Leaning on Red's stall door in Daine and Numair's little barn, their Captain Jack Harkness was having trouble breathing.
Weevils. It had to be weevils. Familiar, routine weevils, a hallmark of Torchwood. Jack tried not to tremble at the thought of it. Over the last however-long-it-had-been, he'd worked very hard to forget.
"We used to catch them, you know," he told Red quietly as he gathered himself and picked up a curry comb. The horse pricked his ears forward as Jack opened the stall door and went inside. Red absolutely adored the sound of a human voice. Daine had said that he liked the conversation. "I used to enjoy it, more than I probably should have. The adrenalin was fun, it was a good rush, and I met—" Jack took a shuddering breath, laying a hand on the dappled gelding's warm neck. "Always weevils, at Torchwood. Always. A hundred years, and there were always weevils running around the sewers in Cardiff."
The horse nickered a little and watched him with bright eyes. Jack started to brush the comb in short, c-shaped strokes, as Daine had shown him the other day.
"They're all dead," he whispered miserably, staring without sight at the white and gray hairs of Red's coat. "They're all dead, except Gwen, and I couldn't stay. I just couldn't. I couldn't look her in the eye, not—not when she was having a child of her own. Not after Ianto."
He stopped brushing abruptly, realizing that this was not a safe outlet for his grief. "And Daine can talk to animals," he told the horse sharply. Red tossed his head and then placed his dark, soft nose over Jack's heart. "I'm getting sentimental in my old age," Jack muttered wryly, and continued to brush him in silence.
Red stood patiently in his stall, head craned around, the better to watch Jack with bright, brown eyes. Jack had never really had a horse, not even in the 1870's, when he was first stranded on Earth. He'd always rented them or borrowed them or stolen them, and then let them race off. He hadn't the time to learn to care for one.
He supposed Red wasn't really his. Daine had stolen him, after all. Nevertheless, this whole brushing thing was rather soothing. It was mindless in its own way, but oddly enough it eased a little of the loneliness, because Red was there. Red couldn't speak, except to Daine, but he watched Jack anyway, nickering sometimes when he scratched an itchy spot.
"You're a good natured fellow, you know," Jack told him, starting on his other side, "for a bandit's horse." He sighed. "I shouldn't get attached. I'm not going to be here forever," he warned, and Red flicked one ear forward and the other back. "But I suppose Daine'll take care of you when I'm gone. That's certainly something." The horse lipped his sleeve. Jack smiled weakly and left the stall, going up to a shelf where Daine always kept treats of some kind. Today he found a carrot, which he brought back and offered to him over the stall door. Red took it delicately and munched happily. Jack watched him chew with a small smile, leaning an elbow on the stall door.
The barn was quiet, save for Cloud and Spots rustling their hay and Red munching on his carrot. Then Jack heard the hinges on the front door squeak. Cloud whinnied.
"Hello, Daine," Jack greeted with a sigh, eyes fixed on Red.
"Hello," Daine returned, walking over. Red snorted, moving away from Jack and swung his big head around, huffing a greeting to Daine.
Daine smiled and walked over to pat Red's nose, although she looked at Jack. "You've been in here for hours, you know. I wanted to make sure you were alright."
Jack hid a scowl. The whole point of being in here was so he did not have to talk to anyone. He nudged Red over and went back into the stall to attack the gelding's side with a hard-bristled brush. "I'm fine," he said, forcing his voice to at least sound slightly cheerful.
"Sure," Daine replied skeptically. She pulled out a currycomb of her own and walked into Cloud's stall across the way. "What can you tell me about weevils?"
Jack sighed a little. This was good, though; she was being very direct. He could do dry facts without crumbling, couldn't he? "Six feet high, teeth like a shark, rippled skin, rage like a wild animal. I don't know if you'll be able to talk to them," he added clinically. "We never really found out that much about them. They're scavengers, I think, and they respond to—" he paused. "Well, I don't really know what they respond to."
Daine turned around in Cloud's stall to look at Jack. "How d'you mean respond?" Her gray pony regarded him over her shoulder.
Oh, that was tricky. Jack rubbed at a spot on Red's hide thoughtfully. "Where I worked," he said slowly, tiptoeing around the twist his heart gave at the mention of Torchwood, "weird things tended to happen. Long story short, one of my friends became, as he called it, 'king of the weevils.'" He smiled wistfully.
"King of the Weevils?" Daine asked, and Jack could hear the capitals in her voice. He held back a sad chuckle.
"Don't know why, though," Jack told her wryly. It was a half-truth. He knew it had to do with Death and the glove they'd used to bring Owen back to life, although he didn't know why or how. "But they all kind of bowed and moaned when he got too close."
"That is weird," Daine said, brushing Cloud's neck thoughtfully. "Did he have wild magic?"
"No," Jack told her, regarding her over Red's back. Best to keep it simple. "They communicated through a low-level telepathic field," he continued, taking the subject away from Owen. Keep in clinical. "They were all connected, so they knew when one of their own was in trouble. They were nasty when they went rogue, or when they were scared. Would go straight to the jugular," he said, tapping his neck. "We used to subdue them with a spray and a tranquilizer, but I don't think we have either here."
