Torchwood/Dr Who - fic - The Torchwood Girls, Part 10, Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, Nine, PG
Title - The Torchwood Girls, Part 10
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, Nine
Rating - PG
Length - 1678 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: to 3.11-13
Summary - Jack knows he has to focus on the now, and his squad, which is full of brave, good men.
Disclaimer: alas, not all of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Part 1, including art Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 accompanying art Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
end of Part 9:
They establish that the boy's from Metazonica, manipulate the Rift, and let the purple-skinned humanoid take the scapesono home with him, much to his delight.
"Won't Jack be angry?" Amy asks her.
"No," Joan says, after very briefly considering the question. She's sat at Jack's, well, her desk, now. "He'd probably have done the same thing himself. Anyway, another one may well turn up, at some point."
***
Part 10
"It'll be over by Christmas," the generals will keep falsely promising, throughout this war, and the next one.
"Yeah, right," Jack sighs, sat in the officers' mess, somewhere in France. Here they are, December 1914, and the whole thing has barely started. The Second World War will be a kind of continuation of this one, the Great War. It won't really be over until the late 1980s, when the Berliners tear down The Wall, and the rest of the Eastern Europeans decide they've had enough of Communism.
That's all seventy five years away, though. Jack knows he has to focus on the now, and his squad, which is full of brave, good men. The fact that some of them are absolutely gorgeous is a very pleasant added bonus. There's a particularly cute guy from...Manchester. Jack's still a sucker for the accent, despite himself. Second Lieutenant Paul Weston's 27, with dark hair, and dark eyes. Jack's kissed him a few times, but anything more than that is too dangerous.
The RFC have been flying recon missions for the troops for the last four months. Before every sortie, Jack consciously switches on his telepathy and empathy, and checks his men. He'll leave it on, in the background, during the mission, and then switch it back off again.
Otherwise, there's just far too much to deal with, far too much to listen to...
"You're broadcasting like a satellite, Doc," Jack said, as they repaired the TARDIS console.
"So don't listen, Captain," the Doctor replied, snorting a little.
Jack put down his spanner, and took the sonic from the Doctor. "Too loud for me not to listen. Look, I know Rose is helping these," Jack said, placing his hand on the Doctor's chest, "and this," he continued, placing his other hand on the Doctor's temple, "as much as she can. But we both know I could probably help a little more with that head of yours."
"You, Captain?" the Doctor said, as though Jack's suggestion was stupid.
Which it was, and Jack knew this. "Yeah, me. Well, if I was more...together, y'know."
"Two of a kind, we are, Jack. An' I don't know if I want any help with me head, yet."
"I figured that, Doc. So you're gonna have to teach me not to listen, how to turn my telepathy and empathy off, when I need to. All right?"
"All right, Jack," the Doctor agreed. "We're finishing trying to fix your mind, first, though, okay?"
"Yeah." He pressed his hand against the Doctor's hearts. "Plenty capable of helping these, though," he said, earning himself a glare. "Yeah, yeah, buy you a drink first. I know.
No. 3 Squadron's first battle honours were earned at Mons, 23 August 1914, the first confrontation of the war between British and German forces.
And as those forces declare a Christmas truce, Jack wonders how his women are coping without him.
***
In Cardiff, as the war hovers away in the background, and the losses climb ever higher, when Joan and the women aren't dealing with whatever the Rift spits out at them, the conversation often turns to politics.
"Anyone else been on a suffragette rally?" Penelope asks, one day, after they've dispatched some alien mothers and children back to their own planet.
"I have," Jennifer and Amy both say.
Eleanor goes one better: "I actually shook Mrs Pankhurst's hand at one."
"I have not had time to do so," Joan sadly says.
"I wonder whether it's all done any good," Penelope asks.
"Jack assures me that the right to vote will be our eventual reward, once the war is over," Joan tells them.
"He'd know," Amy states.
"Indeed he would."
***
One day, in January 1915, Penelope is writing about the last alien they encountered, when a noise distracts her. Then there's a sudden golden flash, right in the middle of the Hub.
"That does not usually happen," Joan remarks, as the team watch the Rift... misbehave.
And then a bird-like creature, about the size of a magpie, flies through the flash. The thing looks terrified, and it crashes straight into Joan's office doors, knocking itself out, landing on the hard floor of the Hub. Penelope rushes over to it.
Crouching down, checking the creature over, she announces, "It's still breathing. Just stunned itself."
"What is it, Penny?" Amy asks, sitting down beside her. "Looks like a cross between a lizard and a bird."
"That's exactly what it is, Amy," Joan adds, joining them. "I remember pictures, from books in the school library. It's the very first bird. We have an archaeopteryx, ladies."
