Unusual Circumstances

After seasons of rampant curiosity about the circumstances of Jack's childhood, they threw us a rather dull bone. All that time, and a mother and father on a slightly rural looking peninsula plus a little bit of tragedy...

I ignored that all completely. That is to say, wrote this well before the episodes that mention Gray. Although, if you just pretend Jack's remaining parent moved to a city after the invasion, and then promptly died, leaving a young, orphaned Jack...

This is his story.


'Agent Gibbs, police. We need some information.'

The young boy squinted up at the small square of paper that was being thrust out for him to read, then raised an unimpressed eyebrow. 'Your badge is a plain bit of paper,' he told the policeman helpfully.

'Agent Gibbs' as he had introduced himself, stared down at the gap-toothed child, his face becoming, if possible, even blanker. Slowly he closed the wallet that held the paper and tucked it into his pocket. 'Good lad,' he said slowly.

Then, as adults seemed to do, the dark-haired agent momentarily dismissed the boy from his mental framework. Craning over his shoulder, he yelled to his companion who was zipping up a body bag. Looking put out, the other man stood and walked over, taking off a pair of latex gloves.

'What is it, agent?' he asked grumpily.

'Kid here just told me my badge was blank,' agent Gibbs informed his partner significantly.

'Did he just?' The expression of boredom was suddenly replaced by shrewd interest.

The boy had lived a long time on the streets. He had very finely honed instincts. Smiling disarmingly to show where he had lost a tooth only yesterday, he shifted his weight onto the balls of his toes.

'That's a very clever trick there, lad,' said the first agent, looming over him and trying to sound paternal and reassuring. Mostly he just sounded patronising.

'Thank you, sir,' replied the boy, playing up the wide-eyed innocence for all it was worth. 'Is that lady over there meant to be doing that to your body?'

Both agents looked simultaneously. The boy turned and sprinted. There were two shouts behind him, by which time he'd already ducked down a side-alley, weaving at speed past dumpsters and beggars. There were no sounds of pursuit, but he didn't stop until he'd made it to the rooftops via a handy fire-escape, coupled with a quick scramble up some rotting brick-work. He took shelter among the multiple chimneys and other architecture, panting only slightly and listening hard.

No one that looked like that ever meant any good, no matter how kindly they spoke. Especially if they wore a suit and were investigating dead bodies. People died all the time in this neighbourhood, usually of natural causes, like steel poisoning to the kidneys. It never bothered the law enforcement. That was the natural order of things. Whoever those men had been, they were well worth avoiding.


Two years later…

Face smeared with dirt to help camouflage him among the shadows, the young boy watched the scene with sharp eyes. 90 percent of a successful crime was picking your mark.

Well hidden in the alcove, the passerby on the street paid him no notice. Just the way he liked it. Better to be seen and not heard, and best to be neither. As alert as he was, the tingle down the back of his neck did not go unnoticed. He narrowed his eyes, scanning for the source of the buzz he'd just felt.

There they were, distinctly out of place in the atmosphere of the dingy street. It was not unheard of for big business suits to pass through here, but these two seemed all wrong. They felt wrong too. The boy couldn't put words to it. There was just something about them that suggested they were out of place. Not fitting in. Not where they should be. Just… wrongness.

He watched carefully until they had passed, then waited several more minutes, until the tingling had faded. Then, being somewhat pragmatic of nature, he picked a mark and sauntered forwards. 'Tuppence ta watch'cher ve''cl guv'nor?'


Another few years…

The youth cracked all his knuckles, before stretching his lanky limbs. Judging by this first spurt of growth, he was going to be quite big. He looked forwards to it. It would be much easier to liberate people from their property when he didn't have to worry about people liberating his from him. Right now, however, he looked like he was constructed entire of dirty knees and scraped elbows, topped off by messy brown hair. And he was hungry.

The spaceport was busy. He'd never seen so many off-worlders before. Tourists and business people, rich and poor, human and otherwise. Targets.

His nostrils flared, and he scampered forwards, weaving through the crowds, occasionally picking a wallet when it was too easy to resist. He skirted his way around the launching pad, busily assessing every hiding point, access method, and escape route. It was the work of long weeks, but he now knew the massive spaceport like the rooftops of the city it nestled in.

Ducking out of the crowd of people, he sought a small alcove that was usually used for storing cleaning equipment. He checked the small collection of coins in his palm, counting through them. It was enough for a serving of plain rice.

Moving with purpose, he headed for the row of vendors near the departure gates. Their cries almost masked the bleep of the scanners that let people though onto the landing pad.

The boy did a quick mental appraisal of which vendor would give him the most rice for his money, and joined the queue.

Gradually, the hairs on the end of his neck stood up, and he scanned the surroundings, trying to appear casual. At once he realized it was coming from the man behind him in the line.

'Hello there, son. Fine morning, isn't it?'

'Indeed,' replied the boy with a charming smile. It was reflexive. Internally, he was a little bit stunned, fervently trying to work out why this man seemed to stick out so oddly from the thousands of other people around him. This one wasn't even in the give-away suit. He wore a garish Hawaiian shirt and a friendly expression.

'You off to somewhere exciting then?' asked the stranger, and the boy realised he'd been staring too long.

'No, not me sir. Just coming to have a look at the ships,' the boy told him. He gave a wistful little smile, giving the lie the perfect finish. People imposed characters on those they met. He'd just become the innocent little child with a bit of a fancy for space-ships, like other children watched trains or collected coins.

The man nodded understandingly, and then it was the boy's turn to order his food. He grabbed it as quick as he could and melted into the crowd. As soon as he was safe, he turned and took himself to a place where he could observe the Hawaiian-shirted man. To the boy's eyes, he stood out like a wolf amongst sheep. He followed the man's progress until he was lost to sight through the departure gate

The boy's eyes narrowed, and he was thoughtful as he began to scoop rice into his mouth.


3 months after that…

Cramped in his hiding space, the boy desperately fought down the urge to move and relieve his aching muscles. There was someone just walking past.

'Cargo's all secure cap'n,' resounded the deep voice, too close for comfort.

'No bloody stowaways this time, Brandin? Security at that port's terrible.'

'No, sir,' replied the voice, from right next to the boy's hiding place. He held his breath. Trust his luck to find the one ship where the captain was naturally cautious. It gave the boy respect for the skipper, but it made his life a hell of a lot tougher. He'd been moving every few minutes to avoid the burly worker who was checking every nook and cranny in the giant cargo bay.

There had been silence outside his hiding place for several minutes, so the boy allowed himself a small stretch, muffling a groan of relief as his back cracked. There was a rustle of cloth from mere inches away. His heart froze in his chest, then began to hammer loudly. His palms immediately prickled with sweat, and his stomach clenched in fear.

He squeezed his eyes shut and willed the worker to just walk away. No such luck. There was a click, and a sudden flood of light onto him. The boy nearly squealed in terror.

He immediately clenched down on the reflex, and tried to calm himself, ready to talk his way out of it. His silver tongue was what had made him the best sneak thief in all of the slums. But instead of an angry cry, the large, bearded face that was revealed just smiled slightly. The boy watched wide eyed as Brandin winked, then carefully replaced the cover.

The boy couldn't help his rapid breathing as he tried to work out what they hell had just happened. The hairs on the back of his neck slowly settled down, and the tingling in his stomach died as footsteps moved away.


TBC with a second part. One that possibly causes the universe to rip in half, but then again possibly doesn't