"Could you make one?" Daine asked, and Jack shook his head, before realizing belatedly that Daine was busily brushing Cloud and couldn't see him.
"I haven't got the tools," he said. "Or the parts. Or anything, really. Sorry. We'll have to do it the old fashioned way, and see if you'll be—" and here hysterical laughter bubbled in his chest, because, god, Owen would've loved this—"queen of the weevils."
Not that Owen would've stood a chance any more than Jack did. Daine was obviously smitten with her Numair, and vice-versa, for that matter. He would've tried to use it, though, the bastard. Daine was quite beautiful.
God, he did miss Owen Harper, even if the man had been a pain in the ass. Poor, wounded Owen, who was dead and didn't stay that way, and hated every second of it. Of course, he'd found a way to die in the end. Jack sighed.
… and Toshiko, brilliant, technical minded Tosh, who'd loved him, even though Owen had hardly acknowledged her existence. And Ianto, of course, and even Susie, who'd gone mad.
Only Gwen left, now, and Jack missed her too, so much.
Never mind Owen, it was Torchwood he missed: mad, bloody Torchwood. Running around after aliens, removing people's memories, being surrounded by people he honestly loved, saving the world, the rush of it. He'd enjoyed it too much, in the end, Jack thought bitterly, scratching viciously at another piece of dirt stuck in Red's hair.
"I don't really like the idea," Daine admitted, jolting Jack out of his melancholy thoughts. "I'd rather be friends with the People, not their queen. That's Thayet's job," she joked.
"Thayet?" Jack asked, backtracking in their conversation, momentarily lost. He looked up from Red's hide and saw Daine grinning at him over Cloud's back.
"The Queen of Tortall," she explained cheerfully.
.
.
He is so sad, Red told Daine as she spoke to Jack.
"Ah," Jack responded, and then added jokingly, "no aspirations to becoming Queen yourself?"
"Mithros, no," Daine laughed. "Have you ever seen the amount of paperwork that a king and queen have to handle? I'll stay the Wildmage, thanks." Cloud snorted in amusement.
That would never work, the mare said. I cannot climb stairs, and the Horse Lords know you'd never escape from the paperwork without me.
Daine grinned and smacked her pony's neck playfully.
Jack quirked a reluctant half-smile. This one seemed real, not like the charming grins he'd been flashing all morning. "The days of paperwork. I remember those. One of the nice parts of traveling is that there isn't any paperwork. At least, not for me."
"Lucky you," Daine told him, leaning an arm on Cloud's back. The pony huffed and gave up on the brushing, returning to munch on her hay. Daine was only here on the pretext of brushing Cloud, and she knew it. "After the Immortals War, I feel like that was all I ever did." You didn't like him before, Daine added to Red silently.
Fickle, Cloud scoffed, chewing on her oats. Daine rolled her eyes.
Red ignored the pony and thought for a moment, lipping Jack's sleeve contemplatively. Jack playfully pushed his nose away. He is kind, the horse said quietly. He smells of death, but I think that is because everyone around him dies. He misses his friends.
You've been spending too much time around me, Daine told him regretfully. Animals who spent too long with her tended to develop a more human outlook on life. Red, it seemed, was particularly susceptible; after three days, he had learned to look beyond the way a person smelled. Daine would have to keep her distance—she would do Red no favors, changing the way he thought like that.
"Immortals War?" Jack had asked. His voice had turned oddly wary. Daine sighed and returned to speaking to the two-legger, confused at his sudden stiffness.
"A few years ago," she replied, "the Barrier between our realms and the Realms of the Gods, where the Immortals were trapped, fell. You must remember; it happened all over the world. Creatures like the spidren that almost killed you came through. We call them Immortal here, because they won't ever die unless someone takes the effort to kill them."
"I see," Jack muttered, relaxing. "So you think that weevils might be a kind of Immortal?"
Daine shrugged. "Are they?"
"Not that I know of," Jack said. "We didn't have creatures like that where I worked. Are there many more of them?" He walked away from Red's side and came over to lean on the stall door. Red huffed a little and rested his nose on Jack's shoulder. The man rolled his shoulder playfully, and Red lipped his sleeve.
"Oh, yes," Daine replied, a little perplexed. She'd thought that the Immortals were worldwide; perhaps they were not. Where could Jack have come from, if he'd never heard of them before? "Most of them are mythical, some of them the myths couldn't even describe. Some of them are nice, like unicorns, griffins, or basilisks, but a lot of them are like the spidrens. There are Stormwings, which are people crossed with metal birds – they're like vultures, they feed off of fear and wars. There are flesh-eating unicorns and centaurs, as well as nice ones; Coldfangs, which guard things and hunt thieves… there are a lot," she smiled a little. Jack's eyebrows had risen to his hairline.
"I think you guys have it worse than we did," he said. Daine laughed. "You have unicorns?" he asked wistfully, after a pause. "Really?"
"Sure," Daine shrugged. "They're shy, though – you don't see them often."