Penelope gently runs a hand over the bird's feathers, wondering if they can keep this creature. It's beautiful, in a strange way. Joan then addresses her again: "Penelope, could you look after our new friend until she wakes up, please?"
"Of course."
***
As expected, it's not very long before the archaeopteryx has a name, and the Hub has a pet. Poppy flies around inside quite happily, and it's quite a sight to see. Eleanor has experience of hawking, so she trains Poppy to fly, and come back to her hand. When the bird has mastered that, Eleanor takes her outside to fly.
At night, and very early in the morning, naturally.
Can't risk the public seeing something they shouldn't.
***
No. 3 haven't seen any battle action for months; Jack and his men have been getting jumpy, and a little bored. And then, in March 1915, Neuve Chapelle happens. A British planned offensive, the first of the war, it's noisy as hell.
Men are still freely volunteering, so the British Army has grown significantly in numbers, with new troops recently arrived in France. The photographs taken by Jack's squadron show the poor defence of the nearby German lines.
There still aren't enough troops, though, and the action is only a relative success. The British break into the German lines, but not through them. There are delays in securely relaying the information in the photographs to commanders.
And the dreadful weather doesn't help, either.
Both sides lose around 12,000 men. Jack doesn't need a news report to tell him that, like everything else in this war, he's already read it in a history book.
***
In April 1915, Amy proposes taking the women to a local Fabian Society meeting, having been involved with it when she was a student at the London School of Economics.
"There'll be women like us at the meeting," she tells her team-mates, as they sit in the board room, one afternoon. "Women who want to make a difference." She gives them a basic history and description of the society. Founded in 1884, intellectual movement concerned with the research, discussion, and publication of socialist ideas. Then there's the 'permeating' ideas into the circles of those with power. "We have this motto, 'the inevitability of gradualism'," Amy explains.
"Let us attend this meeting, girls," Joan says. "If we say something, influence someone, perhaps the loss of life in this war may be lessened."
***
In the summer of 1915, Jack has a week's leave, and goes home.
It's early morning when he arrives at the Hub, so he has to sit at his desk, and wait for his... harem to arrive. He then spends several minutes indulging in a fantasy of himself as a sultan.
Okay, it's about half an hour.
And it's a extremely pleasant half an hour.
Joan's the first one in. It's perfectly clear on her face how much he's been missed; within seconds they're embracing, and Jack's kissing the top of her head.
"Captain," she says, when he finally releases her.
"Colonel, actually, Joan," he informs her. "Equivalent Army rank."
"Enchanted, Colonel Harkness," Joan replies, and mock salutes him.
Jack just grins, then takes her hand and kisses the back of it. "Likewise, ma'am." Joan rolls her eyes at him, making him grin even more. "Now, I see we have an addition to the team?"
"Our flying friend?"
"Yeah."
"That would be Poppy the archaeopteryx, Jack. She came through the Rift back in January."
"A dinosaur? Well, kinda."
"A dinosaur."
"Cool. Very cool indeed." Jack smiles again. "Has she been tamed?"
"Eleanor did that. It seems she does know what to do with live birds that she's not killing."
"Joan..." he warns, not liking her tone.
"Don't you agree, Jack?" she counters.
"Of course I do, Joan," Jack replies, gently taking her by the shoulders, "far more than any of you can possibly know. But Eleanor is an excellent shot, that's one of the reasons I hired her. Just like your anti-gun attitude is among the reasons I hired you. All right?"
She nods, and Jack lets Joan go. "You wanna tell me what's been going on, then?"
"Can I sit down first, please?
"Sure." Jack takes a seat opposite Joan.
"Well, Jack," she begins, "we no longer have the scapesono -"
He's about to ask why, when the rest of the women arrive.
"Jack!" the other four exclaim.
There's more embracing and more kissing of hands. Jack then asks, "You lot missed me as well, then? 'Cause your CO and I just did that, too."
"And only that, Jack," Joan says, noticing the grin on his lips.
"What?" he protests.
"You know exactly what, Jack," Eleanor states. "How long are you here for?"
"Just a week, I'm afraid. Then it's back to saving the world in another way. Joan had just started telling me that a certain musical instrument is no longer in our possession. How did that happen?"
"It went home with a Metazonican boy," Penelope explains, and tells the rest of the story.
There's more conversation, but no-one asks about the war, and neither does Jack offer anything. He does, however, switch his telepathy and empathy on, to make sure his girls are as okay as they can possibly be. A week will be far too short a time to spend with these brilliant women, but that's all he's got.
He can only hope for an opportunity to save the world in his regular way, while he's here.
