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Chapter Five

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Pleasure is the flower that passes; remembrance, the lasting perfume.

-- Jean de Boufflers

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When Jack returned from the mess with a small pitcher of milk and the sugar bowl, he found Anders standing in front of the bookshelf, a book in hand.

"I hope you don't mind," the young man gave him a smile that might be considered coy.

Jack returned it with a smile that wasn't at all coy. "Not at all," he said.

Kam put the book carefully back on the shelf, its spine lined up with the edge. He resisted the urge to straighten up the books around it. Most of them were shoved towards the back of the shelf and nothing seemed to be in any kind of order. He will definitely never win any awards for neatness, he smiled to himself, oblivious to the look the Captain was giving him.

Kam returned to the settee and sat back down, giving the Captain a quick glance. He was a difficult man to read. He looked to be in his mid to late thirties – maybe forty at the most – but when Kam looked into those blue eyes, he saw someone much older. Someone complex. Compassionate. Vindictive. Wonderful. Terrifying.

He shook himself. He fixed his tea, and watched the Captain fix his. A lot of sugar and just a drop of milk.

"Did you see anything you like?" the Captain asked. "On the shelf, I meant," he clarified quickly. He sat down on the coffee table, facing the younger man.

"You have a very nice collection," Kam smiled at him over the top of his mug. And he's sitting on the table, he nearly groaned. Granted it was his table, he had every right to sit on it if he wanted to. "May I ask a question?"

"I might even answer," the Captain quipped back with a wink.

Kam managed a real smile despite the nervousness that was still plaguing the pit of his stomach. "The name of your ship…" he began, because Captains usually liked to talk about their ships. Only the question seemed to cause a cloud to come over the other man's features. "I'm sorry… I didn't mean…"

"No… it's nothing," Jack waved it aside. "I named him after somebody I used to know."

"Him?"

"Can't very wall call a Welshman a 'her', now can I?" he smirked.

"No, I suppose not," Kam sipped at his tea. "It would be rather silly, really," he added.

Jack chuckled. "What about the ship you grew up on… you said it was an F-class?"

"The Archimedes. Crew of about… thirty, I think. I was pretty young."

"Must not've been that young. You learned to fly her."

He shrugged. "My mother's fault," he took another swallow of the tea, relishing the memories it brought back. The way it made him feel. Because it had to be the tea making him feel so comfortable. It couldn't be the company. He was here for one reason, and one reason only.

Still, this part was nice. It was pleasant having somebody ask him questions about his life for a change, somebody who seemed to honestly be listening to his answers. (He didn't really think the Captain cared, of course, but it was nice.)

"She was a pilot, then?" Jack asked of the younger man's mother.

"One of the best, Sir. Sorry," he apologized for the 'sir'. "It's a bit of a habit."

Jack shrugged, "It's not a bad one."

They slipped into a pleasant exchange of small talk. Kam found himself talking about things he hadn't spoken of in years… his mother… his memories of the Archimedes… Captain Harkness had a generous laugh. An easy smile. His humour tended towards the ribald, but he seemed to not mind laughing at himself.

"Can I get you some more hot water?" Kam offered when the Captain drained the last of his tea.

"You don't have to…"

"It would be my pleasure, honestly," he smiled a truly genuine smile.

Jack returned it, handing over his mug. He watched the younger man walk across the room, admiring the view. How long had it been… he's not even twenty, he told himself, although at this point it was academic. He was well over twenty five hundred years old.

Before handing the mug over, Kam poured in a drop of milk and added lots of sugar, giving it a good stir. "There you go. Guaranteed to rot your teeth."

Jack laughed, accepting the cup from his hand with a nod of thanks. He would have liked to have been able to claim that brushing his fingers up against the younger man's was purely an accident, but he tried not to indulge in self-delusion when he could help it.

"I meant what I said about borrowing a book," he reminded the younger man. "It's going to be a long six months."

Kam studied him a moment… he still hadn't gotten a solid feel for the Captain's expectations, but that had certainly sounded like an innuendo. "Yes. It is," he answered simply.

Jack gave him a measured look.

He didn't notice the uncertain flicker in the Captain's blue eyes when he leaned forward then, he just leant in as well, meeting the kiss half way, savouring it. It had been so long since he'd been kissed. He loved being kissed. Even though it didn't mean anything, it was such a pleasant thing to do… and as kisses went, pleasant was an understatement. The Captain's tongue plundered his mouth tenderly and savagely at the same time while strong hands cupped his face so very gently, pulling him in closer.

Kam held onto the Captain's shoulders, afraid he was going to get lost in the moment… wanting to lose himself in it forever. For just one instant he felt so warm inside.

When their lips parted many long moments later, however, the look on the Captain's face told him something was wrong. Kam froze… he couldn't think of anything he'd done wrong… and that kiss… that kiss had felt so good… but the Captain looked stricken by it.

Jack swallowed hard. "You… should go. It wasn't you," he said quickly to the frightened look on the younger man's face. He knew the impact his position had on his crew, the justified fear they had of him… that kiss had been a mistake on so many levels… but oh that kiss… He would know it anywhere, even after five centuries… after five hundred centuries… and that wasn't possible. He was gone. Long, long gone into the darkness… dead.

Jack had died and come back so many times and there was only darkness. Nothingness.

"Sir… Captain Harkness… what's the matter?"

Jack leant back and took a deep breath, letting it out again slowly. "It's not you," he repeated, knowing that the words held a double meaning. Needing them to have a double meaning.

He could love again. He had loved. He'd kept his promise. But he had never met anyone who had touched him quite as deeply as his Welshman.

Jack cleared his throat, "I think… somewhere… as I'm sure you noticed my shelves are a mess," he tried to laugh, struggling to keep his voice steady. "But I think I have the rest of the Oz series here somewhere if you're interested." He stood up. If he didn't put some distance between himself and the younger man he was going to find himself kissing him again, and it would be for all the wrong reasons.

"I… yes. Thank you," Kam stammered, his voice pulling Jack out from under the weight of the centuries. He rose awkwardly to his feet, trying to figure out what had just happened. Trying to figure out why the rejection hurt… why it seemed to be hurting both of them. "Sir… Captain… " Jack… but he didn't dare use the Captain's first name.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Jack assured him again.

"Neither did you," Kam found himself saying, although it had to be one of the most brazen things he thought had ever come out of his mouth.

Jack forced a smile… or maybe it wasn't forced, because it didn't feel it, he just didn't know why he was smiling. "Good to know I've still got some talent," he teased.

"Quite a bit, if you don't mind my saying so."

"I have never been one to turn down a compliment," he quipped back quickly, his eyebrows raised.

"You didn't strike me as the sort who had, Sir," Kam retorted.

They both laughed; Jack found his eyes locked onto Anders'. Light brown. His eyes were light brown. And he was barely twenty years old… "I should find you that book," the Captain was the first to break eye contact.