A' Rebours
Disclaimer All characters are the propety of BBC TV; the title and song belong to Pete Doherty and Rough Trade Records
You sent for me;
I was knock knock knocking on death's door.
You ignore me, adore me, a'rebours
Leave me washed up, begging for more.
You really care for me?
Let me be, set me free, adore a'rebours me.
A'Rebours' Babyshambles, Pete Doherty
He's been watching them for a week now. They saved his life, gave him a home, made him part of the crew. Except that he isn't really and never will be, because the crew is really just those two. The bond between them is so elemental that Jack Harkness doubts they're aware of it.
They always seem to know where each other is; are uneasy if they're too far apart. They talk easily, in half sentences and gestures, insider references with East End and Mancurian accents mingling, and Jack knows he could not contribute to their banter, so he listens. And they laugh and laugh, more laughter than he remembers hearing in his lifetime. Every time they talk, he hears another conversation below what they're actually saying:
I love you.
I love you.
He wonders if they'll ever say that aloud to each other or whether they know it without vocalisation, as a fact of existence. He cannot imagine being either of them and thinking of himself as one of two, instead of the permanent outsider that he is. He finds it strange enough, being a follower of their group.
They've just wandered into the control room, their shoulders brushing as he leans over the main control panel and hits it with the flat of his hand. Idly, Jack wonders where they've come from. She shakes her head, laughing, and long blonde hair flies across his vision. Jack watches as he grabs her forearm and shoves her back, mock roughly. Neither of them notice Jack, down at the far end of the room. Their world is each other.
She grabs his jacket, threatening to rake the leather with her nails and scratch it and he grins, then turns back to the faulty panel, this time prodding it with the sonic screwdriver. Behind his back, her face creases with a secret smile that melts Jack's heart.
She isn't pretty enough for Jack normally; his lovers have all been either very beautiful or in the nature of a business transaction. Jack has no illusions about his fifty - first century morality compared to these two; he has no shame in trading to get what he wants. He likes to believe he is practical, hard-hearted when it comes to this.
But she is brave, as brave as any soldier, as anyone he knows, she laughs at his jokes, and she is alive. She is more alive than any other human he's ever met, more involved in everything she does. It is all or nothing with her; Jack believes she would be the same in love and he likes that idea.
And him. He's more to Jack's taste with regard to looks. He towers over them both like a knight protector, huge and strong, broad shoulders, gentle hands. Jack's felt his hands a few times; he is a tactile person but it means nothing. He confuses Jack; how one being can be a killer and a guardian, so full of contradictions. His quick intelligence, the easy grace of his movement, his dry humour, the gleam of his blue eyes - Jack Harkness could worship him quite easily.
Jack's been staring at them, lost in his dreams, and he feels Jack's presence, whirling round with a crazy grin that lights up his eyes.
'Jack! Come 'ere, give me a hand!'
Jack can't decide whether he sold his soul to the angels or the Devil to get a smile like that. He walks over, hating himself for disturbing the wonderful scene that he's been watching. He smiles warmly at Jack and he feels himself blushing. He has a smile that melts Jack's heart. He hasn't felt like this since he was fifteen, serving on his first galactic run and in lust with one of the guards.
'What's wrong?'
He curses the broken control panel again.
'Just hold those two wires together, an' I'll try soldering 'em.'
Jack doesn't mind; they lean forward and over the panel and his breath blows warm against the back of Jack's neck. For a few minutes, he is part of a pair with this wonderful man, and then the work's finished, and it's over.
Jack shakes his head when she asks if he's hungry, then goes away to avoid watching the meat. It's then, in the quiet moments at the end of the days when their love is the most evident to everyone but themselves. He lies awake tonight, listening to the distant talk and laughter, knowing how wrong this situation is.
He doesn't believe in love. Or he didn't, until he met them and saw how everything they do is for each other, how they would die to protect their companion if it was needed. Jack Harkness hadn't meant to fall in love, or he would have avoided choosing the pair who's love for each other leaves no room for anyone else. He knows, without false pride, that he could love either of them, and they would love him; he know she is their equal, beautiful and amazing. And he knows that he'll never admit it to them because he can see, even if they can't, that they are for each other and not for him.
But as he lies awake, hearing the hum of the fantastic ship that is his home through their friendship for him, he has to smile. Being here, seeing that transcendent love even if he'll never experience it is more than he ever thought he'd have. And he can watch them, adore them, in his own wrong way forevermore, and almost belong.
A'rebours French, 'The wrong way' metaphorically, corruption, ie Jack's' wrong' feelings in this. In the song, believed to relate to the relationship between Pete and Carl Barat.