Torchwood/Doctor Who - fic - Glint Of Green, Jack, Ten, PG
Title: Glint Of Green
Author: laurab1
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack, Ten, TARDISes, OCs
Length: 1000 words
Summary: Jack realises that the sound is simply life, increasing with age.
Spoilers: Torchwood - 1.1 and general series, Doctor Who - 1.10 to 1.13 & 3.11 to 3.13
Note: spun off, with her blessing, from versaphile’s March Twigs
Disclaimer: none of the recognisable elements are mine
Feedback is loved & appreciated :) Enjoy!
Glint Of Green
by Laura
In 2080, when Jack’s coral has been with him for about one hundred years, he finally concedes that it needs something larger to sit on.
Well, OK, it telepathically implies to him that something larger to rest on would be considerably appreciated, thank you very much.
Thankfully, a six-legged table that must have belonged to some incredibly tiny aliens has been in the Torchwood Three archives since 1975. Retrieving the table from the depths of the Hub, Jack places it on his desk and carefully moves the coral from the tripod to its new home. Sitting on the metal hexagon, it purrs really happily, almost sounding a little turned on.
Given that it's TARDIS coral, and the Time Lords’ obsession with six-sided figures, Jack decides that it probably is.
***
On the TARDIS coral’s two hundredth birthday, it again needs a larger home.
In 2030, something that Ianto had dubbed the alchemeter appeared through the Rift; it increased the size of metal objects. Jack gets the item out of the archives. At his desk, he tries to remember how to actually work the damn thing; it’s several years since they used it.
He needs to ask for help. “Mikhail!”
His computer expert and engineer appears. “Jack?”
Jack gives him a smile. “Mikhail. Can you remember how to work the alchemeter?”
Mikhail rolls his eyes at him. “Give it here, Jack,” he says, holding out his hand.
Jack passes him the snake-like object, covered in buttons, and watches his fingers speed over the controls. A minute later, Mikhail gives the alchemeter back to him; it pulses with power, almost alive.
“What did you want to make bigger, Jack?” he says.
Jack just smirks at him, earning himself another eye-roll. Mikhail might be an android, but he’s still so incredibly human, in some respects. Jack then sobers, indicates his coral and says, “It’s the table my not-so-little-anymore friend here is sat on.”
“Curve the alchemeter around one side of the legs, think how much you want to increase the size of the table by and press the button with a kid’s drawing of the sun.”
Jack does as asked; there’s a golden flash that they both have to shield their eyes against. When they re-open them, the hexagonal table is five times the size it was.
The coral won’t need re-homing for another hundred years, and the purring noise that it made last time is considerably louder, this time. But rather than arousal, Jack realises that the sound is simply life, increasing with age.
***
In 2280, when the coral is three hundred, it takes up most of Jack’s desk. It’s finally going to have to move out of his office, and into the boardroom. It’s the only table big enough; they’ll just have to buy another one, and it’s not as though the Hub is short of rooms.
Jack senses a fear, so he tells the coral, “You won’t be going too far, only into another room. I need to get some stuff ready, and I’m gonna need the alchemeter again.”
Perran is probably the best person to help with this, so Jack takes the alchemeter from his safe, places it in a pocket of his greatcoat and goes off to speak to his doctor. Perran happens to be a sixty-seventh century, green-haired Beta Centaurian humanoid female. She washed through the Rift in 2260, about eighteen, and smart.
Really smart, and really hot.
She had no way to get back, so Jack had given her a job, there and then. Like him, she doesn’t exist, and lives in the Hub.
Arriving at the autopsy room, Jack watches her examine yesterday’s dead alien and says, “Perran?”
“Jack.” She puts her instrument down, and looks at him.
“Could you help me with something, please?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “What is this something?”
“Great! My coral needs moving into the boardroom, that’s all.” He beams at her in gratitude.
