| Date: 16 December 2007
Characters: Jack Harkness, Jack Harkness Location: outside Link to IJ: thread #10297 |
 It wasn't so much an active search as it was an acute awareness that with multiple people popping up, from various points in the timeline, that there was a possibility that there was more than one of him here. With the length of his timeline, the possibility wasn't even a remote one. It didn't even take an accident and anonmaly like this town for it to happen.
So, when he saw himself on the edge of town he wasn't surprised. Lack of surprise did not save him from a moment of intense disorientation at seeing himself from the outside - and behind. It did keep his footsteps from faltering as he stepped into place beside the other Jack. "Nice view." |
 "Yours or mine?" The response was automatic, made before Jack registered the familiarity of the tone and looked away from the unfamiliar stars to the very, very familiar face standing next to him.
There was only one suitable response to that. "Well, shit." |
| He made a low sound in the back of his throat and lifted his eyebrows in acknowledgment.
"What's the last thing you remember?" he asked. That had to come first, or he was going to trip all over himself. "And how long have you been here?" He was going to trip all over himself, anyway. |
| Jack wasn't about to trust that anyone who looked like him happened to be him. Or even not hostile. Which pretty much explained the hand creeping towards his holster. "I've been here a few hours, best I can tell. You?" |
| He was fairly good at reading his own body language, but he ignored the vague threat of that hand motion, and slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks, instead of the coat's pockets.
"A couple of days. Long enough. You know, there are easier ways to confirm my identity than shooting me and waiting to see if I revive." |
| "That wouldn't exactly be enough proof." Jack's fingers closed around the reassuring shape of his pistol, regarding his doppelganger carefully.
And he wasn't about to fall for the illusion of relaxation, either. He'd used it way too often to be taken in by it. |
| He rolled his eyes toward the sky. "I'm sorry, if me dying isn't good enough for you, you're just out of luck. Feel free to make suggestions of your own." |
| "Let's try that as a start," Jack replied calmly, drew his pistol, shot his reflection neatly between the eyes, and watched dispassionately for the result.
"I guess technically, that's suicide." |
| Jack managed to look around and down in time to see the gun being pulled and aimed, but didn't have time to actually react to the inevitablity of the shot being fired.
He heard the sound, and there was vague awareness of pressure and the stagger and fall backwards, but he didn't feel himself land. He just dropped into the dark, dead before he hit the ground. |
| The body hit the ground in a messy heap, and Jack waited calmly, prodding at it with the toe of one boot as he circled cautiously. If the other was him, they'd revive sometime soon. If it was another species the timescale was a little less certain.
At least Time Lord was pretty definitely off the list. If the guy didn't revive, at least he'd been granted a quick death. |
| It wasn't the fastest turn around he'd ever had, but it didn't take days, or even hours. He'd had time to recover from the last time he'd been shot in the head, and his encounter with Abbadon.
He gasped and his eyes opened, he rolled onto his side and pushed up, palm straight against the ground on his way to climbing to his feet. "At least your aim's better than Owen's." He wasn't getting pissed off. He wasn't lashing out and if he'd had any doubt that this was actually him, the shooting had gotten rid of it. Not the possibility of it being an alternate him, but it was some version of him. Besides, paranoia was effort and at the moment not falling over again was about all the energy he was interested in expending. |
| A little of the tension eased from Jack's shoulders, and he lowered the pistol. Never thought he'd find Owen's name reassuring, but that was a hint that it could be him. Or possibly that whatever this was had taken time to research.
"Owen's never shot at me yet, so I can't judge that one." Okay. Time for a question or two of his own. "Does the name Rose Tyler mean anything to you?" |
| "The Doctor's traveling companion. Blonde hair, brow eyes, met them both during the second world war hanging over London wearing a union flag on her chest. Died at Canary Warf." |
| Jack nodded, slowly, ignoring the ache that was Rose. "Rowan Tyler?" |
| He shook his head. "I don't know that name," he admitted. "Jackie and Pete, yes, but no one named Rowan." |
| "Me neither until a couple of hours ago," Jack confessed, and holstered his pistol. "Look, is there anything you can tell me that's gonna convince me that you're, well, me?" |
| "I'm not entirely convinced I'm literally you," he said, voice flat almost to the point of having no inflection at all.
"I've met at least two different versions of Ianto Jones here, and they're definitely from different universes. You could be me from the same time line, you could be me from another universe altogether, you could be someone who looks like me and happens to know that I'm immortal. I can tell you that the Doctor is here, times three, and two are from earlier in my timeline and memory. I know Ianto, Owen are here, twice each and very different from one another. Suzie and Estelle are also here. I know that it is apparently possible for people to come and go at will, and just as apparently but uncertainly that time that passes here isn't lost - returning returns you to the point you left. I don't know that you're me, I don't know that any of that's true, but I do know if you even think about shooting me again I will blow your god damn balls off." |
| The list of names was more and more convincing as the man went on, but the clincher for Jack was the promise at the end. He knew himself well enough that it wasn't a threat.
