Summary: AU. Jack before TW. Before the Turn of the 20th Century. How did he cope with being abandoned and unable to stay dead, And what of the strange person watching his movements. How low can he go before he realises why he's here. Events hinted at in White noise. Please note several sessions of bad language!
Characters: Captain Jack. Jones brothers, Cornelia, (oc's)
Disclaimer: It's only in my imagination. *big sigh*
Will get M rated before the end so if you like please tag as it gets flaming hard to find after!… Please feed me reviews!
Thank you Anglekitty for encouraging me and reading it through, and to old professerherb for listening to mad ideas.
Ellis Island 1896:
The Watcher heard the heavy footsteps come out of the darkness before the drunk did. She was disappointed; with his training he should have heard them a long time ago. Perhaps he was too far-gone in drink to hear anything but his own melancholy thoughts. She considered his situation; this was going to be either interesting or a complete slaughter.
She stepped further back into the shadows, becoming nothing more than a shadow herself. The owners of the footsteps passed her.
Ah it's those two. The Jones brothers. This will be good.
The Jones brothers were petty thieves and bullies. Each built like brick outhouses. Gods alone knew what their mother fed them on. Jacob was the most vicious of the pair. An old scar going from his ear to his chin, gave a menacing air. Cropped hair matched the stubble he wore. David was the younger of the two; he was only there for the muscle. This was a man who had muscles in his spit, but he let Jacob do the thinking for him. Many brain cells did not encumber him, but he was loyal to a fault. The deep heavy voice of David could be heard over their footsteps.
"That's 'im. That's the one Ma wants taught a lesson"
"We'll do more than that. He's brought Ma's place into disrepute. 'The beer tastes of Horse piss!' Didn't stop him from drinking most of it" Jacob growled
"Yeah… but thinking abut it Jacob, it really does taste of piss. Ow!" Jacob had punched David in retaliation.
They bore down on the drunk. He finally heard their footsteps through the comforting blanket of an alcoholic stupor. He rose unsteadily and turned to face them, his arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture.
"Well if it isn't my favourite boys? What can I do for you?"
The men didn't stop running and cannoned into him, knocking him off his feet.
"Oops a daisy, you seemed to have fallen over mate, let me help you up"
David grabbed a handful of the drunk's hair and yanked him upwards to his feet.
The drunk protested noisily at the rough handling.
"Hold him David" ordered Jacob.
The drunk smiled a lopsided smile, until Jacob's clenched fist connected with his stomach muscles. Unable to curl up the drunk lifted his legs trying to protect himself, so he was eventually hanging from David's arms.
The watcher stood there, still hidden by the shadows, with a vague interest. She watched the drunk regain some sense of self-preservation as he lashed out with his feet at Jacob, but was far too drunk to connect with anything but air. Blow after blow rained down on the drunk. He weakly raised his first to protect himself. Then started thrashing around, trying to dodge the blows. A lucky strike from him managed to get David to drop him to the floor. Blood poured from the drunk. He now sported a split lip and he was breathing heavily, the watcher assumed from several broken ribs.
The watcher caught a glimpse of a short silver blade in the moonlight being held against the drunk's neck.
"Oh please make my evening" the drunk begged.
That's my cue
The watcher delicately stepped from the shadows. The metal tipped heals made slight clicking sounds on the cobbles, the long corseted coat swished behind her. The brothers took no notice, until the louder click of hammers being pulled back on the pistols warned them of a visitor to their little party.
They turned to face her. Two short-barrelled pistols were aimed straight at their heads.
"Good evening gentlemen. I would appreciate it if you would please step aside and leave the poor gentleman alone"
Jacob laughed ungraciously, "That's no gentleman. He's a drunk, a thief and a con"
"Nevertheless, that quarry is mine. Skit!" she replied
She waved the pistols at the two men, motioning them to move away.
"No fear Miss we saw 'im first. His arse is ours." David insisted
"Knowing this gentleman he would gladly give you his arse, but not in the way you intend. Move!" She stressed the final word.
Jacob launched himself at her intending damage. She stepped back and lowered one of the guns into his stomach. Stopping him in mid launch.
"Don't move, don't breath, don't even think" she warned.
