Disclaimer: If Torchwood were mine, it would still be on the air. (see profile for a REAL disclaimer!)
A/N: Written for day nine of LJ's 2012 mini_wrimo... and then fiddled with and forgotten many times over the next two years. Procrastination. I have it.
"When we ask for advice, we are usually looking for an accomplice." -Marquis de la Grange.
"What should I do, Jack?"
It was late. So late, in fact, that the hub had already been powered down for the evening and he'd retired to his office for a few fingers of scotch. He hadn't expected anyone else to return, he'd sent the team home hours ago, but he didn't have to look up to know that it was Gwen's silhouette casting a shadow across floor.
Taking another swig of his drink, he savored the burn as it went down, "I don't know, Gwen. What do you want to do?"
She didn't seem to like that answer, but then again, he wasn't expecting that she would. She was almost never satisfied, always pushing, toeing just past the line with anyone and everything that she came across. Normally, he admired that about her. Hell, it was the reason that he'd hired her in the first place. But on days like today, after saying goodbye to Martha and watching Owen's downward spiral, he just didn't have the patience to deal with it.
Gwen frowned, agitated as she pushed herself out of the door frame and slouched her way over to his couch, "I don't know what I want, Jack. I wouldn't have asked you otherwise, now would I?"
He'd been alive a long time, but he didn't need that experience to tell him that there was so much that she wasn't saying, hidden behind passive aggressive and borderline hostility. He knew what she wanted- knew who she really wanted- because honestly, it had never been all that hard to read between the lines. She loved Rhys, really loved him, but he and Gwen had never exactly been shy when it came to flirting with each other. Both of them tested the boundaries of their friendship more times than he could count, but he'd promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn't interfere. She deserved a normal life, one that their line of work made almost impossible to find and, as much as he was loathed to admit, he couldn't give that to her.
"I can't," Jack shook his head, steeling his expression as he took another gulp of his drink, "I can't tell you what you want to hear. Go home, Gwen. Go back to Rhys, back to your friends outside of this godforsaken place, and hang on to them while you still can. You won't know what you have, just how precious it is, until it's gone."
Even from across the room, he could see her eyes shimmer in the dim light, wet with unshed tears. The sight alone nearly broke his heart, but he was determined to remain exactly where he was.
"I know what I have Jack, I've known it for quiet some time. I just don't know if I could do it," she sniffled guiltily, "I don't know if I could choose. You know, if he asked?"
Jack's lips thinned, pressing together in a straight line, "You mean, you don't know if you would choose him."
She sank even further into the cushions and her silence was answer enough. She would choose him- him and Torchwood. He didn't need to hear her say the words for it to be true.
"You can't run away from this, Gwen. You're supposed to get married next weekend."
"Don't you think I know that?" she asked him with an frustrated huff, pushing herself up off the sofa, "Don't you think I know that it would break his heart if he knew?"
Gwen strode toward him and crowded into his space. She leaned against his desk, slightly to the left of his chair, inching so close that he could feel heat radiating off of her even before she pressed her knee tightly against his outer thigh. Any other night he probably would have pushed her away or made up an excuse to leave the room. Tonight though? He just couldn't find the will to do either of those things.
"Then why did you ask? Why now?"
"Oh, for fucks sake, Jack," she exclaimed, dipping her head just enough to look him in the eye, "You really want to know why?"
He nodded.
"You're sure?" she asked one more time.
Jack nodded again. Damn the consequences.
Gwen cupped his face between her hands and leaned down, her lips just barely brushing over his, "Because I'd been hoping you'd do this..."
Jack moaned, wrapping his arms around her waist. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't susceptible to that small part of everyone that wondered about ifs and maybes. He'd seen this coming a mile away and, despite the fact that he'd had more than enough time to stop her, to pull away, he not only let her do it but he kissed her back. Jack couldn't resist tugging her down into his lap, taking the opportunity to sweep his tongue past her lips when she gasped in surprise. It was merely a shadow of the sweet and chaste kiss that she'd given him only a few days after they met, this one was dirty and hot and everything that you don't tell your grandchildren about when you're old and grey.
But, in the end, she wasn't his and he wasn't hers. Despite all of their differences, and all that mumbo-jumbo about opposites attracting, she still had Rhys and he still had Ianto. He respected that much more than his playboy reputation led everyone to believe.
Slowing their movements to a low simmer, Jack took a few moments to savor the taste of her, the press of her breasts against his chest, and the subtle scent of her pheromones lingering in the air. He kissed her softly, gently, and lingered even after their lips finally parted. Her fingers threaded loosely through his hair, her nails scratching little, absentminded patterns across his scalp, and he didn't have to open his eyes to know that she was crying. He could feel it the tiny tremble that rocked through her body and the nearly invisible hitch of her shoulders.
"That's not going to happen again, is it?" she whispered sadly.
Jack shook his head. No, it wouldn't. It couldn't.
"You're going to make such a beautiful bride."
A sob escaped her lips.
Rubbing one of his palms up and down the length of her back, he smoothed her hair out of her face and wiped away her tears as he waited for her to calm down. Once she did, he leaned up and pressed a lingering kiss to her brow. It was a gesture of comfort, an apology, a promise. He would always be there for her, always have her back, it just wouldn't be in the way that she wanted. That's what she had Rhys for.
"Go home, Gwen."
He'd already said it once before, but this time there was no malevolence behind it, only resignation.
Gwen nodded, hesitating just long enough to longingly caress the side of his face before sliding out of his lap.
She didn't look back.
Jack sat there and listened to her footsteps as they echoed throughout the hub, quickly followed by the flashing of the klaxons and the sound of the door sliding open and then shut again. He picked up his forgotten glass and downed the rest of the amber liquid in one gulp before quickly pouring himself another.
It was going to be a very long and lonely night.
End.