"Now that I'll buy." He held the other's gaze steadily. "Though you're also gonna know that my shields are strong enough that you can't tell if I'm thinking about shooting you. Okay. Last thing I remember, I was in Cardiff, Tosh's reports were showing a massive increase in rift activity, I went to check it out and picked up this really cute guy who turns out to be some kind of alternate version of Rose. Last thing that came through the rift is some kinda gauntlet, Suzie's on it." |
| "I don't need to read your mind, just your body language." He wasn't as focused on that as he was listening to what Jack was saying and thinking back, trying to guage the passage of time with moderate results, at best. He remembered it. He knew what came before it and what came after it. Precise time was harder, and he gave up quickly.
"It sounds like your closest to Suzie, for point of fall through, then. The last thing through my rift was. Well, it didn't bring life." |
| That covered enough things that had come through the rift that he was still unclear on when Jack had come from, and that was one thing he definitely needed to know. "Between you and me, I'm not sure that the glove does, either. Or should that be between me and me?" |
| "Don't make this more confusing than it already is; between you and me's fine." He was still trying to work it out. "I don't think that anything we learn here is going to make any difference out there, but there's always the possibility that I'm wrong and the knowledge will go back. You want to offer an opinion on the subject or should I just start talking?" |
| "Since when has anyone's opinion ever stopped you talking?" Jack retorted, staring back at the unfamiliar skies. "Just tell me if you're before or after me, we'll take it from there." |
| "When their opinion about what I should be doing with my mouth was more interesting than talking," he shot back, immediately. "After, but not by very long." |
| "Good point," he agreed, aiming his grin at the stars. "Right. In that case, yeah, don't tell me, because I'm really not in love with the idea of having my memories wiped again." |
| "Me either, so let's stick with this. I haven't met anyone past me in my timeline, and that scares the shit out of me, given the circumstances of my falling in here. On the other hand, you might just get to die someday." |
| "Given that you said not very long after, forgive me if I don't find that reassuring." He slanted a glance across at Jack, wanting and not wanting to know about those circumstances. "God knows what my team's gonna get up to if I die anytime soon, and I really don't wanna come back to find Suzie experimenting with that damn glove on me." |
| He met the sideways glance directly, and spent a silent moment considering. "I'm not reassured either, and it's got nothing to do with Suzie. The Rift is open." |
| He considered that for a moment, but there was still only one possible, very heartfelt answer. "Shit." |
| He was waiting for that response. When he got it, his shoulders dropped a fraction of an inch and he exhaled a soft breath that he hadn't quite been holding. "Good." He glanced back at the horizon, turned to leave and then pivoted back, all within one motion that was too fluid and sharp to look indecisive. "One more thing. I know I can handle myself, but be careful around Ianto. One of them's twisted, and you're probably more to his taste than I am." |
| "Ianto?" he echoed, incredulously. He'd never considered Ianto any kind of threat. Cute, definitely, kind of hot, alarmingly competent, but definitely not a threat. "Ianto's twisted? And wait, how the hell am I so different to you that I'm more to his taste?" |
| "You met a version of Rose that's a guy. Do you really find it so hard to believe there's a reality where Ianto's dangerous?" Because Jack didn't, when he thought about it. Emotionally, though, he sure as hell did.
"Twisted, makes a damn good cause for why killing me - or his reality's me - is hot, and is carrying a knife. As for how you're so different.... How pulled the trigger?" |
| "A guy, yeah, but still...like Rose." He blinked, trying to force himself to adjust. Too long living linear, shit, it dulled the instincts, reactions slowed.
"So you're saying that because I'm willing to shoot a guy who might possibly be me that there's a version of Ianto out there who gets off on snuff, and that's logical?" Yeah. He was definitely having trouble picking up on the nuances of this reality. Whatever it was. |
| "No." He shook his head, firmly.
"I'm saying that there is a version of Ianto here who gets off on snuff and that because you're sharper, clearer and more reactive, that I'd expect him to find you more appealing than me. You have nothing to do with his existing, and the only logic involved is what I'd expect him to be drawn to." |
| "You know, I'm trying to work out if there's a compliment hidden in there." He hesitated, then held out a hand, palm up.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll keep an eye out. Oh, and if you see Rowan? He's got a great sense of rhythm." |
| He arched his eyebrow and grinned, brief and bright. "There just might be. I won't tell if you won't."
He hesitated long enough to get that out, and that was long enough to make up his mind. He took the hand, and squeezed, warm and firm. "My pleasure, and I'll keep my eyes open." |
| "Our secret. See you round, Captain Jack Harkness."
He returned the squeeze, noting absently that, yeah, he's got a great grip and really nice hands, and then let go, offering a mock salute. |
| He laughed at the mock salute, but returned it, pivoting his hand around as he turned on his heel so that he left with a wave.
Nice hands, good grip and damn good with a gun., he thought as he left. |