Perran accompanies Jack back to his office. From there, they carefully transport the TARDIS coral to its new home, where Jack takes out the alchemeter. Placing it in position, he runs his fingers over the buttons, before pressing the control with the sun image. Once again, there’s a blinding flash, and once again the coral’s metal stand has become larger.
There’s also a purr of happiness, and Jack smiles at the feeling.
***
When Jack’s coral is four hundred it gives out a sudden burst of sentience, which he physically feels, low in his abdomen. It was such a long time ago, but he’s never going to forget being pregnant, and this feeling is like his baby moving, getting ready to be born; it makes him gasp.
At least this time, Jack has a guarantee against the baby being still-born, the sole reason he'd sworn he was 'never doing that again.'
In 2008, he unexpectedly found himself a father. So much for all his plans, then.
And not long now.
***
In 2500, Jack’s TARDIS declares herself ready for shaping.
Stroking her, he calls the Doctor, using the number he’d given him all the way back in 2008.
“Doctor.”
“Jack! Hello.”
“She’s ready. I could do with a hand, I think.”
“I’m already on my way. We both sensed her, the old girl and I.”
“Thank you.”
Before Jack’s even ended the call, there’s a grinding noise, and the Doctor’s TARDIS materialises in the boardroom.
“Jack!” The Doctor bounds out, grinning.
Jack hangs up the phone and pulls him into a hug, which lasts several minutes.
Then they move back, and the Doctor says, “Shall we double the TARDIS population, then?”
“Yeah.” Jack decides to tease him: “Y’know, I could even pilot her with a full crew; I’ve got a team of five.”
“Yes, yes.” The Doctor sighs, exasperated at him. "Let’s shape and train her first, Captain. And I seem to remember us not doing all that badly with a crew of three."
Jack smiles at him. “We did just fine, Doctor. C’mon, let’s get started.”
-end-
Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;
To-day the glint of green is there;
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair,
No miracle so strangely rare.
I wonder what will next be there!
~L.H. Bailey
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwoodgenfic
new_who
galactic_conman
dwfiction
Author: laurab1
Rating: PG
Characters: Jack, Ten, TARDISes, OCs
Length: 1000 words
Summary: Jack realises that the sound is simply life, increasing with age.
Spoilers: Torchwood - 1.1 and general series, Doctor Who - 1.10 to 1.13 & 3.11 to 3.13
Note: spun off, with her blessing, from versaphile’s March Twigs
Disclaimer: none of the recognisable elements are mine
Feedback is loved & appreciated :) Enjoy!
Glint Of Green
by Laura
In 2080, when Jack’s coral has been with him for about one hundred years, he finally concedes that it needs something larger to sit on.
Well, OK, it telepathically implies to him that something larger to rest on would be considerably appreciated, thank you very much.
Thankfully, a six-legged table that must have belonged to some incredibly tiny aliens has been in the Torchwood Three archives since 1975. Retrieving the table from the depths of the Hub, Jack places it on his desk and carefully moves the coral from the tripod to its new home. Sitting on the metal hexagon, it purrs really happily, almost sounding a little turned on.
Given that it's TARDIS coral, and the Time Lords’ obsession with six-sided figures, Jack decides that it probably is.
***
On the TARDIS coral’s two hundredth birthday, it again needs a larger home.
In 2030, something that Ianto had dubbed the alchemeter appeared through the Rift; it increased the size of metal objects. Jack gets the item out of the archives. At his desk, he tries to remember how to actually work the damn thing; it’s several years since they used it.
He needs to ask for help. “Mikhail!”
His computer expert and engineer appears. “Jack?”
Jack gives him a smile. “Mikhail. Can you remember how to work the alchemeter?”
Mikhail rolls his eyes at him. “Give it here, Jack,” he says, holding out his hand.
Jack passes him the snake-like object, covered in buttons, and watches his fingers speed over the controls. A minute later, Mikhail gives the alchemeter back to him; it pulses with power, almost alive.
“What did you want to make bigger, Jack?” he says.