TBC
Author - laurab1
Characters/Pairings - Jack, Joan Redfern, OCs, Nine
Rating - PG
Length - 1678 words
Spoilers - TW: general series, DW: to 3.11-13
Summary - Jack knows he has to focus on the now, and his squad, which is full of brave, good men.
Disclaimer: alas, not all of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Part 1, including art Part 2 accompanying art by _medley_
Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 accompanying art Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9
The Torchwood Girls
by Laura
end of Part 9:
They establish that the boy's from Metazonica, manipulate the Rift, and let the purple-skinned humanoid take the scapesono home with him, much to his delight.
"Won't Jack be angry?" Amy asks her.
"No," Joan says, after very briefly considering the question. She's sat at Jack's, well, her desk, now. "He'd probably have done the same thing himself. Anyway, another one may well turn up, at some point."
***
Part 10
"It'll be over by Christmas," the generals will keep falsely promising, throughout this war, and the next one.
"Yeah, right," Jack sighs, sat in the officers' mess, somewhere in France. Here they are, December 1914, and the whole thing has barely started. The Second World War will be a kind of continuation of this one, the Great War. It won't really be over until the late 1980s, when the Berliners tear down The Wall, and the rest of the Eastern Europeans decide they've had enough of Communism.
That's all seventy five years away, though. Jack knows he has to focus on the now, and his squad, which is full of brave, good men. The fact that some of them are absolutely gorgeous is a very pleasant added bonus. There's a particularly cute guy from...Manchester. Jack's still a sucker for the accent, despite himself. Second Lieutenant Paul Weston's 27, with dark hair, and dark eyes. Jack's kissed him a few times, but anything more than that is too dangerous.
The RFC have been flying recon missions for the troops for the last four months. Before every sortie, Jack consciously switches on his telepathy and empathy, and checks his men. He'll leave it on, in the background, during the mission, and then switch it back off again.
Otherwise, there's just far too much to deal with, far too much to listen to...
"You're broadcasting like a satellite, Doc," Jack said, as they repaired the TARDIS console.
"So don't listen, Captain," the Doctor replied, snorting a little.
Jack put down his spanner, and took the sonic from the Doctor. "Too loud for me not to listen. Look, I know Rose is helping these," Jack said, placing his hand on the Doctor's chest, "and this," he continued, placing his other hand on the Doctor's temple, "as much as she can. But we both know I could probably help a little more with that head of yours."
"You, Captain?" the Doctor said, as though Jack's suggestion was stupid.
Which it was, and Jack knew this. "Yeah, me. Well, if I was more...together, y'know."
"Two of a kind, we are, Jack. An' I don't know if I want any help with me head, yet."
"I figured that, Doc. So you're gonna have to teach me not to listen, how to turn my telepathy and empathy off, when I need to. All right?"
"All right, Jack," the Doctor agreed. "We're finishing trying to fix your mind, first, though, okay?"
"Yeah." He pressed his hand against the Doctor's hearts. "Plenty capable of helping these, though," he said, earning himself a glare. "Yeah, yeah, buy you a drink first. I know.
No. 3 Squadron's first battle honours were earned at Mons, 23 August 1914, the first confrontation of the war between British and German forces.
And as those forces declare a Christmas truce, Jack wonders how his women are coping without him.
***
In Cardiff, as the war hovers away in the background, and the losses climb ever higher, when Joan and the women aren't dealing with whatever the Rift spits out at them, the conversation often turns to politics.
"Anyone else been on a suffragette rally?" Penelope asks, one day, after they've dispatched some alien mothers and children back to their own planet.
"I have," Jennifer and Amy both say.
Eleanor goes one better: "I actually shook Mrs Pankhurst's hand at one."
"I have not had time to do so," Joan sadly says.
"I wonder whether it's all done any good," Penelope asks.
"Jack assures me that the right to vote will be our eventual reward, once the war is over," Joan tells them.
"He'd know," Amy states.
"Indeed he would."
***
One day, in January 1915, Penelope is writing about the last alien they encountered, when a noise distracts her. Then there's a sudden golden flash, right in the middle of the Hub.
"That does not usually happen," Joan remarks, as the team watch the Rift... misbehave.
And then a bird-like creature, about the size of a magpie, flies through the flash. The thing looks terrified, and it crashes straight into Joan's office doors, knocking itself out, landing on the hard floor of the Hub. Penelope rushes over to it.
Crouching down, checking the creature over, she announces, "It's still breathing. Just stunned itself."
"What is it, Penny?" Amy asks, sitting down beside her. "Looks like a cross between a lizard and a bird."
"That's exactly what it is, Amy," Joan adds, joining them. "I remember pictures, from books in the school library. It's the very first bird. We have an archaeopteryx, ladies."
