, anyway. "Even if she survived somehow, Rowan, I'm never gonna see her again. She's gone." |
| "You didn't," Rowan agreed. Rowan had been confused. His Jack hadn't.
"Alternate reality," Rowan agreed, then looked around. "Oh, wait." |
| Jack huffed soft laughter, following Rowan's glance. "That, my friend, is a very good point. But since I don't know which reality we're in, except that it's not yours and it's not mine..." |
| "No Zepplins so ..." he pointed up, "Definitely not mine." He rubbed his forehead, "We could try to find the Torchwood in this world or we could go get a drink." |
| There was the sensible thing to do, and then there was the tempting thing to do. The weight of responsibility lifted with the knowledge that his team wasn't here to be his responsibility, and Jack turned a full wattage smile on Rowan. "Let's go get a drink. And you can tell me what I taught you about dancing." |
| "That you're taller so you should lead," Rowan answered promptly, smirking, "And that the Doctor can." |
| Jack laughed out loud at that, shit, he'd forgotten that visit to 1941 was so long ago. "I've learned to follow on occasion since then. And oh, hell, yes, the Doctor can definitely dance."
He sent a speculative look at Rowan, and picked a random direction to try walking. "I bet you learned the steps quickly." |
| "I'm a natural at. Dancing." Rowan said, sliding Jack an arch and teasing look, stepping into pace with him. "We did a lot of dancing. Did you and Rose?" |
| Over a century later and the memory was still enough to call a low ache in his chest. "We danced. Not a lot, but we danced."
And that was a thought for another time. "Maybe you could show me your footwork sometime. Wouldn't want to think I was a bad teacher." |
| "Are we still using euphamisms or do you really mean dancing?" Rowan asked, wrinkling his nose a bit, but grinning. |
| Jack spread his arms wide, backed up a step, and held out a hand. "I was talking in euphemisms, but if you wanna dance, Rowan..." |
| "Don't tempt me," he said, sounding like he meant anything but. He did take Jack's hand, pulling him in lightly. |
| "What's life without a little temptation?" Jack grinned, arm slipping around Rowan's waist, hand folding around Rowan's. "Tell me I taught you to jive." |
| "You just taught me to swing," he said with complete innocence. Except for the evil look in his eyes. |
| "Then," Jack returned, expression perfectly solemn, matching the twinkle in Rowan's eyes, the kid certainly seemed to have spirit, "you're about to learn. This time? You follow my lead." |
| "Anytime, Captain," he said, letting go of Jack to tuck his folder into the back of his pants and then matching Jack's position. |
| "Sounds promising." Jack paused, pulled Rowan closer, and began to hum as his feet began to move, slow at first, and nothing was ever going to produce better music for dancing than 1940s Earth. Than Glenn Miller, and In The Mood. |
| Rowan let Jack led, fitting together as easily on a street in a city they didn't know as he'd fit with another Jack on top of a chula warship, under Big Ben, above London.
"I missed Jack," he said quietly after a moment. |
| The soft words were enough to keep Jack silent except for his humming for a good few measures, and maybe he wasn't so much in the mood as Glenn Miller suggested, because the confession re-awoke memories he preferred not to revisit. "He missed you, too."
And it was a pretty good guess that Jack had danced with Rowan to Moonlight Serenade, too. |
| "You still owe me a drink," he said very softly, smiling faintly. |
| "Who said anything about owing?" Jack stopped, returning the smile, soft and true. "Drinks were mentioned." |
| "I owe you a drink then?" he smiled, then kissed Jack lightly, affection and warmth. "Come on." |
| The kiss threw Jack more than he'd expected. Not that he'd been expecting a kiss at all, but the sweet gentleness of it was...something he'd not let himself have since he'd had to leave Estelle. Sixty years was a long time to go without tenderness.
Blinking a little, he backed off a step or two, breaking the contact between them. "How about we owe each other drinks?" |
| Rowan frowned a bit at Jack's pulling away, but nodded, "Sounds fair. After you, Captain." |
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