Jack just smirks at him, earning himself another eye-roll. Mikhail might be an android, but he’s still so incredibly human, in some respects. Jack then sobers, indicates his coral and says, “It’s the table my not-so-little-anymore friend here is sat on.”
“Curve the alchemeter around one side of the legs, think how much you want to increase the size of the table by and press the button with a kid’s drawing of the sun.”
Jack does as asked; there’s a golden flash that they both have to shield their eyes against. When they re-open them, the hexagonal table is five times the size it was.
The coral won’t need re-homing for another hundred years, and the purring noise that it made last time is considerably louder, this time. But rather than arousal, Jack realises that the sound is simply life, increasing with age.
***
In 2280, when the coral is three hundred, it takes up most of Jack’s desk. It’s finally going to have to move out of his office, and into the boardroom. It’s the only table big enough; they’ll just have to buy another one, and it’s not as though the Hub is short of rooms.
Jack senses a fear, so he tells the coral, “You won’t be going too far, only into another room. I need to get some stuff ready, and I’m gonna need the alchemeter again.”
Perran is probably the best person to help with this, so Jack takes the alchemeter from his safe, places it in a pocket of his greatcoat and goes off to speak to his doctor. Perran happens to be a sixty-seventh century, green-haired Beta Centaurian humanoid female. She washed through the Rift in 2260, about eighteen, and smart.
Really smart, and really hot.
She had no way to get back, so Jack had given her a job, there and then. Like him, she doesn’t exist, and lives in the Hub.
Arriving at the autopsy room, Jack watches her examine yesterday’s dead alien and says, “Perran?”
“Jack.” She puts her instrument down, and looks at him.
“Could you help me with something, please?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “What is this something?”
“Great! My coral needs moving into the boardroom, that’s all.” He beams at her in gratitude.
Perran accompanies Jack back to his office. From there, they carefully transport the TARDIS coral to its new home, where Jack takes out the alchemeter. Placing it in position, he runs his fingers over the buttons, before pressing the control with the sun image. Once again, there’s a blinding flash, and once again the coral’s metal stand has become larger.
There’s also a purr of happiness, and Jack smiles at the feeling.
***
When Jack’s coral is four hundred it gives out a sudden burst of sentience, which he physically feels, low in his abdomen. It was such a long time ago, but he’s never going to forget being pregnant, and this feeling is like his baby moving, getting ready to be born; it makes him gasp.
At least this time, Jack has a guarantee against the baby being still-born, the sole reason he'd sworn he was 'never doing that again.'
In 2008, he unexpectedly found himself a father. So much for all his plans, then.
And not long now.
***
In 2500, Jack’s TARDIS declares herself ready for shaping.
Stroking her, he calls the Doctor, using the number he’d given him all the way back in 2008.
“Doctor.”
“Jack! Hello.”
“She’s ready. I could do with a hand, I think.”
“I’m already on my way. We both sensed her, the old girl and I.”
“Thank you.”
Before Jack’s even ended the call, there’s a grinding noise, and the Doctor’s TARDIS materialises in the boardroom.
“Jack!” The Doctor bounds out, grinning.
Jack hangs up the phone and pulls him into a hug, which lasts several minutes.
Then they move back, and the Doctor says, “Shall we double the TARDIS population, then?”
“Yeah.” Jack decides to tease him: “Y’know, I could even pilot her with a full crew; I’ve got a team of five.”
“Yes, yes.” The Doctor sighs, exasperated at him. "Let’s shape and train her first, Captain. And I seem to remember us not doing all that badly with a crew of three."
Jack smiles at him. “We did just fine, Doctor. C’mon, let’s get started.”
-end-
Yesterday the twig was brown and bare;
To-day the glint of green is there;
Tomorrow will be leaflets spare;
I know no thing so wondrous fair,
No miracle so strangely rare.
I wonder what will next be there!
~L.H. Bailey
crosspost:
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwoodgenfic
new_who
galactic_conman
dwfiction