"Do you like stories David?" she asked, David nodded slowly
"Let me tell you a true story, one of the future.…your future Jacob. I can see the court reports about your loyal little brother, hauled before the justice, chains round his feet, noose round his neck. Charged with the murder of his older brother. Your Ma's weeping in the seats. The Justice sat in session. The noose tightens, and then…"
"You talk too much Miss" Hissed Jacob.
"Sorry. It's a fault. Remember. My finger, my trigger, my pistol, Your stomach. You'll survive the bullet, but not the infection. Slow painful death from Blood poisoning, as your stomach acid weeps into your body. It eats into your guts, turns them in on you. You feel as though you have a thousands rats in there all desperate for a piece of you. "
She leaned forward and whispered into Jacobs face, He could smell the sweet smell of mint on her breath. Her perfume was gentle, alluring.
"Move" she requested gently.
He stepped back slowly. Suddenly he lashed out at her. She was no longer there,
David stood open mouthed, his hand on the blade against the drunk's neck. He'd seen Jacob fight before, but he'd never fought a woman and never like this. Jacob was a street fighter. The dirtier the better was his motto. He had slipped a duster over his knuckles intending to take out the beautiful face. But wherever he hit, kicked or lashed the woman parried, turned, and landed gracefully.
The silence was deafening after the shot rang out. Jacob crumpled to the floor. Agony etched on his face. His hands clutched his abdomen. David pushed the drunk away, who fell to the ground, clawing at his neck.
"Jacob!" Cried David, tears welling in his eyes. The watcher turned to him and passed him the pistol.
"Hold these" she insisted
David took them and with shaking hands and turned them on her "If.. If he dies so do you" he sniffed. She ignored him, and instead pulled at Jacobs's shirt exposing the wound.
"He'll live… for now. Don't do that dear; my weapons don't take kindly to being pointed at me. They tend to backfire. You're not a killer. Take my advice, leave town, move to the west coast. Don't stay here, otherwise the rats will take you down with them too."
The watcher spoke gently to the big man as she took the pistols off then watched as David helped his brother to his feet.
"Go Home" she told them
They stood looking at her. She sighed and raised the guns again.
"GO!"
She watched them hobble down the street, the big man bending down to give his brother the support he needed. Then turned towards the drunk on the floor. She heard the spiteful voice of Jacob rise back through the empty streets towards her.
"Too bad he won't live."
"Shit!" She strode over to the prone man lying there. Blood from the wound in his neck mingled with the rainwater puddle in the middle of the street.
She cursed wildly into the wind. She knew worse curses in all 53 non-human languages, even how to curse politely, but nothing made her feel better than saying the basest of curses known. Even bacteria on the furthest moons in the universe would know these words.
She crouched beside the body as wild eyes stared at her, the final ebb of life drained away. Those once beautiful eyes stared unseeing into the cloudless sky.
Uncaring she looked at him.
Oh well, that's no.3
She stared for a moment then concentrated, to send a message to both her employers.
DIMBLE. QUARRY DEAD, CONTRACT COMPLETE
Then another
LORD VELON, FORTH TIME AGENT TERMINATED. PROOF ATTACHED
Almost immediately two messages returned
CREDITS IN ACCOUNT AS AGREED. DO NOT CONTACT AGAIN – DIMBLE
And
IMAGE ACCEPTED AS PROOF. NO MATTER IF DEAD or ALIVE. 5 MILL CREDITS PLACED IN OFF WORLD ACCOUNT. NEXT AGENT IS STEELE. LAST KNOWN WHEREABOUTS IS EARTH, FRANCE, LATE 1890'S EARLY 1900'S. 4 MILL CREDITS FOR ALIVE ONLY. 0 CREDITS FOR DEAD. DON'T GET CARRIED AWAY. VELON
The watcher nodded to her self. She preferred to bring people in alive. It was a little more like hunting. She'd seen enough death on her home world. So, Steele was here, Earth, France, it was also the last place she'd heard her father was.
She stood, leaving the body of the drunk in the street; it would be something for the local law enforcement to get excited about in the morning. As the last of her footsteps echoed away, a blue glow enveloped the body, settling on him, and then faded away. She missed the gasp for breath as the once dead man returned to life and gingerly fingered his neck. He sat up, and stared at the moon. The man stood and continued his journey towards the docks, as sober as the day he was born, pausing only to stare up towards the sky.
"What the hell did you do to me?" He asked the moon again.
Once again the moon refused to speak.