1
"But… I am sure given a few months…" Jack tried to argue but knew it was not worth it. Special FBI Agent Jack Harkness (rank of Captain when in combat mode) stood at attention in front of the desk of his boss. At 34 years of age he looked still in his late twenties, something that had been a boon in undercover work. From the Jump Street Programme to Witness Protection Watch, this man had been top of the class EVERY DAMNED TIME! To coin a phrase he was made for this shit!
"Look… I am sorry Jack. I really am. For a man so strong on the Brotherhood I know this is hard for you but we have to look at the big picture" the Director sighed softly.
"The big picture. I went from high school to the military, did two grueling tours, earned my stripes, came out of it a little scarred. Got handpicked for the FBI training programme, fast tracked through channels to here… excelled and got my own unit… top of my game. You know I am!" Jack was angry now, not afraid to show it. Hell, if he was about to be discharged out he would not go without a fight.
"Jack. Your wife is gone. After the hit you took last summer we were wary then of letting you back and now you are going to be a single parent… I am sorry." The man was genuinely sorry and it showed. He knew the death of Jack's estranged wife was nothing to do with him and after the grueling rehabilitation Jack had clawed his way through barely six months back to prove he was mission fit after taking that round to the shoulder this was a death blow.
Jack felt his knees going weak and he took a deep breath, strengthening his resolve as he regained pride and nodded, knowing his CO wss right. Joseph needed him. Just six years old and without his mother who, although unwell and on the verge of being sectioned when she finally crashed the car killing herself, had loved him. Jack now thinks Joseph was the only reason she kept some semblance of sanity towards the end. With a family history of schizophrenia he knows he should have seen the signs but being away on missions gave Clare enough space to let her meds slide and the neuroses to creep in. Part of him could not help but blame himself for her psychotic break.
Those last three or four months had been hell… for all of them and he would never admit it but in the end her death had been bitter sweet. At least he now had his son back, found by police in the little B&B chained to the bed like an animal. Poor little guy. Jack had been frantic as he threw everything the FBI had to find him and now… yeah. He needed him.
Jack walked out of there with his head held high, even if his gut was dragging on the floor behind him. All he knew, all he had loved was about to get cut out like a cancer and left behind. All accept the only reason Jack had to do this.
Joseph.
.
.
.
.
"Joey!" Jack called out as he entered the house, this an agreed form of greeting so the child didn't freak out at someone entering the room he was in. Still some more counselling sessions to go but he was now understanding that Mama was sick and it ws all really sad and we are all allowed to be angry and sad.
"Daddy" came the faint reply, the child standing in the spare room looking at boxes with interest. He turned as Jack entered the room "Hey Daddy. Why is the office packed up?"
"Well… you know this house was mine and yours and Mummy's right?" Jack crouched to try and break it to him gently "Well… We thought we would have two or three kids so we needed a huge house. Well… shit this is hard … another family really needs it and we are smaller now. Might be good to move to a new place and let the family that needs this one have it, yeah? So they can learn to be as happy and loved as us?"
Jack felt like the boy was not buying it as matching blue sapphires narrowed slightly before the child decided to accept this part truth. He was used to them. He knew his daddy worked in a dangerous place, did dangerous things and lied about it. He knew. He had leaned… we don't talk about it.
"Anyway… a new house. New room right? No more cowboy wall paper" Jack winked at him "You can have a Big Boy room any way you want it."
"I can paint it black?" Joseph gasped, clutching his hands together and Jack stalled with horror before he saw a familiar glint. Harkness Sarcasm. Little shit. Jack laughed softly, poking at the child as his relief blossomed. The boy had made a joke. Without prodding or engorgement, he had made a joke.
They did need this.
A fresh start.
A new day.
And a new life.
No doubt with new masks for both of them.