"I'm sure you see the flesh eating ones more than you'd like," Jack remarked, looking thoughtfully at Red and scratching his cheek.
"Yes," Daine agreed ruefully. "But it's not all bad. Wait till you meet Kit." She smiled, both proud and wistful; she missed her charge.
"Kit?" Jack looked intrigued, and Daine grinned proudly.
"Kitten," she elaborated, and Cloud snorted. "Well, her real name's Skysong – I'm her guardian. She's a dragon."
"You have a dragon?" Jack gaped.
"She's just a baby," Daine explained. "Her ma was killed by Carthaki raiders a week after she was born. I took her in, at her ma's request. She's with Tkaa now – he's a basilisk, and he was going to teach her some spells, and give me'n Numair some time off. She's a handful," Daine added affectionately.
"I can imagine," Jack said wonderingly. "A baby dragon. This place is amazing." He smiled then, a little wistfully. "I had a pterodactyl, once," he confided.
"Seriously?" Daine demanded delightedly. Cloud rolled her eyes, but Daine ignored her. "There were a bunch of dead ones, in Carthak, but I couldn't reach them. Where on earth did you find it?"
Jack looked at her oddly. "Couldn't reach them?"
"Daine," Numair announced, walking into the barn and causing Jack to jump in surprise, "once brought back an entire army of dinosaurs in order to destroy the emperor of Carthak." Daine looked embarrassed.
An odd look had come into Jack's eye. He stood up from the defensive crouch he'd fallen into when Numair had startled him. "Brought back?"
"The gods were angry," Daine explained. "The Graveyard Hag had given me the power to bring dead things back to life. I thought they'd killed Numair. I was angry," she added sheepishly, and grinned at the approaching mage who smiled back.
"So you brought back a bunch of dinosaurs," Jack murmured. "Remind me never to annoy you. How—how did—?"
"Numair had a simu-thing, so they killed it instead of him," Daine said, misunderstanding the question. She opened the door to Cloud's stall and stepped out to kiss Numair's cheek in greeting. Jack blinked.
"A simulacrum. And the Hag took the power away from Daine, afterward," Numair explained, correctly interpreting the confusion on Jack's face. Jack nodded.
"It was fair creepy, really. But how did you get one?" Daine put in, looping an arm through Numair's.
"One what?" the mage asked, having come too late into the conversation to know what had started it.
"He said he had a pter—pter—"
"Pterodactyl," Jack supplied. He gave Red's cheek one last pat and opened the stall door to get out.
"Those flying lizards," Daine elaborated enthusiastically. "Like Lindhall's Bonedancer. How did you get one?"
"It's kind of a long story," Jack sighed. "I needed a guard dog, and Myfanwy was the best. Seriously, she'd eat anything with barbecue sauce on it." He looked melancholy.
"Did she die?" Daine asked, voice gentle.
"In an explosion," Jack whispered miserably, looking as though he regretted saying anything.
"I'm sorry," Numair murmured. Jack shook himself, as if dispelling grief like water.
"But you were telling me about your dragon," he said with forced cheer. "You said she was with a basilisk? Don't they petrify people with their eyes?"
"They can turn things to stone," Numair agreed, letting Jack change the subject. "But only with a spell. Tkaa's a friend. Why would they use their eyes?"
"There were these books where I'm from," Jack grinned, better humored now that the subject had changed. "There was a basilisk in one. It was a giant snake?"
"A giant snake?" Daine asked incredulously. "He looks more like a lizard, really."
"Might I suggest moving this conversation to the dining room?" Numair interrupted plaintively. "It's dinner time, I'm hungry, and it's Daine's turn to cook."
The statement seemed to startle a chuckle out of Jack. "All is revealed! That's why you came looking for us."
Numair shrugged, amused. "Also I don't like you sneaking around with my Daine," he said loftily and began to lead the way out of the barn.
Daine rolled her eyes and Jack smiled again. "Run away with me," he implored as they followed. "I can show you the stars."
"In your dreams," Daine remarked, reaching out to take the mage's hand. "And Numair knows the stars better than anyone I know." Numair smiled warmly down at her.
"There now, that's settled," Jack told the mage. He turned back to Daine. "Although there's no way he knows the stars better than I do. That's just impossible."
Numair raised an eyebrow at the challenge and Daine rolled her eyes. "Would you care to bet on that, Captain Harkness?"
"It wouldn't be fair," Jack said, holding open the barn door. "I may not know your constellations, but I do know more about the individual stars than you can imagine. Can I cook dinner? It's been a while."
Daine nodded, relieved. She rather disliked cooking, although she was capable of doing it. She and Numair alternated meals to be fair, because neither of them really enjoyed it. "By all means. How do you know about the individual stars?"
"I'm a traveler, aren't I?" Jack said. "I've been all over. Everyone has different mythology."
"And you must know a great deal of it." Numair sounded fascinated. "Shall we forgo a formal dinner and eat out on the balcony? I can tell you some of our mythology, Jack, if you tell us some of the things you've learned."
Daine grinned. "I like that idea! What d'you say, Jack?"
"Sounds good," Jack agreed.