Title : The Wanderer - Chapter 2 : So far away...
Summary: At the far end of the universe, Jack has an interesting encounter with a too perfect woman and finds unexpected help to keep his promise. (Spoilers for Children of Earth)
Rating: All Ages
Categories: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto Jones, Jack Harkness, Original Character.
Genres: General, Introspection
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.
Author's Notes : Now, this is time to meet my own character. I'm hoping that you will like her, because I really do
TW TW TW TW
Jack slipped a hand into his coat and eased out a flat rectangular titanium case. He unlocked the lid and slid its contents cautiously on to his palm. It was a yellowed and slightly dog-eared paperback book. It was hard to read the title and the author's name on the washed-out cover, but you could still guess "Alfred Tennyson - Anthology of Poetry".
He ran his fingers softly over the cover and gave a slight sad smile.
He knew each line of verse by heart. He didn't need to read them anymore for reciting them, but he loved the touch of the paper under his fingers and above all, he loved rereading Ianto's tidy handwritten annotations in the margin, even if they were a little bit faded.
Not forgetting him.
On the verge of death, it had been the last and only thing Ianto had asked of him and the only thing Jack had been able to give him.
He hadn't had the strength to tell him that he was loved. He hadn't been able to show him how much he cared for him, how much he needed him. He hadn't know how to protect him from the world, but most of all from him. On the contrary, he had led him to death and for nothing.
Remembering.
At least he could do that for him. Every day, remembering the past moments with him, the warmth of his smile, the blue of his eyes, his bravery, his kindness and all his little flaws known only to Jack. Even if it meant that he suffered an age of agony, Jack owed it to him.
Their last conversation came back to him and with it all the shame Jack had felt for taking part in the bargain in 1965, his anger against himself and his fear.
Despite all the betrayals, the lies and the secrets, Ianto had been there again, ready to comfort him. Always calm, protective and faithful.
Jack had thrown Alice and Steven's existence at him like an insult. He might as well have slapped him. He hadn't understood how Ianto could still forgive him just like that, again and again, no matter what his sins were.
He wasn't worthy of being so loved. He didn't deserve such devotion. Jack would have liked to have opened his eyes and shown him the man that he really was. He should have destroyed his illusions and set him free before it was too late.
He'd ruined everything. Their last moments together would be marked with bitterness and regret, forever.
Eternity wouldn't be long enough to redeem himself. But at least he could try. He would keep his promise and wouldn't forget him.
Wherever he was in the universe, sitting in a bar, waiting for a ship for anywhere or right in the middle of a galactic war; covered in blood on a battlefield, alone in a desert or lost in the crowd of a megalopolis, every blessed day, Jack read a poem from the anthology.
One a day. For eight hundred and eighty years.
But today was a special day. Today was 19th August in Earth's calendar and it was Ianto's birthday. As he did every year, tonighthe, he would read two poems instead of one.
His finger stopped on a page and he began to read, slowly, his lips mouthing the words in silence, feeling the weight of each syllable, savouring each word.
"You do know that they sell a digital version of that in the gift shop, don't you?" asked a cheerful voice beside him.
He paused and turned to look at the woman next to him, sitting on the second stool on his left and had to admit she was one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in his long life.
Her long blue silken slit dress revealed a perfect figure and an endless pair of legs fit with dizzyingly high-heels. Her milky skin set off the sparkle of her blue eyes and the sensual curve of her lips. Her long curled fair hair, cascading on her naked shoulders, lit up her face with a golden aura.
There was no doubt that she was a high-flying professional. Not the style that you expected to find in third-class bars, but rather in palaces. Jack had never had to pay for this kind of favour, but even if it were the case, she would surely be considerably above his means.
She grinned at him and had a quick look at the book in his hands.
"But I suppose it wouldn't be the same, would it?" she added softly.
He sighed. He wasn't in the mood for talking or any other activity. He glared at her and immersed himself in his book again without a word.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her nod into her drink, embarrassed.
"I'm sorry. I saw your lips moving and I thought you were speaking to me. I didn't want to bother you," she said apologetically.
She turned around and directed her attention on the screen hung above the entry that broadcasted the latest news of the galaxy.
He felt a stab of guilt. After all, she had just wanted to be kind. There is no need to be rude with her. He put down the book and cleared his throat.
"This book belonged to someone dear to me and I kept it in memory."
She didn't move, so he carried on.
"You were right, it wouldn't be the same."
She turned around slowly and glanced at him cautiously.
"Captain Jonathan Harker. Nice to meet you," said Jack, leaning over and holding his hand out. "Sorry for having been rude. Usually, I'm more sociable." He cracked a smile before adding with a shrug, "Bad day."
She reached out, took his hand and held it firmly, smiling back.
"My name is Glinn. I know it too... May I offer you something ?"
"I'm afraid that I won't be a very pleasant company tonight," said Jack, declining her invitation with a motion of his hand.
"I'm used to it. Same poison? " she asked, pointing her finger at the half-empty glass of water in front of him.
"It should be my treat. I'd like to make it up to you."
She slid her purse over the counter, gracefully jumped off her tool and heaved herself up the one beside him.
"It's my treat. Like this, nobody can be mistaken about us," she said, winking at him. "Don't worry, I'm not on duty. Even girls like me go on holiday, you know."
"I ...I don't..." stammered Jack, embarrassed that she had guessed his thoughts so easily.
Glinn brushed aside his objection with a motion of her hand and took the opportunity to wave to the barman.
"Hicham. Same thing, for the two of us."
She turned toward him and cut him off before he could say a word.
"Before you ask: yes. I know personally all the barmen in this system and also in three other galaxies. It's part of the job. You know, they are very useful. They can find everything, at any hour."
"Absolutely everything," she added with a knowing look.
Jack chuckled. It had been a long time since he had felt so comfortable with someone. It might even be his longest real conversation with someone for weeks. Certainly one of her tricks for grabbing the client, but he caught himself wanting it to last.
She looked down at the book and began to read the title slowly:
"Al-fred-Ten-ny-son-An-tho-lo-gy-of-poe-try."
"Right. One of the best poets of 19th century Earth. Congratulations, not everyone can fluently read English, " he said with a grin.
"I have studied some dead languages. Having general knowledge is also..."
"Part of the job?" Jack finished, winking at her.
"It's true. Making conversation can be one of the toughest aspects of it." She smiled and glanced at the book again. "It looks very old, however well-preserved."
"I take great care of it, " replied Jack, tapping the case beside it. "I read one page every day. For remembering." He took the book and flicked through it.
"She must really matter to you."
"He really mattered, indeed."
She winced.
"Sorry. I have difficulty freeing myself from those ridiculous prejudices."
"Never mind."
"How long have you read poems for him?" Glinn asked hesitantly whilst their drinks were served.
Jack hesitated before answering shortly, "For a long time."
She stayed silent for a moment, looking thoughtfully at the ice cubes in her glass, then she took a deep breath.
"There's something in your story that bothers me, Captain. Tell me if I am I wrong but... assuming that these notes you look at so lovingly have been written by your friend and considering that they are in English, I can presume it was his mother language."
Jack's throat constricted while she carried on.
"But English hasn't been used for at least seven centuries. So, I think I can assume that your friend lived around the 21th century... "
She looked up.
"And, unless you can travel through time, but I have doubt about that, I guess you can too."
He stayed silent, his shoulders tensed. She took a sip of her glass.
"That's very impressive. You really don't look your age, Captain Harker." She paused and stared at him.
"Or should I say Captain Harkness?"
to be continued