Penelope gently runs a hand over the bird's feathers, wondering if they can keep this creature. It's beautiful, in a strange way. Joan then addresses her again: "Penelope, could you look after our new friend until she wakes up, please?"
"Of course."
***
As expected, it's not very long before the archaeopteryx has a name, and the Hub has a pet. Poppy flies around inside quite happily, and it's quite a sight to see. Eleanor has experience of hawking, so she trains Poppy to fly, and come back to her hand. When the bird has mastered that, Eleanor takes her outside to fly.
At night, and very early in the morning, naturally.
Can't risk the public seeing something they shouldn't.
***
No. 3 haven't seen any battle action for months; Jack and his men have been getting jumpy, and a little bored. And then, in March 1915, Neuve Chapelle happens. A British planned offensive, the first of the war, it's noisy as hell.
Men are still freely volunteering, so the British Army has grown significantly in numbers, with new troops recently arrived in France. The photographs taken by Jack's squadron show the poor defence of the nearby German lines.
There still aren't enough troops, though, and the action is only a relative success. The British break into the German lines, but not through them. There are delays in securely relaying the information in the photographs to commanders.
And the dreadful weather doesn't help, either.
Both sides lose around 12,000 men. Jack doesn't need a news report to tell him that, like everything else in this war, he's already read it in a history book.
***
In April 1915, Amy proposes taking the women to a local Fabian Society meeting, having been involved with it when she was a student at the London School of Economics.
"There'll be women like us at the meeting," she tells her team-mates, as they sit in the board room, one afternoon. "Women who want to make a difference." She gives them a basic history and description of the society. Founded in 1884, intellectual movement concerned with the research, discussion, and publication of socialist ideas. Then there's the 'permeating' ideas into the circles of those with power. "We have this motto, 'the inevitability of gradualism'," Amy explains.
"Let us attend this meeting, girls," Joan says. "If we say something, influence someone, perhaps the loss of life in this war may be lessened."
***
In the summer of 1915, Jack has a week's leave, and goes home.
It's early morning when he arrives at the Hub, so he has to sit at his desk, and wait for his... harem to arrive. He then spends several minutes indulging in a fantasy of himself as a sultan.
Okay, it's about half an hour.
And it's a extremely pleasant half an hour.
Joan's the first one in. It's perfectly clear on her face how much he's been missed; within seconds they're embracing, and Jack's kissing the top of her head.
"Captain," she says, when he finally releases her.
"Colonel, actually, Joan," he informs her. "Equivalent Army rank."
"Enchanted, Colonel Harkness," Joan replies, and mock salutes him.
Jack just grins, then takes her hand and kisses the back of it. "Likewise, ma'am." Joan rolls her eyes at him, making him grin even more. "Now, I see we have an addition to the team?"
"Our flying friend?"
"Yeah."
"That would be Poppy the archaeopteryx, Jack. She came through the Rift back in January."
"A dinosaur? Well, kinda."
"A dinosaur."
"Cool. Very cool indeed." Jack smiles again. "Has she been tamed?"
"Eleanor did that. It seems she does know what to do with live birds that she's not killing."
"Joan..." he warns, not liking her tone.
"Don't you agree, Jack?" she counters.
"Of course I do, Joan," Jack replies, gently taking her by the shoulders, "far more than any of you can possibly know. But Eleanor is an excellent shot, that's one of the reasons I hired her. Just like your anti-gun attitude is among the reasons I hired you. All right?"
She nods, and Jack lets Joan go. "You wanna tell me what's been going on, then?"
"Can I sit down first, please?
"Sure." Jack takes a seat opposite Joan.
"Well, Jack," she begins, "we no longer have the scapesono -"
He's about to ask why, when the rest of the women arrive.
"Jack!" the other four exclaim.
There's more embracing and more kissing of hands. Jack then asks, "You lot missed me as well, then? 'Cause your CO and I just did that, too."
"And only that, Jack," Joan says, noticing the grin on his lips.
"What?" he protests.
"You know exactly what, Jack," Eleanor states. "How long are you here for?"
"Just a week, I'm afraid. Then it's back to saving the world in another way. Joan had just started telling me that a certain musical instrument is no longer in our possession. How did that happen?"
"It went home with a Metazonican boy," Penelope explains, and tells the rest of the story.
There's more conversation, but no-one asks about the war, and neither does Jack offer anything. He does, however, switch his telepathy and empathy on, to make sure his girls are as okay as they can possibly be. A week will be far too short a time to spend with these brilliant women, but that's all he's got.
He can only hope for an opportunity to save the world in his regular way, while he's here.
TBC